#like i tell folks yeah man i would stand outside to watch the storms come in and they act like i'm mad hahah

[fellpyrean]

Advent Statement 2 - Storm Chaser

Two things before this one: 1) I love it to bits. It’s very, very personal in how I grew up and viewed tornadic storms and absolutely pulls a lot from my youth. I think I talk the most in the notes on this one, because! 2) this one is still on ao3! Check it out, if you would! 

But if you’d prefer to read here, then let’s begin our second statement: Storm Chaser. cws: just canon-typical Vast, honestly. 

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Have you ever seen a thunderstorm? 

I don't mean the little ones; the ones where you'll see a single flash of lightning if you're lucky, and the thunder may as well be a small dog growling for how loud it is. 

Not those ones. 

The real ones. 

The ones where the clouds blot out the sun and are lit entirely from within - enormous, pitch dark and heavy, glowing with purple-white snaps of light, with brilliant, blinding forests of lightning sprouting, branching across the dome of the sky and the thunder comes loud enough to rattle your teeth, rumbling like a leviathan. 

Those are the thunderstorms I mean. 

The ones that span for miles and miles. As far as you can see, the sky's forest shattering and cracking above you and shaking the world in its wake. Nothing else will make you feel smaller. More aware of your own insignificance as clouds larger than cities roil above you and lightning dances from one end of the horizon to the next. 

I don't think there's anything more beautiful. More awe-inspiring. 

I saw quite a few of them growing up, you see. We moved to the Midwest when I was very young, to a house in a neighborhood a quick exit away from the highway. I can tell you it ran to the northeast; we joked they simply paved over the path a tornado left in its wake, because every summer, the storms followed it. I would come home on the school bus to heavy gray skies - swollen with rain and growling -, head inside and turn on, as I called it, "The Weather Show." This was not an actual show, I should explain. It's simply that, when storms become severe enough, when the winds begin to swirl and twist and the clouds rise in massive, looming banks, every channel becomes the weather. 

I would watch, then. Sitting on the couch, boneless as any post-school teen in an oversized hoodie, I would watch the swirling colors of the radar, a sea of lightning icons flashing to represent every lightning strike. I would watch the greens and yellows on the map bloom into orange, into red and I would smile. On some days, the red would go black. Even electric pink. I would watch for lightning out the windows, listen for the thunder growing closer, snapping at the heels of the strikes. And then… I went outside. Just on the porch. There was a single little square of concrete outside the front door, and I would stand beside the bucket of petunias and gaze upwards. I liked best when the rain had yet to fall. I could still see the clouds, then. 

I liked to watch the coming fronts. See how they moved and turned and roiled and drink in every single shift. I would stand and stare and feel the wind go cool and warm and whip about me, twisting and tugging and sending leaves rustling, swaying, flying on its fingers.

Lightning struck, thunder rolled. And as the clouds began to dance, I would hear it. The tornado sirens began to sing and the storm reveled. And so did I.   

I was never that concerned for my safety. My parents didn't like it, but they'd usually be at work and in no position to enforce me going inside. They thought it was dangerous. I thought that there was nowhere safer to be than right where I could watch it; it’s not like we had a basement or anything, so even if I did have to take shelter, it would have just been in the downstairs bathroom. And if it had been a truly big storm, then, well. You may as well hide in a cardboard box for all the good a house will do you. There’s little difference to the wind. 

I would only head inside if it began to rain. That made it dangerous. They call them "rain-wrapped," you see. When tornadoes are hidden in a curtain of thick rain. 

When you can't - won't - see them coming.

Radar can tell you a lot about a storm, but it can't tell you when a funnel has landed. It can show rotation, capture the churn as an adorable, laughable little swirl on a radar map, but you need real, human eyes out there to confirm if it’s just a cute little swirl on a map or a behemoth. Freshly landed and ravenous. 

I never truly saw one in my childhood. 

I saw pictures. I saw what they could do. Rest assured - I loved the storms. But I had seen exactly what kind of damage they could leave in their wake and exactly how insignificant I would be in the face of a one brandishing its strength. They can wind sheet metal around trees like ribbons. Isn't that something? That something so intangible as the wind, when truly roused, can simply… wipe the earth clean. 

There was a mall, or a warehouse maybe. I can't remember exactly and I only saw the foundations left afterwards. A single, barren block of concrete stretching across empty, flat land. No trees. Not even a pipe left poking out. Nothing. Just barren concrete and scrubby grasses. They said the tornado that ate it was more than a mile wide.

How hungry it must have been. 

I thought of those ribbons of metal every time I stood sentry, and thrilled and shivered at the idea. 

There was only one time I ever felt truly afraid. It was not raining, so I got to watch. As the sirens screamed, I knew it would be different this time. Because the sky had gone black. 

No gentle gray. Not even a dark, moody slate. The clouds above had gone black and sickly green and I could see them begin to turn. Coiling in on themselves, twisting and gathering and descending. I still watched. It was like… like I was transfixed. Like I could feel It before I saw It. 

Rain began to fall in heavy, spattering drops, hand in hand with hail that crunched and bounced off the ground. My little square of concrete remained dry, but by all means I should have gone inside by then. The storm was furious, its teeth bared and flashing all across the green-black sky. The thunder came so loud, so close, that it set off car alarms.  

And in the clouds… don't laugh, alright? Because that day, in those descending clouds, I saw something. 

A hand. 

Massive. As black as the clouds it swirled and toyed with, with lightning sparking across its fingers. 

I could see it twirling the clouds like… Like I might have done water in a bucket. But where I could manage only a little whirlpool, there and gone in an instant, this… this being. It spun the storm into a funnel that came and came until it brushed the tree tops. The branches, the shingles reached up to meet it, pulled and snapped and whisked away - and then it simply stopped. 

The hand withdrew, and the funnel petered out. 

I suppose it got bored with its bucket that day. 

I had no idea what I had seen, but as I leaned back against the front door, the breath pulled from my lungs as the storm lumbered on, I never looked away from the clouds. Not until the storm front passed. I did not see that hand again. 

It changed things. 

The terror that had lanced through me. The sheer awe of something so… so vast. A being that held the skies in its palms and molded clouds like clay. 

I still watched the storms. But… I did not only watch the clouds, the brilliant lightning anymore. I searched. As terrified as I had been, I wanted to see that being again. 

So, I became a storm chaser. 

It seemed the best thing to do, really, although my mother really, really disagreed. It wasn't… it wasn't exactly a job? I mean. I had one. But storm chasing was my passion. It was only a few months a year and it most definitely did not pay the bills, but I did get paid sometimes. Honestly, I was just in it for the chase. The fear, the wonder. I took a lot of pictures. I helped call in information for the Weather Show. I probably helped save lives by letting people know when they needed to stop watching the clouds and the radar and get down, even when I was out there right in the thick of it. I learned quite a lot about tornadogenesis and definitely became one of Those People at a party, but instead of my dog or my hypothetical children, it'd be mesocyclones and subvortices - which nobody ever liked to learn much about. "Multiple Vortex Tornadoes" also weren't popular, which was a real shame. 

It's probably a good thing I didn't go to a lot of parties. 

I had friends of course. Other storm chasers, mostly, but I never chased with anyone else. Stopped and rested, choked down greasy dive burgers galore and refueled at gas stations visited by just as many guys on horses as us in our ratty but dependable chasing cars, but I never, never rode along with anyone. 

After all… I never told anyone about what I saw that day. It seemed like a good way to get a ticket to the shrink, honestly. Didn't really want to tell my mom or the other chasers I was chasing some storm-spinning giant when everyone was already worried enough about perfectly mundane lightning strikes and hail and goddamn deer in the road. 

And, I admit, if I saw it again, I wanted it to just be me there. Just me and the storm. 

But after I'd had a go at chasing for a season or two, I noticed something… odd? Crazy, maybe.

I could smell when it would be a good storm. Others bemoaned my luck when I followed the scent to some truly incredible, terrifying shots of a real monster of a storm, and when it happened more? I certainly knew my meteorology, but there was only so far it and dumb luck carried me and I was well aware of it. At some point, I'd get this. This urge. An instinct, I think. And I would roll down the car window, breathe in the air, and I'd follow where the sharp scent of lightning and vapor and twisting currents lead me. 

Once I tuned into it, like, really nailed it down, it never led me wrong. I had some close scrapes - mostly at night, when the storm can bear down on you astonishingly silently for something described most often as sounding like an oncoming train, which is dreadfully accurate - but I always came out alive and uninjured and my car mostly intact until I got better at sniffing out the storm and could drive myself down the best roads at just the right time. 

It became… bliss. Knowing in the air when a storm would come, smelling the potential of it as I rushed out to my car and sped off down the back roads, well before the sirens began to wail. To chase the storms and revel in their song. 

That's how I met him, actually. 

Mr. Fairchild. Excuse me, Simon Fairchild. 

I'd been watching the sky that day, and I knew that it would do something good. The storm hadn't quite formed yet, but the air was right and static jittered down my spine as I ambled through the shack of the nearest convenience store/gas station and got my drinks, snacks, and a spare gas tank ready with what I hoped was passably calm. I don't think I quite got it right because the cashier seemed a little… unnerved? When I came to the register, but, well. I could definitely feel the pull building and it got hard sometimes to not, as my friends would say, "be a little intense about it." 

I was almost vibrating in my skin when I got back into my car and had to take a moment to focus around the scent thick on the wind. 

It was different. I hadn't smelled something like this before. It was like… all the scents of all the storms, of all the skies I'd ever known and more, and a tang of something like salt all rolled together and compressed. Maybe… maybe expanded? It was all encompassing, and kind of confusing, like trying to comprehend something that enormous and complex was pointless, but it made my blood race with anticipation. 

I drove down the back ways with my windows open, eyes fixed on the clouds as I watched the front begin to build. It was a heavy one. The wall cloud climbed right on up to the vaults of the heavens, lightning crowning its distant peaks like a snow-capped mountain. I reached a good spot - somewhere I knew wouldn't be right in its path, but close enough I could see its every twist, and pulled off the road. 

On either side of the road sat empty fields of bored cows and exactly the one tree they gathered under, and between them and me, a grassy ditch to keep the roads from flooding and barbed wire fences to keep the cows contained.

There was nobody else around - not even a farm house that wasn't a mile or more away in the distance - so you can imagine my surprise when I got out of my car and there was a man there. 

He had not been there when I pulled over. My eyes are too sharp and the scenery aside from the sky was nothing to write home about, so I definitely had not just not noticed him. 

No exaggeration, he looked about 200 years old and like a stiff breeze would turn him to dust. And this pink little man took one deeply amused look at me, standing gawping at him and laughed. 

“How ambitious,” he said, half-wheezing at some… joke I was evidently the punchline of. 

I decided I did not like him. 

I think he knew and just didn’t care. His eyes were sparkling as he practically skipped over to me, cane completely forgotten, and reached up to pat my cheek. 

“What would you even do,” he chuckled, “if you managed to catch it?”  

This did not make sense at the time. But I was… Hah, I guess I was fortunate enough that he didn’t leave me hanging. 

His hands were surprisingly strong when they tightened around my arms and turned me around. And I saw that the storm… had turned. It made no sense. The winds weren’t moving this way at all before. But now they were. Blowing headlong into my face, the storm billowing and growing unnaturally fast as it practically galloped towards us across the plains. 

And then… then I saw It again. 

That massive hand, dipping through the clouds and stirring them with a lazy flick of the wrist. Again and again. 

My heart beat rabbit-quick in my chest. 

I should have shaken him off. Should have jumped right back into my car. The door was still open and it was right there. My every sane instinct was screaming at me to go, to run. 

But the scent on the air… it pulled me too strongly. That unimaginably deep scent, layered and layered with every wind in the sky. It came from that… being. It clung, I realized, to the little man chuckling beside me. Like he’d been saturated in it. And wreathed in it as I was, watching the dust stir and dance on the ground beneath that hand, watching the clouds swirl and funnel. I knew there was no time to run anymore. Those fingers dragged through the dirt, the clouds landed, and it began to charge. 

It was… enormous. 

 And yet I couldn’t quite muster the fear. It was there, but like… like there was a layer of plastic between it and myself? I wanted to run, but it was a genuine battle whether it’d be away - to throw myself into the shelter of the ditch and pray - or towards it. Like it was something I could chase down and bite? 

I had hunted for this thing for years. 

There was no way I would run from it. 

And oh how much Simon laughed as I realized I was grinning, ear to ear. A bright, feral thing as the tornado ripped apart the field across the road, as the winds whipped so fiercely about us it hurt - carrying dust and grass like bullets and knives it was all too excited to wield. 

The last thing I remember for sure is watching that barbed wire fence being uprooted, peeled apart like a spool of yarn and he… Simon. He let go of my arms, then. I think he spread out his own, and stepped forward into that blackened, swirling wall of destruction that blotted out everything else - and then… I suppose everything went black. 

I wasn’t unconscious exactly. I know I was ripped off the ground. I know I felt the wind toss me like a leaf. 

I know I saw that hand inside the funnel. Saw enough to trace it upwards as I spun in that dizzying whorl - up and up, the rest of an arm enormous beyond comprehension. 

I saw up into the center of the funnel and beyond. Into an expanse of impossible, pure, sky-spotted black that was… was its body, I think. If something like that even has a body? It was a view that shouldn’t have existed, either way. I’m not entirely sure if it was a hallucination caused by… well, by being thrown around inside an absolutely massive tornado, which is not exactly the most hospitable place for the human body. It feels like it was real though. 

I think I even managed to touch It. I may not fully remember what happened in there, as I was left at the mercy of the storm, but I can… remember with weird clarity the challenge that odd little man had thrown at me. 

What would you even do if you caught it? 

I had no idea, but it didn’t matter. Before I blacked out for real, I saw that hand lift up past me, and I reached out. If I close my eyes, I can see it. So dark, like an expanse of black-blue velvet. And my right hand, so small, framed against it, reaching and reaching, determined to catch. I had to. 

Ah. Unfortunately, that’s all I remember. 

The next thing I recall, I woke up in a field. I was… a mess. But I was whole and alive, which was more than I could say for my car. I never found it. That was not surprising. Not when I managed to sort myself out and stumble my way to a hotel.  

That was when I actually learned Simon’s name. Why? 

Because tucked into my wallet was a credit card, with the name Simon Fairchild emblazoned on it. And a note. 

There’s so many more storms out there to see, it said in a neat, loopy script. Why restrict yourself to just one sky? 

It listed an address in Florida and a date and I knew without hesitation whose it was. Could practically hear his gleeful little accent. 

I didn’t let myself think about it for a bit. Not until I’d wobbled my way through a shower and had a chance to check the weather reports. 

It was… hahaha, god, I. I still can’t believe it. Out of everything, this is the thing my head has the most trouble with, so I’ll just say it. 

The tornado that picked me up traveled 200 miles. A single funnel, almost record-breakingly huge, and I had been inside it for hours. I wasn’t even in my state anymore.  

And I was alive. I wasn’t even bleeding. And I was… drenched in that storm scent. My right hand even more so, where I could still feel the phantom tingle of the sky against my fingertips. 

It took me a few days to handle things. I bought a new car on my gifted credit card with minimal guilt involved and once I had that and new clothes and let my mother and chaser friends know I was alive, I started to drive. There were storms behind me, I knew. I could smell them so, so clearly now. But that singular scent on the wind pulled me away. 

To Florida. 

I wanted answers, I told myself, and an address where I could get them. 

And I wanted more skies. 

You can probably guess how that went. I mean, this office you’ve got here definitely isn’t the Midwestern United States. I still don’t like the Fairchilds, but I guess Simon Fairchild seems to like me. We run into each other a lot. He still finds me funny for some reason. 

We don’t… we don’t travel together. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I might be chasing storms around the world now on the Fairchild dime, but I’m not so mad as to get on an airplane with any of them. 

It’s just… he was right. 

There are so many more skies out there. I’m still fond of the storms. Nothing quite raises my pulse like the snap of lightning and thunder in the air, but… there’s just so much more. 

And the storm scent hasn’t led me wrong yet. 

[gubler-me-up]

Friendly Competition

Request: Ok so the bau reader and Spencer aren’t dating but have been like hanging out and going for dinner and doing movie nights and such (not calling anything a date tho), and then on a case an officer is all flirty with the reader over the few days that they’ve been there and spencer gets all moody and jealous and is kind of a jerk and has to apologize but it also pushes him to finally ask the reader out on a real date

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! Sorry this took me so long to publish like tf I could have finished this yesterday, but I took a lil (two hour) nap and then goofed around on my laptop for hours a mess i know. All that being said this was a request I loved writing because who doesn’t love a jealous Spencer? Enjoy! (side note: I wrote this fic without specifying a gender/specific pronouns to include readers who do not identify as female/woman/she/her. I’m trying my hand at it here because the request only said BAU reader, so I thought it might be nice to make this request more inclusive. To whoever sent this in, I hope that’s okay with you and that you like it!)

Couple: Spencer Reid/Bau!Reader 

Category: Angsty fluff

Content warning: Slight mention of murder

Word count: 2.3k

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You and Spencer were sitting in the conference room in the Dallas Police department. You and the team had been called in to investigate a series of female bodies popping up in a river bed. It had been two days since you had reached Dallas and the case was making a bit of progress.

Hotch had assigned you and Spencer to tackle geographical profiling. Geographical profiling wasn’t your natural talent, but the dynamic energy you and Spencer had at work was undeniable. Outside of work it was even better. Recently you had found yourself going on outings with Spencer. Whenever he wanted to do something you were the first person he would ask.

It was quite fun hanging out with Spencer after work. Whether it was a movie, dinner or stroll through the park, he made it the best time for you. You found him entertaining and charming on these special occasions. You hoped he would want to ask you out on an official date.

In the meantime though, you two worked diligently on solving the case at hand. You both were looking at a map of the area and pinpointing spots these women were last seen alive. Your mapping was interrupted by a knock on the door. You both turned around to see officer Mark Lucas at the doorway with his hands behind his back.

He had been around during the several conversations detective Frederick had with the team. Every time he looked at you with star-spangled eyes. He would repeatedly ask you if you needed anything as well. The day prior he asked if you wanted anything for dinner and the both of you could go get it. You politely declined, but found it cute how intrigued he was by you.

Spencer on the other hand found it quite obnoxious. Every time Mark would compliment you, touch you or stand slightly too close to you, you could feel Spencer’s blood pressure rise. Mark’s admiration for you was for sure overbearing and he made it known loud and proud. He would take any opportunity to flirt with you and every time Spencer would make sure you knew he was upset.

He smiled at you. “So, what’s that beautiful mind of yours thinking of?”

You tried to hide your blush by looking away from him. He definitely had an undeniable southern charm about him. You looked over to Spencer to see him roll his eyes at what Mark had said. You could tell since day one he didn’t like Mark’s presence. He would always look at him weird or roll his eyes.

“We’re just doing some geographical profiling,” you explained.

“I thought you were hard at work. Bet you’re pretty hungry,” he said and then revealed what was behind his back.

It was a white paper bag. He placed it in front of you and eagerly awaited as you opened it to inspect what was inside. It was a sandwich, bottle of water and fries from a local diner you had mentioned to him yesterday. He was definitely a good listener.

You smiled. “Thank you, Mark. I really appreciate it.”

“A man like me couldn’t bear to see you work so hard as you do and not supply you with food. It’s the minimum I could do for an extraordinary person like you, Y/N,” he said.

“There are women popping up dead down the road and you can’t bear seeing Y/N hungry? Makes me wonder where your real priorities are at,” Spencer bitterly said.

You were taken aback by his snippy tone. You had never heard Spencer talk to anyone besides a suspect or unsub like that. You were starting to wonder if he had the same hatred towards Mark. You didn’t get why though. It wasn’t as if you two were exclusive or anything.

Mark smiled at him. “Don’t take this gesture as me not caring about the crime, agent, because I do. I just thought you folk would be hungry doing all this hard work.”

“First of all, it’s Doctor and if that’s true then I guess you must have left my lunch back at the diner,” Spencer said as he got up from his seat.

“Where are you going? We still have to finish this geographical profile,” you said.

“I’m going on a lunch break as well. More than one of us needs to eat,” he said as he started walking towards the door.

“Well, if this spot’s empty, may I keep you company?” Mark said as he took Spencer’s seat beside you.

You smiled at him. “Go ahead.”

“Don’t you have some paperwork or something you have to do?” Spencer asked.

Mark looked at him with a playful confused face. “I thought we were on lunch break?”

Spencer opened his mouth to say something back to Mark which you knew would be vicious. You looked at him and shook your head, discouraging the bickering from going any further. He rolled his eyes and walked out of the room. You and Mark watched as he walked off. You sighed and shook your head.

“Don’t worry ‘bout him, darlin’. He just needs to take a break to cool off,” Mark assured you.

You shrugged. “I guess, but I hate seeing him upset.”

“He just needs some space. After he gets something in his system he’ll be brand new. Maybe if you start eating too you’ll feel better as well,” Mark said.

You smiled. “I guess so.”

After having lunch with Mark, he had to go back to his patrol duty for the afternoon. It was nice having some company while you ate. Spencer hadn’t come back like you thought he would since he usually only drinks coffee for lunch anyway. It was probably for the best since Mark was taking every moment you two spent together to shower you with endless compliments. If Spencer was there he would have definitely had a few words to say.

You walked down the hall to go to the kitchen to fill up your water bottle. Before you entered you saw Spencer walking your way with a coffee in his hand. You smiled and waved at him as he looked at you with a smile as well.

“I see you needed a bit of coffee to brighten your mood,” you said.

“I think I needed a break from seeing that officer drool all over you,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “He wasn’t drooling over me.”

“He’s been drooling over you ever since we’ve got here and you eat it up. No need to deny it, Y/N,” he said.

“Whatever, it’s not even important right now. We’ll get back to work as soon as I fill up my water bottle,” you said as you walked into the kitchen.

You heard Spencer’s footsteps follow you inside the kitchen. To both of your surprise, Mark was in there getting ready to take the trash out. He saw you walk in and instantly smiled.

“Hello, beautiful. Don’t you have some work you need to be finishing up?” Mark asked with a beaming smile.

“Yeah, I’m just filling up my water bottle before Spencer and I get back to it,” you said as you approached the sink.

He walked up to you. “Allow me. Can’t have you working too hard on little tasks like this.”

“Y/N’s capable of turning on a tap and filling a water bottle,” Spencer snapped.

“No need to have your knickers in a knot, agent. It’s just some good ol’ southern hospitality I’m offering to Y/N,” he said.

“I’m flattered, really, Mark, but I don’t want you to miss your patrol duty and get into trouble,” you said.

“No need to worry, gorgeous. I had to clean the kitchen up a little first anyway. I don’t mind making your day a bit easier,” he said.

“Okay, you know what, whenever you two are serious about finding this unsub, let me know,” Spencer said as he turned around to walk out the door.

“Spencer, are you serious right now? You don’t think we’re serious about finding this unsub?” You asked.

He turned around. “I know you somewhat are, Y/N, but the southern hospitality oriented officer isn’t. I’ll finish the geographical profile on my own. Hotch needs some help with interviews anyway.”

You looked at him in shock. “It’s one thing to be a jerk, but to reassign me to do something else is another thing.”

You turned around to quickly fill up your water bottle and then stormed up to Spencer. You could tell by his eyes he started to feel bad about what he had said. You didn’t care though. If this was how he was going to deal with his jealousy towards Mark, it was time to give him some space. He needed some time to find the real reason why he had to make his jealousy go so far.

“I’m going to Hotch now. Talk to me when you decide you don’t want to be a child anymore,” you said.

Before Spencer could say anything to you, you stormed off. You didn’t want to hear him explain himself because you knew it would be some weak excuse. You soon shed what had occurred in the kitchen, so you could focus on interviewing with Hotch. The case was more important at the moment than immature boy drama.

The next day you were out on the road with Hotch, JJ and Rossi as all of you went to the areas the victims were last seen. The geographical profile Spencer had finished was handy, you had to admit. Would have probably been even better if you could have helped finish it.

On the way back to the police department, you thought about if Spencer had gotten over his jealousy. You had never seen him act so viciously to another man before. You guess Mark was coming on a bit strong, but Spencer and you weren’t much more outside of friends. His actions made you wonder if he saw you as something more.

When you and everyone else arrived at the station, you decided you wanted to use the washroom before helping them deliver the profile. Hotch had allowed everyone ten minutes to prep before they delivered the profile. As you made your way towards the washroom, something caught your eye in the conference room. You saw Spencer sitting in there alone. He looked as if he was in deep thought.

Your curiosity got the best of you and you walked into the room. He hadn’t noticed you since his eyes were still focused on the table, eyebrows still furrowed. You slightly cleared your throat to get his attention. His head immediately shot up and when he saw it was you, his face soon softened.

“I wasn’t expecting you guys to be back so early,” he said as he sat up in his chair.

“Well, we have everything we need to deliver the profile now,” you said.

“I see. Do you have a few minutes to spare before then?” He asked.

You shrugged. “I guess I have some time to spare for you.”

He smiled as he pulled out the chair to his right for you. You walked over and took your seat. You could already tell by his face how sorry he was about yesterday. He looked adorable as his face was slightly pink with embarrassment and you could tell he was searching for the right words to say to you.

“Y/N, I’m sorry about my behaviour yesterday. It was out of line and I shouldn’t have said you didn’t care about the case,” he apologized.

“Why were you so angry? Is someone a bit jealous of Mark?” You asked.

He looked down in embarrassment. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“What? I can’t hear you with your face to the floor,” you said.

He looked up into your eyes. “I guess I am jealous of Mark. He shows you this undying admiration and love and I thought you were enjoying his company more than you could ever enjoy mine.”

“What? That’s nearly impossible, Spence. I love your company the most,” you assured him.

“Again, I wasn’t thinking rationally for the past few days. I thought about it last night and I think why this jealousy flared up so much is because I thought I was too late.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Too late for what?”

“Too late to actually ask you out on a real date. I’ve been meaning to, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to.”

“Why did you think I didn’t want to?”

“Because I didn’t think you saw me more than a friend, so I built an irrational sense of jealousy over that assumption.”

You sighed, but it soon turned into a giggle. “I thought Doctorate graduates had to do labs before publishing their research? You’re out here making all these assumptions without even testing it first.”

He chuckled. “I know, it was stupid of me to do and I’m sorry again.”

“No hard feelings at all.”

He smiled as he eagerly looked at you. You looked at him confused as you didn’t know what he was waiting for. Then his face turned into a worried expression which made you look at him worried.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“You didn’t answer if you’d actually want to go out on a real date or not,” he said.

You laughed. “Spence, actually ask me in context. What you said didn’t count as a question, it was a confession.”

He chuckled. “Okay, okay. Would you want to go out on a real date with me?”

“Only on one condition,” you said.

He looked at you confused. “Anything. What’s the condition?”

“I get to revoke your Doctorate until you prove to me why they gave you three again because I think they need to reevaluate your critical thinking skills,” you joked.

He laughed. “Almost anything.”

You both laughed as you two headed out of the conference room. As you both headed out you saw Mark walking towards you two. In a second Spencer grabbed your hand to hold it. You looked at him and saw him beaming with pride as you two walked by Mark. You rolled your eyes. No matter how smart a man was, a man in love would always be dumb.

—–

MASTERLIST

[bokettochild]

For the fluff prompt thing, how about Time and Hyrule? Maybe something with fairies? Thanks!

I did some Fairy Hyrule for you, Anon!

Sorry I didn't get this done sooner, I've been busier than I expected since I opened up asks. I hope this is along the lines of what you wanted!

Time is safe.

When first he’d met all the other heroes, Hyrule had felt wary and uncertain. After all, it’s only in the castle and Mama’s cave that he’s ever known safety, and strangers are nearly always bad news if they’re being friendly with him.

And these strangers were very friendly.

Most of them had greeted him with smiles when he’d been dropped into their camp, their explanation being that a goddess of some kind wanted him to help them with something. Hyrule had never heard much about any goddesses, although he’d seen a statue or two in his travels, but most of the other people here seemed to know what was up, and they were only too eager to tell him.

And by too eager, he meant too eager. They were entirely too friendly with a stranger, and only two of them seemed interested in giving him his space: the one with the pink stripe in his hair and the one with lots of armor. He learns their names first: Legend and Time.

Legend is just as wary of him as he is of Legend, but Time... Time stares after him blankly, unreadable. Even so, the exotic taste of curiosity rolls across his tongue as a single royal blue orb stares at him, heavy and yet weightless.

Time is warm. Warm in a way that Hylians don’t know, that only the forest people and animals know. He is Safe, he is Comfort, and he is Known. Hyrule doesn’t know what it is, doesn’t know what makes the older hero so, but he finds that he is drawn to the man’s side, that he leeches comfort from him.

“Again?” The vet’s violet gaze is flat, but Time can see the warmth in it regardless.

During the night, Hyrule has become wrapped around Time as tightly as a limpet, and as the Vet stands over the two of them, looking down at where Time attempts to free himself from Hyrule’s grasp, he chuckles softly.

“Kid has an iron grip.” Time offers apologetically as he falls back on his bedroll, Hyrule’s sleeping form still clinging to him. “Sorry, legend, I don’t think I can take over watch as planned.”

The vet smirks. “Yeah, no. Rest, Old Man, he’s not letting you go until morning when he turns fairy pink when he wakes up.”

And Legend’s right, when Hyrule wakes up the next morning that is exactly what he does when Warriors starts teasing him, and while Time reassures the youngster that he doesn’t mind all that much, Hyrule looks utterly mortified.

“I don’t do that, not normally. It’s not safe to sleep close to other people.” The traveler whispers to legend on the road that day.

His mentor glances over at him knowingly. “Only people you don’t trust. Hasn’t Time earned your trust yet?”

