#only to find him workin as Signal and Decides he need day time back up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherriegyuu · 10 months ago

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calendar | csc

pairing: seungcheol x f!reader genre: smut word count: 3.1k summary: the red mark on the calendar is one of seungcheol's favorites warnings: minors do not interact, kissing, stimulation, swearing, petnames, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this), oral (f. receiving), breeding kink, cock sleeve (kinda), dirty talking playlist: ➝ here a/n: still a little (a lot) insecure about smut, but wanted to try writing this one. not proof read

please remember that comments and reblogs are extremely important

seungcheol stopped in front of the calendar in the closet, a smile tugging at his lips. the red circle around the date, signaling an important event he always waited a little more anxiously for.

not that having sex with his wife was something he couldn't do as often as he liked, far from that. if anything both of you were always eager to be with each other, even after so many years together. it had never gotten boring or dull at any moment. both of you always wanted to try new things and keep it interesting, mostly you. for seungcheol being buried deep inside you while you moaned his name was to closest thing he'd ever to heaven, if such a place even existed.

he gave up on the shirt, knowing fully well what the sight of him in nothing but sweats did to you. pair it with his wet hair and it was enough to drive you crazy. the good thing about being with someone for so long is knowing exactly what ticks the other person off, and what buttons to press. well, it could be both a blessing and a curse. in that moment seungcheol chose to believe that it was solely a blessing.

a small groan left his lips at the sight of you lying on your stomach, scrolling through your phone, in his shirt and black pair of panties — the one he bought you after there was a small accident with a few pieces of underwear.

the thing about ticks and buttons is that it works both ways and, obviously, seungcheol wasn't the only one who could play that game.

he crawled on top of you slowly and pushed your hair to the side so he could kiss the nape of your head. you sighed in contentment when you felt his weight on top of yours.

"look," you said, raising your phone slightly "hannie sent me pictures of his daughter today"

seungcheol looked at the smiling face of his friend with a little girl in his arms. it had been many years since he had seen jeonghan look quite that happy. of course that suddenly finding out about a child and suddenly needing to be a full-time dad wasn't the easiest thing in the world but he was playing it like a breeze. you swiped your finger and a picture of the little girl in a bright yellow dress greeted him. seungcheol smiled. yeah, she was cute and looked every bit like jeonghan, acted too. a little menace, she was.

"what does he want? if he's sending pictures he wants something" he chuckled knowing his friend well. everything jeonghan did had a purpose.

seungcheol sat back on his heels and slowly started to massage your shoulders over the fabric of the shirt.

"he asked if we can have gia tomorrow night, he has a work thing to go" you moaned lowly when seungcheol pressed on the not in your shoulder blade, "i said yes"

he laughed again. of course you had been quick to agree, it didn't surprise him. you had always loved kids and were always happily willing to have them for any amount of time needed. after you had gotten married it had gotten a little more frequent since most of your friends had decided to have kids at the same, and since jeonghan found out about his daughter it had gotten weekly. seungcheol never complained, he too loved kids and liked having them around, he especially loved the glint in your eyes whenever you looked at them running around the living room, breaking a thing or two.

"cheol" you said one day at the darkest hour of the night after rolling around in bed for hours, voice barely a whisper as you played with his hair "i... should we start trying?"

it was too late, his mind was barely working, almost drowning in sleep for him to understand what you were saying but in hindsight, he should have seen it coming.

"trying what?" he asked turning around and wrapping you in his arms, his leg nesting between yours.

"for a baby"

that was how the calendar ended up hanging on the closet wall. your ovulation period was marked in a bright red marker.

"do you think it's really work or, maybe, a date?" you asked.

slowly seungcheol moved his hand lower, to the small of your back, pressing a little more tenderly where he knew you struggled with pain. he moved your, his, shirt up, adding a little more pressure as your body fully relaxed under him.

"jeonghan wouldn't date now," he said "gia is still getting used to him and us, he wouldn't add someone else to the mix"

you turned around under him, eyes narrowed. when you raised your arm to rest it under your head your shirt lifted a little, exposing the skin right over the elastic of your underwear. it was pretty, yes, with lace details on the sides but that mattered very little. seungcheol was far more interested in what was hidden under it.

"you're telling me that jeonghan hasn't fucked anyone since we got gia? a whole seven months ago"

seungcheol placed his hands on your waist, your skin warm under his touch. the corner of your lips tugged up at the expression in your husband's eyes. he was struggling to keep focus on the conversation both of you were heaving. jeonghan and gia were the least of his worries.

"i care very little about who jeonghan fucks" he said, voice hoarse as he leaned forward at the same time he pushed your shirt further up "all i care about is putting a baby in my beautiful wife"

he pressed a kiss to your naked skin. he had imagined it many times, you pregnant with his kid, your belly around. it had been one of the many reasons why he had woken you up in the middle of the night and fucked you dumb. he had never said anything, choosing to let you decide when it was time. when you were ready to have a baby. seungcheol knew that it was going to change things for you a lot more than it would for him, it was also your body.

if it were up to him, you'd have a least two kids running around the house.

"you have some work to do then," you said, laughing.

almost like a reflex, you tangled your fingers in his hair. you sighed as seungcheol started his exploratory kisses. some were light, like the touch of a feather, loving, in a worship manner. others were the exact opposite, harsher as he pulled your skin in between his teeth just for a second, to later soothe the spot with the tip of his tongue. he loved to leave tiny marks in your body, where no one else would be able to see them but him. but you knew they were there, it was a constant reminder of the night before and a reminder of what was still to come.

you spread your legs to better accommodate seungcheol as he pushed your shirt to your neck. you felt a little electric tension run over your skin when you noticed his eyes on you, taking in your every expression. you smiled when he pressed his thumb over your hard nipple, pinching it.

seungcheol took your boob into his mouth, biting your nipple at the same time he pinched the other one. involuntarily your back arched, your grip on his hair tightening.

he loved the sounds you made, how it usually started so low and small but he always managed to work you up enough to get you begging under him, on top of him. either way, you'd end the night pleading for him, for his cock.

"do you think today is the day?" he asked, trailing his kisses again down your stomach to your panties "do you think i can pump you full enough to get you pregnant?"

you expected seungcheol to tug at the sides of your panties and pull them down but instead, he kissed you over them. he grinned when he saw the small wet spot in your underwear.

"i barely started and you're already wet, baby?" he teased.

he ran his finger over your cunt still covered by the thin panties. your hips twitched under his touch, needing more than just light touches. but you weren't ready to give in to him yet. he was going to have to work harder if he wanted to hear you begging for more.

"not a word? playing hard to get tonight, i see" he pushed your underwear to the side, lightly blowing your clit. he had to contain the laugh that erupted in his chest "let's see how long it lasts"

you raised your hips as seungcheol used his index fingers to pull your panties down. you laughed when you saw the small piece of cloth being thrown over his shoulder. your laughter died as soon as you felt his warm, wet, tongue on your clit. he sucked the small bundle of never into his mouth at the same time he pushed two fingers into you. he was relentless, his pace devastating, not giving you a second to breathe.

the sounds, of his mouth on you as well as the wetness of your pussy, were obscene but they turned you on even further. you wanted, needed, more.

and the thing is, seungcheol was the giving kind of partner. whatever you wanted was yours, but you had to say it, loud and clear. for him.

"come one baby, just ask" he blew your clit again, this time using the tip of his thumb to lightly brush it "use your pretty little mouth and beg for me"

a curse left your lips when his fingers stopped moving and he pulled away from you. your orgasm that was right there, around the corner, suddenly gone, leaving only your throbbing cunt and ragged breathing as a witness.

you tried to grab his hand and push his fingers back but the was being a little shit, holding it behind his back.

"fuck, seungcheol," you said, partially annoyed, and desperately turned on "just eat me out, fuck me with your fingers. whatever you do just make me cum"

"your wish, wife, is always my command"

seungcheol wasted no second. his lips were around your clit and a third finger was added into to slit. it only took a few pumps for you to come undone under him. a mess of moans and curses. unsure of when exactly you had let go, your hand gripped his hair again, forcing his head closer to you, grinding his face against you, desperate for everything he had.

seungcheol used the edge of the mattress to apply some pressure on his throbbing cock. he was so hard it was painful so whatever friction he could get was welcomed.

every single one of your moans were met a stroke of his tongue and a pump of his fingers. it was torture, the most delicious and vicious kind of torture.

seungcheol only leaned back when he felt the shake in your legs subside, crawling back you. he pressed his thumb in your mouth, smiling when you opened and sucked him in. you were the most beautiful thing in the world, with your cheeks painted in a bright shade of pink, and two tear stains on the sides of your eyes. god, he loved you.

you could taste your own release in his finger when you circled his finger with your tongue. you grazed his skin with your teeth looking into his eyes. seungcheol hissed, wishing that it was his cock in your mouth.

"i know you would love it if i sucked you," you said "but i really need you to fuck me, right now, please"

you were going to be the death of him.

you pulled your shirt over your head and turned around, sticking your ass up while your chest was pressed against the pillow.

for a second seungcheol felt like a teenager who just found out he was about to fuck the hottest girl he had ever laid eyes on. he was quick to push his sweats off. he hadn't bothered with boxers, knowing exactly where the night would lead the two of you.

"i'm going to fill you up so good baby" he squeezed your ass and second later slapped it "so so deep there's no way you won't get pregnant tonight"

he ran his tip over your pussy a few times, coating himself in you. he knew that he could slide in without doing it but he also liked torturing you. your moans got a little more desperate every time rubbed against your clit.

whenever he took you bare the sensation was entirely new and different. yes, there were a few instances when both of you were in too much of a hurry, or sometimes it just didn't matter enough, to care or remember to take a condom, but ultimately both of you had always been careful. you took your pills, he carried a condom and life moved on. but even after months of no condom, no barrier at all between the two of you, seungcheol still felt his head get a little dizzy.

your walls adjusted perfectly to him, clinging around him, pulling him, demanding every single inch of him. he slowly pushed in until all he was deep into you, to the hilt.

you moaned against the soft fabric of the sheets, loving the burning sensation of the stretch. you pushed your ass high in the hair, wiggling it from side to side begging him to just move. the stretch of his dick deliciously painful still.

"cheol, move" you begged.

"this what you want?" he asked

seungcheol pushed your head further into the mattress, his hand on the back of your head, thighing your hair around his fist. finally he started to move, he pulled his cock all the way out and pressed it back in, hitting that one spot that made your head spin and little stars shine behind your closed eyes, over and over again. you squirmed when seungcheol pressed his weight over your body, moaning as he somehow got even deeper.

you moved your hand down your body, slowly circling your with the tip of your nail.

"cheol, fuck" you bit the pillow "faster, please, just fuck me"

he loved the neediness in your voice, how you completely forfeit with your no-begging police. the smell of your sweet vanilla soap disappeared now that your skin was coated in a thin layer of sweat.

seungcheol didn't change his rhythm, knowing that it was enough to drive you crazy and over the edge.

"are you touching yourself, baby?" he pulled on your hair, giving you a taste of your medicine. his dick throbbed when he saw the smile on your face "fuck"

he reached forward, slapping your hand away from your cunt. you cursed at him but the nasty words were quickly replaced with a moan when he pinched your clit, tugging and pressing, driving you fucking crazy on his dick. even so, his pace was slow.

"cum for me, baby" he whispered.

"let me ride you" you begged "i want to look at you when you breed me"

your words had always been the ruin of him. he almost came right there. he turned you around and sat on the bed, grinning when you cried when his dick left your pussy.

"i know, baby, but you were the one that wanted to ride me"

a small fuck you left your lips as you crawled on top of him. seungcheol moaned when you gripped him, your hand sliding up and down his length while you grazed his tip with your nail lightly. you aligned him to you and sank down in one swift movement, making both of you moan.

seungcheol was wrong, being balls deep into you wasn't paradise. no. paradise was being balls deep in your cunt while you rode him, tits bouncing in in his face, while you moaned his name again and again like a prayer, taking what you wanted from him. he cupped your breasts in his hands. your hands covered his, forcing your nipples between his fingers and squeezing.

"fuck. cheol" you said, eyes on his as you circled your hips before thrusting down on him again "i'm gonna cum. i need to"

your walls squeezed around him. seungcheol moaned as he held you by the hips holding you in place, while the pounded into you, finally, finally fucking you as fast and as hard as you wanted. he fucked you roughly, watching as his cock disappeared in your cunt, each thrust deeper than the previous one. seungcheol felt the muscles of his thighs and stomach squeeze at the same time you clenched around him, milking him.

he pressed his thumb to your clit and the scream you let out was enough to drive both of you to the edge. you let your body fall forward, and you bit that spot between his shoulder and neck. seungcheol continued to pound into you, fucking his cum as deep as he could, pushing it further into you making sure not even a drop was wasted.

it took both of you a couple of minutes to settle down, evening out your breathing, and making sure your legs were no longer shaking.

"seungcheol" you cried, finally looking at his face, kissing him, letting him invade your mouth with his tongue "i'm so full. it's so deep"

he could never, ever, get enough of you.