“Has he earned yours?” Bushy brows pull together as Hyrule looks down at his friend.

Legend snorts a laugh, shoving his hands in his pockets absently. “Of course not, but I don’t really trust most folks, not about myself anyways. But you? You’re my successor, and if there’s one person I’d trust to look out for you if I couldn’t, it’d be the guy in a giant suit of armor who wields a sword that’s bigger than me. Least ways, he’s the least likely to get you killed.”

And Hyrule Knows, knows with a capitol ‘k’, that that means one thing in short: Legend trusts Time and Hyrule both, and he trusts both of them to take care of each other. That’s all he needs. Legend isn’t called the vet for nothing after all, and from what the two of them have seen, their worlds are the worst off and most dangerous, so if they both agree that Time is someone to be trusted, then he’s safe.

A whispering voice in his mind tells him he knew that already.

He’s woken up clinging to Time so many times in the morning, even if he wasn’t anywhere near the man when he fell asleep, that he’s given up trying to avoid it. Time seems to appreciate the warmth and contact as much as he does anyways, and the man always looks lighter in the mornings.

Hyrule wishes he was there now, curled up under Time’s arm and resting his head against the older man’s chest, breath coming deep and soft as sleep slowly seeps its way across his body. He wishes he was back in camp, holding on tight to someone and leaching heat off of them with a contented sigh. He wishes he could free his wings and rest against Time’s side while drinking sugar water and listening to the melodic hum of Time’s voice.

But he isn’t there. He isn’t with Time or the others. He’s stranded in Legend’s Hyrule, hiding out in the entrance to a dungeon with Four curled close to his side, the both of the shaking in the cold and wet as rain seeps down through the dungeon door to puddle at their feet.

It’s cold, and wet, and dark.

But at least the monsters can’t find them.

It’d been the work of mere minutes to defeat all the monsters in the room, and while they have a key and tool to pass on through the dungeon, that’s not their intent; the two small heroes just want a place out of sight and out of the rain while they figure out what to do.

Four sneezes.

“Did any of the others mention a camping spot?” Hyrule muses aloud, leaning back against the cold stone walls that line the room and trying to ignore the running of his own nose, or the puffiness of his face.

“Kakariko.” Four sniffles, rubbing his face and arms and fingers in an effort to warm up. “They said it was a couple hours yet though.”

Great. They’d fallen to the back of the group when Four had seen two minish trying to help one of their wounded friends over to a burrow. Naturally, Four had offered them help, and Hyrule had trailed along so Four wouldn’t be alone.

The minish village was only a quick dart away from the path, but by the time they had got back, they had found that the others had moved on and a couple ‘blins stood on the path instead. It took a bit of effort to kill the monsters, but once they were done and continued along the path, one thing after another had gone wrong, and they’d been left here; cold, alone, and with no way to hunt down the others in the sopping wet of the storm outside.

Four sneezed again.

“We need to find them.” Hyrule whispers softly, even though in the big room he knows that Four will hear it too. He doesn’t care. He’s cold and tired and his feet hurt from being cold and standing on stone floors for so long, and he really wants to be warm and safe again.

“We can’t.” Four sniffles softly, brows drawn in irritation as he wipes his nose for the nth time. “They didn’t leave a trail we can follow, and besides, they’re probably already looking for us, it’s been a few hours.”

“How will they find us if we’re in here though?”

“We churned up actual mountains of dirt to get in here when that Like-Like chased us down, they’ll notice.”

A smile flits across his face, even in their predicament, he can’t resist a light jab at his brother. “Were they actually mountains though? Or did they just look like it?”

Bright blue shimmers up at him. “I will come for your ankles if you say that again.”

Hyrule’s grin grows, and he’s about to respond, about to tell Four that of course it’s his ankles, the shorter hero can’t reach anything else, but then something brushes his senses. Something Safe, and Warm and Known.

“Time.”

“We haven’t even started fighting yet.” Four cocks a brow.

“No, Time’s coming.” Hyrule’s feet carry him to the door, steps light and head cocked on one side as if he was listening.

He’s not sure how he knows, how he feels it, but he does. Time is close, he’s getting closer every minute and-

Hyrule throws the door open and rockets into the warmth and safety that is Time’s arms, sighing in contentment as something within purrs happily at the closeness of the older man. Time is Safe. Time is Warm and Time is Known.

Warriors’ Hyrule is big.

The towns are bigger than anything Hyrule’s ever seen, even Hyrule Castle itself, and don’t get him started on the cities!

Hyrule felt very small standing in the market of Castletown.

People bustled to and fro, baskets on their arms, carts at hand, children and animals trailing behind and dust dirt and NOISE following them. It was really getting to be too much, and Hyrule was going to wear out the hem of his tunic in no time with the way he was rubbing at it.

Wars led the way through the town confidently, stopping to greet people and make exchanges as the rest of them followed after. Hyrule really wished Wars had agreed to take the non-suffocating and anxiety triggering path to Hyrule Castle, but he hadn’t said as much and Wars had already said they needed supplies.

It would be fine; he could hold out a bit longer. He couldn’t.

The others followed Warriors’ lead, Sky keeping holf of Legend and Four both while Wind kept close to Wild. It was important they didn’t let the smaller members of their party be caught up in the crowd, but some of them looked torn between hating being watched like kids, and taking comfort in the security of it all.

Oh man, Hyrule would love nothing more than to switch places with them. Sky was always warm and safe, even if he was mighty trusting, and Twilight’s big hands always enveloped everyone else's so that they felt secure in knowing they wouldn’t be pulled away.

Delicate fingers unconsciously reached out and caught hold of the hand beside them.

Time started at the contact, gaze traveling quickly down to where Hyrule’s small hand had caught hold of his own, broken nails and calloused finger pads clutching tightly against his own weathered skin. The traveler hung close, tucked in on himself and shying away for contact with strangers.

The image of a small boy dressed in green trying to weave through a bustling town, his fairy hidden in his hat so she wouldn’t be lost as he was jostled and knocked into by strangers and possible enemies and people who stared and watched and bumped.

Time clasped the hand in his a bit firmer, watching with satisfaction as Hyrule’s shoulders relaxed slightly.

Warm. Safe. Known.

Time gasped awake, eyes flying wide open as harsh breaths surged through his lungs to catch in his throat and make him gasp for air. He didn’t know at what point he’d sat up, didn’t know when he’d turned his gaze over to survey their camp, blue eyes trailing over sleeping forms and mind frantically counting the young heroes around him.

Wind curled up on top of Wars.

Two.

Four nestled between Twilight and Wild (a good place, they both slept hot).

Five.

Hyrule curled up next to Legend’s empty bedroll, Sky just a few feet away, lost in the folds of his sail-cloth.

Seven.

Legend, sitting with his back to the flames as he watched Time, sword bare across his equally bare knees.

Eight.

“You okay, old man?” The vet raised one brow, expression almost judgemental if you didn’t know him, eyes lidded and scowl set.

Time didn’t answer. Shivers wracked his frame, cloudiness refusing to leave his mind as his thoughts and emotions swirled within.

Safe. Home. Safe. Home.

He wanted to be safe. He wanted to be home. He wanted to blink awake in his own treehouse with Navi scolding him for sleeping in, and then run down to the fields to play with Malon and Epona.

He wanted Navi to pinch his ear and tell him that he should have known better than to sleep without a blanket.

He wants Navi to curls up in his hair and Sing.

Time doesn’t process what he’s doing, but Legend watches in surprise as the man grips ahold of his blanket and softly creeps over to the others. Legend’s empty bedroll is as cold and firm as a rock, but Time doesn’t seem to even notice that it’s there, curling up around Hyrule with a sigh that says he’s not entirely awake.

Soft lights shimmer over the pair as Time drifts off again, the creases of his brow smoothing as the warm and constant buzz of Hyrule’s soft snores washes over him.

Legend sighs, stretching his legs and looking up at the sky.

He’ll just sleep on Time’s bedroll tonight he supposes.

[mrs-gucci]

There seems to be a darker, more violent take on Clyde floating around right now and I LOVE it!! I’m working on one for him too!

Since you say open for darker requests, I’d love to hear your take on a more violent Clyde! He could be saving you from a stalker. Clyde can show him what a real bad ass can do and then show you how well he can treat you too lol! He could be protecting you from someone at the bar. He could be showing you his special forces skills after some gets aggressive. You name it lol!

Secrets of the Blood Moon {werewolf!Clyde x Reader darkfic}

author's notes: helloooo! my friend shannon, thank you for this request!! I am also a fan of the darker take on Clyde and I hope I did it some justice!! I worked really, really hard on this one, and I’m super pleased with how it turned out.

**PLEASE HEED THE DARKFIC WARNING!! THIS FIC INVOLVES SEVERAL VERY HEAVY AND VERY DARK THEMES, SO PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION!**

warnings: angst. smut. hurt/comfort. a minor car crash. mentions of alcohol consumption. rut. knotting. breeding kink. werewolf stuff. attempted mating bite. murder coverup. clyde feels guilty.

tw's: noncon touching (not by clyde). involuntary attempted sexual assault (werewolf clyde pins her down & dry humps w/o consent, but human clyde doesn’t know he did it nor would ever intend to do it). blood & gore. graphic depictions of murder and violence. human-hunting. depictions of human body consumption (is it cannibalism if he’s technically a wolf when it happens?). werewolf sex.

**this is a work of FICTION. the author does not attempt to condone the actions/behaviors of the characters written.**

word count: 5.9k

my taglist peeps: @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea​ ​@gildedstarlight (if you’d like to be added to or removed from my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist.)

Last Night

Stepping out of your car, you’re instantly suffocated by the thick humidity of the West Virginia evening. The sun paints cotton candy across the sky as it sets behind the trees on the mountainous horizon, the almost full moon hot on its tail, slowly rising on the other side of the sky.

The blood moon comes tomorrow, and from the old folk tales your mom used to tell about the deep West Virginia countryside, some weird shit goes down under the crimson moon. You never really believed her. What all could happen in lil ol’ Boone County, anyway?

The moment you step into the refreshing, air-conditioned Duck Tape, you’re immediately greeted by a loud call of your name.

“Y/N!” You smile and wave at Jimmy. 

Clyde looks up and smiles at you as you come and sit down at the bar next to Jimmy. He serves the customer before coming over to talk with you and the eldest Logan.

You lean over the bar to give him a kiss, earning a couple hoots and hollers from the bar crowd, which made you both laugh as you pull away.

“How was work, buttercup?” He asks, wiping off some glasses. “Weren’t ya doin’ that one presentation today? How’d that go?”

You’re always so flattered that Clyde actually pays attention when you talk about work stuff. Most guys just smile and nod, but Clyde actually listens and remembers. He even remembered your one year anniversary at the company you currently work for, sending you takeout from your favorite place along with some flowers.

“Yeah, it was alright. Boring as hell, but the partners seemed pleased, so that’s all I can really ask for at this point.”

Both he a Jimmy give a small chuckle, nodding before Clyde mixes your favorite drink, setting it down in front of you a few minutes later. You thank him, and the three-way conversation continues before the bar door swings open. 

Something about the man’s entrance makes you look over, already smelling trouble as he steps over the threshold. His eyes are glued on you, a smug smirk etched on his expression. 

A hush falls over the patrons for a few seconds, all eyes on the leather-clad man. Clyde’s hackles are immediately up, body tense as the mystery man saunters over, plopping himself down onto the vacant stool next to yours. 

Things on the floor continue as normal, the chatter picking back up, and you subtly scoot a little closer to Jimmy. 

“Bartender?” A thick New York accent calls.

Clyde walks over, plastering a fake smile on his face, seemingly the epitome of southern hospitality.

“What can I getcha, sir?”

The man gives Clyde a once-over and snickers. “No, seriously, where’s the bartender? I’d like a drink.”

Your grip clenches around your glass. You absolutely hated it when people were dicks about Clyde’s hand.

“Seriously, I am the bartender.” He states firmly. “So, what can I get ya?”

His tone sends a chill down your spine. Normally, Clyde just shuts down whenever someone starts poking fun at his missing hand, but tonight, there was a certain air of frustration, of dominance.

You just thought he’d finally cracked, after years of dealing with this bullshit. But as you would learn, there was an alternate explanation for his sudden outwardly alpha-like behavior.

The guy seems to back off a little bit, just asking for a cold Coors straight from the bottle. You startle a bit when Clyde slams the bottle down on the counter in front of him, and you could swear his eyes turn a light grey for a second before returning to the dark brown pools you’re familiar with.

Everything’s quiet for a little while, the man sipping his beer in silence, before he turns to you. He doesn’t say anything at first, simply allowing his eyes to drink in your seated figure.

“What’s your name, baby girl?” The beer smell of his breath is strong as he leans in. “You lookin’ for someone to keep you company tonight?”

You roll your eyes. Douchebag. “Nope. I’m perfectly content just sitting here, thanks.”

Clyde’s watching the interaction like a hawk as he makes someone’s drink. It’s a wonder he can concentrate on the drink when his thoughts and eyes are glued to you.

His slimy hand touches down on your bare thigh, just above your knee, and you jump in your seat. He grins, trailing it up as he leans in even closer.

“Are you sure? I could show you a real good time...”

Glass shatters from behind the bar and then, Clyde’s grabbing the man by his biker jacket, tossing him onto the floor with an almost superhuman strength. You stand up, appalled, as the man on the hardwood scrambles to get up.

An icy grey begins to frost over his sweet chocolate irises as Clyde clenches his fists by his side. 

“Don’t ya dare touch ma girl, ye pervert.” He growls, voice lower than you’ve ever heard it. “Someone ought to show ya what respect looks like.”

The bar has fallen pin-drop silent, all sets of eyes focused in on the developing scene. He cocks his fist above his head, snarling as he readies to pounce on the helpless man. 

It’s then that Jimmy hops up and puts himself between the two men, holding his hands up in front of Clyde. “Don’t do this t’ yerself. Ye know what’ll happen if ya do.”

This seems to bring him back, the warmness flooding back to his irises. His shoulders slump as he huffs softly, pushing past his older brother angrily, storming into his office and slamming the door behind him.

Shakily, the man stands and puts a twenty down on the table before running out of the bar, bell jingling against the wooden door as it eases shut after him.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rare blood moon hangs in its place against the pitch black sky as you pull up to the Logan’s trailer home. There aren’t any stars in the clear night’s sky, despite it being the dead of summer, but you don’t think much of it as you approach the shadowed porch.

Moths flutter around the dimly flickering porch light while you peek through the windows, which were as black as the night. Not a single light was on.

Odd. The Pontiac’s parked in its normal spot outside.

You flip the threadbare ‘welcome’ mat up, revealing the rusting gold key beneath. Sticking it in the lock, you turn until the door pops open, an eerie creak accompanying it.

"Clyde?” You say, looking around the trailer’s living room as you flip the living room lights on.

You call for him again. Maybe he’s just taking a nap. “Clyde?”

Still no response. 

Now, you’re getting worried. There’s no note, nothing noticeably out of place; in fact, it’s almost all too still. It gives you the creeps, how still and quiet it is in here.

The scent of suspicion thickens the air around you, and you just get the most awful feeling in your gut that something bad is happening or is about to happen.

Adrenaline begins to pump through your veins as you quickly walk around, peeking in the kitchen, and in the spare room. The air seems to thicken again the closer to draw to Clyde’s room, and you push the door open with bated breath.

You’re absolutely mortified at the sight before you. 

Shreds of carpet, fabric, and mattress stuffing is scattered the floor, and giant claw marks have torn straight through the drywall. The blankets and comforter, at least the remains of them, are disheveled where they lay across the clawed-up mattress. 

His vanity mirror is almost fully shattered, and the products that once sat atop are now tossed across the floor. The chilly summer’s night air flutters the curtains on the opened window above the bed.

The first thought that comes to mind is a bear attack of some kind. Now fully freaking out, you’re wondering how in the world a bear got into the trailer, and why it only seemed to attack Clyde’s room. You scramble to grab your phone from your purse with shaky hands, dialing Jimmy’s number in haste.

Was this one of the blood moon enigmas mom warned about? No, no, bear attacks are pretty common around here.

 It takes a few rings before he picks up.

“Y/N?” He sounds out of breath, exhausted.

“Jimmy, hey. Do you know where Clyde is? I’m at the trailer, and--”

Something that sounds like a growl rips through the speaker, followed by a woman’s voice. 

“Is everything oka--”

“Mellie, I can’t help ya right now! I’ll be there in a second!” He yells in the background. “Sorry Y/N, you were sayin’ somethin’?”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just at the trailer, and I peeked into Clyde’s room...”

“Ya didn’t touch anything, did ya?” His voice is rushed.

You shake your head, eyebrows furrowed. “Uh, no, but--”

The growl comes again, louder this time, and it almost sounds like it’s...a voice. A very deep and very animalistic one, but a voice nonetheless. And it was saying something, although you couldn’t really hear clearly enough.

“Jimmy, do you know where Clyde is?” You’re getting a little impatient.

“Don’t worry ‘bout Clyde, he’s okay, he’s, uhh, here with us.”

“Oh, uh, o-okay.”

But tonight was supposed to be your special night together.

“Y/N? Listen real close, now. I need ya to get outta the trailer and go home, right now. Don’t linger, and refrain from touchin’ anything in the trailer. Lock all yer doors n’ close all the windows when ya get back home, okay? ‘N don’t go outside for the rest’a the night.”

Okay, now you’re starting to get fearful. “What--”

“Jimmy!” Mellie’s panicked voice comes through the phone speaker again, this time a bit clearer. He curses under his breath.

Her cries clearly rattled the eldest Logan, and he quickly tells you to just do what he said and then hangs up in a frantic state. 

You’re frozen for a moment, but then you quickly scurry outside to your car, frantically looking around as you scramble to fit the key in the driver’s side door.  By some miracle, you hold your hand steady enough to unlock it, quickly shutting the door and turning on the engine, peeling out of there like a madwoman.

Suddenly, as you go to pull out of the driveway, a strange apparition appears at the edge of the wood across the street. You squint, trying to figure out what the hell it is. Whatever it is, though, it’s panting heavily and looks...inhuman.

It’s standing on two legs, but its large, probably almost seven feet tall if you had to guess, and must’ve had some type of black fur or skin since it almost blends in with the darkened forest.

The reddish light of the moon is the only light that reflects upon this mystery creature, before it seems to notice your car idling in the driveway. The crisp light grey pupils seemingly glimpse into your soul as the creature looks upon you.

Clearly, now, you can decipher what exactly it is, although you’re in utter shock and skeptical to think it real: A werewolf.

You quickly put the car in reverse, slamming down on the gas, flying backwards for a few seconds before colliding with the trailer’s tin wall. Your head slams forward onto the steering wheel, trickles of blood dribble down your forehead and nose as your consciousness is lost.

When you come to, only a few minutes later, you groan as the welt forms on your forehead. You look around, groggily, seeing that your car is in drive but isn’t moving. Surely when you’d passed out, your foot would’ve come off the brake and you would’ve rolled away...

Stepping out carefully, you find that some bricks have been placed in front of all four tires, effectively keeping the car at a dead standstill. 

Who in the world did this?

Then, you turn your head and walk slowly around to the front of your car, seeing the remnants of sharp teeth marks on your bumper. You’re frozen, a lump slowly crawling up your throat as the realization hits. 

A low growl comes from behind you, and your worst fears have suddenly been realized. You slowly, carefully spin around on your heels, afraid that one wrong move may make you tonight’s surprise entree.

Your eyes meet the soul-piercing grey’s of the werewolf, the one you’d seen at the edge of the forest minutes earlier. The one that seemingly saved your life, but...how did a werewolf know what to do?

As you continue to gaze at the large being before you, you’re struck with a sense of familiarity, almost as if you’d met them before. Strange, because you can’t recall ever encountering a werewolf. Hell, you’ve never even seen a wolf before, other than in pictures. Surely you’d remember coming into contact with a seemingly impossible biological phenomenon such as this one.

His presence is scarily comforting, and you find yourself briefly wondering what it’d feel like to be enveloped in his woolen arms. Well, arm, technically speaking. This particular werewolf seems to be missing the lower half of his left paw.

Then, your mind connects the dots, and you’re shocked to your very core. It wasn’t a bear that attacked Clyde’s room, it was Clyde. This werewolf that’s standing before you is Clyde. That’s why Jimmy and Mellie sounded so frantic and breathless on the phone; they must’ve been trying to keep him contained.

But why? Werewolves usually recognize the important people in their human lives...right? That’s why he’d saved you from rolling off...

Your headlights’ reflection was speared by your figure, creating a shadow that covered most of Clyde’s form, except for the very tips of his paws, which had enormous claws emerging from beneath the thick layer of fur.

“Clyde?” You whisper, and he seems to soften for a moment, falling down on all threes.

Just as you swallow the lump in your throat and begin to cautiously approach the creature, hand outstretched to allow him to smell you, his eyes suddenly darken, the once snowy grey now more like the color of storm clouds. 

He snarls, white teeth shining in the moon’s moody crimson-tinted reflection, and you immediately backtrack. Oh god, I’m fucked.

Your bottom collides with the front of your car, the engine thrumming lowly as it idles happily, grille warm from the machine inside. The headlights are now fully shining on the creature, fur shining under the bright lights as he approaches, lines of drool strung between his sharp fangs. 

“C-Clyde, please,” You plead with the creature. “It’s m-me, Y/N, your g-girlfriend. You know m-me, you don’t w-wanna do t-this...”

It doesn’t seem to do much to dissuade him, the animal within now overshadowing the kind, gentle man you know and love. No, this creature is something else. This isn’t your Clyde.

The wolf stops short of the hood, where you’ve crawled up onto and are laying back, raising his nose up in the air, sniffing. You’re perplexed by this action, but it becomes evident when his ear prick and he says, in that same deep, animalistic voice that was in the background of your call with Jimmy, 

“Mate.”

And then, he’s pouncing, trapping your hands above your head with his one arm while his legs scramble to find a good grip on the metallic surface of the car, hips rutting frantically. 

His muzzle dips down, wet nose running along your jawline and neck, teeth scraping dangerously against your thin skin. He quickly settles on a spot behind your ear, growling as his pink tongue darts out to begin lapping at the spot. 

You’re completely still, both physically restrained and unable to bring yourself to even try to move as the creature drags his fangs across the skin behind your ear. Your car is rocking back and forth with his hips’ violent movements, dragging his enormous cock against your lower stomach. 

He pants into your ear, breath hot as he prepares to sink his sharp fangs into your tender skin, marking you as his forever...

“CLYDE!”

Jimmy’s voice pierces through the still of the night. Crickets stop chirping for a moment, and Clyde’s body stills. His head whips around, snarling at his brother.

Mellie’s right behind him, and she peers around him, trying to look at you. “Y/N, are ya alright?”

“YYYeah,” You manage, somehow. “I-I’m o-okay.”

Clyde hops down, all three feet planted on the ground, hackles up as Jimmy takes a step forward. “Mate.”

“She ain’t yer mate.” Jimmy says, calmly. He points to you. “Look at whatcha done to ‘er, Clyde. Would a mate look like that, huh? Look at ‘er, Clyde, she’s all beat up and scared outta her damn mind.”

The wolf visibly stands down, slowly turning his head to look back at you, seeing the scratches on your wrists and the marks on your neck. He sees the bit of wetness on your shirt and shorts, from his slick.

He hangs his head and begins to cry, whimpering and whining as he sprints off, surprisingly agile and quick for a wolf with three paws, across the road and back into the woods.

His blood’s boiling, he’s angry that he couldn’t defend you against Jimmy, mad that his alpha instincts had failed him. Even as a werewolf, one of the most powerful beings in the forest, he was still weaker than and overshadowed by his showboat older brother. 

Loud barks of anger rip through him as he masterfully maneuvers through the forest, weaving through the trees, dodging thorns, leaping over the fallen tree trunks. 

The sky suddenly begins to empty down onto Earth, the cool summer night’s rain a welcomed refreshment on Clyde’s fur. He looks up at the blood moon, huffing softly as he silently curses the orb for bringing this condition to him each full moon, as he did every single moon before this, and will continue to do with every one after.

He reaches his cave a few minutes later, stopping dead in his tracks when he smells smoke coming from inside. He’s on high alert, now, as he moves to peek into the cavern.

There, he finds a lone man sitting by a very small fire, rubbing his hands together over the heat. He’s clad in head-to-toe tree camo with a shotgun laying just out of arms reach.

This man’s scent feels awfully familiar, Clyde thinks, but it takes him a minute to figure out why. And, when he does remember, Clyde is suddenly not so sympathetic for the unwanted visitor in his cave.

The wolf’s mind falls to a certain memory from last night at Duck Tape. This is the jackass that thought he could get away with feelin’ you up. The one that poked plenty ‘a fun at his missing hand. 

Clyde’s still-hard cock presses up against his furry stomach in excitement, tongue licking over his razor-sharp fangs. He couldn’t protect or avenge you last night, again due to Jimmy, but maybe he can now. 

Jimmy ain’t gonna get in my way this time ‘round.

He can’t just come running into the entrance, no, that allows him too much time to grab the gun. He thinks, and thinks, until he remembers the connecting cave that he’d recently found on the last full moon. He bets he can get in there and creep up behind the man, do a sneak attack. 

He’s salivating in anticipation as he bounds down to the opposite side of the cave, paws padding lightly against the soft gravelly dirt floor, trotting along carefully.

The man is none the wiser to the wolf’s presence, and the hum of the loud rain certainly wasn’t hurting. A loud crack of thunder suddenly rips through the forest, vibrating the ground. Clyde freezes briefly as the young man curls up further, chin resting in the gap between his knees. 

Predatory instincts pumping through his veins at an all-time high, he crouches down as he stalks closer and closer to the unsuspecting body by the small fire. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, now right behind the man, moving in slow motion so as to not alert his victim.

When the time is right, just as the next clap of thunder rumbles the rocks, Clyde pounces. He grabs the man’s shirt, dragging him out of the cave with an unprecedented swiftness. The fire is extinguished with the tussle, leaving the cave shrouded in darkness, the shotgun laid abandoned on the ground where he’d put it.

He struggles against the wolf’s grip, fabric ripping violently the further his body’s dragged along. Clyde throws him out onto the forest floor, pawing at the ground like a wild stallion as the disheveled man scrambles to his feet.

His hands are shaky as he holds them up in front of him, as if trying to calm the creature like a domesticated dog.  “E-Easy, easy.”

If he could, Clyde would’ve rolled his eyes at the man’s pathetic attempt to talk down at him. He snarls, watching in amusement at the way he startles and stumbles back. 

Clyde’s got the man backed against the trunk of an old oak within seconds, and he stands up on two legs, glaring at the much smaller figure. He bares his teeth, a wolf’s version of a devilish grin.

“Run.”

It seems like the man is caught in between being shocked that this wolf just spoke English and being chilled to the core by his word. He sputters for a moment, brain smoking as it churns on overdrive, before his legs carry him as quickly as they can down the mountainside. 

The wolf casually trots along after him, in very little rush to catch him. He’s throbbing hard now, the excitement translating into pure arousal. Clyde knows these woods like the back of his hand; there’s no where for this man to hide from his inevitable fate as the wolf-man’s next meal.

His head continuously whips around, meeting the grayish-white orbs tucked behind a thick coat of jet black fur. In a frenzy, he tucks himself behind a large tree, catching his breath.

Twigs snap in seemingly all directions, his breath heavy as his eyes flicker all around the dark, damp wood, the only light coming from the crimson-tinted orb above. He reaches back and wraps his arms around the tree’s trunk, panicked.

A low growl rattles his eardrums and he looks to the side, seeing the black creature right at his side. Clyde’s head snaps to the side, looking directly at his victim.

Crying out in fear, the man leaps forward to make a run for it, but is quickly taken to the dirt by the wolfish creature. The man squirms and screams out for mercy, for God, and Clyde knows what he has to do now.

He quickly sinks his teeth into the back of the mans neck repeatedly, effectively severing the spinal cord, leaving the man completely limp and defenseless. A quick and effective manner of disabling a victim, he’s learned through hunting animals, but keeps him just alive enough to see what’s being done to him. 

Clyde flips the limp form over, now on his back, and his eyes are wide as he watches the wolf above him, black fur now stained red around the mouth, stare down at him with a hungry gaze.

His mouth opens, probably to beg for his life, but it’s too late. Fangs sink through his shirt and into the flesh of his chest, just above where his rapidly beating heart lay.

The thump-thump rhythm slows, then stops, the life leaving his body. Sweet copper tang coats the wolf’s tongue as the body is drained of its remaining energy. 

There is little feeling better than watching the life slowly and steadily drain from the eyes of a victim, and suddenly, Clyde’s throbbing arousal has reached an almost unmanageable point.

But, he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to devour his freshly-caught prey, especially while it’s still warm. So he digs in immediately, carving further into the hole over the heart he’d already created, ripping out the vital organ.

He holds it triumphantly between his teeth for a moment before setting it aside. His craving is more for the meat, he’s never been much of a fan of organs, so he gets to work separating the good meat from the corpse.

Once he’s done, he lifts his nose in the air, howling loudly. He’s never been this hard before, he swears it, and there’s only one person that can satisfy this urge:

You.

For a wolf on three legs, he reaches your house in record time. He can already feel the wolf-ness fading steadily, the human beginning to peek through the cracks. But, his rut doesn’t give at all, and he bounds up the steps and scratches at your door.

You’re startled by the noise, already a gut feeling you know who it is. When you open the door, Clyde’s wolf figure is sitting politely on your doormat.  Should you let him in?

He pushes past, whimpering as he does so, before you can make a decision. You shut the door slowly before turning around to face the creature. He seems a bit different than when you saw him earlier, seeming a bit more human.