“don’t move baby, let’s make sure this one sticks”

you kissed the side of his neck, feeling his hot cum inside you while his dick slowly got flaccid. you loved to have him in you, just there, with you, as close as humanly possible, with nothing between the two of you. his personal cock sleeve, he had called you a few times.

“you say it like fucking me is a terrible task someone assigned you”

you felt the vibrations of his laughter before you heard it. you just closed your eyes and pressed your head to his chest, the sound of his heartbeats calming like a lullaby.

“fucking you is the one task i’ll never ask someone else to do in my place”

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sylverstorms · 3 years ago

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Miss Fortune x Reader ----Salt-Crusted Heart

For an easier read, head to Ao3.

Another day. Another hunt for a fetter.

Feels like this is your life now, your present and your future. It feels like this war against the ever-spreading mist and Viego will never end. Your days as a trainee Sentinel, where the tough schedule of the Academy was your only problem, seem so far away now it’s like they belong in a dream. Like that was a different you.

And it was, wasn’t it.

That ‘you’ hadn’t ever slashed at anything other than a training dummy. Now you’re out here –with a very dysfunctional crew of lunatics— fighting mist monsters.

Said dysfunctional crew is, once again, arguing amongst themselves on which way you’re supposed to be headed next. Everyone’s got their own opinion and somehow it never matches with anyone else’s. You don’t even know how they manage that.

It takes a few light years for the majority to agree you’re heading to Bilgewater.

By the time you Wayfinder them there, you’re not surprised that all you see is darkness and sickly green mist. Half the world has gone to shit already and you’ve come to terms with that. More or less. Probably less.

“Wow.” you say as you take in the ghostly-looking town ahead of you and the armada of ships at the port below, blocking this side of the island off completely. Not that there’s a lot to block because the place is a ravaged hellhole anyway.

The environment has this wrecked, haunted vibe that would be super interesting to see in a movie with an apocalypse theme. Perhaps not so much on an actualapocalypse, though.

“Likin’ the view?” Graves asks, the corner of his lips sealed over his cigar.

“No, it was more of a ‘this is so much worse than I could have imagined’ type of wow.” you explain.

“It really is.” Riven agrees.

“Funny thing; the mist ain’t changed it all that much.” Graves laughs.

“Hey. Focus.” Lucian chastises. This guy, you’re convinced, is allergic to lightening the mood. He’s also not someone you dare say this to. “See that?” he points at the sea, to the massive ship there, towering over the rest.

You’re so focused on its fine craftsmanship and the little details you keep finding the longer your eye remains on it, you miss his point entirely, at first. Then you blink and look closer –at the thin, telltale trail of green-black smoke floating upwards from its deck.

There’s no mistaking it; a fetter is on that vessel.

“Now, listen up, everybody. Big Ol’ Graves is a legend around these parts, so my name will get us on that beauty. But. People here can be a bit… unfriendly towards new faces.” he begins. “Let’s not walk up there like an attack force and end up riddled with holes, ye?”

“Good idea.” you nod.

“Rookie, Graves, you’re heading up first.” Lucian motions with his chin.

“Bad idea.” you comment, but his skewering glare has you agreeing with the plan the same second.

“Signal if you need help.” Senna adds.

Graves only laughs heartily and grabs your uniform with his large hands, pulling you along. You know you won’t like what you hear when he leans down and whispers to you:

“We won’t have time to signal if they decide we’re not worth listening to but let’s not tell them that, Rook.”

“That’s… just what I needed to hear.” you grimace.

“Ha! Which means you’re goin’ up first. Chances are they won’t instantly shoot your pretty face off.”

“Wait… what about that ‘my name will get us up there, no trouble’?” you ask.

“Hah! That was just to impress Vayne, kiddo. My name is far more likely to get us killed in these parts.” he laughs but you don’t. “Did she look impressed?”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, she didn’t, mate.” Nothing has ever moved Vayne other than when she kills monsters in a particularly violent way.

“Ah, shit. Maybe next time.”

Yeah, if there is a next time.

Your chances aren’t looking good as soon as you step onto that deck and every weapon imaginable is suddenly shifted to you.

…

Graves tells you to put your ‘social skills’ into good use. You are not aware that was one of your talents, so it’s probably more of his bullshit. Either way, death by a thousand bullets gives you a solid motivation to turn the charm on and talk.

“Gentlemen, I’m sure we can all come to an agreement here. No need for all that firepower.” you say, totally not sweating at all underneath your white jacket. “You have something that we need and I’m sure we can negotiate a profitable deal for everyone.”

Jackpot. Bounty hunters want money more than anything. And there is not a sweeter sound to their ears than the promise of wealth. Even if you’re just talking nonsense to save your ass.

“If I could just speak to the captain—”

“The captain is listening.” a commanding voice says from up ahead. Some of the crew members part to let her through…

And.

You see a vision in this nightmare.

The woman that walks forward stands out like fire over water, like stark color on Bilgewater’s salt-washed palette. Maybe it’s the vivid red of her flowing hair, stark against the gold-trimmed black of her hat, or the emerald green of her eyes, or the way she holds herself, a queen on this deck. Whatever the reason, you cannot tear your gaze off of her.

Tongue-tied at the moment, you let Graves do the talking. Big mistake.

The goddess’ visage darkens when she sees your company, who she addresses in a less than pleasant tone: “Look what washed in with the tide. Malcolm Goddamn Graves.” You wouldn’t want that glare directed at you, ever.

“Fortune? Ah, hells, naw.” he curses. “What are ya doin’ here? How did ya get a whole damn fleet a’ warships?”

“A lot has changed since we last met. Fools around here decided to challenge me for control over Bilgewater. I locked this place down until we can resolve this inconvenience.” she says, like cutting off half the freaking island is not a big issue.

The sound of her heels on the wooden floor is downright ominous as she approaches. Her eye scans you lightning-quick, then the entirety of her attention is on Graves. The very next second…

A blunderbuss pistol is pointing right to your face, same as his.

“Whoah.” you gasp.

“What’s Gankplank paying you?!” she demands.

“I ain’t workin’ for that bastard! I ain’t even on speakin’ terms with his orange-eatin’ ass! Ya know that!”

“What I know is you came onto my deck with fancy new equipment and a whole team of mercenaries at your back. You know, just in case you thought you were being subtle, in all that silver and white sticking out in Bilgewater like a sore thumb.” She has a point. “That getup isn’t cheap and there’s only one cretin around here with that kind of coin. Now tell me what he’s planning, of you’ll be smoking that cigar through a new hole.”

“Um –ma’am? He’s telling the truth.” You almost regret speaking up when her piercing stare lands on you. “And we’re not mercenaries. We’re Sentinels of Light.” you add.

“You put on a convincing performance, cutie.” she says.

In any other scenario, a goddess like that calling you cute would make you blush. But the gun still very much in your face makes it difficult to really register the word.

“Like you’ve never heard of the ‘Saltwater Scourge’, ‘Reaver King of the High Seas’… ‘Scum-sucking Hagfish Who Takes All You Ever Cared About’…”

Oh, okay. So, she’s got a screw loose as well.Not surprising considering the company you attract, lately.

“Nope. Kiddo’s right, Sarah. They’re Sentinels, alright.” the very familiar voice of your boss, which normally doesn’t make you happy to hear, has the opposite effect now. Lucian walks up behind you to save the day.

“Lucian?” she asks, finally lowering her weapons. “…this is your crew?”

“Yep. And I’d appreciate it if you kindly refrained from killing them. Need about every gun we can get.” he replies.

“Follow me.” she says. “It seems we have a lot to discuss.”

…

Captain Fortune does not drive an easy bargain.

From what you hear later, she’s given Lucian a real hard time with negotiations. And even now, she’s the one who holds all the cards.

If you are to defeat Viego and make it clear to Bilgewater it was her who made it possible, she is willing to trade with the fetter and even let you stay on her ship in the meantime. Otherwise, if she gets the feeling it’s him who gains ground and holds the power in this place, you’re basically screwed.

The others are uneasy. They’ve suggested multiple times you steal the fetter from Fortune and dash for your lives after. Thing is, with how close she keeps that relic, that plan is looking impossible.

Which brings you to where you are right now, all the Sentinels and Miss Fortune gathered around the same map, planning your next action.

“Yes, but if I help you get there, what’s in it for me?” she asks.

And really, you don’t have anything to offer her in return. Even Lucian looks to Senna for help. Who, in turn, looks at you.

Why do they keep doing that? What have you done to convince these people you are good at talking? Especially to women like the captain.

“How about the… moral reward of helping save people from these monsters?” you suggest.

Her green eyes –and holy shit are they green— look at you like she wants to both scoff and laugh sardonically. “Tell me that is a joke.”

“It –it really isn’t.” you reply.

She huffs. “Look. I’m sure you’re all nice people. But nice people here get their throats cut.” She motions with her hand. “The cutthroats get the spoils. That’s how it works. I only care about the spoils.” she states. “So, if you want things from me and my crew, you need to make it worth our time.”

Their time sure isn’t cheap.

You know you don’t have anything at Headquarters with the kind of value she’s looking for. Definitely no coin and no gold for her services. But. You’ve heard multiple times during classes that the materials the Sentinel outfits are weaved from are extremely durable and therefore, extremely desirable.

“Would you and your crew be interested in a wardrobe overhaul?” you ask. All eyes are on you, but hers are the most intense. “Every prestigious fleet has to look the part, no? Plus, these clothes…” you say, grabbing the nearest knife and dragging it across your sleeve. The fabric is not so much as scratched. “…are pretty cool.” you tell her.

Miss Fortune leans back in her captain’s chair with a pretty smile painted on her –very attractive— lips.

“Now you’re talking my language, cutie. I’m sure we can work something out.”

…

On one hand, you have Gwen sewing day and night –your fault, you feel bad for it— while the rest of you handle the fighting. On the other, you do have a ship taking you wherever you need and making your job of clearing the darkness ten times faster.

Even Lucian has given you a pat on the back for that one. That was certainly unexpected.

“We need Fortune to take us here.” Senna points on the map. “Rookie, you go tell her.”

You almost choke on your water. “Why me?” you ask.

“Because you’re finally making yourself useful.” Lucian replies. Ouch.

“I’ve been very useful from the start!” you argue. The others look amongst themselves. “Hey!”

“I mean… points for effort.” Diana comments.

“Moral support is useful, I agree.” Riven smirks at you.

‘Asshole’ you mouth, rising from your seat. Her grin only widens.

You send them a narrowed, unimpressed look over your shoulder on your way out. Some of the crew members that see you walking towards the captain’s cabin whistle your way. You’re sure there’s tons of colorful comments behind your back but you have bigger things to worry about.

Like… the way a certain redhead looks leaned back in her plush chair, a queen on her throne, toying with a gold coin that flips over her nimble fingers with effortless ease. Focus on the mission. The mission, I say. Oh, Gods…

“I love how they send you in to ask for extra.” she says. “So. Are you the silver tongue of the group?” There’s something in her little smirk and the way she says ‘tongue’ that gets to you, but that’s probably just your vivid imagination.

That and the months you’ve spent without any outlet for your stress other than fighting, on top of more fighting.

“No, the others are just that terrible at basic social interactions.” It’s the truth.

Fortune gives a small chuckle. “Let’s see how good you are, then, Sentinel.”

You pleadwith your hopeless lesbian brain not to fry on the spot. “We sort of need you to get us further than discussed. While hoping that… the scenic route will be its own reward?”

“Cute.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?” you perk up.

“No.”

“I’ll send Lucian here next time so he can bore you to death until you agree.” You never claimed to be above blackmail.

“A bold statement.” she replies. “Tell you what. If you demolish a few of my enemies’ ships during your hunt for the mist things, then deal.”

Sentinels aren’t supposed to do that. And if you tell Lucian, that will be his exact answer. You can already hear his unpleasant voice in your head. However, you’ve already figured out the world doesn’t work by the Sentinel Code, so…

“Accidents do happen on the battlefield.” you say.

Sarah gives you that slow smile that makes a certain part of you feel hot under your outfit. “And don’t bring any of the others in here to negotiate. I’d rather look at your pretty face.”

Uh.

Um.

By the time you exit the cabin, all you can think is, what just happened?

…

Combat is a rush, sometimes. As is knowing you’re getting stronger and faster by the day. You still don’t hold a candle to the rest of your group, but you can finally say you’re helping them out.

Being further up in the enemy’s face, though, is also petrifying. You see a twisted reflection of yourself in every mist wraith’s dead eyes. There are nightmares that come hand-in-hand with the experience… and then there’s physical pain.

You’ve been hurt before. Their talons can slice through even your magic-reinforced outfits. Still, every time feels worse than the last. The laceration you’re currently sporting on your side is burning like the fires of hell.

You’re trying not to scream by the time Riven lowers you onto the deck. Your vision is blurred with sweat and the tears you’re fighting to keep at bay.

“What’s going on here?” you hear Fortune’s voice in your haze.

“Tell me you have a healer on board!” Riven shouts.

“And they can get here fast!” Senna adds.

You’re not sure how much time passes. It feels like light years until someone kneels beside you and starts working on your wound. The healing magic pulls and sears at you. Every muscle in your body is taut with the effort to keep still.