You stand against the door, back pressed up against it, looking down at the wolf in your living room. 

“Y/N.” He breathes, huskily, attempting to ignore the hardness pressing up against his wooly stomach. “N-Need you. Please.”

He’s ashamed as he stands up on his hind legs, wrapping a clawed hand around his oozing cock, jutting his hips out as if to show off for you. The alpha in him needs to show you how suitable of a mate he is, what strong pups he can give you.

“It hhhhurts, b-buttercup.”

The battle going on inside him, animal versus human, is painfully evident on his expression. Your hearts been ripped in half as you watch him struggle with himself, the human trying to overpower the animal, and the animal trying to fight off the human.  He doesn’t even know what he did to you earlier. 

“What do you need from me, Clyde? I’m here to help you, honey, I’ll do whatever you need.”

His eyes widen in surprise, but its quickly replaced by a look of what can only be described as pure, primal hunger.

“Floor. A-All fours.” The wolf-man manages, desperately humping his hand to offer some relief. “G-Get the lube, ffffuuuck, I mmuhhmight hurt ya without it.”

You rush to get the lube, placing the tube next to you as you pull your leggings down, exposing your bare cunt. Clyde watches with an eager anticipation as you spread yourself for him. 

As soon as you’re into position, he practically falls over on top of you, hips rutting uncontrollably as he smoothes lube over his drooling cock and lines up with your entrance. 

“B-Buttercup, I...I’m sssorry ‘bout what’s ggon’ happen. This ain’t me, ppuhpplease remember that, mmkay?”

You nod, tearing up at the pure agony in his voice. “I w-will, Clyde.”

His hips shove forward, a choked howl escaping his lips, balls tightening. You cry out, the burn of your walls stretching to accommodate his girthy length more prominent than usual.

Veins bulge out of his neck, jaw clenched as he begins moving, mercilessly plowing into you from behind. He plants his clawed hand next to yours, loud and desperate scratching noises accompanying the wet squelch of your joined torsos. 

The carpet is shredded, hardwood floor scratched permanently by his feet as he humps you with a desperation unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. This really wasn’t Clyde, but you soon realized that you exactly mind this side of Clyde, this primal instinct, this roughness. It was arousing, bittersweetly so.

When you look over your shoulder at the wooly mass moving behind you, your eyes widen. You didn’t notice the shiny substance from a distance, but now that he’s up close, you see that it coats his snout and has even dripped down onto his breast.

A gripping fear bubbles in your stomach. But then, you rationalize immediately, before you find yourself too deep down in this rabbit hole of worry. He probably just hunted a deer or a rabbit or something. He’s a fucking wolf, remember?

You almost sigh out loud in relief, but you keep it in, instead moaning along with each of his thrusts.

“D-Did ya like muhmmahhmm--ma w-wolf cock?” He asks. 

You nod. “Y-Yeah, ohhh god, I liked it.”

“Gonna gguh-give ya real nice p-pups.” His muzzle rubs over the spot behind your ear, the same one that he’d been after earlier, smearing some of the crimson across your skin. He licks it with as much consistency as possible, considering the speed and intensity of his hips. “F-Fill ya u-up, knot ya gggood ‘n deep.”

You’re almost positive he’s talking pretty much nonsense at this point, his rut brain having completely taken over. You know you’re not gonna cum, but it doesn’t really matter; you’re doing this for him, after all.

“Oh g-god, I’m cummin’, I’m gonna--”

He pauses his hips, howling softly as he cums. But this time, something else begins to swell, and you cry out as it does so. 

“M-Ma k-knot,” Clyde breathes in explanation. “Keeps it a-all inside y-ya.”

You nod, not really knowing what all he’s talking about but not really caring for an explanation right now. 

“‘m gonna h-havta stay inside y-ya fer a lil while. S-Should be ‘b-bout 30 minutes or so.”

His tongue begins moving over your cheeks and neck, something that makes you smile, that helps you remember that your beloved boyfriend’s in there somewhere.

The half hour waiting period passes, and as much as you’ve loved snuggling with your boyfriend (who’s wolf counterpart is relatively cuddly, despite previous reservations), you’re happy to have him off you.

After wishing you a final goodbye, citing the need to ‘clean up his cave a bit’, he trotted back out the door and galloped like a madman (wolf?) back out into the shadowed wood, leaving you alone once more.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s all over the news when you flip on the TV a couple days later.  Hunter Found Slain in Boone County Woods, Bear Attack Suspected.

You have this awful, sick-to-your-stomach feeling that what happened the other night, when Clyde came to your house still in wolf form with a snout and chest covered in blood, had something to do with this. 

When the picture of the victim came up on the screen, you audibly gasp, recognizing the face. It’s the guy that was feeling you up at a few nights ago at Duck Tape. 

Oh god, no. 

Suddenly, the door flies open, and Clyde’s panting as he rushes in and shuts it behind him. He looks pained, bottom lip trembling. “Have ya s-seen the ne--”

“...Police are still investigating the scene...foul play has not yet been ruled out...”

His entire demeanor falls, and the tears fill his eyes. He’s visibly shaking. You stand up and rush over to him just as he collapses on the floor. 

You’re freaking out, trying to confirm what it is you’re pretty sure you already know.

“C-Clyde, did you...?”

He looks up at you from where his head now rests in your lap. “I c-can’t quite remember, b-but I think...I think I m-might’ve.”

Sobs wrack through his body as he cries hoarsely. You’re in shock, somehow hearing the words makes the reality suddenly hit like a damn semi-truck. You run your hands through Clyde’s slightly matted mane, soothing him as best you can. 

“Clyde, it’s okay, baby. It’s alright, it’s not your fault.” You whisper.

“Y-Yeah it i-is, though. I k-killed ‘im.”

You try to stay strong, for Clyde’s sake, but the tears are swelling in your eyes at an uncontrollably fast rate.  “But you d-didn’t do it o-on purpose, h-honey.”

His face seems to drop even more when he sees that you’re about to cry. He sits up shakily, pulling you into a big ol’ bear hug.

“Oh, buttercup, oh god, ‘m sorry. I didn’t m-mean to drag y-ya into all ‘a t-this.”

You sob into his shirt, wrapping your arms around him, holding him close. It’s hard to believe that this man, this kind, gentle man, could’ve done something like this on purpose. Clyde would never hurt a fly.

From what he’s told you, which granted is very little, the line between werewolf and human for him is quite a blurry one. He seems to only be able to remember parts of what happened, and his subconscious is only there for part of the time.

Which means that he’s technically innocent, since he can’t remember nor could he control his canine impulses or instinct. As far as you’re concerned, werewolf Clyde and human Clyde are two different beings.

“I-If anyone ever f-found out ‘bout ma c-condition...”

You pull away and look up at him, holding his face in your hands. “Clyde, I-I’m not gonna turn y-you in.”

“What?” He looks at you with a furrowed brow, like he’s surprised to hear your words. “Y-Yer not g-gon’...?”

Shaking your head, you swing your leg over his lap, hugging him once more while your face settles into the crook of his neck.

“No, of course not. I know you’re a good p-person, and like I said before, it’s n-not you. Your w-wolf side is not really you, Clyde, at least not entirely.”

Clyde looks down at you with an incredibly grateful expression, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He tilts your head up with one of his meaty fingers, immediately pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is relatively short, just a showing of his gratitude, of his love for you. When he pulls away, you maintain eye contact.

“Okay, so most of the solid DNA evidence will have been washed away by the rain and tampered with by the elements over the past few days that the body’s been outside. Plus, they aren’t looking for wolf DNA, and even if they somehow knew, your wolf DNA wouldn’t lead to your human identity, at least I don’t think so...”

Hours and hours of watching countless true crime shows, movies, and documentaries are finally paying off.

“But, do you remember leaving anything, anything that could indicate foul play? Really search your memory.”

He puts his metaphorical thinking cap on, closing his eyes as he tries to recall anything of use from that night, but nothing comes to mind. His eyes swell with tears as they blink open and he shakes his head. “I can’t ‘member anythin’.”

“That’s okay, Clyde. They won’t find out, I promise, they won’t.” You kiss his neck. “For now, let’s just try to relax and we’ll keep an eye on the news. Will you come snuggle on the couch with me?”

Clyde smiles softly, nodding as you pull away and stand up, extending a hand to him. He takes it, standing up seconds later.  As you walk into the living room, he says your name, causing you to turn around with a slightly perplexed expression.

“Thank ya.”

You smile brightly. “I love you, Clyde.”

“I love ya, too, darlin’.”

[sokkas-honour]

For the Spotify writing could you do 50 for Korra

ms. california - korra x reader

pairing: korra x reader (gender neutral)

wc: 1.8k

notes/warnings: nothing here folks :)

i love your voice but hate the way, you talk of her consistently

you heard the boats coming in before you saw them, you heard the cheers erupting from a small crowd that had formed around the south pole’s dock, all flocking to catch a glimpse of their avatar coming home. while everyone’s excitement stemmed from seeing what was essentially a hero, you were just excited to finally see your oldest friend whom you hadn’t seen since she had left to go back to republic city after spending time healing with master katara in the south pole.

excitement cursed through your veins at the prospect of seeing your best friend after years of being separated as you ran to mix in with the crowd of natives welcoming one of their own home.

your heart swelled once you finally spotted her, standing proudly at the front of the ship, her mother placed right next to her as they both waved at the crowd. you noticed her newly cut hair that you had only seen in recent varrick industries movers, it looked even better on her in person.

you pushed your way through the crowd, excusing yourself as you bumped into several people, most of them unphased as they kept their gaze on the master of all four elements. you didn’t stop moving until you found yourself next to tonraq, a man who had served as almost a second father to you ever since you were a toddler. your father being one of the water bending masters that kept an eye on korra growing up, meaning you grew up alongside her at the white lotus compound.

“hey y/n, excited?” the chief asked as soon as he noticed your presence next to him, keeping his eyes on his daughter that was fast approaching.

“yes sir.” cheers got louder as the boat finally stopped, chief tonraq invited you to join him as he walked towards the boat, the guards he had enlisted letting you pass in order to join him.

when your eyes met here as she started coming down, you felt a smile grow on your features as you watched her face mirror yours, two old friends finally reuniting.

unexpectedly, korra picked up the pace and wrapped you in a hug as soon as she got near you, taking you by surprise.

“i missed you.” she exclaimed as you were returning it, happy to once again be in her arms. her large coat was soft to the touch but she smelled rather foreign, most likely due to the fact that was living in a bustling city. the sound of her voice was something you didn’t expect to miss so much but now that you finally heard it for the first time in months, you didn’t want to ever go without it again.

“missed you too.” you squeeze her slightly before you two finally broke apart, grins still on your faces as you both eyes each other up and down in order to see if there were any noticeable changes in each other’s appearance.

a little later during the day, after following korra revisit her home town you ended up having dinner at her childhood home. swapping not only childhood stories but also catching up on the things you had missed and that’s when when you found out about her.

one question was asked and suddenly, that’s all korra could talk about, all of her recent experiences being completely thrown out the window to talk about things her girlfriend, asami, had been doing, how her company was doing, some new invention she had come up with in the later hours of the night, a funny thing she had said, everything that was coming out of the avatar’s mouth had something to do with her.

you tried your hardest to engage in the conversation, finding your heart melt at how she talked about asami with so much love and amazement. her eyes sparkled in a way you had never seen them and you felt your heart sting a bit knowing that she’d never talk about you that way, that her eyes would never lit up at the sheer mention of your name. after a couple of minutes of enduring it, you retracted to your own thoughts, letting tonraq and senna interact with their daughter.

but every time you say her name, it honestly kills me

to help digest your food, and because korra insisted she wanted to, you both went on a walk after you finished eating some delicious homemade noodles. the cold didn’t both you as much as you were bundled under your coat, happy to find that outside the sky was clear, no signs of a snow storm in sight.

“sorry, i talked a lot back there.” she immediately said once she stepped out of her home to join you, excusing herself for being the center of attention at her own celebratory dinner.

“you realise that you haven’t been home in ages, and you’re the avatar, you’re the only one with any real stories to tell.” you joked as you started leading her in a random direction, knowing the whole area like the back of your hand meant that no matter where you two went, you wouldn’t get lost.

“come on, life here isn’t that boring.” she laughed lightly at your comment, following you closely so she wouldn’t get lost.

“you’d be surpised.” she rolled her eyes, not believing for one second that her best friend who always loved to live life to the fullest was admitting to living such a monotonous one.

“my dad told me you started teaching people waterbending which means you’re a real master now, that’s cool!” she nudged you lightly, causing a small smile to tug at your lips at the compliment on the full mastering of your skill, something that you were incredibly proud of.

“yeah, it’s not what i plan to do forever but it’s fun.” you shrugged your shoulders slightly before you two fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound between you being the trudging of your boots in the snow and the usual night sounds.

“but i could totally beat your ass, water or all elements, you don’t stand a chance.” you spoke up defiantly while simultaneously holding a joking tone in your words making her stop in her tracks.

“is that so? i’d love to see it.” she placed her hands on her hips as her eyes jokingly narrowed in your direction, thankfully you were still close enough to people’s houses to have some light letting you see her hilarious facial expression that looked identical to the one she used to wear when she was younger.

“how about tomorrow? we can even invite your parents so they see how weak the avatar actually is.” you teased as you suddenly felt the snow beneath your feet shift, causing you to fall backwards. quickly reacting, you brought snow up around the both of your arms to propel yourself forward, directing the snow directly at your friend as soon as your feet were flat on the ground.

korra brought her arms up to stop the snow from hitting her before letting it go limp and drop the ground.

“damnit, i would’ve loved to catch you off guard.” she whined, finally walking up to you after having let you walk by yourself a short distance.

“korra, you called me a master not two seconds ago, did you not think i’d be able to react to that?”

“listen, i didn’t think this through.” she rose her hands up in defence as you laughed, shaking your head at how much your friend could be idiotic when she wanted to.

“no kidding.” your comment earned a gust of air being bent in your face, causing your hood to fly backwards and your face going cold.

you narrowed your eyes at her as she simply stuck her tongue out childishly, causing you to laugh at how immature she was.

“i sure hope your city friends also get to deal with this side of you, would be a shame if they didn’t.” you managed to say once your laughter died down, being met with playfully offended avatar with her arms crossed as she observed you laughing with a quirked eyebrow.

“actually, asami says i’m pretty mature.” she stated matter of factly and you felt your happiness falter slightly at the mention of her girlfriend, wishing you could just go back to five minutes ago when you weren’t reminded of the fact that korra was living a completely different life to yours, one that didn’t involve spending it with you but with some supposed beautiful and genius inventor.

she's your girl, she's in all your pictures. california girl, i wish i was her

the following day, after tiring each other out sparring, you both headed back to her house as she mentionned wanting to show you some pictures she had of her life in republic city. you had barely seen certain staples of it like air temple island and the aang statue inside of books but never anything more.

“this is the spirit portal in the middle of the city.” you had seen numerous times the southern portal but there was something about the new one that made it stand out, while trying to figure it out, you spotted her, tall, long black hair, looking adoringly at korra who was talking to some officiel and you knew right then and there that was asami.

as korra showed you pictures of the pro bending arena, more in depth ones of air temple island, the spirit vines and in practically all of them you could see her, her whole presence seemed elegant, you could tell why korra had fallen for her.

when you're gone, she sleeps in your t-shirts

“shit i forgot my shirt.” korra mumbled as she frantically searched through the bag for her night shirt as you watched her from the other side of the room.

“don’t you have some here?” you suggested, looking around her room to maybe see one laying around but you knew that senna kept the room nice and tidy while her daughter was away.

“probably, hopefully asami is making use of it.” korra shrugged her shoulders before abandoning her bag on the ground, making her way to her crate where she kept all of her older clothes, grabbing the first one that came in between her fingers before facing you again, excited to have a sleepover like you always used to have.

“yeah, hopefully.” you mumbled, staring at the small fire that korra had lit for extra warmth, wishing that maybe in another life you weren’t just korra’s childhood friend, maybe you two actually got together, maybe if you had followed her to republic city instead of staying home afraid of being reprimanded by your parents for disobeying orders, maybe everything would’ve been different.

it hurts, i wish i was her, ms california.

general taglist: @biqherosix @draqondance @butterfly-skinnylegend @alteasmoon @staygoldsquatchling02 @sunnypluto

lok only taglist: @welovediaaxx @firelady-jay @callmecopper

[onenerdtwonagas]

Freckles & Stars

(Felt like rewriting their confession to try and have a less soap-opera-ish feel to it. Obviously it’s still a dramatic moment for them but at least the dialogue flows a little better IMO? Idk, y’all tell me LOL)

Orpheus smiled as he looked down at the pieces of parchment—‘paper’—and the intricate notes and detailed sketches. There was something inherently charming about them. Intimate, almost. He traced the tip of a claw carefully around the edge of a study of a fern leaf, following the thin lines of ink.

“What did you say this was called again?” he asked, his gaze lingering before flicking upwards at the human across from him.

“Botany,” Uriah answered. “Plant studies.”

“Huh. We call such persons ‘herbalists’, still. Although, I suppose it isn’t quite fitting, since they work with more than herbs.”

“Herbalists breed and preserve plants, too?”

“They do, but differently,” Orpheus explained, passing the papers back to Uriah. “They don’t use such strange methods as humans do, what with your...gadgets?”

Uriah chuckled and returned the papers to a protective folder inside his pack.

“That’s one word for it. Technology doesn’t run on magic, where I’m from.”

“It’s not always magic. There are scientists within the pantheon.”

“Alchemists, you mean?”

“It’s a form of science,” Orpheus insisted.

“That uses magic,” Uriah returned, smiling as he stood up to stretch.

“That’s—fair, actually. I’ll grant you that,” the naga laughed.

He watched Uriah pace to the open wall of his chamber. The human stretched his arms over his head and let them fall with a groan, leaning against a pillar and watching the steady rainfall outside. It had been rather dreary all afternoon, rain arriving not long after Uriah had showed up at the entrance to the temple.

Orpheus found himself looking forward to the visits from the mortal man. It had been several months since their strange first encounter, and Uriah came every so often for the ‘work’ his foreign society demanded of him. Watching him was fascinating; Uriah sounded so intelligent, and there was a little thrill that would race up Orpheus’s spine whenever he used the important-sounding jargon for his ‘work’. If he was being honest, it wasn’t just the terminology Uriah used that set little quivers through the naga’s core: it was the man himself.

He’d tried not to let it get to him, but with each visit Orpheus found himself growing increasingly fond of Uriah. He liked his smile, the genuine kindness he showed, and his obvious intelligence. Whenever Orpheus would take him to see new parts of the jungle around his father’s territory, he found himself seeking opportunities to touch him. Holding his hand to help him step over obstacles, brushing dirt or plant matter from his back, offering his tail as a place to sit for rest... Orpheus had to admit he was smitten, and he felt it again as he watched Uriah stare out at the rain.

“How long do you think it’ll last?”

“I—hmm?”

“The rain,” Uriah asked, jerking his head in the general direction of the weather. “Is it gonna come down like this all night?”

Orpheus rose and slithered over, peering up past the roof of the temple and through the canopy to catch a slim glance of a storm-gray sky overhead. A rumble of thunder rolled across the clouds.

“Might be a while, at the very least,” he mused. “It’s not the rainy season just yet, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have storms. Just means it won’t flood the lower terrain or washout the river beds.”

“Sooo... What you’re saying is, I’m probably bunking here overnight?”

Uriah looked at Orpheus, one eyebrow quirked upwards. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be there, near Orpheus—he certainly liked being near Orpheus—but he wasn’t sure he could handle it. Seeing him every visit felt wonderful, but leaving... Leaving was getting harder. Being closer wasn’t going to help that.

“I’d rather you stay here than risk getting lost or injured out there in a storm,” Orpheus said, looking down with a small shrug. He reached out and gave the man’s shoulder a pat.

“Besides, I’m sure it’s much more comfortable than whatever set-up you have at your ‘base camp’. You can share my chamber, if you like,” he offered, smiling. Hoping.

Uriah felt heat rising to his face.

“O-Oh, I, uh... I’d be fine taking a pillow and a blanket somewhere else! Your folks are okay with me—except your sister—s-so it should be fine! I wouldn’t want to crowd you!”

Orpheus blinked at him in confusion.

“Uriah, dearest, it’s an entire chamber. I know my tail is long but I’m not nearly so large as to need all of this—“ He swept two of his four arms out for emphasis. “—to be comfortable. You’ll sleep better here, anyway; I’ve got plenty of bed space.”

Uriah rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I-I just...y’know, it’s, uh...umm...”

“Are you truly still that shy after knowing me for several months?”

Uriah exhaled slowly.

“Yeah, kind of,” he muttered, turning away and pacing slowly. Orpheus watched after him.

“...You don’t need to be.”

“I know.”

“Have I done something to make you uncomfortable?”

“N-No,” Uriah answered quickly.

“Uriah, if I have, you can say so—“

“No,” he repeated, faster and harsher. Uriah turned and looked at him apologetically.

“I’m sorry, I’m not upset, but...”

He squeezed the back of his neck. He bent down and gathered his pack, sliding one strap over his left shoulder.

“Maybe it’s better if I just sleep somewhere else.”

“Uriah—“

“Or if I leave now, I could get back to base camp before nightfall.”

He started moving towards the doorway, head lowered and hand gripping his pack straps tightly, when Orpheus suddenly slid in his way. Uriah backpedaled and froze, tense. They stared at one another for a few moments before Uriah found his nerve.

“You can’t keep me here,” he said, though he looked up at Orpheus uncertainly. The naga looked back, slowly letting the tension leave him as he let out a growl and scowled at the floor.

“No, I can’t,” Orpheus huffed. He closed his eyes tightly, and then his expression fell, saddened.

“...But I want to.”

Uriah’s eyes widened. Orpheus looked at him almost pleadingly.

“Please, Uriah, just...stay the night? So I know you’re safe?”

He reached out, but Uriah backed away, turning and dropping his bag much less carefully than usual. He shoved his hands back through his hair and paced back towards the open wall.

“God, I knew this was a bad idea. I knew it and I kept doing it!”

“Doing what?” Orpheus asked, following him at a distance.

“Coming back!” Uriah blurted out, throwing his hands up. “Coming here and seeing you! I shouldn’t have done it! I should’ve just—just let it be! Left you alone!”

Orpheus’s mouth twitched downward. That stung.

“I like seeing you,” he said, quietly. “I want to see you.”

“I know! That’s the problem, I can’t—“

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t want you!” Uriah shouted. Orpheus flinched.

“I can’t want you because you’re this—this—this demigod naga, and I’m just me! I’m a mortal human being! You’re not for me! But I kept coming here anyway, because I like the look of you, and the way you act, and now I’m the idiot who got his own feelings worked up!”

The naga slowly approached, staring at Uriah as he let one hand fall to his side, the other removing his glasses and wiping furiously at the corner of his eye. Uriah shook his head as Orpheus tried to reach out to him, twisting away.

“Uriah, please, I don’t understand where this is coming from! What did I do?”

“It’s not you! You’re perfect! You’re a literal god! I’m the problem!”

“You’re not a problem!”

“I am!”

Orpheus didn’t let him move away again. He took hold of Uriah’s shoulders and bent to try and meet his gaze.

“Talk to me! I don’t know what this is about, but I’m fond of you, too! I want you here! I want you here so much it hurts when you go!”

“And what right did I have to do that to you, huh? You’re so much more than I am, Orpheus! I don’t—“

His breathing hitched and his voice broke. Uriah hid his face in his hand.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Orpheus stared at him, not understanding but wanting to, desperately. What was Uriah talking about? Deserving?

“What do you mean? If I enjoy being with you, and you with me, what does anything else matter?”

Uriah shook his head, his shoulders trembling as another sob rattled him. Orpheus slowly rubbed his upper arms, his second set of hands rising up to try and hold Uriah’s hand before he pulled away to wipe at his eyes.

“Uriah, please, I... I don’t know what you’re talking about. Help me understand. If I want you, how can you not deserve it?”

“B-Because I’m not like you,” Uriah whimpered. “I don’t deserve somebody like you.”

“What?”

“I’m not special. I-I’m boring, and plain, and...a-and you’ll get tired of me. And I—“ Uriah held himself. “—I can’t stand being unwanted again.”

“Uriah, I want you! Do you know how hard it is for me to watch you go every time, and not know if you’re coming back? I’ve lost sleep over it! I want you here, with me!”

The human shook his head in disbelief and looked at Orpheus through watery eyes.

“We barely know each other.”

“I know that your smile warms me, and that you are intelligent and kind,” Orpheus professed. “I know that the green of your eyes is the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen. I know your laugh makes my chest flutter. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since someone made me feel that way?”

Uriah shook his head again, trying to avoid his eyes, but Orpheus turned his face back with a gentle hand. He brushed a thumb across his freckled cheek, wiping a stray tear away.

“Uriah, I...” He sighed. “I know we couldn’t be more different, but I want you. You feel the same way, don’t you?”

“I’m just a human,” Uriah huffed, upset with himself. “I don’t have the right—“

“Forget rights. Forget my future title, forget all of it! That doesn’t matter to me right now. What do you feel? What do you want?” Orpheus stressed. “If you don’t feel the same, then I will understand, but you need to be honest with me, and with yourself.”

“I do,” Uriah answered suddenly, sullenly. He carefully placed a hand over Orpheus’s against his face, holding it there, taking comfort from him. Even if he felt he didn’t deserve to.

“I-I like you. A lot. A-And I miss you when I leave, and I w-want to be around you. I just... I-I just can’t...”

“You can. I’m telling you, you can,” Orpheus said, his voice soft as he leaned in and rested his forehead against Uriah’s. He hushed him as he whimpered, bringing a second hand to cradle his face.

“I want you,” the naga whispered, “and you want me. That’s all I need to know. That’s the only thing that matters right now. I don’t care about the rest, it can wait.”

“O-Orpheus...”

“It can wait,” he repeated, fingertips brushing Uriah’s jaw.

Orpheus tilted his head and kissed him, carefully and lightly at first, testing what Uriah would allow. Watery green eyes stared back for a few moments before Uriah returned the gesture, shy and timid but sincere. He felt fragile against his lips, as if he’d break just by touching him. Orpheus slid his hands back and combed his claws through Uriah’s curls, indulging in their softness before attempting a second kiss. Uriah shivered, but didn’t pull away. In fact, much to Orpheus’s surprise, he felt the human’s hands hesitantly resting on his shoulders, and then put his arms around his neck. As their lips parted, Uriah tucked his face down against Orpheus’s skin and sniffled, holding on tightly. The naga put all four of his arms around him, slowly stroking his back with one hand and petting his hair with another.

“I-I don’t know what to do, Orpheus,” Uriah whimpered, his voice muffled against the naga’s neck.

“Stay,” Orpheus purred back. “Please, stay. Even if it’s just for tonight.”

“I w-want to stay.”

“Then stay.”

He nuzzled against Uriah’s hair and he hushed him, his voice warm and soft. Orpheus lifted him, startling him for a moment, before he brought a hand to the man’s face and drew him closer once more. Uriah pressed his forehead to Orpheus’s and inhaled slowly.

“Stay,” Orpheus repeated.

“I-I’m sorry,” Uriah said quietly. “I wanted t-to say something but...b-but I didn’t know how, or w-when, and I was scared y-y-you wouldn’t want to see me anymore—“

“Shhh. Don’t be sorry, don’t. It’s a lot, I know, but I want to try.”

Orpheus ducked his head beneath Uriah’s, nuzzling his collarbone, breathing him in as the man’s fingers stroked lightly through his hair. He could feel how nervous Uriah was, how hesitant he was to touch him. Orpheus purred against him, hoping to soothe Uriah, as he carefully slid to his nest of furs and pillows and settled amongst them, his tail draped among the softness. He heard his pulse quicken in his chest.

“Easy,” Orpheus whispered, “it’s alright.”

Uriah’s face was warm and he couldn’t look at Orpheus for more than a few seconds before diverting his gaze. He was too beautiful, too perfect. He felt a weight shift onto his lap and looked down in surprise to see the end of Orpheus’s tail resting on top of his legs.

“You can touch me,” he encouraged, taking one of Uriah’s hands and placing it on his scales.

Uriah carefully brushed his fingertips along the edges of his scales, watching their stars slowly shift in their strange, magic way. Orpheus guided his hand, watching him, admiring the softness of his eyes. Slowly, he felt Uriah’s hesitancy fade and allowed him to touch on his own, bringing his hand up to brush the man’s curls from his face.

“...Why would you think I wouldn’t want to see you if you told me?” Orpheus asked, tone quiet but concerned. “Is it really because I’m a demigod?”

Uriah’s hand paused, and he bit his lip. Orpheus curled the end of his tail around the man’s wrist, wanting to hold him in some way without making him uncomfortable. He studied Uriah as several emotions flickered through his eyes.

“My ex was...h-he wasn’t a good person. I know that now, and I should’ve never fallen for his ‘nice act’ at the start, but...b-but I did, and...that’s what I get for it, I guess.”

“Ex?”

“Um...previous partner? I-I kicked him out last year and haven’t seen him since but it still hurts.”

“Oh.” Orpheus thought for a moment. “When you were saying those things about yourself before, about being boring and plain... Were those things he said to you?”

Uriah noticed the worry in Orpheus’s face and felt a pang of guilt for even explaining it. Orpheus didn’t need to know such hurtful things. But he had asked, and Uriah knew himself to be a terrible liar.

“Yeah. Y-Yeah, he...um... He said those things and then some.”

“Uriah...”

Orpheus’s brow knotted and he reached out to hold his hand between two of his own. Uriah sniffed.

“I w-wasn’t in a-a good place while I was with him,” he admitted. “It s-started fine but after a while, it just...got worse and I...I-I hung on l-longer than I should have.”

The naga’s tail released his wrist and rose instead to curl beneath his chin, guiding Uriah to look at him. Orpheus brought Uriah’s hand up and kissed the back of his palm, brushing his thumbs over his skin, and met his eyes with concern.

“He hurt you.”

It wasn’t a question, but an honest observation. Uriah couldn’t deny it, and he didn’t.

“I don’t want that for you, Uriah,” Orpheus said, soft and sincere. “No one should say things like that to you.”

“If this doesn’t work out—“

“No. I won’t treat you that way, even if we turn out to be incompatible. I promise.”

Uriah blinked back tears. He felt that tug of guilt in his chest again. Orpheus hadn’t ever been rude or even overly sarcastic with him; how awful to even think that, for a second, he was anything like his ex...

“I-I’m sorry, I know you’re not like him, I just—I’m scared of it happening again.”

“Come here.”

Orpheus reached out and brought Uriah close to him, holding him close to his chest and resting his chin in his hair. He nuzzled into it and kissed the crown of his head.

“I won’t hurt you, Uriah,” he reassured. “You will never need to be afraid of that, I promise. No one, not even me, can speak to you that way.”

“E-Even if...?”

“If we don’t work out, you’re still my friend; I don’t treat friends that way, either.”

He was a bit surprised by how tightly Uriah held on to him at that moment. Not wanting to accidentally harm the man with his superior strength, Orpheus hugged him only a little tighter, mindful of his claws, and relished the sensation of Uriah’s tension leaving his body.

“I needed to hear that. Thank you,” Uriah sniffled.

Orpheus would’ve told him he didn’t need to be thanked for basic decency, but Uriah caught him off-guard a second time. The man looked up at him, hesitating for just a second, before pressing up against him for a kiss. When he pulled back, Uriah was staring up with a bright red blush across his freckled cheeks. Never mind that they had already kissed a few minutes earlier.

“I-I, um...w-wanted to do that for a while.”

Orpheus came out of his moment of blank surprise and grinned, leaning close.

“I think we’re going to be good for each other, Uriah,” he purred.

“Really?”

“Mmhmm. Now, come here. I think you need a good, long cuddle.”

“Yeah. That sounds nice, right about now.”

[ncitygirls]

matryoshka - part 1, 4k

sibling!johnny, taeyong x f reader, mark x f reader, platonic/‘sibling’!haechan

nct crime au, angst, cw: character death, death, mental illness, police, injury, violence

300 days

There are few people who can disarm a man like Johnny Seo. Since the rather untimely, and inexplicable death of his mother and father at the tender age of fourteen, he quickly adopted this persona. He considers it a token from his late mother. She had always said, in a voice as soft as the breeze in spring, that to be polite is to be in control. He holds himself to that quite forcibly, reminding himself time and time again that there is power in making others fold to him. At time it is as simple as approaching an adversary with a smile, and awaiting the flare in their skin, the bugle in their veins and the ripple in their muscles. There are few who can disarm Johnny Seo. But few does not equate to none.

“When will you discharge her?” Johnny began, the words rolling off of his tongue with an air of nonchalance that bordered on flippancy, but an edge that was new to even him.

“Mr Seo,” without thinking, Johnny rolls his neck, bracing himself for a response he knows he will refuse. He thinks it odd to loathe an act he is yet to commit, especially when he can still prevent it. What he hates more however, is that you are here to witness it. When the doctor sighs, letting his glasses hang around his neck, he smiles sympathetically. Johnny sees nothing but pity. “I’m not sure how else to say this, but physically? Your sister is stable enough to go home. When we went in to remove what was left of the bullet fragments and saw to her ruptured spleen, we managed to mend her torn ligaments. Her blood work came back clear, and for the most part, her vitals are stable. With a few weeks of physio, I think we would be able to discharge her. Ideally, she could go home this week.”

“Wonderful,” Johnny’s hollow cheer guides his hasty movements as he, unthinking, strips you of your blanket to reveal a sight he thinks might change his mind. Rows of red line your skin, moons of dried blood covering the heels of your palms. He cringes at the dirty cotton cuffs that strap you to the metal frame of your hospital bed. Johnny can’t seem to make sense of the sight. “Did this happen during the shooting?”

“No, Mr Seo,” the doctor shakes his head, his frustration with his patient’s only living relative shedding every second he watches Johnny take in your limp frame. “It is like I was saying. Miss Seo is fit enough to leave. But mentally-”

Johnny simply raises his palm, ignoring the tears that pool in and out the corners of your eyes, a steady stream gathering in your hairline as you relive the events the two refer to so flippantly. “She will do better at home.” It is unclear for whom the assurance is intended. The doctor, you, himself. It is all just hope. So it doesn’t matter. “She will do better once she’s home.”

“Mr Seo, as your sister’s physician, I must implore you to reconsider.” Johnny understands where the doctor is coming from, he truly does. Johnny, taught well by his father, prides himself in being understanding. Like his father before him, Johnny prides himself in being calm in the face of not only danger, but regular folk - those who go about their lives, slaves to normalcy. Those who live life year to year, those who plan their lives, who wake up to sleep, expecting to see the sun once again. Those who consider life a right, rather than a privilege. Johnny has come to understand men like this. Not by choice of course, but because he had to. Especially once you met Taeyong.

2,109 days

“I met a guy today,” the words crackle through the phone, Johnny’s fingers stilling as he finally takes a break from his work, placing a mental bookmark on his train of thought. He wants to ask where, but he doesn’t enjoy seeming interested in affairs of the heart. They sicken him. “He was really weird,” you hum as you kick the curb, swinging your arms as you traipse through what Johnny thinks must be your university campus. He pretends he bother to know your schedule, but never has a reason for why he always gets himself up before you leave every morning. “A good weird,” you add, “his clothes hardly fit, they were all baggy. It’s hard to explain.”

“You kids and your trends,” he huffs, spinning in his chair to watch the city, eyes landing on the bell tower of your campus. “What happened to a nicely fitted suit?”

“It’s a college campus, John. Plus, it’s like half ten in the morning,” you can hear his next question before he even asks. “I mentioned his clothes because I wanted you to envision him, not judge him.”

“Well, I am envisioning a bum.”

“Okay, but envision a cute bum,” you try. “A beautiful, cute, funny bum.”

“That is still a bum, y/n.” You hear the faint sound of floor boards creaking, a telltale sign that he’s pacing. “Did he ask you out?” You hum in agreement, always too shy to admit anything so personal outright. It is times like this he wonders why you bother calling him and not just Haechan. He’ll never tell you this however. Lest he lose his spot as your first call. “I hope ope he’s taking you somewhere nice?”

“Yeah, of course,” he knows you’re lying. He knows it’s Hyuck’s you're both going to. Not that there as an issue with Hyuck’s. Even if you’ve already had the menu four different ways, front to back and then back again. It’s where you take all your first dates, you give Haechan a chance to size them up, figure out if they’re worthy. “I just wanted to tell you first because I think he’s a real contender this time.”

“And you’ll be late home, so you won’t be making dinner again?” Your affirming grunt forced a long sigh from Johnny. However, no matter many times he claimed his annoyance was due to your absence inconveniencing him; you both knew the loneliness bothered him now. “Well, have fun.”

“I’ll try,” you sing. “And I’ll bring that coffee cake you love so much, okay?” Johnny offers his own affirming grunt. Though it sits a couple octaves below your own, you hear the sliver of joy he lets through. “Love you.”

He doesn’t respond. He had already hung up.

300 days

“Mr Seo?”

Johnny had finally shrugged off his suit jacket and let his shoulders sag when he heard his name for the umpteenth time that day. He wanta to ignore it, but what would mother say?

“Yes?” SMPA. The badge is hard to read as it glistens under the glaring hospital lights. But he can’t miss the shape, the obnoxious insignia.

“Good evening,” the detective starts, his smiling eyes are in direct contrast to the gloom and doom of the last few days. Johnny wonders if smiling with teeth is proper practice when greeting someone who almost lost their little sister. “I am Detective Lee, I have a few questions for you about the shooting at Hyuck’s Diner. If you have a moment.”

“Of course,” he sighs, straightening his spine. “I am sure you are aware, but I wasn’t there.”

“I think it’s lucky you weren’t,” the detective adds, a sad smile settling on the bed to your right. “I am a friend of Donghyuck’s.”

“Oh,” there’s a short second where Johnny feels an odd sense of comfort, one he believed would only come when you finally opened your eyes. He also feels some guilt. “I didn’t know he had any other friends in Seoul, I tried to reach everyone I could.”

“And thank you for that,” the detective lets his eyes fall on his friend’s unmoving figure for a moment, his gaze returning to Johnny when he feels a familiar prick. “I have been hard at work on this case. I received word you did not wish for your sister to remain in hospital. May I ask why?”

“It is a public hospital,” Johnny responds, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I can afford better.”

“Then why did you let her stay?” The detective asks, scribbling away. Johnny wonders what dictates the parameters of an investigation versus a friendly conversation. “Her psych eval?”

“No,” he sighs, eyeing Haechan to your right. “They wouldn’t let me take him too,” when the detective tilts his head, surprise evident in his round eyes, Johnny lets himself laugh for the first time in over a week. “You wouldn’t want to be me when she wakes up to find I left him behind.”

2,361 days

It is past midnight when you fly into Johnny’s bedroom, a dew gathering on your forehead, chin and neck. In his sleepy haze, he hears only the end of your ramblings, your steps ordered in a manner Johnny can only describe as frantic. It is not in his nature to panic, he leaves such trivialities to you. But when your wide eyes find his, fear brimming as you scramble to get ready, you throw him your phone and he finally sees why.

“There are a bunch of guys who won’t pay up at Hyuck’s and he’s scared. Let’s go.”

That’s how Johnny found himself parked outside Hyuck’s Diner in downtown Seoul, just north of the river. You didn’t give him a chance to park up as you dashed out the still moving vehicle, door left wide open. Johnny is thankful it’s late, but quickly notes it being far too late for Hyuck’s to still be open. As he parks up, he watches you storm into the near empty diner, sees the relief on Haechan’s tired face as you round the bar. Johnny can’t really make out what you’re saying, but he can see the fire in your eyes. He sniggers as he stalks after you, seeing his mother in them too.

“I said, pay up, or give it back.”

“That’s funny,” one of the burly men says, food spitting out his mouth and onto the clean bar top as he laughs in your face. While Johnny only counted two from outside, he can now see a third standing off to the side. When his eyes meet Johnny’s, he falters slightly, thick hands running through his hair as he avoids Johnny’s haunting figure hovering by the only exit. “Who exactly is gonna make us?”

“Me,” you grin, reaching for the back of his head and slamming it hard down onto the bar. You hear Haechan yelp in what you assume is fear for his newly polished, now dented bar top. As the guy to his left lunges at you, you’re quick to utilise your surroundings. Johnny almost applauds your ingenuity as you quickly reach for a used butter knife and practically mutilate the man’s fist. It is then Haechan disappears from your side, his head nearly halfway down the drain pipe as blood splurts onto his newly polished, now dented, now blood stained bar top. The first guy had rounded the bar, only to be met with a fist to the throat, and knee to the gut. Johnny sees you’re expecting something to happen as you repeat the motion before seeing sense. With your hand latched to his collar, you drag his doubled over body out onto the street before you knee him again.

In the middle of the intersection pours his unpaid bill, meeting one end of the deal. Johnny laughs at how visibly dissatisfies you are, considering how long their bill actually was. You fish his wallet out of his back pocket, taking a few hundreds to cover the balance. “Who even carries cash anymore?”

Johnny wonders too as you pass by him, walking back inside and turning on the third guy. “Your friend covered yours, so you’re free to go.” As he scrambles to leave, he keeps his eyes fixed on your brother, halting when Johnny moves to stop him, a lone finger pointing toward the man's weeping companion.

“Take them with you.”

It’s a few seconds before their presence is no more than a distant memory. Johnny is quick to clean the bloody bar top, and rearrange the furniture. He even loads the dishwasher as you tend to a still queasy Haechan. “When I text you, I didn’t think you would do all of that,” he huffs, backtracking as he notes the hurt look in your eyes. “I mean, I am so grateful. Really, I am,” he smirks, fatigue stealing the light that usually fills his eyes. “But I didn’t know you were The fucking Bride.” When you roll your eyes, he presses on, glimpses of his usual self slowly return as the adrenaline begins to kick in. “No, honestly! I wish I had cameras in here because- fuck! That was insane!”

“Alright, whatever. Get your things, you’re staying with us tonight.”

“Do you think they’ll come back?” Haechan asks, the worry in his tone hurting you beyond belief. “Do you think I should call Mark again?”

“Who, the cop? No, they won’t be coming back, trust me,” you hum. When Johnny emerges from the back, drying his hands on a clean rag, you jest, “no thanks to angel eyes over there may I add.”

“Oh my god, hyung! And you!” Haechan restarts, allowing you to pack up his things while he recounts the terror in the third man’s gaze as he locked eyes with your brother. “It’s like he saw a ghost or something.”

“Yeah,” you laugh, grabbing Haechan while Johnny locks up. “Or something.”

It’s nearly dawn when Haechan crashes. It was Monday and he needed to find cover for the open. But getting cover didn’t stop him fretting, and no amount of herbal tea nor booze could settle a frantic Haechan. It is laughable though, how it took no more than a film opening to send him off. You slip away at sunrise, snuggling up to Johnny who gave up on sending you away shortly after your parents passed. However, he still makes sure to express his disdain for the affection.

“At least stick to your side, y/n-”

“Thank you for coming tonight,” you breathe, clearly uninterested in satisfying his request. “I know you have to be up soon, and I’m sorry. But having you there was- yeah. Thank you.”

For the first time in years, Johnny lets you snuggle with him. An hour later, for the first time ever, Johnny lets Haechan do the same. He fears that this might become a pattern, the two of you craving so much affection it might suffocate him. Johnny knows it just might, but has found peace in that. Much like he has found peace in your insistence that Haechan be one of you. Because he is one of you, he too left orphaned at a young age, you took him under your wing. So much like that day, as Johnny falls asleep to the sound of your light snores, he also decides-

300 days

“He’s family.”

“He speaks so highly of you both,” Mark adds, smiling thankfully at your sleeping frame. “But I’m sure he would forgive you for doing what’s best for her.”

“She wouldn’t.” Johnny adds, though a part of him knows he might have trouble forgiving himself.

“What is it you do for a living?” Mark asks, eyes quickly scanning Johnny’s crisp suit. “I can’t say I recall Hyuck ever mentioning it.”

“A bit of this and that,” he jokes, glancing towards you. “That’s what she calls it.” He hates the melancholic tone he has adopted. It is pitiful. “After our parents passed, I took over their pharmaceuticals company just after I turned twenty-one. We dabble in everything; medicine, cosmeceuticals, nutrition, you name it.”

“That must keep you busy.”

“I work from home,” Johnny knows he is being foolish, trying to falsely place an accusation in Mark’s assumption. Johnny knows he fell into the classic trope of throwing himself into his studies, and then his work, just to avoid the harsh reality that his parents were gone and they were never coming back. He would readily admit he abandoned you in the beginning to grieve on your own, to figure it all out on your own. He just wouldn’t take that from a stranger. “I tried to be around for her as much as I could.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Mark’s smile is kind, full of unfiltered sympathy. Johnny wonders if you have to practice such a thing, and if so, whether someone should have the doctors do the same. “I just wonder if you are wearing yourself thin is all.”

“You needn’t worry about such things Detective.” Johnny reminds, drawing the line between the two so simply, his eyes flicking slowly to Mark’s badge. “Worry about the case.”

“Of course,” Mark rushes, scrambling to defend his statement. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“And I you,” when the doctor enters to take both yours and Haechan’s vitals, he greets Mark warmly. Johnny feels no resentment to this warm reception, none whatsoever. But he can’t help but wonder what about him denies him the same warm greeting. He is quickly reminded of the first time he was to meet Taeyong.

1,977 days

“Your knees are shaking the counter, hyung,” Haechan sniggers. He knows he shouldn’t, he does. But he can’t help but bask in his friend’s nerves. How can the coldest man he knows be so scared to meet his sister’s boyfriend. As calm and collected as he behaves, Haechan is no stranger to worry, and it worries him to no end how the evening will go. From what he has heard from you, Taeyong is as nervous as one can be. And yet, your main concern lies in how your brother will react, and Haechan is an empathetic soul. He just knows he will feel it all. “Your vibe is really killing the mood, lighten up.”

“Shut up, kid.” Johnny warns, eyeing his watch every so often. “They’re late.”

Strike one.

“You know what y/n is like, she’s probably trying to talk him out of it.” Haechan notes how innocent Johnny looks with his head tilted, confusion bleeding into his features. “You are pretty scary hyung, maybe she thinks you’m scare him off.”

“Maybe he isn’t worthy then.”

Strike two.

“Or,” Haechan sings, adjusting his embroidered apron, Hyuck’s opening anniversary gift from the very man he is about to berate. “Maybe you’re not ready to watch your sister grow up, so you sabotage everything with your scary eyes and bad vibes,” Haechan shrugs with his chin in his palm, blinking sweetly at Johnny who resists the urge to flick his forehead.

“Don’t you have coffee to go pour?”

Haechan sniggers once more as he does just that, refilling Johnny’s coffee and shrugging. “Or maybe they’re stuck in traffic.”

So he can’t fly?

Strike three.

300 days

After a few hours, Mark returns for a detailed description of the three men he suspects may be involved in the shooting. Johnny says as much as he can recall, even going as far as to emphasise the detective’s lack of involvement. He suspects it is in direct retaliation to his earlier comment and ignores it, though Johnny quickly sees his own guilt reflected back in the detective’s guilt ridden eyes. “Will that be all?”

“Almost-” Mark starts, before glancing over at you. “I just,” he can’t seem to push past the lump in his throat. Johnny has given him everything he knows, that much is true. But after speaking with the doctor, Mark can’t help but wonder. “Why haven’t you tried speaking to her? Doctor Kim said she may respond well to a familiar voice.”

“I’m not sure what to say.”

Mark knows it’s a loaded statement. One dripping in regret, in guilt, and in shame. But Mark can’t afford for Johnny to be ashamed. Not with Haechan lying unconscious as you lie there, reliving that day over and over and over again. Mark needs you to wake up. But Mark also swore to never relinquish his compassion. All Mark knows of you is the stories he’s heard through Haechan. Though some have a rosier hue due to his familiarity with you, Mark is sure there is no exaggeration in your case. You are a good person. One who cares deeply, who loves deeply. Mark thinks those parts of you are the ones Johnny can tap into. He just won’t.

“Haechan was my first friend in Korea. When I moved here as a kid, my parents worked at the orphanage he was at. He made fun of my Korean for a year straight before I could finally understand and speak fluently enough to defend myself. But, I guess it was okay, you know? He was helping all the same. I was a scrawny kid, I used to get picked on a lot. He was always there. Even though he got beat up too. He’s in all my earliest- my best memories. growing up. He’s like my brother. If he was awake, I think I’d-”

“But he isn’t,” Johnny reminds, eyes locked on your sunken face. Johnny knows what Mark is doing, he knows the tactic very well. He is quite acquainted with guilt as a form of persuasion. “He’s not awake, detective. The doctor said he doesn’t know if he will ever wake up. You know, I overheard the doctors say they haven’t seen spinal fractures that severe in their fifty years of combined experience. They said if Haechan ever opens his eyes again it will be a miracle. If he walks again? This hospital would be internationally renowned. Those surgeons would be infamous. But they can’t. They can’t so it. They can’t do it because they don’t have the facilities for such an operation, and even if they did, Hyuck couldn’t afford it. Even if he could afford it, y/n would have to wake up and give them the okay, because this idiot made herself his guardian so he could practically sell his soul for the loan for that fucking diner.

“So, I’m sorry, detective. I’m sorry that the only thing standing between you ever seeing your friend again is my selfish sister.”

“Mr Seo-”

“But you must agree, she is selfish. She thinks she’s the only one hurting, the only one who has lost something, lost someone.” Mark only sees what Johnny is doing a few seconds too late. As Johnny raises a lone finger to his lips, his eyes catching on the stream pouring down your temples. Mark’s heart nearly beats out of his chest as your vital signs begin to whir, the machinery at your bedside coming to life as Johnny reminds you that, “people die every day. Our parents, Hyuck’s parents, and now Taeyong-”

“Don’t!” You scream suddenly, your body nearly thrashing off of the bed. Johnny fears the force with which you rise could snap your arms in two, but nothing is more worrisome than the bloody red rimming your crisp white eyes; the visible and painfully rapid rise and fall of your chest; the tremor in your chapped lips. “Don’t! Please! Please don’t say it-”

Johnny had never moved so fast. His hands clinging to your trembling frame as he stroked the back of your head. He chanted quickly in your ear, pleading with you to stay with him as he promises to stay. “I won’t go anywhere, I won’t leave you. Never. I promise. Just please, stay with me, okay? I need you here, Hyuck- Hyuck needs you, okay? I need you to stay with me, we’re all we have. Please, y/n-”

Mark couldn’t help but feel intrusive. His earlier pushing began to feel filthy, unfair, unjust. But how could he know you were this far gone, this distraught. Nothing is more sickening than the soft, croaky ‘yes’ that spills from your lips. Your bloodshot eyes lingering on his frozen frame before you see Haechan. You tremble again, your body nearly convulsing as you recognise the boy beside you.

“Shh, he’ll be okay- I promise- we’ll get him help. I promise you- we’ll be okay.”

Johnny rarely spoke out of hope. He was a man who would cling so tightly to reality, you would sometimes joke that his knuckles would snap from the pressure. But as he holds you tightly in his arms, rocking your hollow frame back and forth, he realises he has nothing more than hope.

But since when has hope ever been enough?

[stusbunker]

AGA: Word to the Wise

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Denny AU Series

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Benny Lafitte, past Dean/Jo

Other characters: Sam, Bobby, Cas, Mick, Ash, Jo

Word Count: 3000 (whoa)

A/N: Sam gets on Dean’s nerves and Dean ends up taking a late night detour. Big talks ahead.

Special thanks to my beta @cracksinthewalls​ who puts up with my whiny ass. Also grateful for @there-must-be-a-lock​‘s insight.

The bowling league was in lean attendance due to a surprise snowstorm, but that didn’t keep Singers’ Slingers from mopping the floor with their competition. Dean ended on a spare in the last game, putting him just over his average for the night. State bowling wasn’t until spring, but if they kept up their momentum Dean was sure they could place well. And a weekend away would be a welcome break from his usual exhaustion. 

Dean still owed Mick a rematch from last year’s trip. Mick drank him under the table and Dean didn’t want to lose two years running, he had a reputation to uphold afterall. Bartending had cut into his training time, among other things.

Ash was the first one to bow out for the night, knowing his side towing business would be busy with vehicles in ditches for however long the storm lasted. Cas bummed a ride with Mick, since his car had never done well in this weather and he was still dragging his feet on upgrading. Dean knew he had been hinting at shopping around, but Dean wasn’t going to push the topic and get dragged into helping or finagling with the salesman for the guy. Cas could figure it out on his own, and Dean was finally in a place where he felt comfortable letting him. Huh.

Sam had been quiet all night, but Dean hadn’t mentioned it, attributing the sour mood to post-break up blues. They bought Bobby his weekly drink, “team dues” as he called it and settled in along the bar. 

Dean kept the conversation going, trying to keep the mood light, but Bobby was too tired to ham it up and Sam was not amused by his brother’s antics. Once Bobby polished off his last beer and headed home to Ellen, Dean was rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“Fine, you know what, I’ll reel it in, don’t want to interrupt your sulking,” Dean muttered after another joke fell flat. Sam winced at Dean’s jab, which Dean instantly regretted. Though it did seem to shake Sam out of his funk, if minutely.

“So, tell me about Benny,” Sam brought up with elephantine grace.

Dean stared at Sam like he proclaimed he was quitting the law firm and joining the circus, coulrophobia and all. 

Sam huffed. “What?”

“Nice segue there, counselor,” Dean grumbled. “What about him? Hmm, you want a new bowling bag? Because that was already on my list for you for Christmas.”

“Dude, you don’t have to do that. I mean, that’d be great, but no, I was kind of wondering what your deal was? Like do you hang out a lot?” Sam started fishing.

“Yeah, totally, everynight,” Dean deadpanned. “I mean I only work two jobs when I’m not moving your sorry ass back into Mom and Dad’s.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Sam said, waiting to figure out where he was going with this line of questioning and just shot in the dark. 

“What I’m trying to say is, is this, like, a Cas thing?” Sam choked out, unable to put it any more delicately. 

Dean burned with shame as his hackles raised in defensiveness. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Sam cocked his head and pursed his lips, unamused and unimpressed. “You know what I mean, man. Don’t make me spell it out.”

Dean wouldn’t budge, he dropped his beer with a thud. “Well, you’re gonna have to, because I have no fuckin’ idea what you’re talking about.”

“Dude!” Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“The fuck is your problem? You got something to say, just say it, Sam.” Dean fumed, daring him with a murderous glare. Sam inhaled pregnantly, face still inching towards bitch mode. Sam eyed the bartender who was trying not to listen and the late game bowlers who suddenly decided they could catch up lane side instead.

What Dean didn’t realize was that he needed Sam to say it. He yearned for it, for his truth to be spoken, and known without him having to say it himself.

“Look, I know this isn’t something we talk about. But, I just want to make sure you’re okay. Alright? In the beginning with Cas, it was like you were obsessed, man. And since he just always seemed to need something from you. I just want to make sure you’re not getting used, I guess,” Sam unraveled the heart of his concern without saying too much, which Dean was not expecting, at all.

Dumbfounded, Dean retreated, annoyance trumping any chance at relief. 

“I think I can handle myself, thanks,” Dean spat. Petulantly, he took a sip from his beer, the cold glass solid in his hand, giving him something to clutch or even throw, if it came down to it.

“I didn’t say---,” Sam broke off. “Fine! You know what? You’re on your own. Just remember that I should have listened to you about Ruby and now I’m paying the price for my own stubbornness.”

Sam stood and reached for his money clip, tossing an extra five on the bar for the dramatics. He gave Dean one last chance to come clean, to own up to what they weren’t saying. Dean stared straight ahead, eyes unfocusing on the liquor labels behind the bar as if Sam had already left. So he did, just as he came: pissed and questioning his brother’s motives.

    Dean didn’t go home after that. Instead he absently followed a plow down the main road until he happened upon a familiar turn off. Which he took slow and steady until it ended in a T. The little brick ranch at the end of the lane held a lot of memories. And it was more inviting than ever with its Christmas card perfection in the falling snow. Dean put the Impala in park and let the radio play, wishing he had a joint just for the sake of something to do. 

He wasn’t there ten minutes before his phone rang, which he answered without processing the caller ID.

“You gonna come in or you just gonna sit out there feeling sorry for yourself?” Jo’s voice sliced across the line.

“Didn’t know if you were still up,” Dean bullshitted.

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say. Backdoor’s open,” her unimpressed reply. She hung up before Dean could make up an excuse to leave. He slouched out of the car and trudged down the long country driveway. As soon as he had stomped the snow off his boots, Jo welcomed him in with a firm hug and an appraising glint in her eye.

“Thanks, it’s a real mess out there,” Dean explained.

Jo just shook her head at him. “How’d ya bowl?”

“619 series, finished strong in the last few frames,” Dean answered. “Were you at your folks?”

“Nah, just know it’s Wednesday night, which means the boys were at the alley,” Jo smirked as she reached atop her fridge for the good stuff. 

She held up the whiskey in offering and Dean nodded, bending out of his coat. He slipped it over the back of a chair and settled in at the vintage kitchen table. She poured him a glass and watched as he inhaled the first round like he had been outside for hours and needed to fight off a much deeper chill.

“Well alright,” Jo resigned herself to playing shrink and poured Dean another drink. “So, what’s got you stuck in your head, hm?”

Dean weighed his head from side to side as he let the whiskey roll over his tongue. He never got far into a pouting session when Jo was around, but he also didn’t know which chamber of his heart he could stand to prop open for her inspection tonight.

“How’ve you been, Jo? You still schooling those truckers on taking care of their own rigs?” Dean sidestepped with ease.

“You know it,” Jo confirmed. “Not a day goes by that I don’t have to put another asshole in his place. Pays good, though.”

Jo had followed in Bobby’s footsteps and became a mechanic, but two Singers were already one too many for the shop and salvage yard. So she took her skills out to the interstate and made a name for herself as the only female diesel technician in four counties. Dean used to hate it when she would fix something faster than him, but it had been more than a decade since her skills had made him feel inferior. Dean knew Jo’d be his boss someday, but he wasn’t too worried about those far off futures; Bobby wouldn’t retire unless Ellen made him or killed him first.

“How’s Rufus holding up?” Jo teased, knowing her dad’s old friend was getting worse for the wear, much like John had.

“Stubborn, and as glib as ever. Good thing your dad rehired him, because he’s a bit too mouthy for most customers,” Dean admitted.

    Jo hummed with nostalgia. “I gotta swing by and bug you guys sometime, but it just keeps getting busier.”

    Dean sighed. “I hear that. What’s it been? Labor day? No. I haven’t even seen you since the Fourth. Christ!”

“Yeah, well, you’ll see me next week for Thanksgiving, don’t get too sentimental about it now,” Jo quipped. She took a short sip off the bottle as Dean swirled the last of his second helping.

“I’m seeing someone,” Dean staggered the words, like he wasn’t sure if their meanings and sounds fit together.

Jo sighed dramatically, “Finally, the truth is revealed! What’s up? She’s not pregnant, is she?”