“Isn’t …a healing spell supposed to numb the pain, first?” Diana asks.

“Look, blondie, I’m no professional here, ye? Just picked up a few things from mah old man. If ya wanna criticize, come here and do it yourself.” he answers. And it’s …not the best feeling in the world to hear your healer say that.

“No offense. Just worried for our teammate.” Senna adds. At least one of your bosses cares about your wellbeing.

The other just benches you for the next mission.

…

Out of all the people you expected to come see you while you’re recovering, Sarah Fortune is the last who came to mind. You’re almost shocked mute when the captain comes to sit on the edge of your bed, graceful and fluid as ever. Gorgeous as ever, too, while you’re sure you look pale as a ghost, eyes sunken as a shipwreck.

“Hey, Rookie.” she greets.

“Ah, great. That nickname’s never gonna come off, is it.” you roll your blue eyes.

“How’s the battle scar?”

“I’m not bleeding all over your fancy deck anymore, at least.” you say. “Guess I should be glad for that.” Although you are a bit frustrated that the ‘healer’s’ hand was so shaky there’s a scar left there now, permanently, when it could have been avoided. “And that the dude wasn’t drunk bad enough to stitch my organs to my skin.”

“Yeah, luckily he was only a little drunk.” she nods.

“That makes total sense for a healer. Who, from what I know from four years at the Academy, should always be sober.” you cannot keep it in any longer.

“That’s… a tall order here.” Yes, of course, the place is far too shitty for that.

“I gathered.”

“Come, now. Don’t be upset about the scar.” You’re upset about the pain that could have been avoided if the damn guy just didn’t drink his ass off in the middle of the day. “…Want me to kiss it better?”

You’re so far up your mind –filled with thoughts of being a dead weight on the team on top of your dead classmates because of Viego— you don’t even hear her. Your head is pounding from the pressure the memory causes you, a killer mix with the effect of the painkillers you’ve been on, all evening.

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” you reply, your voice hoarse and alien to your own ears.

…

You and Fortune talk a bit more on the two days you’re out of commission.

You learn a few things about her, like the fact you have a common interest in psychology. Like the fact you shouldn’t ever ask about her past or her family, unless you want her to close up tighter than a clam, at the speed of lightning. In the meantime, if it feels like she may be throwing more smirks your way than when she talks to anyone else, you blame that on your wishful thinking.

That woman is way out of your league.

It is one in the night and everyone on the ship is either well asleep or completely passed out from booze. You wake up from a nightmare, then fully register the way the ship is swaying from the angry waves. The resulting nausea has you completely losing the desire to fall back into the land of dreams.

You thought you’d be the only one awake when you walked up to the deck, yet you quickly realize that’s not the case when the sound of heels approaches from behind. You already know it’s her. The night breeze does a wonderful job of carrying her perfume straight to your nose. As if she wasn’t already fatally attractive without it.

You keep your eyes on the waves, so dark blue they look black.

“Oh, this is a surprise. Such a romantic soul, admiring the sea in the dead of night.” she says. The slight –sexy as fuck— slur to her words must have something to do with the bottle of whiskey in her hand.

“Yeah, my thoughts are not that deep.” you chuckle. “More like ‘fuck this constant motion under my feet’.”

She gives a small, airy exhale that could pass as a laugh, leaning on the railing next to you. Kind of close, too. “Ah and here I thought Sentinels didn’t swear.” she says. “And that they don’t drink. Unless you care to prove me wrong there, too.”

She takes a swing of the bottle and passes it to you. The smart part of your brain tells you it is a bad, bad idea. The rest of you is seduced by the promise of the buzz and the challenge in her eyes.

Well. Since you’re not really getting anywhere closer to where her lips are in anything other than your very private fantasies, you think may just take the chance for an indirect kiss that’s presented.

The gulp you take from the bottle –you intended a sip but the fucking ship moves so much— burns a trail down your throat and past your insides. You almost cough. How heavy is this thing?

“Ahem. So.” you begin. “What’s keeping you out late?”

“I have great company.” At first you think she means you, then you realize it’s the bottle that’s lucky. Hah, fell right into that one. “And… my cabin is very cold tonight.”

It’s really chilly, yeah, but it’s not that bad, you think. Maybe the two of you are just used to different climates, though. “I’m… sorry to hear that.” you reply.

“Well. Guess I should head in or it will never warm up by itself.” she says.

You nod and bid her goodnight, turning your eyes back to the inky waves. But then you feel her weight softly crash into your back, ample chest pressing against you, one of her hands on your waist and the other on the railing next to yours for support. Her lips are right by your ear, so close you feel them brush against the shell as she says:

“Oops.”

Then she’s gone, taking her extremely sexy perfume with her, while your stomach drops to the sea and sinks right to the very bottom. It takes a few moments to realize you’re still holding the railing so tightly your fingers have gone white.

What the…

You go back to bed trying not to think about whatever that was.

The next day, you have no idea why she’s not speaking to you at all, or why she doesn’t even look at you when she addresses the Sentinels, none-too-pleased with your progress.

…

When one of the crewmates tell you the captain has summoned you, you do a double take and ask if she really means you. Fortune has been in a weird mood towards you since that night, to say the least.

You are mentally braced for the worst when you enter her cabin. You’re already tired from fighting mist wraiths all morning and you don’t think you can handle whatever it is that’s going on with her at the moment.

Scratch that. You’re sure you can’t when she gets up from her seat, walking almost in a circle around you, like a shark. You lean back against the wooden surface of her desk, waiting. Cautious.

“Have I not been clear enough, all these days?” she asks, as if wondering out loud.

“Um…. excuse me?” you question back. Has the mist gotten to her? It has been known to cause strange behavior after prolonged exposure.

She’s at the door now, facing you without really looking at you and it makes you feel trapped. Your one escape is blocked. “You’re not from around here, so I thought it was best not to be… Bilgewater-forward.” she says. “On the other hand, I don’t think I’ve been that subtle?”

“…I’m. I’m not…sure I follow.” you speak, quietly.

“Do you really have no idea or are you just trying to be polite?” She finally looks into your eyes.

You shake your head ‘no’.

She licks her lips. “What, was I supposed to give you a formal letter inviting you to my cabin for sex the other night?” Your jaw, you think, hits the floor and shatters. Your whole body shivers and goes rigid. “If you don’t want to, just say it so I won’t wait around for nothing.”

You… don’t know what words are at the moment. The ground has disappeared and you’re a falling mess. It is the worst case of freezing on the spot you’ve ever experienced.

“That’s not… that’s not… the case.” you manage to say.

“Good to know.” she nods, casually, then strides up to you and grabs the front of your high-collared Sentinel jacket, bringing you lip-to-lip. “Is this clear enough for you?” she breathes against you.

It’s more than clear enough when her plump lips seal over yours, tasting of sweet-flavored lipstick and alcohol and sea-salt. In fact, it is clear like a nuclear bomb going off on the back of your head.

The heat wave burns down your stomach violently and it only gets worse when she pushes her tongue into your mouth, licking over yours, her hips practically straddling you with how tightly fitted you stand. Every movement of her mouth or her body echoes all the way down yours.

It’s beyond anything you could have ever conjured in your head, having her angle your chin however she wants it while her hips slowly rock against you. It’s almost too hard and too fast and too good –and you get too close.

But then—

A knock comes on the door.

“Captain?” someone asks from the outside and it’s both a blessing and a dark curse.

Sarah tries to catch her breath, every exhale tickling your ear. “One moment.” she calls over her shoulder, sounding every bit the captain she is, as if the past minutes where you were literally dry humping each other didn’t happen.

She pulls back from you with a satisfied little smirk at how wrecked you no doubt look, pulling your outfit straight. Her thumb wipes off the smudge of her lipstick on the corner of your mouth, then she goes to a nearby mirror to reapply hers.

When she walks back over to you, your knees shake at just the sight of her. You don’t know how you’ll ever calm down from this. Safe to say she’s ruined every kiss you’ve ever had or will have.

“My bedroom will be open to you tonight. Consider this your formal letter, yes?” her long fingers brush over your jawline, as she stalks back to her seat.

“Come in.” she calls, poker face on, sounding bored.

You make your escape as tactical –and dignified— as possible and don’t look back until you’re practically off the ship.

…

To say you are distracted for the rest of the hours until night completely settles over Bilgewater is an understatement. Your head is in the clouds and you have no idea what’s going on around you. The whole world could catch fire and all you’ll be thinking about is Fortune, Fortune, Fortune…

“What’s got you so quiet tonight, little Sentinel?” Riven asks.

Only the best damn kiss of your entire life. Plus the fact you’re living a dream and you don’t want to wake up. “Maybe I’m just trying to imitate Vayne. From now on you’ll hear my voice only when we kill stuff.”

“Ha, ha.” Vayne comments in typical Vayne style from her seat, hunched over her weapon and making calibrations.

“All I’ll say is, be careful.” the Noxian lowers her voice a bit, the words kept between the two of you.

“Of what?” you play dumb.

“Just in general.”

You don’t know what Riven suspects but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been through a lot these past months. You deserve to feel something good once in a while. Your love life is none of their business unless it interferes with their business, which it won’t because you’re sure this won’t mean anything beyond Fortune’s bedroom.

You wait until everyone on the ship is asleep and take a liquid courage boost to sneak to the captain’s cabin.

…

One knock. That is all your knuckles manage, one contact with the door, until it swings open and a familiar hand grabs at the front of your outfit, pulling you in.

You’re pressed back against it as soon as it shuts, crimson lips hot on yours before you can even think to say anything. Gods, is she always so insistent?You could melt into a wet puddle on the floor from the way she presses into you alone. This woman knows exactly what she wants and how to take it.

Somewhere in the back of your head you hear the sound of a lock turning.

“Took you long enough.” she whispers when you break apart.

Once again, whatever you were about to say is cut off by her tugging on the high collar of your jacket. She either has a thing for it or for pulling you around in general, you think. No complains, whatever the case.

“Won’t you give me the tour around, first?” you ask, playing coy only thanks to the drink you’ve had. Otherwise, you’d be your usual self; a mess.

“Oh, sure.” she says as she shoves you into her bedroom, illuminated by a single candle. “Wardrobe, guns, bed.”

Well. It still feels like the best tour you’ve ever had when she walks you back until you’re falling on her very comfortable mattress, with her perched above you like a predator. She gives you a little smirk as she straddles your thigh and sits up, undoing the taut buttons on her shirt, painfully slow.

Oh… It would be very awkward if you died from a heart attack now, yet it feels like you’re on the verge of one.

“Nothing smart to say now, Sentinel?” The confidence comes with her looks, you’re sure. She knows she’s hot as fuck.

You shake your head, speechless, eyes travelling from her toned midriff to her perfect chest, to her hypnotic eyes and the sensual way her hair spills like a red waterfall across her shoulders. This is a dream, it’s not real life, but don’t wake me up ever…

Fortune leans back down, taking your chin in two fingers as she studies your flushed face. You don’t know what she’s looking for, but something in her visage softens a fraction.

“If it’s too much at any point, tell me.”

“If I can talk, I will.” you say, mesmerized by the way her eyes look under the dim light.

Your next liplock is a little less rushed than your previous ones. She takes her time exploring your mouth and you gradually get bolder with where you touch her, fingers grazing up her sides to her stomach, to the underside of her bra.

Her lips leave yours only to burn a trail down the corner of your mouth, across your jawline and to your neck. Deft fingers undo the clasps and pull down the zipper of your white jacket, guiding it past your shoulders without taking it completely off. She definitely has a thing for it. You’d comment on that, too, if you could think about anything other than how good she smells.

Clothes come off while she sucks on your neck, teeth pressing against you just shy of leaving marks. When both of you are down to your underwear and breathing heavy, her fingers caressing dangerously low on your waistline, her lips come near your ear.

“So… I want to make you beg, but I can’t help but feel like I’m already corrupting you a lot.”

Corrupt away. you want to tell her.

“Does that turn you on?” you whisper in her ear and feel her response with how her hips press down harder onto yours.

“Yes.” That breathless admission becomes your undoing.

You get lost in her lips after it and the sensation of her fingers on you –inyou— working you up towards what could be simultaneously your ruin and your salvation. You touch her in turn, filling the room with both your moans and gasps, until that glorious peak of white-hot pleasure where the whole world comes to a stop for a few moments.

There is a time limit to your time together, now and generally, you are aware. But you allow yourselves a few quiet moments together as you lay there with the excuse of catching your breath, even if you already have.

Tough game you’re playing here. The smarter part of your brain says. It’s all too easy to get addicted to having her atop you like this. The better the dream, the more bitter the wakeup.

When Fortune lifts herself off you to slide under her heavy covers, you register the chill of night. You dress almost sluggishly, your body so very exhausted from the activities of the whole day.

Kissing her goodnight is almost an urge you fight under control, not wanting to make her uncomfortable if this was all she wanted out of your dalliance.

“Well, my bunk is calling.” you turn around to tell her, trying not to blush when you see her with her elbow resting on her pillow, cheek cutely pressed on her fist, watching you like a languid cat.

“Hate to watch you leave but I love to watch you go.” she smirks at you.

You roll your eyes. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

…

It is after a long damn day of fighting that you get to finally sit down and enjoy a meal and drinks.

The crew was cold and distrustful towards you at first, but they seem to have opened up more over the course of weeks –especially today, after you secured them a chest filled with gold coins left behind by wealthy people who were running from the wraiths. From the corner of your eye, you subtly watch Sarah Fortune interact with her men, hoping it’s not obvious how badly into her you are.

“So…” Riven begins from the chair next to you and you know that’s not going to be good.

“What?” You face her, playing cool.

“I’m sure you don’t need me to say that she’s bad for you… but I will, anyway.” You give Riven a blank stare that absolutely doesn’t fool her. Shit.

“Like how do you even know.” You finally break.

“It wasn’t obvious since day one there was something there?” Yeah, maybe to everyone except you.

“Wait.” Hold on a second. “Does everyone know?”

“I think everyone except Diana has pretty much figured it out.” That certainly explains the looks Lucian has been giving you all day. Double shit.

“What? The thing between Fortune and Rookie, here?” Diana asks from behind you.

Triple—

“Scratch that. Everyone knows.” Riven tells you. “And we all agree. She’s bad for you.” You hate the emphasis on that. “As in the worst.”

“I getit, Riven, thank you.” You shake your hand in her face while the other covers yours.

“I mean I know ruthless, player redheads who can and will absolutely murder you without a second thought are, like, a kink of yours—”

You don’t think your face gets any redder than this. “What—” you nearly choke on air. “That –how do you figure that out? That’s not even true.”

“Dude. When Katarina Du Couteau was brought into our conversation you nearly gasped and fangirled for the next hour.”

“I just heard a lot about one of our biggest Demacian enemies and wanted to know if it was all true!” you defend yourself.

“You asked me if she’s as hot as rumor has it, not about her war achievements.” Riven laughs.

“And you didn’t answer! Well, is she or isn’t she?” you ask. For… scientific purposes.

“I’m not going to answer that!” Riven lifts her hands up.

“She is.” Graves says as he slides into the seat next to you, drink in hand.

“Thank you!” You pat him on the shoulder.

“We should totally have her join the Sentinels.” he adds.

“Hah!” A vein pops at Riven’s temple. “And the answer will be something along the lines of ‘bold of you to assume I give a single fuck about the world’.” comes the imitation.

“Whoa, that’s exactly how she sounds like.” Graves says.

You’re glad the conversation has shifted away from you, at least.

From the opposite side of the room, you feel a familiar pair of eyes on you, yet they’re averted the second you raise yours to meet them.

…

They may know about your one-time thing with Fortune and heavily scrutinize it, but they still send you in now that they need to ask for more from the captain. With that, your teammates lose every right to comment on what you do and don’t do with her.

“We’ll get you the coin from that ship –well, Graves will, since they already hate him—and you help us out here. Deal?” you ask her.

There. You can be a professional and negotiate terms with the most beautiful woman in the world, who you also happened to have had mindblowing sex with, without constantly looking at her lips.

“Deal, but…” she begins. “You’re sitting all the way over there… why?”

So much for keeping your mind out of the gutter. “Um.” You lick your lips, unsure of what to say, while she smirks slow, like the cat that got the canary.

“Come here.” A pat on her desk, right in front of her chair.

Against your better judgement, you walk around the furniture and lean there, really, really close to her, especially when she stands, towering over you in her heels. You can tell she likes it, too.

“Don’t look at me like that, we leave in ten minutes.” you say. It doesn’t even phase her.

Her fingers move to the zipper of your jacket and although you should stop her, you don’t. “Really?” she leans closer, closer still, until her tantalizing mouth is a hair’s breadth from yours.

“…really. Nine, now.” you waver.

“Guess we have to be fast, then.”

She lightly pushes you onto her desk and starts undoing your belt buckles. The thought of what you’re about to do alone could make you come on the spot. It’s not just the thought that’s threatening to do that, when you feel her cool fingers slide right where you need them.

“You’re going to ditch me for your little Sentinel friends, who don’t like me?” she asks in your ear.

Oh, Gods…

“Ah, I like you enough for all of us, Fortune.” your lips move against her jawline as you speak. A little further down and you can feel how quick her pulse is. You wouldn’t have guessed, with how composed she looks fingering you on her desk.

“Sarah.” she holds your chin with two fingers as she says it, like a secret between you. “Call me Sarah when you come.”

You do.

…

It becomes a nightly thing after that, your visits in her bedroom.

She’s insatiable and she makes everything bothering you go away for those precious hours. But. The more you see of her, you cannot help but feel like something’s very wrong with Sarah.

Underneath the visage of the ruthless captain, the queen who can just reach out and take anything she wants, you see… cracks. She doesn’t sleep well. She drinks. You’re pretty sure you’re another distraction –coping mechanism?— although it doesn’t bother you. She’s the same for you, isn’t she?

It’s not like you have feelings for her.

…Right?

No, no that would be terrible. You definitely don’t. You are allowed to love the way her fingers are running lazy circles on your thigh right now without any sort of complicated emotions involved.

“You should quit while you’re ahead.” she tells you, half muffled into her pillow, stark black against the red of her hair.

This or the Sentinel war? You wonder.

“You have little cuts everywhere. They don’t even have time to disappear before new ones open on top of them.” she moves the back of her pointer to the biggest visible line near your knee, then up your arm, until her hand rests on the crook of your neck. “Leave the others to deal with the mist. It’s not your problem.”

“The world’s problem is my problem. Guess where I lived and what region fell to Viego first.”

You refrain from telling her how many people close to you met his blade before that. How many of the classmates you ate and trained with for four years you had to see skewered by him, on his insane quest for his ‘love’. You don’t want to sour your time together with your burdens. Your pain, your nightmares, are your own to deal with.

“If you keep going you’ll fall to him first.” she counters. “You’ll die protecting one of those idiots in your group or some random civilian.”

“Thanks, Miss Fortune-teller.” you say, a tad irked at her blatant disregard for anyone who isn’t herself.

“I don’t have to be one to tell.” she gives you a sad smile. “It’s always the good ones that die. It’s always the monsters that win.”

You can’t help but wonder…

What made you this way?

…

You see now why emotions are considered a distraction on the battlefield. Even as you kill monsters, all you think about is her.

Come to think of it…

You’ve never seen her smile for real. What you’re looking for is a far cry from those smirks she throws around to bring people to their knees, or the sardonic ones she levels Lucian with. Even those she offers you behind closed doors have a shadow underneath them. It makes you wonder about what would make her happy enough to give a genuine smile.

When you happen across a shipwreck filled with valuables, you think this may be it. The Sentinels take what they need and agree to give the rest to Fortune to stay on her good graces.

Her whole ship lights up with the joy of riches. The crew is ecstatic. Laughter and cheers fill the deck.

And yet.

Her glee is pretend, just for the sake of her men. Her eyes are hollow.

When she eventually retreats to her cabin, you follow her and knock on her door. “It’s always open for you~” she calls from the inside, already in the company of a whiskey bottle.

You turn the key behind you, then lean forward with your hands on her desk, staring at her.

“Why this serious, sexy?” she asks. “Need me to help loosen you up a bit?”

“You need to part with the fetter, Sarah.” you state. “It affects you in ways you won’t notice or understand but it always does.”

“Ah, part with it so you and your crew of misfits can steal it from me? Hmm… no.” she chuckles.

“I care more about what it does to you than the fetter itself right now.” you try again. Only to fail again.

“That’s sweet, but I don’t trust you.” Talk about words being sharper than knives, sometimes. “Don’t take it personally; I don’t trust anyone.”

“What a joyful life this must be.” you bite back.

“Coin is joy for me, sweetheart.” she leans back in her plush chair, taking another swing from the bottle.

“You didn’t seem very happy to me, back there.”

She gives you a look and finally sets the whiskey down. “Come here. I’ll tell you a little secret about me.” she says, a tad more serious than before.

Cautiously, you step around the desk until you’re in front of her seat. Her hand shoots up like a bullet, then, taking hold of your jacket and dragging you down until the two of you are eye-level.

“You know what would really make me happy right now?” You feel her leg move up the inside of yours, deliciously slow, as she speaks… until she hooks her calf behind your knee and makes your weight fall onto it. “For you to shut up about fetters and concerns and go down on me.”

Fuck.

Deep down, to a small part of you not ruled by your hormones, you know using sex to avoid any sort of deeper conversation between you is unhealthy. You know an arrangement where there’s no trust is unhealthy.

Then again, the circumstances that brought you together are anything but healthy.

And what sort of pretty flower can burst forth, really, from a corrupted seed?

…

When you return from your mist-slaying, late in the evening, the crew is uneasy.

“Don’t bother the cap’n right now.” One of the men says. “She ain’t havin’ the best o’ days.”

You later find out that they had a run-in with an enemy fleet. That the Reaver King has resurfaced and is looking to claim Bilgewater for himself. Major shit is about to go down, the bounty hunters tell you and you do not want to be outsiders caught in the middle when it finally hits the fan.

You give Sarah her space until the need to check up on her becomes overwhelming.

One knock on the door. “Leave.” she hisses from within the office like a tensed cat. Another knock. ��You have ten seconds before I put a bullet through your skull!”

“Can’t imagine I’ll be very attractive then.” you reply.

The door swings open; her eyes are the epitome of a raging storm. You’ve never seen her like this, so hateful and distressed… and it hurts to witness. “My ‘leave’ applies to everyone. You, included.”

“Cool.” you nod at her. Pause. “So… can I come in now?”

Sarah throws her hands up in exasperation, pivoting with an angry, whispered ‘whatever’. She paces across her cabin, an agitated lion one step away from pouncing. Her hands run through her fiery hair as though they cannot keep still.

“You need to leave Bilgewater asap and never come back.” You don’t know if she’s talking to you or thinking out loud. “You need to go. With or without the rest of them, I don’t care, just go!”

“What’s… gotten into you?” you dare ask.

“He’s back. He always comes back, no matter how many times I sink the bastard. It’s like he cannot die. He just won’t die!” her voice is raw with her rage. “You Sentinels fight the darkness but you don’t kill evil. Evil will still be here –rooted here— even if you win.”

You open your mouth but can’t find anything to say.

“I have to win my own war. I will be victorious no matter the cost, no matter the bloodshed.” Sarah goes on. “But I need to know that you won’t be here. Do you understand?!”

You just look at her, sad and frozen, trying to understand. There’s nothing you can say to ease what’s hurting her and nothing you can do. You’ve seen this wretched thing eat away at her every day since the moment you met. It’s too deeply engraved in her heart for you to hope to change it; and it has little to do with the fetter in her possession.

Sarah crosses the room in two large strides and grabs your biceps. She looks like she’s ready to throw you off her ship herself…

Until.

She pulls you into her arms, instead.

Tight, like she’s afraid you’ll be gone the moment she lets go, she holds you close. Her head is tucked into your shoulder, her nails press hard into your back. You slowly bring your hands up to encircle her waist in return.

“I’ve lost everything. He took everything from me. I won’t give him the chance to take you away, as well.” she says.

Oh. you think. She cares about you, after all.

If only that was a good thing for either of you.

…

You feel it, when the moment comes.

Maybe you’ve always felt it and just didn’t want to admit it.

When Sarah stands in front of Viego offering the lot of you up along with the fetter in exchange for his ruined power, you know the agony you feel, like a blade splitting you down the middle, is your own doing. There is nobody but yourself to blame for it. The others warned you. Your own instinct warned you.

You didn’t listen.

You wanted to trust her. Maybe even to love her.

But her hatred runs deeper than whatever measly thing you were to her.

As the mist shrouds Fortune and turns her red hair luminescent blonde, as it eats away at her colors until they’re all black and sickly green, until the eyes you knew turn cold and unfeeling, you feel something in you crack. Maybe it’s your faith. Maybe it’s your heart.

There’s a lesson to take from this, you’re sure, despite how your emotions choke you. Right now, though, you focus on avoiding her bullets and having your teammates’ backs in the rain of chaos that follows.

You end up deep in the water, bleeding, defeated. You and the other Sentinels have never been crushed by your losses, but it will take some time to pick up your pieces and continue onward until the end of your war.

You allow yourself one scream muffled in the dark sea.

When you swim to the shore and pull your body out of the mud, you are silent.

“Are you okay? I know that was harder for you than it was for us.” Riven lays a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m fine. I’ll let it hurt after we get Viego.”

For now, you can’t afford taking the pain of a broken heart with you on the battlefield.

Sarah. You later think. Now I understand why hurricanes are named after people.

#miss fortune #sarah fortune #miss fortune x oc #miss fortune x reader #sentinels of light spoilers #league of legends #fanfiction #creative writing #riven

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cajunquandary · 4 years ago

Text

A Beacon to Beasts

AO3 Link (in the works, check back later)

Summary: While Dean is in Purgatory, he comes across some interesting monsters who help him through.

Created for @spndarkbingo

Square Filled: Fornication

Rating: R (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Dean x Reader x Benny

Warnings: Dark Fic. Canon level violence, SMUT (p in v, biting, anal, oral, dp, unprotected sex *dont be silly wrap the willy,* all the smut, also I might be developing a praise!kink here??), angst, traumatic memories. If you squint: suicide, Destiel, Denny

Word Count: 7600

A/N: Originally published in early 2017, this is a total rewrite with the tremendous help of @thinkinghardhardlythinking and @wonder-cole. You talented bitches. I love you.