“No.” Dean had to bite back his guffaw. “Definitely not.”

“Okay, then why the sad face? Not pulling a Ruby on ya, I hope?” Jo tested the waters.

“No, it’s--uh--- it’s been good. Really good. I just, kind of need to make up my mind if I’m in it for the long haul. Ya know?” Dean clarified, relaxing with each little confession. 

“Uh-oh it’s getting serious,” Jo mock whispered.

Dean rolled his shoulders. “No, well, it could be. I don’t know.”

Jo giggled. “I can’t believe you! You’re fucking twitterpated, aren’t you?!”

“Jo, if you start making Thumper jokes, I’m shutting up right now,” Dean warned with a pointed finger. “Care to top me off while you’re at it?”

“Okay, okay, gosh.” Jo rolled her eyes dramatically as she poured him another drink before pointedly putting it back on the fridge. “But you’re in deep. You’re all blushy about it.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m ready to go big. It just means they’re willing to put up with me until I say the word,” Dean tried to downplay his feelings and Benny’s confession.

“So do it! Bust out the grand gestures already,” Jo encouraged.

Dean scoffed, “I’m not built for commitment, you know that!”

“Except you kinda are! You’ve changed, Dean,” Jo insisted, head hung to pour her honesty from her eyes. “I don’t know when it happened, but you’re not that reckless boy that I knew. You’ve always been a good guy, but now?---- Maybe it’s been since Sam came home, I don’t know. But somewhere along the way you grew up.---- It’s okay to let yourself want something more, you know.”

Dean grumbled and rolled his neck, breaking the eye contact. She always could do this to him, just like her mother, see straight through his every defense. “I always thought it’d be you, you know?”

Jo smiled without teeth. “Firsts can do that to people. But, we’re not those kids anymore, Dean. So, if you’re asking for my permission or seeking my approval---?”

Dean dropped his head to his hands, thick fingers poorly hiding him from Jo. “It’s a guy, Jo. I’m--- I don’t know--- Bi? I guess?”

“Dean?” Jo waited until he stopped being sheepish and looked at her, even if it was only out of the corner of one eye. “You’ve been head over heels for Cas for years. If you dare tell me this is about him, so help me, I will throw you out right now.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh ruefully at that and toss back what was left of his whiskey. “You saw that, huh?”

She didn’t answer, waiting for him to work through it on his own.

“It’s not Cas.” Dean smacked his lips and held up his glass for a refill. Jo stood and brought the bottle back to the table. Dean poured himself three fingers worth and pondered the sloshing liquid before he continued. “Your mom know?”

Jo licked her lips, cocked her head, and sighed.

Dean closed his eyes and asked, “Bobby? Fuck!--- my mom?!”

“No one has ever said it out loud, Dean. I don’t know who knows, honestly. But we’re family, that doesn’t change.” Jo grasped his wrist firmly, he held her hand to his and then she slapped her other one on top. Time stopped long enough for Dean to accept that his secret was finally out, but also that it was safe.

“I can’t believe I’m talking about this with you, of all people.” Dean thumbed her knuckles, staring into eyes he knew as well as his own.

“Really? Who else would you be talking to about it? Sam? Ash, maybe?” Jo giggled. “I’m honored, actually. It means you stopped hating me.”

Dean pulled his hands away and took another drink. “I never hated you.” 

“Okay, well, maybe it means you stopped hating yourself,” Jo corrected.

Dean’s brows crooked incredulously.

“Too much?” Jo asked apologetically.

Dean shook his head and sighed. “You are your mother’s daughter.”

“Now you’re the one being rude,” Jo muttered before taking a solid drink off the bottle this time.

Dean let himself relax, let the whiskey and conversation work into his muscles and set his worries aside. They talked like the old days and about the old days. Those in between years after high school and before anyone was ready to face responsibility. When half their friends went to college, they had just kept on working. After another hour, Jo leaned back in her chair and started scrutinizing him once again.

“You know how I know you’re happy with what’s his name?” Jo teased.

“Beh--- I didn’t tell you, fuck! Benny, his name is Benny. Goddamnit Joanna Beth,” Dean cursed through a chuckle; more details dragged out of him than he had planned on.

Jo cocked her head and considered the name.“Benny, right. You wanna know how I know?” Jo pushed.

“Fine, how?” Dean held up his hand, beckoning for her to hit him with her response.

“Because this is about the time of night you start giving me the lazy once over. But not tonight,” Jo proclaimed, chin out condescendingly. She had him, every few years they’d find themselves back in each other’s beds, for a night or a weekend and then they’d move on. He always thought of her as his home, his starting point. But maybe they weren’t the same thing at all.

“You still look good, Jo,” Dean replied, trying to save face.

“That’s not what I meant, Dean. Besides, I know!” Jo snarked, straightening her spine and tossing her hair over her shoulder. Dean couldn’t hold in his laughter anymore and it spilled out over a toothy grin, making Jo almost choke on her drink. God, Dean felt like anything was possible. That life was good. 

After the hysterics had calmed down, Dean exhaled. “Thanks, Jo. I needed this.”

“You sure did, nobody else was gonna hand you your ass so kindly,” Jo agreed, standing and taking the bottle and Dean’s glass with her to the counter that held the sink. He whined comically, but knew her timing was right. She leaned back and smirked.

Dean grew quiet and Jo waited to see if it was exhaustion, the alcohol or something else. She didn’t have long to prepare.

“How’m I gonna tell my dad?” Dean asked, the pain and panic pulling at his face until she saw the telltale tears well up.

“Fuck ‘im. I mean it, if your dad can’t get his head out of his ass to see how happy you are, he isn’t worth your time,” Jo said adamantly.

Dean let his thoughts roll to the side of his head and licked his lips, biting against the tremor. He quickly wiped away the tears that escaped and inhaled wet and ragged. Jo slipped to his side and ran her hand through his hair, letting his face fall against her chest as he breathed through the onslaught. Dean couldn’t help but think how motherly the affection felt.

She pulled back to look him over at arms’ length. 

“So what now? You want the couch? Or should I call you a ride? I’m sure Sam owes you one,” Jo asked, as no nonsense as ever.

“I’ll be fine,” Dean dismissed her concern, rubbing up his face to wipe off his nose.

“Well, you ain't driving.” Jo held up his keys. Dean blanched, feeling his pockets for them, fruitlessly. He stood to snatch them, but she had already skipped across the kitchen, too far to catch. “Nuh-uh, no way I’m letting you risk your baby. Or your thick skull in this weather.”

 Dean put his hands on his hips, and blinked through the dizziness. He realized he hadn’t stood in a few hours. “Sam.”

“What’s that?” Jo prodded mischievously, ear leaning in as if she couldn’t hear him.

“Very funny. Call Sam, will ya?” Dean rolled his eyes as she scrolled through her contacts, murmuring the names under her breath. His keys were raised in victory, as if he couldn’t reach them above her head. He could have snagged them in an instant, if he wanted to.

 While Jo woke Sam, Dean checked his own phone. Ignoring some texts from his mom and Cas, he selected the conversation with Benny. There were no new messages since that morning. Dean hesitated before relocking his screen.

“Sam’ll be here in twenty. You want something to eat? I’ve got chips.” Jo offered, opening the cupboard.

Tagging: @flamencodiva​ @dolphincliffs​ @dontshootmespence​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​ @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @wingedcatninja​ @defenderrosetyler​ @ericaprice2008  @crashdevlin​  @mylovelydame21 @cajunquandary​ @itmighthavebeenintentional​​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​ @there-must-be-a-lock @tatted-trina6​ @cracksinthewalls​ @atc74​​

Series Masterlist

SPN Masterlist

Tell me what you thought?

Part 10: Spit it Out

[outerbonks]

complicated - jj maybank

Thanks for all the love on my last post, I really appreciate it ♡ let me know what you think of this one and if you think I should make more parts :)

Summary: You're a kook and JJ doesn't like you at all. That's what he wants everyone to believe anyway.

Word count: +2K

Warning (s): swearing, drinking

Masterlist ♡

Music pumped through the boneyard as you danced around with your friends, being a kook, you tried to avoid being on the pogue side of the island as much as possible, but keggers in the boneyard were impossible to pass up.

For the past fifteen minutes you'd been lost in the music, dancing and singing, admittedly buzzed from all of the cheap beer you'd drank throughout the night.

"Y/n! You came!" A voice called from behind you and you whipped around to see your friend Kie smiling brightly at you.

Giving her a big hug and returning her smile you nodded, "Yeah, great party!"

Kie was a sweetheart, you'd met her in school after her falling out with Sarah Cameron in the ninth grade, she was a breath of fresh air compared to some of the other snobs that attended the private high school and you both got along like a house on fire.

There was one issue with hanging out with her outside of school though. That issue was that her friends hated you- well, not all of them, only one of them actually, but he really really really didn't like you.

JJ Maybank has been a dick to you ever since he first met you. You don't remember doing anything to have pissed the hotheaded boy off but you never let his hostility fly.

Whenever he had something to quip at you, you had something just as snarky to throw back in his face. He didn't know anything about you yet felt the need to run his mouth about you as if he knew all of your deepest darkest secrets, when in reality the boy probably didn't even know your middle name.

At the beginning of your little rivalry with JJ, you had tried to be the bigger person and show him that you weren't like the other kooks. Of course he was having none of it.

So when Kie grabbed your hand and exclaimed, "Come sit with me and my friends!" Your stomach dropped and even in your tipsy state you knew that it wasn't a good idea.

"I dunno, Kie. I don't wanna fight with anyone tonight…" You trailed off with a pout, you'd had a shitty week at work and tonight was supposed to allow you to unwind and not be stressed out by a boy who hated you for reasons you didn't even know.

"Look, I'll handle JJ if he says anything okay? Just please come on, John B said he missed you." Kie pleaded with you, a triumphant 'yes' exiting her mouth when you sighed in defeat and began walking with her in the direction of her friends.

When you got to the boys who were all sat on logs, John B perked up, the tall boy immediately standing up to greet you with a hug.

"I haven't seen you in forever! Why haven't you been hanging out?" John B asked you with a concerned face, holding you at arms length.

"We've been super swamped at work, lots of new people coming in for the summer so I picked up a few extra shifts to help out." You explained to him but turned your face in the direction where the scoff had just come from.

"As if you need any more money than you already get from mommy and daddy." JJ grumbled sarcastically, looking to get a rise out of you.

You meant what you said to Kie earlier about not wanting to get in a fight, you were too tired.

"It's volunteer work, actually." You muttered bitterly before taking a seat between Kie and John B.

Most of your weekends and now weekdays since school ended for summer were spent volunteering at the old folks home on figure eight. It wasn't too stressful, you get paired up with an old person and you keep them company for the day, play board games and do things for them. It doesn't sound so bad, is exactly what you were thinking when you applied for it, but the hours were long and the nurses that worked there were assholes.

You'd dealt with enough snarky douche bags this week, you didn't want to have to deal with the blond boy too. You'd be using energy you just didn't have.

Luckily the conversation moved on quickly and you were all laughing at something Pope said.

"Do you want another beer?" John B asked you, standing up.

"No thanks. I think I've had enough." You giggled up at him and he nodded his head in agreement with a smile before heading to the keg.

Once he left, JJ wasted no time in stealing his seat and plopping down beside you.

You let out an irritated sigh but didn't say anything, you knew what was about to happen.

"Want a hit?" He asked, showing you the joint he'd rolled. You couldn't help but look at him in confusion, him offering you anything other than a snide remark was uncharacteristic.

"I guess." You responded unsurely, only to get a click of his tongue in return, "Damn sucks you don't have a joint then."

In all fairness you should've seen it coming. Rolling your eyes you turned your face away from him as he lit up the weed.

While you were ignoring JJ and enjoying a conversation with Pope and Kie you were interrupted by a Touron who tapped you on the shoulder.

"Hey." You couldn't lie, the boy standing in front of you with a shy smile on his face was gorgeous.

You smiled brightly, looking up at him from your spot, "Hi there."

JJ watched with narrow eyes as the guy rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "I was wondering if maybe you'd want to dance with me for a bit?"

Before you could even respond, JJ threw an arm around your shoulder casually and looked at the poor boy dead in the eyes, "No. She doesn't."

It was your turn to narrow your eyes as the boy scurried away.

"What the fuck?" You seethed at JJ, knocking his hand off your shoulder and turning to face him.

The boy in question shrugged his shoulders innocently, "Didn't think you wanted to dance."

"How the hell would you know what I want? You don't even know me." The words were laced in venom and it was clear that you'd finally had enough, not allowing the blue eyed boy to get a word in as you exploded.

"I get it, ok? You hate me and that's fine. But don't for a second pretend to know what I'm about because you don't know shit about me." Your jaw was clenched and you delivered your words through gritted teeth, poking his chest roughly as you spoke.

JJ scoffed out a laugh, grabbing your wrist to stop your relentless poking, "I know exactly what you're about, princess."

Looking at him with pursed lips you snatched your wrist from his grasp and crossed your arms over chest, "Tell me." The demand came out stone cold and JJ's face was covered in confusion, "What?"

"Tell me what I'm about." The boy stared at you in bewilderment before cocking his head to the side and nodding, "Alright."

JJ cleared his throat before he started rattling off reasons as to why he hated you, "You're just like every other kook on this island, a spoiled brat who gets everything handed to you."

Shaking your head at his answer you leaned closer to him with a glare that made a chill run up his spine.

"No no no. We all know what a kook is JJ, no I want you to tell me what I'm about. C'mon, what's my biggest fear?" You pushed at his chest again, enjoying how he swallowed thickly and stayed quiet.

"What age was I when it all started going wrong? Why can't I wear dresses to parties? Huh?" The boy kept quiet, he didn't have an answer to any of your questions and the point you were making started to dawn on him.

"Come on! Since you know everything about what I'm about you must know the answers." 

JJ let out an aggravated huff and threw his hands up in defeat, "Well I don't, alright?" He shouted defensively.

Giving him a fake smile and nodding you stood up, towering over him now.

"Right. Because you don't fucking know me. So stop acting like you do when you've never even bothered to get to know me." You spat at him before storming away.

Kie and Pope watched with dissatisfied looks on their faces, "Man, you suck do you know that?" Kie sighed out as she watched you get smaller and smaller.

"Also you do know Y/n is like the sweetest person on the planet right?" John B chimed in, returning from the keg.

"Why do you hate her?" Pope asked, tilting his head in confusion, JJ not liking you had just been something they all accepted and never questioned.

JJ shrugged, chugging his drink and tossing the cup to the side, "She's a kook." 

Kie scoffed this time, "Yeah and? Everyone else loves her. I don't get why you always have to make her feel bad, she tried really hard to get along with you." 

JJ's feeling towards you were complicated, the rudeness between the two of you had admittedly started off as just banter and when he realized he'd been enjoying the back and forth a little too much he needed to regain his distance. No way in hell could he fall for a kook princess, even if you were one of the nicest people he'd ever met.

He's never felt bad about the remarks he threw you or arguments he caused because you always gave as good as you got. It pissed him off because it only made him admire you more. He didn't notice it was taking a lasting effect on you until your little outburst.

To top things off, Kie, Pope and John B were always gushing about how much fun you were to hang out with and how they wanted to hang out with you more often, truth be told he'd love to see you hanging around more but his pride just would not allow him to get close to you.

"Look, if it would make you all chill out I will go and I will propose a truce so you can all go back to macking on Y/n in peace." The boy offered and was met with a chorus of thank yous from his friends.

He had to jog up the beach until he eventually found you sitting on the sand, close to the shore line with a bottle of water, attempting to sober up before you went home.

"Hey, princess." JJ said, voice flat as he sat down beside you on the cold sand.

You glanced at him briefly and sighed, "I'm not up for a round two."

The boy shook his head, staring out at the ocean thoughtfully, "That's not why I'm here."

Furrowing your brows you turned your face toward his, "Then why are you here?"

He ran his fingers through his hair then met your eyes, "I'm sorry that I'm an asshole."

He never usually apologized, but then again, you never usually snapped either so you were both full of surprises tonight.

"I'm not sorry for snapping at you. You deserved it." You replied softly, returning your gaze to the water in front of you.

JJ let out an airy laugh, nodding in agreement. 

"I don't hate you by the way." He confessed quietly.

"Then why are you so mean all the time?" You asked in return.

Instead of answering your question he posed a new one to you, "Do you wanna know what I'm about?"

You nodded, determined to get to the bottom of the boy beside you.

"I'm about keeping people at a distance. I do that by being an asshole. I'm about caring too much about my reputation to let myself be nice to you." To let myself fall for you. He wanted to say, but he couldn't put all of his cards on the table like that.

Nodding in understanding you let out a weak, "Pogues vs kooks… right." You knew for a fact that if you were considered one of the pogues JJ would've never had an issue with you.

"Right." The boy confirmed with yet another nod of his head. 

A silence settled over you both before JJ stood up, dusting himself off, "Come hang out with us this weekend. The others want you to be there."

Giving him a weak smile and a nod you watched as he walked away. That boy would never fail to confuse you.

You just hoped that now that he told you he didn't hate you, that maybe he'd start acting like it.

Part 2

[thewildomega]

Star in the Sand Ch.13

Growling under your breath you thump your head back against the side of the building, the lewd noises from inside only fueling your anger. "Fifteen minutes my ass." you grumbled under your breath. "And how much for you doll?"

Snapping your eyes open you looked towards the man standing in front of you with a disgusting smirk on his face. Before you had time to even answer his question or tell him to fuck off his hand was touching your inner thigh, trying to push under your dress. Slapping him you grit your teeth. "I am not for sale." you snarled. Having enough of this shit you grabbed your bag and stomped off down the busy street. It had not been a good day, Crocodile had been gone since last night, telling you he and the majority of the crew had a big heist they had to do on the other side of the island. Leaving you in the care of some of the lesser crew he had asked you to stay by Horx. Horx, a newer crew member who up until this point had seemed like an alright guy, that was until this afternoon. After following you around all day he had begun to get a little restless. Not that you blamed the guy, he was spending his downtime having to babysit you, you would be mad too, especially if the woman was as cranky as you. In your difference you didn't like having to be babysat. So stupidly you had asked him if there was anywhere he would like to go. Foolishly you had thought he may ask to go to a bar or a weapon shop but no, he had wanted to go to a brothel. OF ALL FUCKING PLACES! You should have known, really you should have. Being promised that it would only be fifteen minutes tops you had agreed and reluctantly took a seat outside of the establishment while he did his thing but after two damn hours you had lost it. It as nearing dark and all that seemed to be about now were the rougher folk. Sighing you continued walking, looking over this and that. There were plenty of shops and such but you still felt off about spending money that Crocodile gave you on anything other than food. Even then the food you did buy was not the fancy type. What you needed was a way to make some money and blow off some steam. Biting your bottom lip you looked around until you caught sight of a bar with a sign overhead reading 'Pool hall' Humming you grinned, that you could work with.

..................................

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LOST HER!?" he roared making the man in front of him shake in terror. "Well I... She..." Waving his hand through the air he sent the man flying with a wall of sand before he was heading out in search of her... again. He was beginning to think he would be better off locking her in their room while he was gone. It was the middle of the night where the hell would she be? The plan had been to leave tomorrow but there had been a bit of a problem in the heist and they now had to leave tonight. Telling Daz and Hex to find the rest of the crew and get them back on ship and ready to leave he went in search of his woman. "Hahaha... that doe got you good!" "Shut it!" "And you thought she was just a pretty face. Haha, girl hustled you!" Narrowing his eyes at the men's conversation he looked towards them and saw them coming from the direction of the bar. Walking that way he saw the older man looking to be closing up for the night, "Rather early to be calling it a night, is it not?" he asked. Huffing he clicked the lock on the door and turned to look towards the man, having to crane his neck to meet his eyes. "Yea well ain't got any business since that woman went and took everyone's money." "Oh?" "Some broad from outta town.. came in and managed to hustle all of my regulars out of all their money." he told the man. Humming he raised a brow, "She sounds rather interesting, would have enjoyed a game with her myself." Huffing he pocketed his keys and pointed left, "Yeah well I am sure she would be more than happy to drain you dry, she went that way, got hair as red as fire, ya can't miss her. Best luck to ya son." Having to hold in his chuckle at the irony when the man said something about her draining him dry he nodded his head and went the way he said. Following the trail he saw most of the other places shutting down for the night as well, only a few other bars and restaurants left open. As the village came to an end he still hadn't found her and he doubted she had went into any of the other places. Glancing up at the sky he saw the moon was full and the stars shining brightly, although there were storm clouds a ways away. He would need to find her, listening he heard the sound of a waterfall and grinned, his would bet money that's where his little star was. Getting to the hidden spring he looked out and saw her bag sitting by a large bolder but he didn't see her. Furrowing his brows he walked over to it, noticing her sundress and a bottle of whiskey there as well. Snapping his eyes up he looked along the rocky shore for her, about to call her name before he looked out to the water. Slowly walking over to water's edge he stared at her, captivated by the way the moonlight shone over her skin. She was standing there, the water coming up to her waist with her back to him. Her wet hair flowed down her back and he couldn't help but swallow at the knowledge that she was in nothing but her underwear. An idea was floating around in his head but he was hesitant. Tilting his jaw he looked again towards the woman, his woman and felt his heart thump in his chest. The hell with it. Kicking off his shoes and pulling off his socks he quickly undressed, leaving on nothing but his pants. Unzipping her bag he moved to put his hook inside and felt his brows raise when he saw the money and treasure inside. She really had hustle those men out of their money. Dropping it inside he zipped it back shut and quietly made his way out to the water's edge. Looking out he saw her still standing here, looking up at the night sky. He could hear a light singing from her, drawing him to her. Staring up at the stars in contentment, you skimmed your hands across the surface of the water. The only other sound coming from the waterfall a little ways away as you sang. "Upon one summer's morning I carefully did stray Down by the walls of wapping Where I met a sailor gay Conversing with a young lass Who seem'd to be in pain Saying, William, when you go I fear you'll ne'er return again My heart is pierced by Cupid I disdain all the glittering gold There is nothing can console me But my jolly sailor bold His hair it hangs in ringlet His eyes as black as coal My happiness attend him Where ever he may go..." Feeling little ripples hit against your back you felt the corners of your lips tug upwards. "Don't even think about it." Dropping his shoulders he lowered his brows, slightly disappointed he couldn't sneak up on her. Wrapping his left arm around her body he pulled her back flush to his chest and lifted her chin with his hand. Craning your neck to look up into his eyes you gave him a soft smile. "Well look at you being all brave and coming into the water." you giggled. Huffing he rolled his eyes but grinned. "Perhaps you are to blame, a beautiful siren luring this innocent sailor into the water to drown him." Giggling you looked up at him. "I'd say you were a far cry from an innocent sailor." Chuckling deeply he stroked her cheek with his thumb as he leaned down to kiss her, smelling the alcohol on her. Pulling away he looked into her soft eyes and rose his chin a bit, "You disobeyed me..." Groaning you moved out of his arms and started walking out to the deeper water. "As you can see nothing happened to me..." Following after her he watched the water start rising up her body. "This time. I asked you to stay by Horx and you didn't." "Well I  didn't exactly want to sit outside of the brothel all day." you grunted, going under the water before he could grab you. Sighing as she went under the water he stood now chest deep in the water, trying to figure out where she was. Feeling a splash he stiffened as the right side of his face and hair was soaked with water. Snapping his eyes that way he just did see her go under again. Narrowing his eyes he looked all around but didn't see her, just how long could she hold her breath? "Y/n..." Turning around in a circle he was again hit by a large splash of water. Growling he wiped the water from his face, pushing his now wet hair back. Looking in front of him he saw her there. Only her eyes and the top of her head was above the water's surface and he narrowed his eyes at the mischief in them. Lifting his finger he curled it, beckoning her to him but she quickly shook her head. Slowly walking towards her he quickly realized that the water was over her head, it coming up to the top of his chest. She didn't try to swim away as he neared her, perhaps she was giving in to him. Reaching out to pull her to him, he went to give a victorious smirk when she spit a mouthful of water in his face.

Laughing for a moment you wiggled your arms and legs to keep you afloat but when you were suddenly yanked into his massive body and looked up to see two angry eyes glaring down at you you stiffened, your laughter leaving you. "You think that's funny, how old are you?" Growling, he glared down at her, water dripping from his brow. When he saw those two sea blue eyes looking up at him with a mixture of fear and hurt in them he froze, realization coming over him. Before he could say anything she dropped her eyes and apologized to him in a soft whisper. Easily moving out of his hold you moved back to the shore, feeling a knot in your chest. Stupid! Childish! Idiot! He didn't want to play with you! You knew he didn't like water. You ruin everything... Biting your lip to keep it from trembling you felt the bottom and started walking towards your clothes. Fucking moron! She was trying to play with you... you know like normal couples did! Watching her swim towards the shore he felt a clenching in his chest, she didn't look back at him as she walked up the shore and towards their clothes. Glancing down to her black panty clad ass he felt only a small spark of arousal but it was quickly overrun by guilt. He had upset her, the slight curl of her shoulders telling him as much. Slowly moving towards the shore he watched as she pulled on her sundress. "Y/n..."

Pulling your wet hair out of the neckline of the dress you swallowed hard and brushed away the single tear that fell from your eye. "I'm sorry... it won't happen again." you said without looking back at him, not wanting to embarrass yourself more than you already had. Closing your eyes and taking a breath you grabbed his clothes and turned back towards him, holding them out for him to take but keeping your eyes down as shame ate at you.

Looking down he reached out for his clothes but furrowed his brows, "You do not want to swim anymore?" he asked even though he already knew the answer, he had ruined any chance of her happiness tonight.

Shaking your head you licked your lips and went to answer but a loud rumble of thunder startled you. Looking up at the sky you saw a storm coming and then felt Crocodile take his clothing from your hands.

It got here faster than he thought it would, it was true what they said about weather in the New World. Pulling on his shirt and vest he reached for his hook, feeling something he looked down and saw y/n making quick work of buttoning his shirt and vest for him, although her eyes still wouldn't lift to his. A close strike of lightning made him shove his feet in his shoes, y/n grabbing his socks and scarf to shove in her bag.

Holding out his coat for him you felt sheets of rain start pouring down on the both of you. Your shoulders curled inward on their own, the rain cold and sharp on your bare shoulders and arms.

Wrapping his coat around her he grabbed her bag with his hook and her hand with his before pulling her towards the docks.

Getting back to the ship Crocodile quickly told you to go inside the cabin while he went about giving orders to set sail. After everything that had just happened you had obeyed without question, not wanting to anger him anymore than you already had. Placing your bag on the floor you hung up his wet coat to dry before grabbing your pajamas and heading to the bathroom to change. Once you were in bed you stared at the wall, thinking about what had happened at the spring. You had been such an idiot, just because you saw couples do that in movies didn't mean it would be okay in real life... especially not when your other half hated water. Besides that Crocodile was a serious man, he wouldn't want to play with you. Feeling like a fool you sighed heavily, curling up in a ball you closed your eyes.  

.........................................

Waking up with a start you panted for air, your heart hammering against your ribs. Thunder boomed outside in the distance, the ship rocked a bit more than normal as the storm created waves that crashed against the ship. Staring up at the darkness and then over to where you knew Crocodile slept beside you you listened to his deep breathing, trying to match your own to it. When a flash of lightning filled the room with a quick light you screamed when you saw it wasn't him laying beside you but Don, a pair of scissors impaled in his chest.

"Hey there sugar.."

Snapping your eyes open for real this time you trembled, it felt like you couldn't get enough air. You needed to get away. Crawling down the bed you almost stumbled over the covers that were wrapped around your legs. Moving towards the door you were caught off guard by something gabbing your wrist. Gasping you swung your other hand through the air, your fight or flight kicking in. Y/n?" he said in a deep voice laced with sleep when he felt a movement and then heard someone walking across the room. Pushing himself up from bed he looked out and saw the shadow of her going towards the door. Calling out for her again she didn't stop and he knew she was in that daze like he had seen her in before. Moving after her he reached out and grabbed her wrist but felt her tense, felt her body move. The sudden light from the lightning in the distance filled the room with a light for just a second, showing her closed fist coming towards him. Quickly catching her hand as she made to hit him he quickly wrapped his left arm around her small body and pulled her flush to his chest. "Y/n!" he said in a deep voice. Snapping out of your mind, your breath caught in your throat. Your right hand was held in his while his left arm was wrapped around you, holding you tightly to his chest. Looking up at him in shock, a strike of lightning showing his silver eyes looking down at you in concern. Your heart was still pounding, your breathing erratic and your body trembling. "C..croc...", your lips and throat incredibly dry, making your voice come out as a cracking whisper. Hearing how broken she sounded he furrowed his brows. He could feel her tiny body trembling, feel her heartbeat against his own chest. Crouching down he moved his arm under her bottom and lifted her up to carry her back to their bed. Being that the bed was in the corner of the room and he slept on the outside endge it meant that whenever she went to get up he knew. Stiffening you looked to the door and opened your mouth, "I... outside..sssoo...You...sleep.." "No." "... " "I will not allow you to deal with these fears on your own." Sitting on the bed he moved the pillow and laid down, moving her so she laid curled up in his side, their bodies still close. Pulling the duvet over them he moved his hand to her hip and started rubbing up and down her side. "What happened?" he asked, his voice low. When she didn't answer right away he dipped his chin, "Y/n." he said, his voice deep. Closing your eyes you nuzzled you face into his chest, desperate for his comfort. "You were him, Don." Gritting his teeth he continued moving his hand, up and down her side, feeling her silk nightshirt under his fingers. "He's not here darling, only me. No one is going to hurt you my little star." he told her in a deep, low voice. Bending down he kissed her head, feeling her burrow herself deeper into his chest and her fingers grip at his side. He could feel her still shaking as her past terrorized her, she was not going to be able to just drift back to sleep. He knew she would normally go outside, sit alone with her dreams plaguing her until she was so exhausted she could finally go back to sleep, either that or it was morning. It was no surprise that she was lacking sleep after some rather rough nights when he had been living with her. What she needed was a distraction. Rubbing his hand down to her hip he pushed his fingers under her night shirt, slowly rubbing his hand up the smooth skin of her back. When you felt his warm hand rub your bare back you sucked in a breath. He went slow, his hand never once rounding to touch your breast. Having snapped your eyes open when he first touched you you slowly felt them close again, your breathing evening out. His left arm was still wrapped around your body, holding you to him and making you feel safe. Focusing on his hand and the sound of his heartbeat you sighed. It took a little while but soon enough he felt her body relax into his, felt her deep breaths fan out over his chest. Adjusting himself a little to get comfortable he used his sand to move one of the pillows against the wall on her side of the bed behind her back, keeping her close to him. Kissing the top of her head he let his hand come to a stop between her shoulder blades and thought back at what happened earlier tonight.