Lightning spider-webbed across the sky, for a brief moment illuminating every shadow across Purgatory. The forest practically hissed in the unwelcome brightness as the trees whispered amongst themselves. A crack of thunder caused a quake larger than you’d felt in the god forsaken land ever before. It cracked the sound barrier, bent the hellscape reality at all of its slithering edges, and sent a shockwave so powerful it nearly tore apart every cell in your body. With an eerie silence, darkness fell again, and as your eyes adjusted, you could see that the beast attacking you was fleeing the other direction from whence it’d come—no, not fleeing. It was chasing the impact.

Something pulled in your chest like a red-hot meat hook, something that sent sparks of electricity straight into your brain and signaling an overwhelming raw need. You were familiar with such will-crushing lust. Your fangs were proof. But this… this was stronger than anything you’d ever felt before. It nearly drove you mad. You could feel your mind slipping, until you took a step forward, then another, and another. The more you walked towards the source of the prior disturbance, the more sated you felt. The more whole.

It took weeks of fighting others like you and endless backtracking to find the source—a vampire and another beast. It was a bit like a human, but no humans could be in Purgatory. Whatever it was, it was intoxicating.

Your body shuddered at the proximity of the delicious flesh. The warmth. You were merely a moth, drawn to a flame of your own destruction. Your head swam and you reached towards the man, but another fang sped from the shadows opposite you first. This was just enough of a distraction to pull you back from the brink.

You crouched behind a half-rotten tree, only one eye peeking from behind your cover. The human barely had time to react before the fiend had him forced into the well-trodden packed earth. His fall was hard. Your mouth watered as his pulse quickened and echoed through your soul.

The vampire accompanying the human sent the attacker’s head flying so closely that spattered monster blood landed on your hand. The foul stench drove you deeper into the safety of the trunk. You didn’t want to be next.

In this land, the best way to survive was to stay hidden, quiet, so you decided to follow them for the first few weeks, being careful to keep to the shadows. The thirst for the human ebbed and swelled unpredictably. At times, it was all you could do to resist the pulse exposed on his neck, especially when the man slept.

For days you tried to figure out what the other one was, who he was, but damn, was he a monster magnet. You’d been in pretty thick shit before, but never like this. Your cover was nearly blown a few times a day, but you were thankful the two were too busy fighting their own to notice you.

“Damn, man. You’re humanity is gon get us kilt.” The vampire wiped the rancid blood from his blade on the latest dead monster’s shirt.

“Yeah well, as soon as we find Cas, we’re getting the hell out of hell.” A human in Purgatory? How? No wonder there had been such a disturbance. He must have been pulled here by a great force--one that very nearly ripped the entire existence apart.

“Hey brother, I’m startin to think the angel don’t wanna be found. Dean, think about it. Every time we get close, he disappears again.”

“Benny—don’t.” The human stormed away from the vampire. What was going on? A human and an angel? Things must be getting really messy up top.

The vampire, Benny, turned suddenly in your direction, and you closed your eyes, hoping the thick layer of leaves and thorny bushes camouflaged you well enough. It must have, because he merely shrugged and walked after Dean.

This night was the quietest it had been since The Event. It had been hours since the last monster attack and you were almost as exhausted as they looked. It wasn’t long before the men settled down into the dust and a pile of dry brush and began to lightly snore. Usually one stood guard as the other slept, but on this occasion, both must have been too far gone to care.

You crept slowly forward, focused completely on the human. He was so beautiful. The creases of his forehead were reduced to fine lines as he slumbered, slow, tender breath fluttering across weary-pale swollen lips, freckles and mud mixed on his cheeks, hair tousled and bloodied, yet still so soft and shiny. His lashes twitched as he dreamed. You were only a few feet away now, beginning to feel lost in the warmth radiating from him, drunk in the light from his soul.

A sharp pain through your side interrupted your trance and you collapsed into a prickly shrub. Between gulps of agony, you could just make out that you were pinned to the ground with a rough makeshift javelin, reminiscent of a butterfly pinned to a shadow box as you’d owned as a human. You screamed in pain, and if you weren’t already twice dead, you’d worry about losing too much blood.

A pair of boots came into your view. “I smelled you days ago. I know you’ve been followin’ us. Why haven’t you attacked? You workin for someone?”

You looked from under your brows, straining to see if Dean was still where he had been, but found nothing. All you could do was gasp shallowly against the burning splinters. It had been years since anyone had gotten the jump on you like this. The bit of human that was left within you prayed that this was a bad dream, that you would wake in a moment in the gently swaying safety of the treetops.

The javelin was ripped from your aching side, and you screamed again as your organs smacked back together in the loss of pressure. The vampire threw you against the nearest tree. Through the pain that overwhelmed your ability to flee, you watched in utter captivation as the human secured you with heavy, rusted chains.

The latter bent close to your face, piercing green eyes a stark contrast to the caked mud and blood spattered across pale cheeks. “Now look, you piece of shit. I’m gonna waste you like I’ve wasted every damn thing in this place. But first, you’re gonna tell me where the angel is, and why you’ve been following us. If I like your answer, I’ll make it quick. If not… well, I don’t normally like the answers.” He smirked, tilting his head just slightly as if he was considering just how he was going to end you.

You gulped hard knowing the human meant business. You’d seen him firsthand, the violence, the rage. All this man left behind him were wide trails of blood.

You were shaking now, feverish and confused. When had your fangs come out? You retracted them in an attempt to look less intimidating and more cooperative. Between gritted teeth and a gradual tunneling of vision, you managed to respond. “I’ve been tracking you since you arrived. There was this storm, and I’ve felt a pull towards you the whole time. I-I don’t work for anyone, I swear.” His gnarly blade pressed into the soft flesh of your throat now and panic was rising and threatening to close off your throat if the blade didn’t do it first. “I didn’t even know about the angel until earlier today when I overheard you.”

“Well. I don’t think I like your answer.” Dean sliced deeply into your arm, which produced a guttural scream from deep within your core. The blade itself didn’t hurt that bad, but whatever was on it sure did. Benny walked away, knowing what was coming. Benny was a monster—Dean was worse.

“P-please I don’t know, I just know the light—your soul is like a candle in this endless darkness. I’ve been here for so, so long and you feel like home, like safety. I crave your closeness and I don’t know the details of why, but I couldn’t hurt you.”

Benny looked over his shoulder as Dean paused. Something struck a chord. Benny walked back over and pulled Dean slightly off to the side, almost out of earshot.

“Brother, I think she’s tellin’ the truth. We should give this one a chance to talk.”

“Why? She doesn’t know anything about Cas. She’s just another monster in my way.”

“And so was I. We were both human once. Let’s hear her out. She hasn’t even fought back.”

The fatigue and injuries caught up with you. Focusing on the thick red-black ooze streaming from your wounds, sleep was finding you swiftly with your head falling forward, blood-soaked hair in your eyes and chest pulled tight against the restraints.

Dean lifted your chin with the end of his blade, remnants of your internals still glistening on the edge. Your eyes followed the length of his arm to his face where he held you in an unwavering gaze. Those eyes were greener than anything in this world—more than the trees you hid in, the brush around you, or the sparse grass beneath your feet.

You seized your breath and relaxed your tense muscles. If this was finally what wiped you into oblivion, it would be okay, as long as you could stare into those eyes. After all, you were tired of fighting. Your mortal soul had been tired in life, grown wearier after you were turned, another century had passed before you’d been sent here after a hunter took you out. The memory flashed by: how you sat there on your knees, glad to be facing the barrel of the gun after so long that you didn’t even fight. Had you known you’d end up here, you may have fought more to stay topside. But now, you faced oblivion, or so you hoped. This would finally be the end of the suffering, the fighting.

Dean must have read the all-too-familiar look of defeat and acceptance in your face. He lowered the knife, letting your head fall forward again, and caught you in his arms as the chains broke and clattered to the dust.

He leaned you against the base of the tree. You weakly gazed upward through hooded eyes, wanting to see past the leaves to the empty sky, but couldn’t. It was all grisly branches for a hundred feet up.

“Why were you creeping up on me?” Dean pulled your attention back to them.

Battling the unconsciousness that nipped unwaveringly at the corners of your mind, you whispered, “The ache in my chest… the closer I get to you, the easier it is to handle. I wasn’t going to hurt you, I just needed to be... closer.”

“And is this better?” He motioned to the foot’s distance between you.

“Yeah,” You half-smiled through gritted teeth, the pain from your side still throbbing. It wouldn’t kill you. Nothing in Purgatory killed a monster except another monster—usually by beheading. It still hurt like a bitch, though, and left you exposed and vulnerable like a wounded animal.

He pursed his lips and shared a look with Benny, who shrugged. “I’ll stay up and watch, Dean. You get more rest before it starts again. And I’ll watch you, specifically.” The other vampire motioned at you, an intensity behind his blue eyes you could identify with. This human was meant to be protected, no matter the personal cost.

Dean was soon asleep again, his back turned to you.

The earth supporting your broken form was anything but forgiving. But still, you weren’t going to waste time whimpering to yourself now that you were a part of the misfit group. “Benny, where are you from? How long have you been here?” You wondered aloud.

He eyed you suspiciously, pausing before he answered. “I ran with a crew out of Louisiana, but we sailed all over the Americas. Been here a long time.”

You adjusted your position with a grunt. Benny’s hand was already on his weapon. “Calm down, sailor, just tryin to get comfortable... I’m from Shreveport. Been here a long time, too. Only did about two centuries up top, though.”

“Well, I’ve got a few on you then, sister. Shreveport was nice. Rolled through there a few times.” The vampire chuckled at the memory.

Even still, your body had different plans for the evening, and if anything else was said afterwards, you wouldn’t remember. Rest was in the cards that evening, even if your mind protested. Between stretches of sweet nothing, nightmarish memories flashed by in haphazard, non-chronological snippets.

There you stood, on the bridge above deep, twisting waters. Though the wind whipped your hair wildly, you could feel nothing. Not since the day you were bit.

Then you were in the shed on your grandfather’s land, centuries before, when you were young but still so old. Had you ever had a chance? And there were fires and anthills, guns and chains.

Before that one could go where you knew it would, you shot awake. Benny raised a concerned brow in your direction, but you couldn’t face him. Not after that. Within moments, sleep took you once again.

The butterfly pinned in the box. Such a stark contrast was that orange and red and blue against the green felt and the glint of silver pins. You would chuckle at the sight if you could. Tiny fingers traced the outline of the glass.

Then you were on your knees. You didn’t even fight. This? This was the day you died… the second time. By the hands of an inexperienced young hunter who was too focused on fighting with his dad to even notice you there. I mean, he practically tripped over you. The boy looked tall for his age, hazel eyes partially obscured by choppy bangs and mouth pressed into a thin line. He hesitated too long. You’d cocked your head to the side, wondering if he even had it in him to off you, and you almost felt sorry for the kid. Especially when his dad saw. The old black-haired ass berated him, belittled him. Compared him to his older brother. A disgrace, he’d said. Nothing like him, nothing like Mary. When the boy could look you in the eyes, you gave a slight nod as if to say, “It’s okay, I forgive you.” Those bright hazel eyes morphed into the moon cast over a monster wasteland.

By morning’s light, you felt better, somewhat healed, but mostly sore. You and Benny spoke all the while, learned your ins and outs, and caught up on the situation with Dean, the toothy leviathans, the apocalypse (again), the dick angels, and everything else Dean had filled him in on weeks ago. If you weren’t in Purgatory yourself, you never would’ve believed all this. I mean, angels? C’mon.

Sure enough, Benny was right. Beasts continued to attack in waves. There were a few close calls, and not one would speak of the whereabouts of the angel Castiel, though a few tried to save themselves by spouting lies. Dean would see right through them. It only ever took one question. “What color are the angel’s eyes?” A few had gotten lucky and guessed blue, but Dean didn’t even accept that answer. You asked once, what answer he was hoping for. He only shook his head in response.

There were times, though, when he would describe Cas to you in the quiet of night, and it was like listening to a lost lover. Dean gave in after some months and described the angel’s eyes as full of grace, blue, but slightly glowing. And not just any blue, no. The bluest blue you could ever imagine. The purest blue. He spoke longingly about things they’d done, things he wanted to do, wanted to say. Needed to say. You would close your eyes and drift off to him mumbling stories of Cas, the fondness softening his voice.

It was dark again and the almost empty end of a particularly difficult day. You’d all sustained serious injuries from the violent fray that only seemed to become more dense as of late. You and Benny would heal quickly, but Dean wouldn’t… and you worried for him, lingering protectively close.