He had screwed up, horribly. She had been happy, laughing and attempting to enjoy their time alone off ship. To simply play with him. But what does he do, he scolds her for it, ridiculous her for not acting her age, for not being some stick in the mud like him. Fucking idiot! While no he didn't care for water and he was rather irritated by everything else that was no reason to loose his temper with her. The look in her eyes, he had watched the joy fade from them when he snapped at her. He had discovered that his y/n was quick to discourage when it came to him. He didn't quite know why yet but she took all of his reactions to heart. Just the other day he had carelessly mentioned that he didn't much care for the rose scented soap she had picked out, the next time he went into the bathroom he saw it gone. A song she listened to on occasion that he found annoying, never to be heard again. Now it worried him that he he may have ruined any chance of her attempting to play with him in the future. The idea of playing around with someone had never crossed his mind before now. Before Y/n all of his relationships had been strictly business, they were simply there for his entertainment which consisted of nothing but sex or to accompany him to an event. Now though he wanted more, he wanted a real relationship with her, one that included all of those things he had previously thought childish and pointless. His y/n was a kind hearted woman who loved to smile and enjoy life itself. It was those characteristics that he loved about her and he would not deprive her of those things. No, for her and only her he would learn to let go. Kissing the top of her head in a silent promise to do better, he closed his eyes and joined her in sleep.

...................................

"Come on Daz please?" you asked, giving the ever serious man your best puppy dog eyes.

"No." he answered.

"Why not?"

"Because I intend to keep my head attached to my body as long as possible and if you so much as get a scratch on you he will show no mercy to the person responsible."

Letting out a long sigh you dropped your cheek to your palm and looked out over the deck.

"You could ask him to teach you, he does know how." Daz suggested, adjusting the fishing rod he was holding.

Biting your lip you looked down.

Glancing her way he saw the woman had her brows furrowed, "Are you afraid of him?" he asked.

Snapping your eyes up you quickly shook your head, "No, NO of course not it's just... well I just don't want to bother him or seem needy."

Humming he looked back out to the sea, "Crocodile is a difficult man and very set in his ways but I can assure you that you will never seem needy to him. He is your soulmate, he will do anything in his power to make you happy or give you whatever you desire."

Thinking on Daz's words for a moment you took a deep breath before nodded, "Thank you Daz." Seeing him nod you stood from the railing and headed up to you and Crocodile's shared room. Opening the door you saw him sitting at his desk looking over the paper. Smoke floated above him, he was smoking, that means he was relaxing, maybe you should come back later...

"Something bothering you darling?" he asked, his voice low and deep.

Licking your lips you moved over to him, rounding the desk and watching as his eyes drifted to you, "I want to talk to you about something."

She was nervous, he could hear it in her voice. Seeing her look down he dropped the paper to the desk and used his sand to bring her closer to him. As soon as she was in arm's reach he wrapped his arm around her and lifted her up and over the arm of his chair, sitting her in his lap.

Being sat in his lap you felt your neck and face heat up, you had never sat in his lap before. Feeling him gently adjust your legs with his hook to lay them over his lap before resting the arm on your thighs, you looked up to him, noticing how even sitting in his lap you were still not eye level with him. He looked calm, the cigar hanging lazily from his lips and his silver eyes staring down at you fondly.

"What is it you would like to talk about dear." He asked, enjoying the closeness. Since the incident at the spring she hadn't made a move to touch him, his previous thoughts correct. That had been three days ago and he was feeling rather touch starved, their intimacy to begin with nothing more than light kissing and touching.

Thinking about how to ask you finally decided to make it quick, like a band-aid. "I want to learn how to fight... I want you to teach me how to protect myself and be useful. I don't want to be a liability or some damsel in distress for you and the rest of the crew to have to worry about."

Out of everything she could have wanted to talk about that had not been what he was expecting. Laying his head back against the chair he took a long drag from his cigar and twirled her hair around his finger. "You have been thinking this over for some time." he stated. When she nodded he hummed, it would help ease his worry if he knew she could better protect herself if he wasn't there. "Alright..." he said and saw her smile, "On two conditions..." he added and saw her look to him.Removing his cigar he placed it in the ashtray. "One, You will obey me, if I say that's enough or I tell you to do something you do it. I will not have you getting hurt or putting yourself in danger do you understand me?" he asked and saw her nod. "Words darling."

Sighing you looked up into his eyes, "Yes Captain." you said in a sweet, innocent voice.

Narrowing his eyes he felt a warmth settle in his lower abdomen but said nothing. "Two, you will not hold anything against me, I can promise you I will not be the kindest teacher but I do not want you thinking ill of me."

Grinning you leaned against him, laying your head on his chest and looking up at him, "I promise I will still cuddle up to you at night and let you rub out any soreness you cause." you said.

Chuckling at her returning playfulness he wrapped his arm around her and stroked her cheek with his knuckles. "Three.."

"You said two..."

"I'm adding another, pros to being the captain...You will allow me to take you out on a date when we arrive at the next island." he said, his voice deeper than it was before.

Smiling you looked into his eyes and nodded, "Deal." you said before you pushed your lips to his.

Shocked that she had kissed him and not the other way around as it normally was it took him a few seconds to process the situation. Once he had he closed his eyes and held the side of her face in his hand as he kissed her back. Pushing his left arm up to her hip he pulled her a little closer to him, turning her to face him a bit more so he could better touch her with his hand. At first they did nothing but pepper each other with small pecks but after a minute he dipped his head more and slowly attempted to deepen their kiss. Gently pulling down on her chin with his thumb he flicked his tongue out to tease her bottom lip, silently asking permission. She seemed hesitant at first and he was about to pull away when he felt her lips part, granting him the access he so desired. Keeping his pace slow so he wouldn't overwhelm her he rolled his tongue into her mouth. It took everything he had not to plunge his tongue straight down her throat but he kept a gentle approach the only sign of his primal needs being the deep growl that left his throat when he finally tasted her.

It came as no surprise to you that his tongue would be huge like the rest of him. In no time at all the hot muscle was filling the entirety of your mouth and he had you clinging to him like he was the only thing holding you from floating away. His arms held you tightly to him with your head resting in the nook of his right arm and his heavy hook against your right hip, moving under you to tilt you towards him and soon you are melting into him. He tasted like cigar smoke and whiskey but you didn't mind because it was just...perfectly him.

There wasn't any part of her mouth he left unexplored, making a mental map to be remembered forever he groaned at the sweet taste of honey from her tea. Flicking her tongue with his he gave her the encouragement she needed to join him, telling her it was okay. He knew she was nervous but she didn't have to be he would teach her how to kiss just as well as he would to use a sword. As soon as her tongue began dancing with his own he hummed in approval, felt her hands grip his shirt at the sleeve and chest. There would no doubt be wrinkles but he couldn't give a damn. As soon as he started to feel his pants become a little uncomfortable there was a knock at the door.

"Hey Capt'n somethin' weird is goin' on with the log pose..."

A deep growl left his throat before he pulled away and let you breath. Your lungs were thankful to have the much needed air but your lips missed his. Still though his arms held you tightly.

"I am going to kill the lot of them." he growled and heard her giggle.

"Be nice."

Grunting he looked down at her and grinned at the sight of her slightly red lips, he wondered how they would look once he really got a hold of them. Brushing back her hair he kissed her temple, "Why don't you go ahead and take a shower and I will go deal with those idiots."

"Mmm-kay."

Kissing her one last time he stood and sat her on her feet. Watching her walk away he dropped his eyes to her ass and felt his cock give another twitch. Gritting his teeth he downed the rest of his drink and headed out to see what was going on with the log pose.

..........................

Hearing the bathroom door open you looked over and saw Crocodile walking out, finished with his own shower. He was wearing nothing but his green silk sleeping pants. Peeking up over the top of your phone at him you swallowed hard at the sight of his bare chest and back. With all of the layers he wore it was hard to tell sometimes how built his body was. Feeling the unfamilar warmth between your thighs you quickly snapped your eyes back down before he could catch you checking him out.

Tossing the towel to the chair he turned off the oil lamp, leaving the room in the dim light of the candle on the dresser. Looking towards the little woman lounged back on the large bed he grinned at the sight of her smooth legs, clad in one of his old dress shirts and her black panties he was more than pleased at the amount of skin he was able to see. While he had seen her nude already it had only been for a second and when her body had been covered in blood, bruises and welts, it was a sight he never wanted to see again. Crawling onto the bed he laid beside her, curling his arm around her and pulling her up into hsi side. Looking down at the screen of her phone he rose a brow at the words on covering the screen. "What are you doing little star?" he asked.

"Reading." you answered simply.

Humming he caresed her arm, "What are you reading?"

"The Outlander series, I had forgot I downloaded them onto my phone until I was looking through it the other day and found them. Kinda sucks though because there I only have eight of them and I know she planned for ten so I won't know the ending." you told him then shrugged, "I'll just make up my own ending." you smiled.

Twirling her hair around his finger he closed his eyes. "What are they about?"

"This 20th-century British nurse Claire Randall, who time travels to 18th-century Scotland and finds adventure and romance with the Highland warrior Jamie Fraser." you told him, blushing a bit. "It's pretty good so far, different than the other books I have read. Honestly the only reason I downloaded them to begin with is because the woman at the bookstore back in my town told me I should give it a try and wouldn't keep pestering me about it every time I went in there."

"What makes it so different from the other books you read?"

Licking your lips you bit your lip, "Um well it's..." feeling your face and neck heat up you felt him shift some and knew he was looking down at you.

Cracking one eye open he saw a blush about her cheeks and smirked. "Are you reading a steamy book darling?" he asked.

"No...No. I..maybe. There might be a few heated moments..." you said.

Oh this was entertaining... "Let me see." he said, moving to take the phone from her.

"NO!" you said, hiding the phone from him. Feeling him try and grab it still you rolled over and hold it under you.

Grinning he followed after her, enjoying how flustered she was becoming. Pushing his hand under her he tried to wiggle the phone out of her grip. "Come now sweetheart, your Captain is giving you a order..."

"The Captain can kiss my butt." you grumbled.

Laughing he wrapped his arm around her, "I can assure you I have no issues with that." he told her and saw her cheeks heat up even more. Wrapping his leg around hers he managed to grab the phone from her and held her still as he started reading over the words. Not seeing anything interesting at first he kept scrolling until he got to the good stuff.

"You're mine, mo duinne," he said softly, pressing himself into my depths. "Mine alone, now and forever. Mine, whether ye will it or no." I pulled against his grip, and sucked in my breath with a faint "ah" as he pressed even deeper. "Aye, I mean to use ye hard, my Sassenach," he whispered. "I want to own you, to possess you, body and soul."

He felt his own cheeks heat up a bit at the words, even though there were a few he didn't understand. When he felt a slight pain in his arm he looked down and saw her biting him. Chuckling he placed the phone down and nuzzled his nose into her neck, "Naughty girl." he teased and heard her groan in embarrassment. "I am only teasing you my little star." he told her, brushing back her hair and placing a kiss to her jaw.

Relaxing into his body you wrapped your arms around his left one and felt his right hand rub up and down your bare thigh, the heat from his hand warming your whole body. That warming between your legs was back, making you close your eyes. "Croc..." you said softly and heard his deep hum, felt it along your back. "Thank you for.. for waiting, for being patient, I know it's not fair to you but I..."

"What was it I told you before?" he asked, cutting her off. When she said nothing he hummed, "I told you I would help you heal slowly... that means that we will not rush things, that I will not rush you." Moving up to her hip he gave a light squeeze and closed his eyes as his manhood hardened, "I want you y/n, I want to make you mine but not until you are ready because I will not enjoy it unless you do as well." Taking a deep breath he used his sand to put out the flame on the candle and pulled the duvet over the both of them, moving his hand to wrap around her middle he kissed the crown of her head. "Goodnight starlight."

"Goodnight." you whispered, turning your head to kiss his arm.

[obihoekenobi]

title: sandstorm

pairings: din djarin/reader/cobb vanth

ratings: explicit

warnings: smut, threesome, unprotected sex

word count: 4,311k

What happens when a sandstorm, a Marshal and a Mandalorian turn up on your doorstep?

An afternoon to remember.

Link to AO3

You think it's a mirage at first, as you look out towards the horizon.

You straighten up from the ground, shielding your eyes against the twin sun's, as you try to make out the blurred figures.

Your Bantha, Mirta, snuffs against your arm as if to remind you she's still there. You place a hand on her in comfort, as you try to figure out if you're seeing things. You don't get many visitors out this way. The closest town was Mos Pelgo and those folk didn't often have reason to venture out from the haven their small town provided. If it could even be called that, between the Tusken raiders and the Krayt dragon.

Mirta stirs restlessly beside you, as you become aware of the wind picking up around you. Another day, another kriffin' sandstorm.

As you cast another look out, you realize the figures accelerating towards you are on speeders, dust kicking up behind them as they try to escape the coming storm.

With a sigh, you wipe your hands with the towel that hangs from your waist. You cast one last glance at your fast approaching guests, as you herd Mirta inside.

She was the runt of the litter, and just small enough to fit through the wide door into your storage room. You pull the tarp down to protect from the worst of it, as you fondly watch her settle down in some discarded blankets. You both knew it was a pretense at this point, pretending she should sleep outside. More often than not, she ended up in here.

"Behave", you say, pointing a finger at her in warning. You don't have to see her eyes through the thick fur, to know she's staring balefully at you.

You're interrupted from the staring contest, at the sound of speeders drawing to a stand outside.

Pulling your goggles down from where they rest on your forehead, and wrapping your shawl back around your head, you peel away the tarp and step back out into the elements.

Sand buffets against your exposed skin, as you try to take in the two men. Even after years of experience, you still flinch as sand rolls over you and streaks across the protective transparisteel of your goggles.

Wasting no time, you gesture the men after you, as you enter the sanctuary of your home.

You do your best to shake the excess sand off, as you wait from them in the entry way. You can't help but shake your head as you recognize who it is.

The marshal of Mos Pelgo, Cobb Vanth.

You wonder what he was thinking now, as he ducked inside your home. He always did warn you about the dangers of living alone, and here you were welcoming him and his friend into your home without a second thought.

Speaking of his friend, you send him an assessing look, as he steps in hesitantly after his companion and closes the door behind him, the noise from the storm cutting off with a shrill whistle until it sounds distant and muted. You don't see many Mandalorian out this way. You don't see many people, period.

"Much obliged, ma'am", Cobb says, easing his own goggles up over his head and shaking free the sand like a Mastiff pup. He shoots you a disarming grin, somehow managing to look dashing with his skin covered in a film of dirt.

You just barely stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

"Don't make me regret it", you say dryly, as you begin to divest yourself of your gear.

Cobb joins you in stacking his outerwear in a nearby cubby, but not before shooting a look at his friend. You file it away for later, as you watch the Mandalorian shift nervously on your doorstep.

"You don't have to take anything off, but I don't want you tracking sand inside", you say, shooting a mournful look around the already messy hallway, "you can clean up in privacy, if you go in through the door on the left".

It was a washroom, if it could even called that. It had a mirror, a stool and a sonic that didn't worked more often than not. Still, it should let him clean up without any prying eyes, if that was his problem.

When Cobb sends you a grateful look, you know you're right. You both watch the other man disappear through the door.

"He's the shy type", he whispers, jokingly, as he empties the sand from his boots. He knows the house rules after all.

"Not unlike yourself", you say, unable to contain the quip. He treats you to another blinding grin, and you're glad your face is still covered, as you feel it heat up in response.

"You know what I'm like", he says, falling into the familiar banter, "always a man of few words".

"I don't think I can keep this joke up much longer", you reply, finally unwinding the shawl from around your face, winching as become aware of the sand still clinging to your skin. You use the fabric to wipe away the excess, as you eye the other up and down.

"What happened to your armour?", you ask, as you finally realize why he looks so different. You didn't notice it at first, distracted by the blood red scarf he had used to cover his upper half. He looks strange without it, vulnerable somehow.

"It was returned to it's rightful owner", he replies easily, in that way you find so infuriating. It's like nothing bothers him.

You're interrupted before you can say anything, by the re-emergence of your other guest. You can't help but envy him, as you realise he looks no worse for wear.

"Well, come on in", you say, for lack of anything better.

They follow you down the narrow hall into the main room. Both have to duck through the door, to fit inside. You busy yourself with preparing dinner, as you let them get their bearings.

You've taken it in a million times now. From the bare walls to the rounded ceiling, the room was filled with all the necessities for life in the desert. The kitchen was where you retreated to, as you listened to the men seat themselves at your table.

"What brought you out this far?", you ask, as you rifle through your cupboards. Usually you settled for a small, simple meal, a mixture of things you had farmed yourself or traded for when you made your monthly trip to Mos Eisley.

"Well, my friend here, he insisted we had to visit, after I described the vision of the wastes".

You shoot him a look over your shoulder, this time you don't bother to hide the eye roll.

"Tap the table twice if you're being kept against your will, Mandalorian".

He makes a rasping sound from beneath his helmet in response, like a laugh that's been cut off too soon. You notice the way the Marshal's eyes flicker towards him, both of you cataloging the sound.

"Are you kidding, this guy can't get enough of me", Cobb replied, "he came all the way back to this rock to visit lil ol' me".

"I find that hard to believe", you say, as you carry a tray of simple food over. It's mishmash of dried meats and pickled vegetables, with Mirta's milk as the crowning feature.

You listen to Cobb as he recounts how the two met, nodding along where appropriate. The Mandalorian mostly let's the other man speak, though he does interrupt once or twice to curb his enthusiastic retelling. By the end you're aware your mouth is open, but you can't hide your shock.

"You were inside the Krayt dragon?", you repeat, turning to stare at the armoured man. His hand rubs almost self consciously along the back of his neck, but he doesn't outright deny it.

"I never even noticed anything had happened", you continue dumbly, "I've been so busy these past few weeks with Mirta".

"How is the old gal?", Cobb asks, and you smile in response to the genuine warmth you can hear in his voice. The Bantha had taken an instant liking to the lanky Marshal, which was part of why you had even let him into your house, after greeting the stranger loitering outside with your hunting rifle.

"Much better now but I worry about her you know", you reply, rolling your empty glass between your hands, "they're herd animals, Banthas".

"I'm sure she's just fine, you treat her like a princess after all", Cobb replies, as he rests a hand on your arm in comfort. Your eyes drop to the contact, his grip hot like a brand against your skin.

"Yeah, well, she is the head of the house", you reply, weakly. It's been a long time since another being has touched you, and feel your stomach swoop as he removes his hand.

The Mandalorian saves you from any embarrassment, by continuing to speak.

"You don't get any trouble?", he asks, and you feel your lips twitch into a smile. You can tell he's honourable, just like Cobb, already worried about your safety. There was no doubt in your mind, he would ride out into the sandstorm to slay whatever foe you could come up with. Two honourable men at your table, what were the odds.

"Don't get much of anything", you reply, truthfully.

"What about the Tuskens?".

"She's a Tusken whisperer, just like you Mando", Cobb said, interrupting before you could reply, "they respect her because of the Bantha".

The Mandalorian, Mando, dips his head towards you and it takes you a moment to realise he wants you to explain.

"My Bantha, Mirta, she's the runt of the litter. Banthas, they're a matriarchy, and when she fell behind her herd, they left her. I found her out there in the desert and nursed her back to health. The Tuskens caught wind of it and apparently it was enough to win their respect. They bond for life with the younglings, so they liked that I managed to keep her alive".

"So they leave you in peace", he supplied.

"Yeah, and Tuskens raids are about the only thing I have to worry about out here, not that I have anything worth stealing anyway".

You feel guilty, as you realize that only you and Cobb have been eating, picking away at the spread before you.

"Now, I don't know if you'll take that helmet off with your friend here, but I'm going to the fresher and if you want you can either eat in here or you can go through that door over there to eat in the storage closet. It's a tight fit but it's private".

You don't linger, though you can feel Cobb's heavy gaze on you until you disappear from his sight. You can't help but remember the last time he was here, how you stayed up all night, drinking and talking before you eventually stumbled to bed. It wasn't the first time you had slept with him, and it probably wouldn't be the last. You were sure he might have joined you in the sonic, if it wasn't for his stoic companion.

You can't help but compare the looks he had shared with you, with how he looked at the Mandalorian. You let your mind conjure the image, as you strip off your clothes. Cobb would act first, you decide as you step into the sonic. You can imagine him coaxing the other closer, voice dipping low in that way that had sent shivers up your spine when you first heard it. Still would now, if you were being honest with yourself.

After a moment of indecision, you switch the setting over so that water flows from the showerhead. You don't indulge too often, so you can't help but sigh as the cool water runs over your head.

You don't wish the Mandalorian wasn't there, couldn't grudge the company or the bright spot in your otherwise dull routine, but you can't help but wish it could be different. Out here, you were caught in a lonely world of your own creation, and very few things could break the the monotony.

After indulging for as long as you can, you switch the shower off. You shiver as you step out onto the cool stone, letting out a huff of amusement as you realize you forgot to bring in a change of clothes. You weren't used to company after all.

You do your best to dry off, and wrap the towel securely around yourself. Knowing you'll be embarrassed if you think about it for too long, you knock lightly against the bathroom door to announce your intentions.

When you hear no response, you peer back into the main room. You're surprised to find the Mandalorian alone, sitting picturesque at your kitchen table.

You don't have to see his face, to see the surprise written across his frame as he freezes at your appearance.

"I'm sorry, I've forgotten my manners it seems", you say, gesturing down at your lack of attire, "I don't get many guests".

He stands from his seat and for a moment you think he's going to leave, horrified by the show of skin. But then, he steps closer to you. You can see the question, as he raises his palm up slowly towards you. You find yourself nodding, even as you clench your fists at the top of towel that protects you from his gaze.

You quickly find yourself reassessing your previous assumptions, as he shifts forward with a confident ease. You swallow dryly, as his gloved hand closes around your neck. It should be frightening, having this stranger touch you, but the weight is comforting and grounding and you feel yourself quietly exhale as his thumbs digs in under your chin.

You take a moment to assimilate to each other, as he steps even closer. He's a contradiction of warm gloves and cold armour. He doesn't demand your attention, and yet he manages to block out everything around you. It's probably why you don't hear Cobb, until he clears his throat from the entry way.

"I can't leave you two alone for a minute, can I?", he asks, and you're relieved to see he doesn't appear to be angry. Instead, he seems intrigued. You can't make out who he's really looking at, as his eyes track over you both. You preen slightly under the attention, pressing closer to Mando in what you hope is a compelling image.

The Mandalorian doesn't seem perturbed by the audience, the opposite infact. He seems focused on the task, as gloved fingertips slide between the width of your shoulder blades, sweeping up the droplets of water that were making a path down your back.

"Hope I'm not intruding?", Cobb asks, as he meanders over. He waits for you to look at him properly, before he approaches you, so that you're flanked on either side. His hand tugs at the top of your towel, and you let him unravel it to the point where it hits the ground with a wet thump.

Their attention is heady, as you listen to both of their breath stutter out in sync. The Mandalorian's hand falls down to palm your breast, as Cobb presses the long line of his body up against your back. It's too much and not enough all at once, as your fingers search for somewhere to shelter under Mando's armoured front.

Cobb seizes on your distraction to leave a trail of hot kisses up the arch of your neck, hands settling firmly on your waist. You fall apart between the two of them, like a wave crashing against the rocks. If it wasn't for their tight grip, you weren't sure you would have been able to keep steady.

"I'm feeling a little underdressed", you gasp, purposely directing the words over your shoulder to Cobb. You see a flash of white teeth from the corner of your eyes. You lean into Mando, as you both watch him peel his shirt off over his head. His torso is just as lean as you remember, and you lick your lips as you watch the play of muscles across his stomach.

"Keep going". This time it's the Mandalorian, and you stiffen slightly in surprise as the words rasp past your shoulder. The two seemed locked in a silent staring contest, as his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest. It should be uncomfortable, but the armour is almost soothing against your feverish skin.

Whatever Cobb sees, he continues to undress. You watch with apt fascination, as he deftly unlaces the strings of his pants and let's them pool down his legs. The confident grin is back on his face, as he cheekily kicks his boots off, discarding his pants along with them.

He stands before you both, seemingly at ease with his nudity. You can't help but grin in response, as you squeeze the Mandalorian's arm where it rests around your hips. "What do you think, Mandalorian?".

"I think he's good at following orders, but what about you?".

"I think he did a pretty decent job".

You gasp in surprise as you're suddenly spun around, hands scrambling to grasp his shoulders as his helmet looms into your vision. "I mean, how good are you at following orders?".

"I don't know", you reply, hearing how breathless you sound but not caring the slightest, "I think you'll have to test it out".

"With pleasure", he purrs.

And then he steps away. You lurch half a step forward after him, but quickly stop when he tilts his helmet consideringly at you. You let your hand fall uselessly to your side, as you watch him sit on the edge of your bed. He kicks one ankle over the other, and leans back on hands as he surveys at you both. You notice Cobb makes no move to creep closer to you, both frozen under the Mandalorian's intense gaze.

"I want you to suck him off and I want to watch".

You nod eagerly in return, as you turn towards the Marshal. Cobb looks surprised as he glances at you but he allows you to grasp his hand and pull him closer. The ground is cold and rough underneath your knees, as you let yourself sink down in front of him. It's a heady feeling, as you run your hands up the length of his thighs, feeling the muscles tense and jump under your gentle touch. Cobb stares down at you reverently, but a filthy grin spreads across his face as your eyes lock again.

You don't bother teasing him, as you grasp him in your hand. The skin is velvet soft and already hard beneath your fingers, as you trail your grip across the length of him. Wasting no time, you take him into your mouth. You're gratified when Cobb drops a hand to steady himself on your shoulder, clenching in time with each bob of your head. You take him as far as you can, squeezing your eyes shut as he hits the back of our throat.

You pull off with a choke, taking him back into your hand as you try to catch your breath. You catch his eyes again, both grinning in tandem. Keeping your eyes locked on his, you bend down to mouth at his balls, muffing laughter as at hand on your shoulder flies up to cup the back of your head. Looks like he still likes that, you thought smugly.

You had almost forgotten about your advance, but the subtle shift of metal draws your attention away again.

The Mandalorian looks unperturbed and untouchable as before, except you can see controlled rise and fall of his chest. Deciding to see how far you can push him, you slide Cobb into the back of your throat, keeping your eyes locked on his impenetrable visor. You can't help but note the way his fists clench against your bedspread with a smug satisfaction. Looks like he wasn't as cool as he wanted to portray.

It also looks he wasn't the only one, as you feel Cobb's hand clench in your hair. His teeth are clenched in his bottom lip, and you can tell he's trying hard not to thrust into the heat of your mouth. You realize suddenly, that's he on his best behaviour and not just for you either.

"Want him to finish in my mouth?", you ask breathlessly, glancing between the two.

The Mandalorian takes a moment to reply, and his voice sounds rougher when he finally does speak. "Both of you, get onto the bed".

You scramble to obey him, as you climb up after the Mandalorian. You feel like a hunter trailing after it's prey, as he settles against the head of your bed and you crawl after him. Cobb isn't far behind you, though he doesn't make a show of it the way you do.

The Mandalorian has planted himself in the centre of your bed, and after a moment of hesitation, both you and Cobb settle on either side of him. You paw restlessly at his thigh, and you notice Cobb wants to do the same, if the fists clenched by his own thigh are anything to go by.

"You want him to fuck you?", Mando asks, jerking his head towards the Marshal. You're not sure who's gasp is loudest, as the Mandalorian's ungloved hand grasps Cobb's cock and gives it a sure stroke. You have to stop yourself from jumping the two, as you watch Cobb cling to the others arm, forehead falling to rest against his pauldron.

"How do you want me?", you ask, too excited by the possibilities that flash through your mind.

"Hands and knees in front of me".

You scramble to obey, setting your hands on either side of his spread thighs to steady yourself. The Mandalorian seems reluctant to let go of the other man, but eventually he lets up his grip and gestures the other man behind you.

You're practically panting, as you wait for Cobb to enter you. Your hands are tense around the Mandalorian's knees, as you feel him brush teasingly along the length of you. You have to bite your lip, to stop yourself from begging as you look at the Mandalorian in front of you.

You can feel the plea forming, but it quickly falls away as Cobb thrusts inside of you in one quick stroke. Your head falls into Mando's lap, as the Marshal starts to thrust into you, fingers digging into the sensitive skin on your hips. You bite the meat of your arm, to stop the nonsense pouring from your lips. Your eyes well up at the dual sensations.

You're startled when the Mandalorian cups your cheek, and raises your head to meet his gaze. He gently brushes the wet strands of hair from your tear stricken face, as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip. Your tongue flickers out in response, as your mouth wraps around the appendage. His grip tightens to just the right side of painful for a moment before he releases you and starts to unclasp the belts around his waist.

Your hands scrabble to help him, though your clumsy fingers are probably more of a deterrent than anything else. He's barely finished releasing himself from the confines of his flight suit, before you bury him into the back of your mouth. Both of his hands fall to grip your hair, as he curls around you with a curse that resounds inside his helmet.

You slide back and forth with each thrust of Cobb's hips, keeping your mouth slack on the Mandalorian's cock. You sneak your fingers under the edge of his clothes, digging your thumbs into the warm skin under his hip bones, and he lets you as his helmet tips back against the head of your bed.

"Kriffin' hell", Cobb moans, as he ruts into you with increasingly sloppier thrusts. It's maddening and the best thing you've ever felt, as you they fill you from both ends. You don't know how you've managed so long without this.

You can feel the moment Cobb tips over the edge, as he goes to pull away. You throw a blind hand back to grasp his wrist as you chase your own release, seating his cock back inside you. It's the only encouragement he needs, as his grip on your hips becomes ironclad, and he grinds himself inside of you. You both come apart together.

The sight of you both coming seems to do it for the Mandalorian, as he freezes above you, hands tightening against the back of your skull. You take him as far into the back of your throat as you can, as he fills your willing mouth.

You hold him through the after tremors, pulling off with a last suck as you swallow all of his seed.

The moment Cobb pulls out, you collapse onto the bed like a puppet without strings. You have barely enough energy to wrap your hands around the Mandalorian's waist, as you bury your face into the crux of his thigh. You huff out a laugh, as you feel Cobb slap your thigh companionably, as he collapses in parallel beside you.

A comfortable silence descends over all three of you, as you try to catch your breath. You can't help but purr as a hand settles into your hair again, blunt nails digging smoothly into your scalp. One eye peered open allows you to see it's the Mandalorian's hand, and that Cobb is receiving a similar treatment beside you.

You wonder if you could convince them to fuck, during the next round. It was a challenge you were up for you decided, as you snuggled further into your new armoured companion. But later on.

[sleepymccoy]

sleepy do you have any fun Outsider POV headcanons about our good good ethereal & occult godparents?

Well, first of all, you should read and enjoy this that i wrote however long ago

-

But also! There's a lot of stuff that would be like. small scale weird. Like, going to a bookshop and asking for something you saw in the window and the owner's like, "oh no, that's not for sale." 

And you're like, "the books in the bookshop aren't for sale?"

And the owner's like "aaaach"

And the employee who's wearing sunglasses and drinking wine on shift is like "the ones in the display aren't. There's another edition behind the counter you can have though."

And the owner goes, "there is?"

And the employee clicks his fingers and repeats himself pointedly while you awkwardly stand there. The owner gives you the book you want. You go to the employee and ask if they have any nicely bound dictionaries for sale and he glares at you (or at least you think he does, it's dim and he's wearing sunglasses) and goes, "I don't fucking work here."

So you ask the owner (who is sitting in a couch now reading a book himself and seems surprised you're still here) who says, "no, I don't have any dictionaries"

And the not-employee laughs and says, "he had a fight with Cawdrey and hasn't gotten over it."

So you leave without a dictionary.

-

But also they’re weird in those like liminal ways, where youre not totally sure that’s doable for humans, but also you’re seeing it so it must be doable. Like, you’re on a new medication that keeps you awake through the night as you adjust so for like a week youre awake every two hours and you spend a lot of that time looking out your window at the park across the road and every night you can see a guy in sunnies standing on a bridge watching the ducks all night.

You don’t think about it too much the first night. Just kinda weird. Then the second you notice him again so you start looking for him and hes just. staring. at the ducks. all night.

You take a photo, then at lunch time you see he’s still there. That night you’re still up, so you take another photo. You start taking a photo every time you’re up. You superimpose them and he’s identical in each.

You set up a camera and record. He doesn’t fucking move. It’s so perfect it looks edited. But you figure, you know, maybe he’s high or something and time isn’t moving the same for him.

On the fourth day you brave it and walk past him at like 10am. He’s in a public place, after all. He doesn’t react. You walk past again to get back, watching him much more openly, and it’s like he comes back to life. He stretches his neck, pulls his phone out, and sighs. You’re ready to call an ambulance, you just watched this guy not eat or drink for four days, but instead you watch, bewildered, as he calls a number and says, “You’re late, where are you? Forgot? No, no, it’s okay. Nah, jus’ been thinking, really. Yeah, I can meet you there. Might have to be late, though, only fair. Of course, no more than fifteen minutes. See you soon.”

His voice isn’t even fucking dry. He should be half dead from dehydration. He leaves and doesn’t return and you decide it was just your medication playing tricks on you. You never watch the video you took of him again.

-

Then you get the folk who see a clearly gay couple arguing in public and one of them sprouts bright white wings, snaps, “Well, if you’re going to be like that then I simply won’t put up with it!” and flies off into the sky.

Those people either just totally ignore it, or go full conspiracy theory on it. There’s a sub reddit dedicated to the Soho Couple. Crowley’s a part of it and when it gets quiet for too long he’ll take a new candid photo of Aziraphale doing something ethereal (occult) from through the window (either glowing with irritation while on the phone or floating above the couch because he got so relaxed while Crowley was stroking his hair. There are less photos of the second because Crowley struggles to pull himself away from a fond angel) and posts it with a falsified reading from one of those echo meters that ghost hunters use

He’s also been known to feature in those spirit box things where they scan through radio stations. He often says things like “don’t buy books” but sometimes he’ll say something more like “you know, i was fucking right when i said dates were used in christmas pudding. Do you have a pencil? Write this down. Two cups of flour. 200 grams of butter. A cup of god damned dates...”

-

Then there’s that one American agent from wherever Mulder and Scully worked (fbi? or were they cia? i never finished season one) who lives across st james park and has one of those long distant cameras and is perceptually two months away from securing proof of angels and demons. But every time he goes to his superiors his manager tells him that the next level up, one Agent Aziran Phell, needs yet more proof. Also those files you submitted five months ago were lost in a flooding incident, did you make copies? No? Well, start again, I guess.

-

I think, overall, they both cultivate a certain amount of otherworldyness because it means they’re reasonably left alone, but not completely. They’re not rude (Crowley is sometimes, but, you know) or destructive or cruel to strangers, but they are uncomfortable. They encourage polite conversation, brief and pleasant interactions that go no further. Acquaintances who don’t care enough to notice it’s been 40 years and while they’re had two divorces and one child the man who comes to the bakery every thursday morning hasn’t aged.

I think Crowley doesn’t like the idea of authority knowing about them and works to keep them hidden (he and Aziraphale disagree over the american agent when that comes out) and Aziraphale doesn’t like the idea of large scale suspicion (he’s very uncomfortable with the subreddit, which Crowley resovles by revealing it as a hoax in a similar style to that girl who faked being a gay couple with hiv to write a hamilton fic on tumblr whenever that was) but overall they do like to be weird.

Aziraphale causes lightning storms whenever he doesn’t want customers. Crowley can be found laying in a patch of perfect sun for hours in mid winter while rain clouds form meters away from him but never touch him. But Aziraphale tips generously and Crowley’s illegal parking is never in the way and Aziraphale gives money to the homeless and Crowley gives drunk people lifts home when he’s sad and Aziraphale gave baked goods tot he local bakery to sell while the owner’s husband was in chemo and Crowley only shops at the small businesses. So overwhelmingly they’re liked. But avoided. Definitely avoided.

Keith still glows a little when he’s dreaming and he insists it’s because that Mr. Fell had some kind words to say that one time. So people avoid them. Cos that’s a bit weird.

[thorinthehottotty]

Oaksbane - Thorin

A/N: I hope you guys like this as much as I enjoyed writing it. We had a big storm yesterday and a tree fell across our main road.

Summary: Thorin and his nephews are stuck in our world, with you. He gets to see you be a little goofy.

Warnings: Language, bits of fluff

The knocking jarred you from the chair and half that you loved to curl up in. The two boys looked toward their uncle and you in alarm. "Were you expecting someone?" The eldest of your guests asks as you climb out from under the enormous fur baby in your lap that gave a few soft gruffs and squirrels deeper into the chair.

Some guard dog, you are.

Fíli, who always held the remote, paused the television show that you'd all just sat down for. He was the quickest to pick up technology. He had a knack for it.

You shake your head at Thorin's question and move to the door, drawing the sweatshirt around yourself more firmly. Thunder cracked loudly. "Not in this weather, for sure." Opening the door, you spot a familiar face and pull it wider. "Jonathan? Why are you soaked?" You demand. Sure enough, your old friend was dripping head to toe in a tee shirt, working pants and boots. Water dripped from the end of his nose and his mouth hung open as he pants, squinting into the dark.

"It's wet outside," he replied dryly.

"No shit. Where's your truck?" You demand.

"Left it up the road. You were closest. Tree fell. Got an axe?"

"Let me grab my boots, I'll do you one better." You reply, snagging a ball cap from the shelf above the coat rack next to the door. "Want a jacket?" You ask as the boys all begin to collect their own boots and jackets.

"Nah, I'm already warm. It's not too bad out." The humid air that spills in around Jonathan, proving that this truly was a late spring thunderstorm.

"Have you contacted the road commission yet?" You ask.

"Nah, you're my first stop. My phone's dead." Jonathan casts a curious glance at the men behind you as you slip into some heavy boots.

"You guys don't have to come," you assure.

"How big is this tree?" Thorin asks. That's a fair point. Extra hands might help, and from past experience, these 'dwarves' were unnaturally strong.

"Big enough."

You slip out the door and onto the front porch, pulling on a jacket as you go. Jonathan falls in stride next to you as you make your way through the heavy rain drops.

"Where were you headed?" You ask as you thumb through contacts for the road commission, trying and failing not to get the screen wet as everyone files into the barn.

"Kendall Fairlan's," Jonathan gives you a cheeky grin and you roll your eyes at him.

"You're braving the storm to get some?" You scoff, dragging the axe off the wall and tossing it to him. His grin widens.

"Don't tell me your still jealous of her."

"Hah! Whoever told you I was in the first place was lying to you." You spot the bright orange chainsaw and move towards it while you find the number your looking for. The dwarves linger near the doors, casting curious glances at the man they'd never met.

"Fair enough, it looks like you've got your own secret family, anyhow." Jonathan gestures to your boys. The youngest are grinning at their uncle who looks far less amused.

"Un-fucking-believable."

"What?"

"The road commission closed half an hour ago." You shake your head before nodding to the dwarves. "That's Thorin, Fíli and Kíli, by the way. They're staying with me for a bit." You give the vague explanation as you wrench on the ripcord. The motor sputters and dies, but it does sputter! You try a couple more times before it takes. "Hell yeah. Alright, let's get started."

"You look a little too eager," Jonathan teases and you all move towards the vehicle. "Thanks for the hand."

"Are you kidding me?" You demand from him as you all head towards the truck, the windows are fogged from the humidity as everyone climbs into it. "I get to destroy some shit. I'm in." Jonathan chuckles and you don't miss the amused smirk Thorin gives you. The engine roars to life.

"Head north." Jonathan instructs and twists around to the back seat. "I'm Jonathan. Nice to meet ya'll." Turning onto the road, the cold engine makes extra noise as you force it faster up the road. You were looking forward to this. It wasn't fair, maybe a thousand yards, to your delight. Pulling off to the side, you turn the hazards on.

"Doesn't look like lightning, you can see the split up there." You point toward the mature oak that split nearly twenty feet in the air. It wasn't the entire tree but it was a sizeable branch. Probably a couple thousand pounds by the look of it. Everyone files out when you park, the air heavy with rain and humidity still. Thunder and lightning were still cracking above.

"Maybe we should wait."

"No way. This is the main road that leads to the hospital. It needs to be cleared for emergencies."

"We've got a tornado watch out, maybe you should head back." Instead of answering Jonathan you step forward, roaring the chainsaw back to life with an effective pull. You move towards the tree, and your chainsaw snarls as you cut through some of the smaller limbs to be fin with. The blades a bit dull but it will do the trick well enough to get you through to the main branch.

You hear a heavy thwack and glance to see Thorin swinging the axe down on a thick limb. It's a clean cut. You glance back to see an impressed look on your friend's face. "Ey, shit for brains, I thought you were gonna help me with this shit?" You tease.

"If the guy wants to do it, he can do it." You roll your eyes but wink at Thorin when he pauses to make sure your not upset at him for doing this. The branches are pulled away by the other three. You set to work near the center, hoping to be able to push each side out of the way. Cars had begun to pull up and wait on either side. Some folks did 'U-turns' early on.

Getting close to slicing all the way through, the chain started sparking and you cursed as you struggled with the last leg of it. You kicked at the joint, hoping it would be enough to break it free. It was not.

Thorin's rich chuckle came from next to you. He repeated your blow twice and had more effective results than you. "Son of a bitch!" You call, shoving at him. "A little more and I would have had it!" He grins down at you and pecks your temple. He looked handsome in the rain. His. Long hair clung to his cheeks, his eyelashes extra dark from the rain that dripped from them and droplets twisted over the contours of his face.

"Of course you would have." Your jaw drops at him and his eyes twinkle in mischief. You could see where his nephews got their wild charms.

"Okay, Sassy. Get to work then." He move toward one last branch and you get to see his drenched form twist gracefully. It's delicious to watch.

On a completely unrelated note, perhaps a wood burning stove would be a good investment. He orders his nephews over and the all too easily power drive the log off into the ditch on the side of the road. "Jesus Christ, Y/N. What are you feeding them?"

"They eat like wolves, Jon, like wolves." The answer has him laughing as all three boys stand back off. "Speaking of, you totally owe them dinner for tomorrow night." You reply.

"You got that right. You guys were an enormous help!" Your old friend pats your shoulder as they push the other side like butter on a plate.

"Fuck, that's sexy," you sigh, shaking your head.

"What?" The laugh from beside you earns a sharp blow from your elbow and he grunts as another clap of thunder echos, softer than the others.

"Yo, go screw Kendall for fucks sake," you snap.

"You did not just say 'yo'. Which one of those tiny powerhouses are you taking your chances with?"

"You better walk before I whoop your ass." You use the two fingers twisting between you both to signify you're watching him before glancing and waving people through.

"Pft please. As if you could take me." You whip around, the all too familiar feel of your childhood friend, the one you used to beat on when you were younger rising back.

"Fíli! Come direct traffic!" You shout, striding back toward Jonathan. Thorin arches a brow in surprise as your friend tilts his head back to laugh at you and takes a defensive stance.

"Y/N," Thorin calls over the waning rain.

"Relax she won't actually hit m- FUCK!" He shouts, jerking back from soft punch you gave his face. His hand flies up to check for blood for half a second. There is none. Then he's turning and sprinting into the brush, scrambling to hop the wire fence into the feild.

"GET BACK HERE, COWARD! TAKE IT LIKE A MAN!" You shout, setting the chainsaw up onto the hood of the car. Fíli and Kíli are laughing as you run into the brush and hurdle the rusted wire yourself, running after him through the mud. You didn't miss Thorin chuckling a bit himself. Maybe you wanted to impress him a bit, but the mix of rain and the excitement of the fallen tree has spurred you on.

"SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!" Jonathan cries as he books it through the mud.

You slam all too quickly into his back and you both go down in the mud. "I yield! I yield!"

"THERE IS NO YIELDING!" You shout. The both of you struggling for a foothold in the muck. Finally, while you're still attached to his back, he manages to climb to his feet.

"Alright! Let me square up at least!" You climb down and step back, the both of you squaring off, panting and you grin at half his face being covered in mud. You dodge when he lunges for you and stumble through the mud.

As you square up again, he lunges a second time and you move fast enough to counter. You draw your foot up and he grunts as he flies down and onto his back. "Was that a fucking Spartan kick? Fuck!"

"THIS! IS! SPARTA!" You tease as he flops down in the mud. You hold a hand out for him and help him to his feet. "Now, come on you wuss. You've got a da-" you let out a squeal as someone else scoops you up from behind.

"Where was that kick when we were kicking apart the tree?" Thorin rumbles and you twist to look back at him with a grin.

"What are you talking about? That was all me!" You complain. You feel his hot chest move as he laughs. He actually had steam rising from his shoulders and head as it lightens to a drizzle. You didn't try to fight your way from his arms because the heat of him, wet or not, was nearly euphoric.

"Was it now?" He asks as you laugh.

"Oh yeah, didn't you see me swing the axe once to cut through the tree," Thorin snorts at you and shakes his head.

"Come on, Oaksbane. You're freezing."

"Oaksbane, I could get used to that." Jonathan trots along side where you are being dragged away, all too happily to have the dwarf king's hand around yours.

"Thanks for all your help, Thorin, is it?" Your friend asks.

"Aye." Thorin offers, a little more sternly toward your friend, not stopping as you all climb over the fence again and back toward where the boys are waiting with big ol' grins.

"I've probably freaked Kendall out enough so I'll head her way. I'll see you guys around."

"Bye, bitch boy!" You call.

"Bye, you asshole!"

The four of you stumble in the front door, laughing merrily. As you kick off your boots. Fíli and Kíli retreat quickly to the guest room for dry clothes and you don't miss Thorin drawing his wet shirt off and tossing it out the front door and onto the porch. You get an eyeful of his tattoos and chest hair that you couldn't see through the shirt.

He pauses to look back at your drenched form and arch an eyebrow at your smirk. "Can I help you?"

"I didn't know you had tattoos," you offer. He rolls his eyes at you and steps forward to lean over you.

"Go get changed." You give him a flirty grin.

"Maybe you can come help me," you say, pulling off your hat to hang it and you wet and muddy jacket by the door. Thorin shakes his head at you and snatches your chin up.

"What's gotten into you?" He asks but it's clear its rhetorical when he delivers a fast and firm kiss to your lips. You'd say it's too quick for you you to enjoy, but how can you not. "Go get changed," he repeats.

"Okay," you squeak out, cheeks pooling with heat before slipping down the hallway. You didn't see the big goofy grin he had on his face too.

Taglist: @tomisbaeholland @fizzyxcustard @dumbassunderthemountain @dabisburntnut @queenofmankind @daisy-picking-lady

[thetravelerwrites]

Arkag (Orc) MLM

Rating: Mature Relationship: Male Human/Male Orc Additional Tags: Exophilia, Male Reader, Reader Insert, Orc Boyfriend, MLM Content Warnings: Missing Limb, PSTD, Flashbacks Words: 3415

Another commission for @severedreamerbeard​! A young man encounters a mysterious, secretive orc who lives on the outskirts of his village. During a sudden storm, the orc has a violent flashback to the day he lost his arm, and the reader helps him cope. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

There was a bit of a legend in your town about the woodcutter that lived outside the village borders. He’d lived there since before you moved to the village and he was an orc, that much you knew, but there was precious little else anyone could tell you that wasn’t speculation or rumors.

Some said he was a war criminal who’d committed heinous crimes and was cast out of his stronghold. Some said he was being hunted for desertion by his clan. Some said he was a smuggler who was using his work in the village as a front. A few folks wanted to run him out of town for fear that he’d bring the wrath of whatever he was escaping from down on townspeople’s heads, though he was so large that few people seemed to be willing to follow through. Besides, he didn’t technically live in town, so it wasn’t as if he was really bothering anyone.

All you knew was that he supplied the town with firewood, which he would drop off on every person’s doorsteps in the dead of night when most people were sleeping. He had a dislike for people or being seen, so he did most of his work when it was dark and he could be alone.

The most unusual thing about him was something you’d seen with your own eyes but no one had mentioned: he only had one arm.

You had gotten up one night when you were ill with food poisoning and gone out to get sick at the edge of the field near your house. During a brief respite, while you were gasping for air, you saw the figure of the orc step silently out of the woods on the footpath, the hand cart he pulled behind him as quiet as he was. You watched in the dim light of the moon as he stopped at your door, let go of the hand cart, picked up a bundle of wood wrapped in twine, dropped it on your doorstep, and continued on his way. All one handed.

His entire left arm was missing and the left sleeve of his tunic was sewn shut unevenly. His ill-fitting clothes were plain and worn, likely the cheapest he could buy if he hadn’t scavenged them from somewhere. It hurt your pride a little as a tailor to see him wearing such rags. He wasn’t wearing a coat either, despite the chill of the autumn night, and his boots looked pretty beat up.

He was as big as everyone said he was, though he looked thinner than you expected, almost lanky. His hair was cut short, rough and jagged, looking as though he’d done it himself somehow, but you couldn’t determine its color in this light.  

You’d almost forgotten that you were sick for a few minutes as you watched from the shadows as he made his way down the block and dropped off the wood at each door. Did he get paid for this service? You’d never paid him before, and most people in town were terrified of him, so you didn’t think they went out of their way to make sure he got his due for the work. Did he do it for free? Why?

After a moment of watching and pondering, your body abruptly remembered that it had eaten some bad eggs and you hurled what was left in your stomach into the brush. You tried to be quiet about it, but it’s hard to make a distressed belly obey or mask the wet splashing of sick in the dewy grass. The force and pressure of heaving actually caused you to black out.

When you awoke, you were inside your home, lying on your bed, and you saw someone moving around in the dark.

“Who’s there?” You croaked roughly, your throat raw from vomiting.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” A deep male voice responded. A cup of water was pressed into your hand. “Drink this. I saw you pass out. Sick as you are, you’d likely have caught a killing fever if I left you there.”

You took a sip dutifully. A match was struck and a candle lit near the door, illuminating the face of the thin orc woodcutter.

“Oh, it’s you,” You said.

“Yeah. It’s me,” He replied flatly. “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.” He raked up the coals in the fireplace of your room and threw in a few logs, bringing the fire back to life. In this light, you could see his hair was a soft brown color, and his eyes matched. His skin wasn’t green, like most orcs you’d seen, but an dark red ochre color. You tried hard not to stare at his missing arm.

“Thank you,” you rasped, taking another cautious sip of water. “What’s your name?”

“Arkag,” He said. “Not that it matters. We likely won’t speak again.”

“Why not?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” He said. “I need to go soon. I have to finish the deliveries before sun up.”

“Why?”

“I make people nervous,” He said simply. “It’s best if no one sees me.”

“I see…” You said sadly. He sounded detached and resigned. You felt terrible for him and had to wonder what led him to living such a solitary life. You were almost certain it had to do with his arm, but you couldn’t dig up the courage to ask him about it. “Well, let me repay you for your kindness.”

“No need,” He said.

“Really, I insist. I’m a tanner and a tailor. I could make you a coat! You need one; it’s going to get colder soo--”

“No!” Arkag shouted. “I don’t need your charity and I’m not looking to make friends. Don’t make me regret helping you.” He stalked out of your room and to the front door and left without another word.

You grimaced and grumbled. You didn’t care what he’d said. This wasn’t about charity; it was entirely possible that he saved your life. A coat was the least you could do to repay him.

Once you’d recovered from your illness, you hired a hunter to bring you back as big a pelt as they could find. You knew you’d need a big animal to clothe Arkag and you wanted it to be all one piece. Nothing you had currently in your stock was adequate.

It took you more than two months to tan the leather, and then another two weeks to waterproof it. Sewing the coat took less a few days. By the time the coat was finished, it was well into winter and the snowfall was getting heavy. You wished you’d had the chance to start this project this sooner. Either way, it was done, and you went out during the day to find Arkag’s house.

You followed the beaten footpath deep into the forest and eventually found a small cottage in a circular clearing. The cottage seemed to be a single well-built room made of grey stone thatched with dry reeds and clay. It had a small garden in the front, though it was mostly empty currently, save for a few winter vegetables. You didn’t see him anywhere, and there was no smoke in the chimney, so you assumed he was out working. You left the coat, folded and wrapped in waxed parchment, on the stoop of his front door and left.

That night in the early hours, you were awoken by a loud banging on your door.

“Open up!” You heard Arkag growl.

Aggravated, you wrapped your blanket around you and went and flung the front door open.

“And what time do you call this?” You snapped.

Arkag had the coat clutched in his fist and threw it at you. “I told you I didn’t want your charity!”

“It’s not charity!” You yelled back. “I wanted to make it! I’m just repaying you for helping me!”

“I don’t want anything from you! I don’t want anything from anyone! Leave me alone!” He spun and stomped off.

You huffed and slammed your door. Months of careful work gone to waste because of one stubborn ass. The coat had been made for Arkag and it wouldn’t fit anyone else. You sighed forcefully and put the coat back on the body form.

The next day you went out to hunt. You could catch small game just fine; anything bigger than a deer, though, and you usually either went with a party or hired a more experienced hunter. You were low on meat and thought a small boar would last you a good month or so, if you dried and salted it properly. Plus, you wanted to make yourself some new soft boots for spring.

As you shrugged on your quiver, Arkag’s coat caught your eye. On impulse, you snatched it from the body form and folded it, stowing it in your satchel. You weren’t sure why you did, but maybe you could talk some sense into that block-headed orc.

A few hours tracking had produced nothing, and you were wondering if you shouldn’t just settled for a few rabbits when you felt the air electrify and the small hairs on your neck stand on end. Looking up, you saw that the clouds were darkening and decided to give up the hunt for today. A storm was coming.

You heard thunder in the distance and you hastened your steps. Thunder and lightning during snow storms was unusual, especially in the middle of winter. You had a feeling this one would be bad.

Just as you were coming to the place where the trees opened up a bit, you heard the crack of lightning hitting a tree, startling you. What startled you even more was the blood-curdling scream that followed. You broke into a run and followed the sound with your heart in your throat.

The snow was falling as you stumbled into the clearing that housed Arkag’s cottage. Arkag was on his knees next to his chopping block, an axe lying nearby, wailing as though he were in pain, though you couldn’t immediately see any wound. There was a smoldering tree nearby that must have been struck by the bolt.

“Arkag!” You shouted, running to him. “Arkag! Are you alright?”

“My arm!” He cried. “My arm!”

You looked at his right arm and inspected it frantically for injuries. “It’s alright! You’re arm’s fine! Arkag, you’re fine!”

“My arm! Oh gods, my arm!”

“Arkag, you’re arm isn’t hurt! You’re--” You realized then that his right hand was grasping for his missing left arm. Arkag was shaking violently and sobbing, his eyes wide and unseeing. You wanted to help him, but you weren’t sure what you could do. You were leery of touching him, concerned you would make it worse or that he’d lash out.

The only thing you could think of was the coat. He was only wearing his beat up boots, ill-fitting trousers, and the messily sewn tunic. Perhaps orcs had a higher cold tolerance than humans, but he still had to be feeling this weather. Shaking your head, you took out the coat and lay it over his shoulders carefully, trying not to jostle or alarm him.

The thunder continued to roll and the snow continued to fall as you knelt next to Arkag, keeping watch over him until this… flashback, you guessed, passed. Slowly, ever so slowly, Arkag seemed to come back to himself as the snow collected on both of you. This close, you could see that one of his tusks was cracked down the middle and rather grey in color compared to its twin, which was the normal yellow-white.

“Arkag,” You said softly. “We need to get inside before we freeze. The snow is going to get worse and it’ll be dark soon.”

Arkag blinked rapidly and wiped his face. He’d stopped crying but was still shivering. “Go ahead,” Arkag said in a low, brusque tone. “You can make fun of me now.”

Your head rocked back. “Why on earth would I make fun of you?”

He scoffed. “Forget it,” Arkag growled, attempting to stand but stumbling.

You rushed to catch him. “Here, let me--”

Arkag pushed you away, and you fell backward on your butt.

“What was that for?” You asked indignantly.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” Arkag said, falling back to a knee. “Leave me alone.”

“Would you stop being stubborn?” You said, shoving yourself to a standing position and taking his arm. “Do you want to freeze?”

“I don’t care!” He shouted at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Stop being dramatic and let me help you, you idiot!”

He attempted to shake you, but the episode had left him weakened. After a moment of trying to fend you off, you eventually got him to his feet and steered him toward his cottage.

Inside was simple and undecorated. There was a fire pit in the center of the single room that was lit, over which was a spit and a grate where a kettle or pan could be placed. There was no bed; instead there was a padded mat covered in furs that he likely slept on. There was a cabinet with jars of food, shelves with random knick-knacks, and a table with a single chair.

Strangely, though there wasn’t much actually in the cottage, it was very cluttered. There were various bones from previous meals thrown into a corner. There was an open trunk with clothes spilling out of it, both washed and unwashed. There were dirty dishes in a basin. The floor was unswept and straw-strewn. You got the feeling that he wasn’t necessarily a slob, he just didn’t care to pick up after himself.

You led him to the chair and he fell heavily into it.

“Where’s your kettle?” You asked.

He pointed at the basin and you went over, finding the kettle underneath a wash cloth. It was rusted and beat up, but it seemed mostly clean. You filled it with water from a barrel near the table and set the kettle on the grate over the fire. You found a clean mug and a canister with tea leaves.

“I don’t want tea,” He said churlishly. “I want ale. Or whiskey.”

“You need tea,” You replied firmly. “We need to raise your body temperature. It’s your own fault for gallivanting around without a coat.”

“Alcohol warms me better,” He grumbled.

“That’s actually a myth,” You told him as you warmed your hands by the fire, waiting for the water to boil. “Alcohol doesn’t make you warmer, it just makes you feel like you are. You’re more likely to freeze to death because you feel like you’ve warmed up when you really haven’t.”

“Still want it,” Arkag said sourly.

“Drink the tea first, then we’ll see,” You said sternly. You stole furtive glances at him as you bustled around his small cottage, getting tea ready. At first, he simply sat there, staring at nothing, though over time, he looked down at the coat, touching it tentatively.