The weary hunter screamed in time with the monster as he thrust his knife through its eye, his voice echoing long after the lifeless body crumpled in front of him. In a rage, he threw his weapon down, stalking over to a nearby tree. He punched, kicked and threw himself against the bark until he was nearly bloodied beyond recognition. Benny could only look down, powerless to help his friend. Unable to watch any longer, you forced yourself between Dean and the tree. His eyes were closed until his bruised fists struck soft skin stretched over bone, the unexpected change in texture catching him off guard. You winced against it but grabbed his jacket in both hands, balling your own fists into it to hold him firmly in place. Jerking him forward until you were nose to nose, breath and blood mixing, you growled, “We will find him, Dean. But not if you kill yourself first.”

“Y-you sound like him,” His voice cracked and his head fell to your shoulder. You could feel his tears, hot on your frozen skin. This world was so cold and it never ceased to amaze you how he kept his warmth. You held him tightly, even as his knees buckled and swayed. By the state of those green eyes, you could see resignation and defeat creeping up on him.

You shared a look with Benny, and he knew, too. “I’ll keep watch. You make him rest, cher.” You’d come to learn that Benny preferred to keep watch from all the years he’d had to watch his own backside here. You’d survived in hiding, while he’d made a name for himself—a killer, like Dean (not that either of them ever wanted to be.) You had to give it to him, though. After all, you’d tried to fight off everything in the beginning, but it was too tiring, like living was. So instead, you learned to thrive in shadows and whispers, moving like a ghost through whispers of the trees.

You were grateful for the moment alone with the warm beacon of a man, though. If the electricity across your skin anytime you touched the human indicated anything, it was a confirmation of your heart’s longing. You kept him pulled flush against your chest, his heartbeat so strong that it reverberated through your body. You focused on the feeling. How many centuries had it been since you felt your own beating? Dean’s was so strong it could surely support you both, you thought.

With a groan, Dean pulled the two of you down into a horizontal heap. You couldn’t make out the details of his face in the dark abyss of night, but his heart rate had shifted notably, along with his breathing. His anguish was palpable and you couldn’t help but to take some of it on as your own. He exuded it, it leaked from every pore.

Supple lips brushed against yours, and you closed your eyes, slowly guiding one hand to his back above you and the other through his hair. It was as soft and silky as you’d hoped it was. You pulled just slightly, allowing your nails to gently spread and retract in circular motions. Dean clenched, the softest sounds carrying on the thick night air. Smiling at the reaction, you carded through the messy spikes and repeated the measure for several moments before Dean crashed into you, with his sudden need matching yours. Every kiss grew deeper, longer, and your tongues began to wrestle gently but urgently between locked lips. He grabbed at you hungrily with a certain ease, unable to hold back anymore, with palms stroking openly up and down your torso, until they slipped below your core.

You both pushed and pulled, wallowed and rolled, careful of injuries but powerless to pull away, fighting to get closer. You helped him slip from his leather jacket, and he groaned into your mouth with a tantalising mixture of pain and pleasure. The sound made you shiver, and you hastily removed yourselves from worn and tattered pants, breaking only for a moment.

“Shh, Dean,” you whispered next to his ear. He nodded, understanding that even in this embrace, you were exposed and hunted. But with skin on skin, it was difficult to keep logic and sanity at the forefront of your mind.

Dean slowed his pace and shifted until you were straddling him. With a touch so light it tickled, he let his hands trace every angle of your body, until he felt the latest wound and drew back suddenly.

“It’s okay,” you breathed into his gaping mouth.

“No, I-- I’m sorry.” His voice was feeble, desperate.

Taking his hand in yours, you placed it back where it’d been. It was a small gesture, but the effect it had on Dean was profound. With both hands now, he clutched your sides so tightly, it sent swells of something delicious straight to your center, before rippling out to every nerve ending exposed to the cool air, and then some.

Just as you began to give in, a rustle from only several feet away snapped you back to reality. You shot up upon bare feet, weapon already in your hand as you scanned the malevolent shadows for the source, listening and feeling for any shift in the air. Dean lay frozen by your feet, head still spinning in weakness and lust.

In a swift turn on the balls of your feet, you faced the intruder, ready for war.

“It’s just me, cher. I heard something and wanted to make sure you two were okay.” As Benny took in the situation, he laughed softly. “Sorry to interrupt. I’ll be over there…”

With an annoyed frown, you allowed your stance to go slack. “Thanks.”

Dean touched your leg, leaning in to kiss it lightly before planting a little nibble at your ankle. You slipped back down next to him, gasping when he quickly found your neck and nipped along your clavicle to the sweet spot in the hollow of your neck.

He was shaking slightly under the strain, but lifted himself atop you. To help keep him steady, you placed your hands on his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his torso. With a grateful kiss, he traced his tongue across your bottom lips as he lined himself at your entrance.

His tip sank into your soaked folds and his resulting keen made you tremble beneath him, itching for more. “Dean, p-please…”

“What do you want?”

You rotated your hips against his, fighting to make him move. “Please, fuck… Dean I need you. Need more.”

Your begging tore his resolve to shreds and he sunk into you, stretching and filling you like nothing ever before. Your back arched at the sensations as they nearly overwhelmed you, drowning out the hell around you and leaving only Dean. Your heavy breathing barely registered as you whined his name. A shallow shriek betrayed you. Dean placed a calloused hand over your mouth, and it only drove you more mad.

As he bottomed out and began short but powerful thrusts, tears gathered at the edges of your eyes. Everytime, he hit that sweet spot. Everytime, you whimpered into his hand and dug your fingers into his flesh tighter. Everytime, he moaned in response.

It wasn’t long before those slow, drawn out jolts coiled you so tight you could barely contain yourself. Dean could sense the change as you began to rub against him, allowing the friction to take you over the edge. Right as you fell off into a fierce and roiling sea of ecstasy, Dean replaced his hand over your mouth with his own, swallowing your choppy breaths as you twitched and spasmed beneath him.

Still lost in the swell, you felt the hunter release and fall, spent, onto your chest. You managed to wrap your arms around him and held him steadfastly, not ready to let go. It was incredible to watch Dean unravel and relax for the first time. In fact, it’d just become your favorite drug.

Unknown to the broken lovers, a pair of “gorilla-wolves” attempted to interrupt throughout the steamy romp in the leaves, but Benny quickly took care of them. The nasty things wouldn’t have gotten as close as they had, but the vampire had been distracted by the sinfully delicious sounds coming from the far side of the tree. He’d tried to ignore it at first but found his mind wandering. It’d been ages since he’d felt the touch of another being, and the want rose up in him, a fire in his stomach.

You panted next to Dean when he rolled to the side, your injuries far from mind in the lasting rapture from being one with the human. His breathing was still ragged, but slowing. The wound on the back of his shoulder had reopened. Begrudgingly , he let you patch it again. Once dressed, you fell back to the sorry bed of leaves. Dean nuzzled into your side and let out a pained sigh as sleep found him. You could’ve sworn you heard the faintest “Don’t let me die here…” fall from his lips. Your grip on him tightened. You’d get him out if it killed you. But first, you had to find that elusive angel.

It was another month of the same routine. Days and nights ran together. The closer you got to the angel, the denser the swarm of monsters was. Even Benny seemed to be on his last leg. You offered to keep watch this time. At first Benny protested, but you shut him down.

“It’s broad daylight out here. I can see them coming from far enough off, I can give you plenty of time to wake up and fight if I can’t handle it. Don’t worry.”

He didn’t feel like protesting too much, and finally nodded, sad blue eyes locking on yours in a silent promise of trust in comradery.

A few hours passed, and you stood to stretch. A twig snapped behind you, and you twirled quickly, your knife to Benny’s throat. His hands raised. “Sorry cher, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Nearly lost your fool head. Why aren’t you resting?” You dropped your arms and stood next to the vampire, staring out through the forest again, scanning. Listening.

“I rested enough.”

“Right, that’s why you have to use that tree to support yourself.” His lips pressed into a hard smile, electric eyes dropping to the ground. When he looked back up, something in them had changed. He reached towards you, hesitant, and brushed the wavy mess of hair from your face behind your ear, hand gently gliding across your jaw until his thumb rested on your lip.

You closed your eyes and shuddered under the vampire’s touch. It was more familiar than Dean’s. You leaned into it, following as it guided you into his embrace. He was larger than Dean and still smelled of the swamp and sea. The scent was intoxicating, dragging all of your attention to Benny.

He pulled back for a moment and cradled your face in the large, thick hands of a sailor. “You okay with this? Don’t want you to feel pressured, darlin’.”

“Mm not pressured,” you smiled up into those spirited sharp blue eyes. You lost yourself in them, completely ensnared. You could see past them, to cerulean glittering waters, could feel the lapping of them against your old boat, hear the seagulls and crows chattering as they glided on heatwaves, taste the salt on your tongue.

You stretched up on your tiptoes, craning to taste the salt on his lips, feel the waves in the way his tongue twists. Benny must have felt the same, as he met your parted lips in a feverish kiss, maneuvering you effortlessly between himself and the tree for support until he was rutting into you.

The touch was bittersweet and starved, driving both of you as you stripped away layers. Benny pressed into you until the bark bit into your back and arms. You knocked the hat from atop his head to get closer, to guide him in, and he responded by taking the thin flesh of your neck into his mouth. Fangs drug thin scratch lines over your chest and shoulders, followed by sucking kisses. Benny grunted as he settled next to your ear, the growing bulge in his remaining trousers becoming almost painful in the restriction.

Sensing this, you moved to loosen the last piece of his clothing until it slumped to his ankles, all the while raw, needy noises spilled from your mouth. If only you’d found each other topside, things would have been better. You wouldn’t have let that young, long-haired hunter boy and his grumpy father kill you.

In one smooth move, Benny hooked his fingers into your jeans and slid them off, until you were completely free of them. With lust in your eyes, you found his full lips once more. You bit and sucked at his bottom lip until he was throbbing against you and whispering your name in short breaths in desperation.

With a slight adjustment in position, he grabbed your ribcage and lifted you just enough to line himself at your entrance. Hungrily, you raised your knees and rested them on his sides. You dug your nails into his shoulders in anticipation, but he didn’t keep you waiting long. With a final shift of his angle, Benny slid into you unrestrained.

His pace was unforgiving. He was rougher, more desperate, yet somehow more controlled than Dean. Pain was something you both knew too well, and found pleasure in at this moment. Neither of you had to hold back in fear of hurting the other.

Benny muttered a long string of praises as he placed his cheek on yours and relished in the fragmented breaths and mewls leaking from your gaping mouth.

Between the friction to your front and the sharp ache in your back, the intense set of his pace brought unwanted tears to the corners of your eyes. Before you knew it, he had you biting back a scream as you came in his arms, your back digging into the tree as he held you through it. You sank your teeth into his neck, drawing blood and pushing back the sharper set as they threatened to emerge. He snarled into your ear and released, standing for a moment, relishing in your closeness.

For a time, you just remained in that position as he softened inside you, foreheads resting fondly on each other.

Dean stirred, grumbling as he woke. With a silently shared promise to continue the embrace another day, the two of you straightened yourselves back out and rounded the tree to greet the sleep-starved human.

Over the next two weeks, the three of you grew much closer. Sometimes in between attacks, you took solace in each other. Most times it was talk, but when words were too difficult and your bodies needed to feel something… else, something primal and good and pure, they would pass you between them, never straying too far.

Benny's eyes would always drift and land upon Deans. It intoxicated him, pulled at his heart in ways that tore him apart. Deep green eyes, full of hope and goodness and humanity… something fragile yet unbreakable, much like what he once saw in Andrea’s. Just like Andrea’s. As much as he tried to put her memory to rest, Dean’s gaze would always take his breath, whether they were fighting or fucking, and the feelings that washed over Benny were wild and raw.

You ventured off to scout ahead one day, leaving Benny to help Dean walk after a surprise run in with a gorilla wolf didn’t fare so well. Those things sure liked Dean. Could you blame them? As you cleared the spaces ahead, you reminisced on the first time it happened.

It’d started innocently enough, some kissing and tender touches traded between you and Dean. You craved comfort, and his touch never disappointed. The fading daylight illuminated something… different, something new in his eyes. There was a spark of acceptance? Resignation? You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but for some reason the usually tightly wound hunter was relaxed. His movements were delicate and slow, a stark contrast to the usual quickie on the run.

You nearly lost your balance when he stripped your pants away and traced deliberate sucking kisses down to your sweet spot. You’d had to catch yourself from falling over at the heady sensations, threading your hands into his hair and holding on for dear life (or death.) Within moments, Benny swooped in to support you from behind, snaking a strong arm around your stomach as Dean began to lick and hum and stroke you in ways you’d never felt. Your blood burned like fire, causing every inch of your skin to become more sensitive.

Benny brushed the hair from your shoulder with his free hand, then took a fistful of it and guided your head back. With a contented sigh, he took your exposed neck into his mouth and you twitched violently between the shivers running down and the heat rising up. The contrast of Dean’s soft lips to the burn of his stubble mirrored that of the rough, blood soaked fabric of Benny’s jacket against the smooth of your skin… and it drove you mad. Your vision swelled with every wave and the sounds of the cursed world around you faded as if cotton had been shoved in your ears.

Your legs gave way and you fell into Dean’s lap as he chuckled, watching you come undone. The orgasm hit you somewhere along the way down, untouched but wound so tightly that you couldn’t hold out another moment.

While you writhed against him, Dean held you securely to his chest with arms that crushed into your ribs and pinned your arms to your sides. Your head finally came to rest upon his shoulder, and as your senses eased back into focus, you realized that you were completely laid down upon his bare chest. Still buzzing from the high, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck and laid a small peck. Dean’s resulting smile stretched wide, and you could feel it there without even needing to see it.

“You okay, baby?” Dean gently stroked your back up and down with one hand, and moved to tangle strong fingers in your hair to hold the base of your head tenderly with the other.

When you found your voice, you muttered a small, “yeah, thank you.”

Benny kneeled beside you and lowered his face until your foreheads met, the three of you so impossibly close. “You up for some more, sugar?”

You smiled wryly and closed your eyes. “Yeah, I’m all yours.”

Though your limbs were but heavy gelatin, you managed to lift out of your shirt as the men undressed. Pulling Dean’s discarded coat over you like a blanket, you rested against a fallen tree and admired them. Dean was more slender, but faster and stronger. The way his muscles rippled and creased beneath pale, freckled skin reminded you of a swimmer--all lean and mean. He was graceful in every movement, like a dancer. Benny was a little more solid, built like a tank. Maybe he wasn’t as fast, but there was no going through him. You’d seen beasts hit him straight on with full power, and the vampire had barely flinched. Those fists could break anything, but his face was always… soft. Kind. Dean’s was hardened, but you couldn’t blame him. And yes, there were moments, like this, where the lines of his face smoothed, and some color returned to his cheeks.

How you’d ever found Heaven in this Hell, you’d never come to understand. But you were ever grateful. Hopeful for a future with them topside, however it may go.

Dean’s outstretched hand pulled you from your daydream. You took it, letting the jacket go as he helped you stand. As you stood, he continued to pull you forward until you were flush with him. He pressed a firm kiss to your scalp and rubbed his palms up and down your body. His cock twitched against your belly, and you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing just a little tighter at the new flood of arousal.

Benny snaked his arms around you from behind, until his hands rested on your neck, not gripping, but just *there.* The weight of them naturally guided your head to fall back against his chest. He growled into your ear, “You’re so fucking beautiful. So good for us, cher.”

Your mouth fell agape and released a strangled moan as Dean kissed along your exposed neck and mumbled a steady stream of “You’re such a good girl for us, such a good fighter, a great companion.”

With every word, a new fire raged through your veins. Your face burned hot. Dean’s hands wandered south, caressing every inch passionately. One hand found its home grasping your thigh right under your ass, and the other came to rest in your dripping folds. You bucked against the touch and right into Benny’s length resting between your cheeks.

You whimpered, needing more, needing release. “D-Dean please, fuck. I need you. I want you inside me, please--unnghh.”

Dean teased your entrance for a moment more before the wrecked look on your face and the subtle, high pitched sounds spilling from you completely enraptured him. Benny nodded, moving his hands to steady your sides as you squirmed uncontrollably. With a swift movement, you were raised up with both of Dean’s hands cupping and spreading your ass until he lined up at your folds and let you sink down much too slowly.

Pathetic cries filled the air as you struggled to maintain control, the stretch of him almost too much to handle and not nearly enough all at once. You shook and grabbed at anything you could hold with a flutter in your chest that threatened to make you implode. And yet, the intense feelings only grew. Benny planted himself and anchored with a strong arm outstretched and clutching to Dean’s shoulder.

Dean bit his lip fiercely and let out a pained groan at the other man’s unyielding hold on him. His cock twitched again as he bottomed out deep inside you. The depth burned and ached, and with it your eyes came to focus on Dean’s.

The emerald green was more prominent now, outlined by the hot blush beneath a spray of freckles. His brows were drawn tightly and jaw slack, full, pink lips parted in bliss. His breathing was erratic, and with every intake of cool evening air, Dean trembled.

You mewled and whined, shifted against them, desperate for friction. The slightest broken smile graced the hunter’s face and he nodded, knowing but not yet ready.

Tears already began to gather as you fought the urge to physically fight the men into submission, to finally scratch that itch. Benny didn’t leave you waiting much longer though, before he was slipping and pushing into place in your ass. The deliberate burn of him spreading you open opposite Dean left you thrashing between them.

Dean took a deep breath in as a reminder for you to do the same. If it weren’t for him grounding you and helping you through, the black void would’ve already sucked you in as another victim. You did your best to relax and bore down, allowing Benny to fill your other hole completely to his base.

The vampire grimaced through his own keening, the tightness of you nearly sending him over the edge right there and then. You stilled between them, already on the verge of destruction as the three of you adjusted to the new feelings washing over you in waves.

Dean’s lips found yours, open and wanting. Taking his tongue hungrily into your mouth, you sucked and fell absolutely limp as he sucked your lower lip between his. The scent of him was utterly intoxicating, and you were ready once more.

Benny began to move in tandem with Dean. With every movement of the both of them against your thin membrane, a wailing cry seeped between your clenched teeth. Benny was now clutching both of Dean’s shoulders so tightly that were white bloodless patches beneath each of his fingertips. This made Dean buck harder until the hunter’s eyes shut tightly and left his head bobbing backwards in lust.

The symphony of your cries was lost beneath those of the two men, who shuddered and swayed. The sweet, sinful music flooded your mind and sent you reeling over the edge once more, clenching and swearing and falling against Benny’s outstretched arm.

Dean’s thrusts faltered as his stuttered, “I’m.. I’m about to--”

“Just let go, brother,” Benny encouraged.

It was the only confirmation Dean needed before his load spilled into you, sending renewed longing to your stomach as he pulsed inside you. “Fuck Dean,.. You feel so good,” you managed.

Benny came seconds later, and you relished in the full warmth of them.

You smiled to yourself as the familiar electricity flooded your veins and leaked to your core. It may have been the first time, but every time since had only been… better. Impossibly, incredibly better.

Upon your return, you noticed that Dean had found new strength.

“We’re closer than ever to Cas, he’s three days away by the river. We’re almost done! We can go home!” Dean was grinning widely, a spark finally back in his tired eyes.

You smiled, scooping him into a rough embrace. If Dean was happy, you were happy. Benny joined you in the bear hug. You were so ready to be topside again, and now, it was so close you could just taste it.

Your second chance.

With a start, Benny hollered and let go, leaving Dean tense and alert in your arms. Then, he threw you to the side as a beast attacked. Its whole face morphed into a shark-tooth ringed mouth, and you grimaced.

Leviathan. You must’ve been really close to that angel.

You drew your weapon as one engaged you, swung and lopped its head off easily after years of practice, until something glinting and sharp emerged where it should not have been.

You looked down, the blade bloodied and protruding through your chest, through your lungs. Unable to draw a breath, you fell to your knees.

“No!” Both Benny and Dean were yelling, voices echoing through the hostile forest. Black ooze covered them from the slain monsters. You looked up as your assailant withdrew the sizable knife from your back and placed it against your neck. It was another vampire. You looked back to the boys.

“You killed our sister, so now we’re gonna kill yours,” the voice behind you teased in a sing-songy tone. More boots shuffled into your line of view.

Benny looked absolutely broken as he charged, extra teeth bared sharply in defiance. Dean bounded to you, holding your gaze with those emerald green eyes as he expertly dodged the advances of his adversaries.

Once again, your breath was seized and you relaxed your tense muscles. If this was finally what wiped you into oblivion, it would be okay, as long as you could stare into the comforting depths of that hunter’s eyes. After all, you were tired of fighting…This would finally be the end of the suffering. To oblivion. The warmth from Dean’s soul flooded over you as he got closer, but it was too late.

Your head rolled from your body.

Dean decimated the group of vampires in record time, the rage fully restored and urging his body forward against all odds. Once again, the hunter had become more vicious than any monster in the land. In two days, he would limp to the river and find his angel.

You, however, woke on the other side of Purgatory. Oblivion was not something that would ever come for you. There would never be a release. Despair, overcoming any hope you ever had, creeped its dark tendrils through your entire being and swiped your feet from underneath you. So that’s what happens to monsters who die in monster heaven… they get respawned and zapped to another part. Great. You were stuck in hell, too far away now to reach them in time. One day you would find a way out. You had to. But first, you would have to find the strength. Strength you may never have again. You curled into a ball, mind silent as you gave into the feeling, a single, small tear streaking a thin line from your eye into the dust.

You were alone. Again.

Your second chance gone along with the human and his friends.

This was my second attempt at writing smut and maybe I got carried away??

WAYWARD PEEPS:

@carryonmywaywardcaptain @manawhaat @supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79-blog @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @inmysparetime0 @impala-dreamer @arryn-nyxx @idk-life01 @attorneyl @deathtonormalcy56 @xwing-baby @wonder-cole @itsangelpie-supports @thinkinghardhardlythinkingogblog@icecream-and-gadreel

ANGST BABES:

@trexrambling @abbessolute @emptywithout

ALL ABOUT THAT DEAN:

@akshi8278 @will-winchester

#spndarkbingo #2020-21 #beacon to beasts #dean x reader #benny x reader #dean x reader x benny #smut #read the warnings #chris writes sometimes #supernatural #spn fanfic #spn smut #dean smut #benny smut #dean winchester x you #benny lafitte

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cycat4077 · 5 years ago

Text

A Quiet Night Out

Part 4 of the Changes verse (though it’s pretty stand alone if a series isn’t your thing). (Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3)

Pairing: Sonny x Reader Warnings: fluff Words: 1291 Summary: Sonny has to work the night-shift on New Year's Eve, ruining your plans for a quiet night in... But perhaps a quiet night out will work just as well. (Set New Year’s 2015/2016 during season 17) AO3 here

"I'm sorry, doll," Sonny mumbles drearily into the phone. "The schedule just came out ‘n they have me workin' the night shift New Year's Eve." He can probably hear your shoulders slump all the way from his desk at the precinct. "I know we wanted ta spend a quiet night in together, but I can't exactly ask ta switch when I'm the only one who doesn't have kids." "It's okay, Sonny," you assure him trying to sound upbeat. "Such is life. We'll just celebrate another time." He hums in agreement before lowering his voice. "You don’t know how much I was lookin' forward to kissin' you at midnight." A wave of heat rushes over your face and something in your stomach flutters. "Me too," you whisper.

"Good news is that it should be a relatively quiet shift. The case volume will only start pickin’ up after the festivities end." His words spark an idea but you decide to keep it quiet for now. "Hey, maybe you could call me if you're not too busy and we could chat instead." Sonny's tone perks up. "Yeah! That sounds like a great plan! Ehh, Lieu needs me now. I'll phone ya later." "Bye and be safe," you call out. "Always. Bye, doll." The line clicks off and your phone chimes, signalling the end of the conversation. The next couple of days roll by until it's finally New Year's Eve. Sonny texts you midmorning, informing that he’s attempting some shut-eye before his shift. While you do miss the communication, the alone time is actually perfect because you have a plan and need time to prepare...

-x-

How's the shift going?

You hit send a few minutes after 9pm as you stand twiddling the apple pendant around your neck. You get an answer back immediately.