“You really made this?” He asked.

“Sure did,” You replied. “Took me two months to tan that moose skin.”

“Huh,” He hummed. “I used to be able to do things like this. Well, not this; I couldn’t sew even when I had both arms. But I did a bit of skinning and tanning back in my day.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked neutrally.

“Not particularly,” He said.

You sifted some tea leaves into his mug and poured the water in, letting it steep for a moment before pushing the mug over to him and leaning against the wall.

“What about today? What happened today?”

Arkag stared at the mug distantly, wrapping his large hand around it to warm his fingers.

“The sound,” He whispered. “The sound of the tree cracking and snapping. It brought me right back to the day… this…” He waved vaguely at the missing arm. “The day this happened. My body locked up and I couldn’t move. I barely remember most of it. I heard your voice… but from far away. And I couldn’t see you. Why were you even here? The coat?”

“No, I heard you screaming.”

He looked up at you. “Was I screaming?”

You frowned in concern. “Does this happen often?”

“Not anymore,” He replied. “It did when I was younger. It’s why I left in the first place. I was mocked relentlessly by the clan. They didn’t understand that I couldn’t control it.” He took a large gulp of his tea and grimaced at the bitterness of it. “I’ve been alright for awhile now, but… the lightning… when it hit the tree… the sound it made… it just… caught me off guard, I guess.”

“I understand,” You said. “It scared you. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He huffed a mirthless laugh. “You don’t know much about orcs, then.”

You laughed, too. “I’m afraid I don’t. I’ve hunted with a few, and I’ve had a couple in my shop, but I’ve never had an actual conversation with one.”

“Not surprising,” Arkag said. “Orcs keep to themselves. We’re a rowdy bunch, but only in places we feel comfortable, and that’s usually around other orcs. Outside of strongholds, we tend to be tight lipped and reserved. They teach us to be cautious around outsiders.”

“Aren’t you an outsider now?”

He shrugged. “Technically. If I wanted to, I could go back. But I don’t want to. I’m comfortable being alone.”

“Are you?” You asked, folding your arms.

He looked up and squinted at you, but didn’t answer.

A strange, heavy silence fell, and you looked out of the window that was next to your head. The thunder and lightning had ceased, but the storm was still in full swing. The snow was falling heavily and the wind was picking up. It was also getting dark.

“Well,” You said with a sigh. “If you’re alright, I should get going. If I don’t go now, I won’t get home before nightfall, and I don’t want to get stuck in this weather after dark.”

Arkag cleared his throat, but when you looked at him, he didn’t say anything.

“Yes?”

“Well…” He said slowly. “It’s… late. I suppose it’s safer for you to stay here until morning, at least. I don’t have much to offer, though.” He waved vaguely around the cottage.

“Oh,” You said in surprise. “Thanks. I don’t need much, just a space on the floor to sleep. As long as we keep the fire up, I’ll be plenty comfortable.” You eyed him. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” He said, not meeting your eye. “You… you did help me. And you made me this nice coat.” He brushed a hand over the leather. “This is moose, you said? Awfully soft for moose.”

“I have a special ingredient for tougher leathers,” You told him. “Softens it but the material stays strong and lasts years. Take care of that coat and it’ll last a good decade and a half, at least.”

He seemed impressed. “Not bad.” He looked up at you, then away. “Thanks. For the coat. And… for not being an ass about… you know… earlier.”

“Are you really going to accept the coat?” You asked.

He sneered at you. “You want it back?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” You said. “I meant…” You shrugged lamely, shaking your head.“‘You’re welcome’.”

“Good,” He said, and you swore you almost saw a smile.

He offered you some dried meat and a jar of preserves for dinner, and the both of you turned in. You laid out your coat and rested your head on your satchel on the other end of the cottage while Arkag settled on his mat, using his new coat as a blanket.

You were comfortable but restless, thinking back on Arkag’s wild, terrified eyes and the anguished screaming. What could have caused such fear in him? What had he gone through that made him leave his clan and family behind? How long ago had it been? How long had he been dealing with it alone?

You watched him toss and turn in his sleep, mumbling and groaning. You wondered what dreams were visiting him, if he was reliving his personal nightmare right now. If they haunted him every night. If there was anything that gave him comfort. Looking around his cottage, you didn’t see anything particularly comforting.

With your thoughts in a roil, you turned over and eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[fizzyxcustard]

Countryside (John Standring)

Day 3 of Lyn’s Writing Event

Masterlist

Summary: You have taken a couple of days away from your normal life just to hide in the countryside and appreciate nature. You stay over at a small Bed and Breakfast and immediately find the owner, John Standring, very endearing. 

Warnings: None

It was a beautiful summer, bright and warm, but not too warm that it was uncomfortable. The rolling hills and fields made the whole world look like a sea of bright green, alive and fertile. You drove towards the Bed and Breakfast you had been recommended on your way by a kind old gentleman who owned a road side farming business, selling various vegetables. 

The man got chatting with you, telling you about the owner of the Bed and Breakfast, John Standring. “He finally divorced that no good woman who took him for every penny ‘e ‘ad. Poor bloke. He really liked her n’all. Cut ‘im up for months, until he decided to turn his place into a small guest house. Still, he gets some decent business. Good on ‘im, I say. Deserves it.” 

You thanked the old man for his kindness as he offered you free vegetables, but you had to decline; you planned to stay up here for a few days, so what would you do with that perishable food? Then you followed the directions the farmer had given you and took the road upwards. 

Raindrops tapped at the window as dark clouds filled the sky. You turned on your window wipers and hoped that the small guest house wasn’t too far away. You’d been driving for about three hours now and wanted to sit down with a cup of tea. 

As the rain began to get heavier, you noticed a building a couple of miles off in the distance. All you had to do was follow the road; it seemed to be the only building for quite a way. You had a good view off for a few miles and everywhere was hilly with plenty of trees, fields and sheep. 

By the time you got to the Bed and Breakfast, a clap of thunder banged overhead making you jump just as you got out of your car. The rain was pelting against you as you ran into the building. 

“Afternoon,” came a deep voice. “You’re all drenched.” 

“Um, yes, a storm is starting up outside,” you said and then looked for the voice. Standing in the doorway of what looked like the kitchen was a tall man who easily filled the gap the door normally shut in. His shoulders looked a little hunched, and you noticed that he was smiling weakly. As you looked at him, reciprocating the smile, he glanced away as if nervous. 

“Do you ‘ave a reservation, Miss?” he asked, stepping behind a small table that was directly in front of you. “Not that we get many nowadays. Most folk are off’ta the coast.” 

“No, I don’t, unfortunately. I hope that won’t be a problem,” you said, 

“Got business up here, have ya?” 

“No, I needed a little getaway from every day life,” you replied with a smile and chuckle. “I thought maybe the rural life would be a little more relaxing.” 

“To tell ya the truth, I ain’t been down in’ta the cities and towns much, but life is slow up ‘ere.” 

“Sounds wonderful,” you chirped. Relaxation and a slow pace was what you needed. Life had become overbearing for you; headache after headache, stress dumped on top of anxiety. 

“Sounds like ya’m runnin’ away from somethin,” the man said, his steel blue eyes watching you as you gazed away, and then as soon as you looked back, he turned his gaze from you again. 

Sadness washed across you as you thought on the job you hated, the ex-boyfriend who had just dumped you for a slimmer model and all the friends who seemed to be more interested in their own lives than helping you. “Yeah...maybe...” 

“Sorry, dunt mean ta pry,” the man said. “It’ll be eighty five per night and breakfast is served from seven to half nine. Just got a new cook in and guest have bin lovin’ her cookin’. We made a good choice there when hirin’.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at the man before you. He seemed such a sweet soul, probably brought low by his recent divorce if this was the John Standring the farmer had spoke of. He sounded like he needed warmth in his life and someone who truly cared. 

You agreed to two nights and paid cash for your stay, as unfortunately, the guest house still didn’t have a chip and pin debit card machine. 

“It’s all a bit high tech up ‘ere,” the man said. “My name’s John Standring, I’m the owner, and if you ‘ave any problems, come and ask for me. My office is just there.” Behind the table was a small door, which he probably needed to stoop down to get into. A gold plate said ‘manager’. 

“Thank you very much,” you told John, taking the key from his hand. No keycard, just an old fashioned, proper metal key. 

“Oh, and when you wan’ta use the bath, let it run for a few minutes first, and then put t’plug in. Boiler needs to warm up first.” 

You smiled again to yourself, hiding a giggle behind your hand. 

“Settle yaself in and I’ll bring you up a cuppa if ya like....” 

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Two halves become one whole {7}

Description; Will you be able to attend the party Stark throws when Bucky finally gets to know who you really are?

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 7/9

Word count; 4.751

Warnings; Swearing, angst, mention of near death experience

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: The drama is here folks!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Rumours had begun to spread why the infamous Tony Stark hadn’t hosted one of his parties in such a long time, only attended others. However, as soon as he went public that he would finally host a banquette the rumours silenced.

You couldn't but snicker that society simply thought the billionaire had gone radio silent for no reason. But how could you blame them, compared to you they didn't know Bucky had joined the team, neither that the sudden clearance he gave Tony, abled him to throw the welcoming party he'd wanted to for over half a year.

Ever since you'd gotten to know it would happen, the excitement on the billionaire's face was impossible to miss. Although you knew the former soldier's allowance wasn't the only thing putting him in a good mood, the tiniest bit of triumph also played a part in it. Thus, when you'd shrugged in agreement at Tony's wager that if he stayed sober, he could in secrecy turn the party into a donation gala, you hadn't thought he would make it.

But here you stood, months later with a billionaire who supposedly hadn't touched an ounce of liquor since that day. Even though you doubted he actually had managed, there wasn't anything strengthening your case, so you didn't have any other option than to agree.

Your resentment wasn't that you didn't like the donations, you had been the one bringing it up to Tony in the beginning after all. However, with Bucky on the team and staying in the tower, you couldn't deny you were fearful of the attention it could bring. From others or even himself.

Sighing harshly at your thoughts, you threw your phone against one of the pillows beside you on the couch. You sat in the common-room because Pepper had proposed the idea you should go with her and Nat to look for a dress to the occasion. You were excited about it, as you hadn't dolled up in a long time, yet that wasn't the reason for your nerves. Something about this festivity, in particular, irked you. Mainly as something in the back of your mind whispered things wouldn't go as smoothly as the planning you had done with Pepper and Tony suggested.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” The sudden voice made you snap your head up, thrown off by the fact you hadn't noticed either of the men entering the common-room. Hence across from your slumped form in one couch, Steve and Bucky stood behind the back of the other.

"Waiting for the girls, we're going to look for dresses for Saturday", you answered as soon as you found the blonde's eyes. You saw his brows slightly lift with recognition of your answer, though a crease settled between them shortly after.

“Right”, he muttered, while switching to look at the man standing beside him. “Perhaps time we also start looking for something ourselves”, Bucky made a half nod, something you smiled at when noticing a few strands of his hair falling into his face.

“Perhaps I should do something to this then”, with a movement you couldn't describe as anything but pent up frustration, he tugged his lose hair to tuck behind his ears. Though he'd cut it since coming here, evening out the sharp and dulled edges, his hair had already reached its former length.

You didn't know why your imagination started to run wild at his words. Tracing back to a particular memory, one carrying the sensation of running your fingers through his strands to calm him.

“No you shouldn’t”, you burst out, the surprise on his face similar to the one you felt. Why had you said that? As your eyes flickered over him, gazes catching more than a few times, you felt your body heat. Scrambling for an answer, less embarrassing than the one your thoughts offered, you blurted out. 

"You look good in it", you wanted to smack yourself in the face, as you could pretty much have said what already was on your thoughts. At least it would've been a more dignifying compliment.

“Sure doll", Bucky chuckled, a smile tugging his lips as he continued. "I’ll keep it for you”, the moment the words reached you, your jaw clenched and you felt your eyes widen somewhat. Thankfully though, before a long pause could dawn, one you ungracefully would've handled, the pair you'd waited for decided to enter the room.

“Hello, Steve, Bucky”, Pepper greeted them. In the sound of her voice, you let out a sigh. "Are you ready to go?” the strawberry blonde women continued, watching as you stood up from the couch.

"Sure am", you murmured. It seemed something in your answer caught her attention, as she started to scan your appearance. Though she were no spy, she was a hell of a person to read situations. Thus, the moment you saw her eyes glimmer and her gaze travelled to the soldiers, you understood she realised what caused your flushed state.

“Perhaps we should invite the gentleman to our fitting, I think they could give some reasonable opinions”, times like this you understood why Tony had chosen Pepper as his women. In times like this, you also understood your reasoning of picking up a gun once more. Hence her comment caused you to choke on air, immediately getting Bucky's attention. Feeling your eyes widened enough to show an emotion you rather would hide, you looked down, watching how you alternated weight on your feet.

“Well... least one would be in decent enough shape to actually give some input”, you heard the whisper in your ear from Nat, head shooting up as you scowled at her. As an answer, she only smirked, knowing your thoughts trailed down the same road as they always did when she teased you about Bucky.

“Maybe we could, but we’re in our own hurry to find our clothing, so we wish you the best of luck”, your eyes switched from the redhead to instead look at Steve, his own shifting from you to Pepper the same moment. You didn't know if he'd noticed, or worse, heard the exchange with the spy, but you were grateful for his answer nonetheless.

“Very well, I think Tony arranged a tailor to come here today and wanted me to inform you about it”, she smiled towards them before turning to face you. "We should get going".

The advantage of having Pepper Potts with you when shopping, was both Tony Starks credit card and her knowledge of the best stores in New York. Though you needed to give credit to Happy as well because if he hadn't been able to drive you to the locations, there was no way you would've managed to make it to them. However, you felt bad for him now. Hence looking at your reflection in from mirror in the dressing room, of the last store, you understood that neither this shop would be the one.

You couldn't deny the maroon dress was beautiful, but you weren't able to say it was  the  one. It was good you understood this yourself and didn't need to show the women on the other side of the curtains, thus sparing yourself their comments. If you aimed to impress Steve, you would succeed. Sadly, that isn't her goal.

You wouldn't say you got upset by their teasing but rather tried neglecting the truth behind it. You hadn't stated it aloud, but you knew Nat, most possibly even Steve, had noticed early on that you cared for Bucky in a way you didn't with anyone else.

Your rough edges are turning soft. You'd caught Steve saying that to Bucky someday after the movie night. And though the words weren't directed at you, you felt them score a home run, because that was how it felt. During his months here, you needed to near the man in a different way you then often did with others and it changed you. It felt freeing, though now when you'd decided on making the donations, your previous unstable mind returned. Remainders of your past and the reason you hesitated on helping Bucky from the beginning, hung over you like a storm cloud.

“Y/N, are you done?” Nat called from outside, startling you out of your haze.

“Yeah yeah one moment”, you answered while quickly starting to change, attempting to hide the antsiness you felt creeping up once more.

It didn't take long to slip out of the dress and as soon as you exited, you saw Pepper talking to the staff, although the pair silenced as they noticed you. "Nothing?" The strawberry blonde women asked to which you shook your head to before elaborating.

"Sadly none of them felt right", you smiled apologetically to the women beside Pepper, though compared to the expression you thought would meet you, you got the opposite.

"No worries Miss, but I talked to Miss Potts and if you want to, there's a dress available, one the public hasn't seen yet I may add, that you can try".

"I don't see a reason to why not", the clerk smiled brightly before excusing herself to fetch the piece. In her absence, Pepper walked over to the sofa Nat already was seated in.

"Though I don't mind this shopping spree, it would be nice finding your dress from here as well, makes the deliveries easier", she hummed as she sat down beside the spy. She examined the space and dresses around her until her eyes landed on you once more. "Then I'm also sure the dress your soldier would like the most exists here, out of any place we'll visit".

"If you're referring to Steve, then I already tried that one..."

"But you know I ain't referring to him", a smile graced her lips and you bit your cheek as a one spread on your own, head shaking all the while.

"It seems like no one refers to him nowadays", you lowered your head with a chuckle, before raising it again looking at Nat. "Did you tell her?"

"You haven't even told me anything, so what would I be able to tell her?" Nat shot back, making you roll your eyes.

"I don't need much more than my own eyes to understand something is going on, but to defend Nat in this discussion, it was Tony who mentioned it".

"Tony?" You echoed, raising your brows which elected a snicker from Pepper.

"Not so unbelievable when I tell you he speaks about how he feels the way Bucky is burning holes into him every time he's close to you. Especially this last week when he's seen you more at Tony's side than his own".

"Oh god, he's acting more like a guard dog than a soldier", Nat laughed, the women beside her following along in agreement.

"Tony could be exaggerating it", you stated, trying to not let the words lit the fire of hope inside you.

"Perhaps he could", collecting herself Pepper shrugged, the other redheaded women doing the same. As she looked at you, she saw your brows had pulled together. "Though he wasn't the only one witnessing Bucky drape a blanket over you when you'd fallen asleep on the movie night", at that comment, you truly felt your body heat. You remember waking up by the light shake of Nat when most of the team had retreated, but never questioned how you ended up wrapped in a blanket as you sleepily brought it with you back to your room.

"Here it is, sorry for the wait!" The sudden voice of the store owner brought your attention from the smiles of your friends to the dress the women hurried closer with. "It isn't fitted of course, but if you find yourself liking it we can do the changes needed", she handed you the piece, its texture cooling against your fingers as you took it. Without much more than a  thank you  and  absolutely , you retreated inside the dressing room.

As you started to change you eyed the dress, noticing how it didn't look like the other, in your opinion, overworked high-end fashion pieces in the store. The black silk was sparsely adorned, the way the fabric had been sewn the only details.

Putting it on felt like heaven, the heat burning your body from the previous conversation was cooled by the fabric. The material fell heavy as you let it go from your clenched fingers, a smile spreading as you finally looked up into the mirror.

“I think I've found it”, you called to the girls outside.

Taking a deep breath, you aimed. Two rounds, every bullet hit a target and you counted that only five missed their bullseye. The sound from the shot still echoed when you took off your soundproofed earmuffs. You had been here for the past hour and finally started to feel how you relaxed.

“What’s wrong with me?” You questioned yourself on an exhale, even though you knew the answer. It was the same giving you a hard time to fall asleep yesterday and the anxiousness when you woke up after it. Though the afternoon had ended good, with Pepper, Nat and your's dresses promised to be delivered after they'd been fitted somewhat, there was one event putting your nerves on edge.

It had been late the same day when Pepper had knocked on your door, informing you some final adjustments would be made on the donations, details they needed you there for. She had brought you along to Tony's office, a discussion of what it was about taking place before arriving there. Perhaps you would've blamed Pepper for the slip-up, or maybe not. Though afterwards, you could only thank fate that the women beside you noticed Bucky rounding the corner in the same instance you did, or else he would've heard what the two of you were talking about. And not only that, realising what you always feared he would find out.

You knew this encounter, though it didn't end the way it could've, was the reason for your uneasiness and therefore the reason you had ended up here, your safe haven, the shooting range.

Walking over to the familiar wall, you practically could call yours, you opened it and waited for the guns department to show itself. It was then you saw a flicker in the corner fo your eye, the safety door into the room unlocking, showing Steve on the other side.

You only glanced towards him to notify you had noticed his presence, before looking back to the wall in front of you. Your eyes scanned for your favourite weapon, founding it easy as it was placed in the middle of the rows of guns. Gripping the Springfield XD, you continued to the ammunition, taking a rounds amount of bullets, loading them into the clip. Afterwards, you holstered the gun in its designated place on your hip. It was not until after that, you began walking over to the shooting station, seeing Steve also making his way over.

“Thought I would found you here”, he smiled towards you, to which you simply smirked, throwing the earmuffs you snatched while walking by the table to him. He caught them effortlessly while you answered.

“Where else would I be?” He almost looked remorseful at your rhetorical question. “Oh, don’t give me that look, I know my own weakness is that this makes me calmer”, you tried waving away his expression.

“Is there anything going on?” He asked cautiously, but instead of answering you simply flicked down your safety glasses, removed the earmuffs from around your neck to cover your ears instead. You unholstered the gun, cocking it and then clicking off the safety. You hoped Steve saw what you were going to do and prepared with taking on his earmuffs.

One of the shots went off, the jolt of the ricocheting gun going through your body. Three more bullets released after that, three you didn’t need to inspect where they hit. Before you could empty the clip though, you felt someone put a hand on your shoulder. Even though you knew it only could be one person, you glanced behind you.

Immediately you caught Steve's eyes, which urged you to stop for a moment. When you didn't move, he understood it was safe to pull off his protectors and you followed soon after to hear what he would say.

“I’ll take that as a yes”, Steve began, the hint of worry still present, though it didn't look as pitying as moments earlier. “What happened?” You sighed while putting down the gun, safety already on. You turned to face him better, by doing so, noticing the lines between his brows.

“It isn’t what happened, but what may happen or even is going to. Fuck , Steve I…I shouldn't worry", you stated. For a few seconds, he was quiet.

"But still you do", he said gently after the momentary silence. You hadn't noticed you adverted your gaze, but at his soft-spoken words, you looked up. His eyes made you take a deep breath, mainly because they stated a silent question of what you worried about.

"There's no way you have missed the party Stark have been planning, he's made everyone sure to not", you huffed, which made a chortle escape him. "However, the reason you haven't seen me around the tower as much is related to that planning".

"How?" He looked quizzically at you, which you understood why for. No-one in the team knew about this donation, neither that you helped the planning of the gala.

"Though it's Tony's fashion of truly welcoming Bucky to the team and celebrating his improvements, we brought some further meaning to it", you began to nervously fidget with the bullets on the table when continuing. "I'm going to make a donation, similarly to what I've done before. Although this is the biggest number yet and Bucky unknowingly played a great part in where it should go", realisation dawned on Steve's features and you couldn’t help but glance to his shoulder then. You remembered the clear shot you had, yet what had thrown you off was that he didn't go to pick up the shield.

Steve followed your eyes and started piecing things together. “You mean?” He began, hesitating if he was right, but by your reaction, he was.

“Yes Steve, it’s your number”, at your words memories flashed from the aftermath of the event. Some associate with Hydra refused to pay you until evidence was shown you removed America’s golden boy from his throne. You had sworn them off, enough for probably the rest of the organisation to hear, stomping off in search for your evidence.

You'd known that he wasn't dead. Your shot had missed its target and though it was lethal to an ordinary person, he wasn't one of those. To this day you remember how ridiculously high you'd thought, and still did, the payment was and how determined you'd been to get it. Hence the risk you took by visiting him in the med-bay. The Steve you'd seen there wasn't the same standing before you now. You've to this day never witnessed him in such a bad state.

Though the adrenaline you had then made you forget parts of what you did, you remember getting a picture of his journal. Which stated a fact society never would get to know. Heart stopped at 2:23 PM.

You would never forget how you'd frozen for a second until you hurriedly read the sentence beneath. Defibrillators used to retrieve stable heart condition, heart stopped for ten seconds, patience on the road to recovery.

“How could that be?” Steve brought you out of your thoughts and you looked up at him, even more questions reflecting in them before. That's right,  no-one ever knew you got the money, besides from Tony in this instance.

“I got the evidence they needed, your journal. The money was on my bank account ten minutes later”, you saw his surprise, but knew you didn’t need to explain why it worked, he was used to truths being bent.

“That’s why you weren’t reluctant with your capture”, he stated and you shrugged, remembering when they suddenly had you cornered you in your apartment.

“Even though knowing Fury eased the worry, I much rather be in your capture then hunted by Hydra”, you declared.

Steve watched you, memories resurfacing of the first time he realised something Fury never would get to know. That you’d worked for both sides. Though he’d debated whether or not he should expose your double game, something told him not to and he felt that he could trust the feeling. Hence why he’d let Fury believe that he trusted what he said, that you were an ally of Shield. But when he’d left, Steve ordered everyone to leave the two of you alone. Alone again, he’d asked you about everything and it was then he confirmed his beliefs but also gave his promise. He would protect your secret.

It was when Steve noticed you nervously fiddling with the gun and that your eyes were locked on his shoulder, a faraway look in them, he knew the both of you recalled times of past. Without thinking, he brought you in for a hug. He felt it took you by surprise, as you stiffened in his arms. But nevertheless, you came to your sense and hugged him back.

"What did I say, Rogers", you mumbled into his chest.

"I'm sorry", he didn't regret it, that you and Bucky met. He believed that you'd been and still are the determining factor for his friend recovery. Though up until finding you like this, mind shattered of possibilities and nerves on edge, Steve hadn't realised how much his plea cost. "You're not going to tell him I guess", he didn't see but felt your reaction, a wince and ragged intake of breath.

"Honestly, never. Never if he doesn't ask directly about. It wouldn't do anything good for him, neither me”, you answered Steve and felt his grip get tighter.

“Then it’s good I perhaps ask”, you choked when hearing the voice and flew out of the blonde man's embrace. It couldn’t be, but it was. In the opening to the room stood Bucky, arms crossed while leaning on the door frame.

“I…I”, you stuttered, but couldn’t continue the sentence as you saw something shift in his eyes. At the mercy of his gaze, the heat you’d gotten from Steve's touch, suddenly went ice cold. Along with it, dread spread through your body as Bucky pushed away from the wall, starting to walk closer.

You followed him as he did, his pace not faster nor slower than usual, although it still showed restraint. It was impossible to not notice that something raged inside him. However, you had expected to meet it, rather than observe it for longer. Because instead of entering the shooting range, he continued further in. Not until he stood before until wall which still was open, displaying the various guns you'd stood before minutes ago, did he finally stop.

You observed how he carefully picked out two, choosing their matching ammunition. Though not until the moment he turned around, did you recognised the two weapons. The smaller pistol a Sauer P220 and the bigger an MI07 rifle. You felt your finger twitch when looking at the sniper rifle, an odd awareness coursing through you at the sight of your old prized possession.

However, the feeling subdued as horror dawned on you when he rounded the corner, walked through the door and stopped before you, stretching them out for you to take.

“Shoot with them”, his command had no room for arguing and neither did you, the tension in his jaw showing his temper and it would be a bad idea.

“Wait…”, Steve was silenced with one quick glare from the brunette, taking a step back from the intensity of it. You looked at their interaction, flinching when Bucky's eyes met yours again. As being moved by an invisible force, you took the guns from him, careful not to touch him while doing so. As soon as the firearms left his grip, he took a step back and simultaneously you turned around.

While you noticed Steve leaving your side, you, with almost shaky hands, put down the heavy weapons in front of you. Immediately you saw the silencer on both guns and didn’t care about taking on ear protection. You knew your ears would ring slightly, but you’d gotten used to the sound since years back.

Familiarity made you pick up the rifle first and you squatted down to get better control of it. You leaned the front of it on the table, aiming at the doll. Without hesitation, you emptied the clip, hitting every single one where you intended.

It was if someone had pulled you five years back in time, as you felt how your surrounding started to disappear and you entered the zone. Discarding the now-empty clip and placing it in your thigh holster, you put down the rifle and picked up the pistol. You hesitated only because of the unfamiliarity od the grip, but the moment passed as soon as you raised it.

Bullet after bullet hit the middle of the shooting-doll, so much that in the end, it looked like someone stabbed it open. The alarmingly loud bang beside you made you miss the last shot and in shock, you looked back. Buckys metal fist had dented the wall.

“What are you?” Bucky growled, finally understanding why things felt so familiar with you. The lightness of your steps. Your sense of knowing if someone neared and your ability to notice the smallest detail. You moved the same as him. He saw you couldn't bring yourself to answer when meeting his gaze. 

“Assassin? Hitman?…”, he trailed off when he saw the change in your face by the word. “So hitman it is”.

“This is why I didn’t tell, it isn’t relevant”, you defended yourself when hearing him state it with such distaste.

“Ain’t relevant?” He hollered back, you couldn’t help but flinch at its volume. You tried forming an answer, but your thoughts short-circuited, while your mouth only opened and closed. You damn well knew it was relevant for him.

“Buck, she’s a former one”, Steve stepped in, trying to cut the attention between the two of you. “There’s a reason she is on the team, she hasn’t done it for many years”, he tried defending you, but it fell on deaf ears.

“So your help was that also fake?!” His voice continuously raised.

“I didn’t lie about my degree, thank you very much!” You huffed out, stopping yourself from continuing directly afterwards. Catching your breath, you tried saying the next thing in a tenderer manner “I cared Bucky, I still do…”.

“How much can you truly care, you’re a paid murderer”, he stated, the words hitting you like a knife in the back, making you snap.

“We are the same kind. We both are murderers. The only difference is that I got paid and you didn’t”, you shouted back at him, tears forming as you understood what you just said. “I didn’t want to do it in the beginning, for fuck sake!” You continued, helplessly looking at Steve, even he staring perplexed at you. You switched back to Bucky, the man you come to feel for more and more, now looked ready to kill. The similarity between him and the Soldier the night he stared at you, the same amount of coldness in their expression, was terrifying.

“I only did it because Steve saved me, no matter what I did. So I found it fair I would repay him with saving you”, you wanted to slap him, right then and there. It looked like he thought the very same and if it hadn’t been for Steve stepping in between the two of you, it very well would’ve happened.

“You shouldn’t have done it”, Bucky sounded feral when he said it and everything in you body felt like going slack. Everything you worked up with him these months had gone to waste, the tears now steadily falling down your face.

“Sometimes the only one able to understand is the one that suffered the same fucking thing, James Barnes”, with that you stalked out of the room, successfully avoiding Steve’s attempt at catching hold of you. You just stared at him and whispered, what did I fucking say.

Forever taglist: @flowerchild1216​ @krystallynx​ @haven-in-writing​ @thejamesoldier​ @lancsnerd​

Series taglist: @buckysforeverprincess​