So sloooow! Wish I was with you instead :(

A grin parts your lips, taking his message as your cue to climb the steps to the NYPD. The elevator dings open to an empty hallway, leading you around the corner to the 16th precinct. You spot Sonny alone at his desk, drumming his fingers and staring at his phone awaiting your reply. "Special delivery," you say, holding up the grocery bag in your hand. Sonny's head whips around to the familiar sound of your voice. A smile rapidly spreads across his face as he leaps up from his seat. "Hey!" "I know we wanted a quiet night in, but I hope a quiet night out will work just as well." He doesn't answer but instead comes over and wraps you in a swaying hug, walking you backwards towards his desk. "You're tha best," he speaks into your hair. Smirking, you wriggle in his arms to look up at him. "You haven't even seen what I brought though!" Sonny sets you free and you place the bag on his desk. "Firstly, I made some cookies. Chocolate chip and gingersnaps." Sonny nabs the container, pops the lid and inhales deeply. "Mmmmm," he hums with closed eyes. "But what goes best with cookies?" you ask in a sing-song voice. "Hot cocoa, of course!" You then produce a tin of hot chocolate mix and a packet of marshmallows from the bag. "Yes!" exclaims Sonny with the excitement of a little kid. "Lemme put the kettle on ‘n grab a couple mugs!" He jogs to the break room and you snicker at his enthusiasm. Pulling up a chair next to his, you shrug off your winter coat and take a moment to scan the squad room. It's been a while... Once the water is boiled and your steaming hot chocolates are topped with marshmallows, the two of you nibble - well, more like scarf down - cookies and chat. It's funny how you still find things to say to one another, but that's how it is with Sonny: you can discuss serious issues or ramble about absolutely nothing at all and it feels effortless. Time flies by and somehow the conversation turns quite random. "Eighties hair needs to make a comeback," you state with conviction, waving a half-eaten cookie around to emphasize your point. "What?!" spurts Sonny. A couple crumbs tumble onto the desk. "You're jokin', right?" "No! It was great! Admittedly they used too much hairspray, but some of the guys had really luscious locks." "Am I gonna need to grow my hair out, doll?” Sonny raises an eyebrow to his wisecrack. “I mean, it'd take a lot more gel to hold it all, but I'd do it for you." With that you erupt into a laughter that causes an involuntary snort. You cover your mouth in shock, trying to gauge Sonny's reaction. That wasn't lady like at all. But Sonny fails to hold it together when he hears the sound and a lets out an almighty sputter. His laughter only launches you into a deeper giggle fit, effectively leaving the two of you doubling in your seats. The need for air finally quells the hilarity and when you glance up at Sonny, you find his eyes crinkling at the corners over an affection-laden smile. "I love you," he says, blue eyes holding yours in their gaze. Your heart jumps to your throat and the words I love you, too spring from your lips. Sonny reaches for your hand. "Dunno why we haven't actually said that before." "I guess we just already knew," you suggest, heart thundering in your chest. "Most definitely," he agrees while rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. Your eyes shift down to where your hands meet only to notice the time on his watch. Clasping onto Sonny's hand, you get up and tug him gently to follow. You cross the squad room towards a window, the lanky detective bumbling along behind you. You stare through the glass to find a city bathed in light. Snow blankets the rooftops and large fluffy flakes twirl around the streetlamps. In the distance you pinpoint the center of every New Yorker's attention: Time's Square. "It's almost midnight," you say, glancing over at Sonny beside you. He places one hand carefully to the small of your back while raising the other wrist so you both can watch the clock. Together you quietly count down the seconds, smiles growing after every number. "Happy New Year, doll," he says when the clock strikes twelve. "Happy New Year, Sonny," you reply affectionately. He then places a finger under your chin and tips your head upwards for a kiss. It's tender and sweet and brimming with love. "Mmm, cookies 'n cocoa," he teases, nibbling on his lip. You give his arm a playful swat. "Y'know, Mister..." a phony stern tone laces your voice while you poke a finger at his chest. "Now that we've both said it, expect to hear it a lot!" A puzzled Sonny scrunches his nose. "Huh?" "I love you," you explain and Sonny's brows raise in understanding. Maybe it's the romantic aura of New Year's Eve, but something causes you to pour out even more of your heart. "I've loved you since the summer." Sonny runs a hand down your arm, arriving at your hand to give it a squeeze. "I've loved you since then too. And I'll neva get tired of hearin’ you say it or sayin' it myself either!" You can't help but chuckle. "God, we're corny!" "Mmhmmm," he agrees with a smile and a wink. "But at least we're well matched!" Brilliantly colored fireworks begin to pop off over the skyline, drawing you both to watch the show. Sonny gathers you in close and you nestle yourself under his arm. Laying your head against his chest, you hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

What a way to start off a new year…

-x-

Part 5 here :)

#Sonny Carisi #Sonny Carisi x Reader #sonny x reader #svu fanfic #law and order svu #My fanfic #A Quiet Night Out #Sonnyshine of my life #The Changes verse

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funkymeihem-fiction · 6 years ago

Text

Special Delivery- Chapter 5

Mei looked up in a very guilty way from where she was crouched in front of the completely dismantled old television, its mechanical guts strewn on the floor. She’d rigged up a very crude semblance of a screwdriver from a connector tube,a rod, and several wires-- which she foolishly went to hold behind her back like a child caught with candy. And much like a child caught in the act, with their hand in the proverbial cookie jar, she sputtered and tried to make up some story or other.

“O-oh. I was just…I was—” She looked down at the mangled wires, projectors, and television bits in her lap. “I was only—”

The junker stormed across the room in a few long limping strides, glaring down at her and thrusting his metal hand out in a very accusatory way. “No! Bad girl! Give!”

At a loss when faced with someone scolding her like a dog, she dropped the makeshift screwdriver into his hand. His lower jaw thrust out thoughtfully as he turned it around, inspecting it with a keen eye. Slowly, his wild eyebrows lifted again, glancing between the tool and her and then back again. His fingers tested the wires around the tube’s hold, and he uttered a little ‘hmmm’ as he bent over and peered into the now-gutted TV.

After a moment, he turned to her with his crazy grin restored. “Yooouuu were trying to make an outie!”

“A-a what?”

“An outie! Ya know, trying to make an external signal! Tryin’ for an outward-facer, weren’t you? Lookit that, I see where you were pokin’ around behind the control receiver. Lucky for me, removed that thing ages ago. Needed it for something else, can’t remember what. It’s remote-workin’ only. Still, the fact you even knew where to look! Oh you clever little cunt, going to make an outie from my own telly. You’re something special, you are.”

Her eyes darted. She wasn’t used to being called a cunt, even in the Australian friendly sense. But he didn’t even seem angry at her. And even though she couldn’t keep up with his rapid slang entirely, he was right about the part about where she was trying to get an external signal. The tech here was so ancient that they still used old channels for uploading and ordering over the television, and she’d hoped that maybe if she could pry out the external, she could have rigged it to find a way online.

She’d expected him to be angry, or even possibly try to punish her when he found out, but at least she could have gotten a message for help. Overwatch might not have paid the junkers like Junkrat had hoped, but she would have been rescued (properly rescued, anyway) sooner than later. It was a calculated risk, and she had decided to take it.

But the inside of the television had been a mess before she’d even started it. It looked like someone, probably Junkrat had himself, had already taken it apart and cobbled it back together several times over. And the parts she’d needed had long been pried out, with a bypass and some wires hot-glued so the display still worked. But her plans to get the signal out had been thwarted before she’d even begun. It was as he’d said. The external had been ripped out ages ago, and she’d been poking around for anything else before he’d walked in on her.

He suddenly flopped down to sit on the mattress next to her, peg leg clattering and the joints within his arm whirring very faintly as he passed her makeshift screwdriver back to her. “Tell you what, love! You put it all back together again so I don’t miss any games, and I won’t even be pissed at ya much. That’s what a proper hero would do, roight? Although you’re really working at being the top worst houseguest I’ve ever hosted, and that’s really sayin’ something..”

Mei looked away in a rather guilty way. “I’m sorry, Mr. Fawkes. But I just needed to try and call my friends and tell them I’m okay. If they can get here, I’ll try to get them to give you some money and we’ll just leave, and then there won’t be any more trouble for either of us, right? It’ll just take them a day or two, and you’ll get paid. That’s what you want, right?”

He sputtered a little, running a hand through his filthy scorched hair. “W-well that’s not entirely…Asides, that’s not even the point!” He shoved one of the television parts into her other hand. “I been trying to tell you, there’s a reason we’re layin’ low with you. And I don’t need a bunch of cops or whatever suddenly runnin’ up outside my trailer and broadcasting to all of Junkertown that I was the one that stole you from the Big Boss!”

She pushed the rods back into place, twisting awkwardly at a loose wire. “What if I told them to be very quiet about it? Or maybe I could meet them somewhere?”

“You think the Queen don’t have eyes all over the bloody Outback?” he scoffed, holding the frame steady for her. “You don’t understand my position, love. Me and the Queen don’t exactly uh…Well, y’know. Not always the friendliest terms, me and her and kind of all the rest of ‘em too! So that’s why we’ll just take you out when it’s safe, take our pay, and scuttle back. Stealth mission! That’s still the plan. The Boss will be none the wiser, and then you can get back to whatever not-doctor stuff you do, and I can use some of the pay to visit you in China!”

Mei frowned at him, gathering up more screws and trying to replicate the mess that had held together the guts of the screen before. “I’m not really living in Xi’an anymore. That’s just where I’m from. I’m living in—” She trailed off, and realized all of a sudden that she had no idea where she was anymore. She had drifted ever since awakening in Antarctica, but where was home now? Gibraltar? She had turned Overwatch down for now, although Winston had told her there was always a place for her there. The environmental commissions had offered her numerous places to study and lodge, but she didn’t count them as a home. Her hotel room back in Sydney, maybe? No, that was silly…

Junkrat sniffed, looking a tad offended when she went silent. “Still feelin’ tight-lipped, are we? S’fine. You don’t gotta tell me.”

“I-it’s not that…”

He reached past her, crossing two of the wires and twisting them together. “Point being, darl, is that you just gotta suck it up and wait. And believe me, nobody hates waitin’ more than I do! But I can’t have you settin’ off and getting us seen by the Big Boss who ordered you. He’ll send enough manpower out here t’make a statement that nobody steals from him. And he won’t even get the chance to kill me, because Roadie will have already done it, for makin’ trouble for him!”

“Mr. Fawkes, it’s not my intention for anyone to get hurt. But can’t you at least let me tell someone that I’m safe? That I’m coming back and I’m okay?”

“Eh, they’ll just find out when we deliver you safe n’ sound, is what!” he replied cheerfully, apparently just not understanding her distress. “So it’s no worries. But you just— well, no way to say it lightly, is there? If you fuck this up for us, there’s a good chance that we’re dead as doornails. You just gotta be a good girl and sit tight and listen to what I say.”

She rankled a bit, pausing in her work, and her displeasure must have showed because Junkrat offered her that goofy grin and shrugged a bony shoulder.

“Nothing for it!” he said. “Otherwise it’s curtains for me and Roadie, and the Big Boss will find you again. Oh, and he won’t be happy, darl. Course, we’ll be dead but he’d take you alive, so he’ll probably take it out on you for giving him trouble and making him look bad. He’s that sort of a bloke. You think the ankle cuff there’s bad? Yeah, nah, I bet he’s already got a set-up ready for you. Probably tie you up an’—”

“Mr. Fawkes!”

He sputtered, at least realizing his folly. “Oh! Uh, well! Uh! Y-you know what I’m talkin’ about, Miss Mei! So let’s just fix the telly, put it back on the sports, then I’ll make us some tucker before we’re in for the night, yeah? All cozy, just you and me.” He reached across to the dials on the front of the television, flicking it on. But the screen wavered, and he cursed and brought his fist down on the frame hard enough to make Mei jump. “Bloody thing! How’d you even know how to take this apart, anyway? You don’t seem like a junker.”

“I am most certainly not a junker!” She carefully jammed her wobbly screwdriver into the back, tightening up the last bits as the frame crackled and the picture buzzed and solidified. “I told you, I have a doctorate in climate science, but I also studied mechanical engineering. I had to learn to make things work…during…emergencies…”

The emergency beacon blinked uselessly. No signal. Cold. It was so cold and getting colder. The wind howled outside, and she watched the ice grow thicker on the panes. The broken communication towered so tall above her, unable to send her desperate need for help. The lights flickered—

No. She couldn’t think about that now. She was back in the world again. Even if she was far, far away from where she should have been. If she even belonged anywhere, anymore.

Rat’s voice was talking, but she hadn’t been listening. “-arian meals, but I dunno what counts. Oi. Oi! Mei?”

She looked up from where she had been staring blankly into the back of the television. “I-I’m sorry. What?”

He prattled on, apparently not noticing anything amiss. “Wow, guess your head’s really more rattled than I thought! I was sayin’ the telly is working, what do you wanna eat? You said you’re not much for sausages. Shame, that. Could’ve fixed us a nice barbecue, all celebratory-like! Are you sure you don’t wanna sausage? Maybe you just haven’t had the right kind! You ever tried roo? Now, your very own Chef Junkrat knows how to prepare—”

“No thank you,” she said primly. “I would prefer not to eat a kangaroo if I don’t have to, please.”

“Tchaw! You’re missing out, I’ll have you know. Looks like the telly’s workin’ fine. Who knew I bagged a lil’ genius doctor lady when I was bein’ a hero? Of course, you’ve been giving me lots of trouble for it.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Fawkes. I’m honestly not trying to get anybody hurt.” She folded her arms back over her knees with a frown. “I just wanted to tell my friends I’m okay. They must be so worried. Especially after…I told them I would be okay on my own. I thought I could get my life back on track? Poor Winston must be out of his mind if he’s heard by now—”

Junkrat eyed her rather carefully, though when she mentioned Winston’s name his bushy eyebrows shot up. “Oi! Who’s Winston? You got a boyfriend already?”

“Wh-No! Noooo no no. Winston is just a friend of mine. He’s a…um, he’s a fellow scientist,” she said. Junkrat was so unpredictable, she didn’t want to even begin to explain that the one she had been trying to contact was a super intelligent bio-engineered gorilla from the moon who was now running a covert Overwatch team. “He’s one of my old colleagues.”

The junker visibly relaxed. “Eh, I’m sure you can tell him you’re fine when we get you back to Sydney. No frets, darl! You just let ol’ Junkrat take care of everything until it’s safe out.” He hesitated, glancing down at his hand, before going to place it on her bare shoulder. “Chin up! It’ll all look better in the morning. Here we go, put the telly on whatever you like, and I’ll whip us up a supper!”

Mei sighed quietly. She was still pretty hungry, and it looked like she was going to spend the night on her mattress no matter what. Maybe she could at least convince Junkrat to take that awful chain off her leg? And she wasn’t going to get on his good side by wrecking the man’s few belongings or being too terse with him. So she just nodded politely, and tried to ignore how his fingers left little stains on her pale skin when he gave her a chummy little shake.

“I…I’m sorry about your TV. And your neck. And um—”

“Wot? My balls?”

Her eyes darted away behind her glasses, lips pinching at the mention. “Um.”

“S’alright! Though that was quite the fuckin’ direct shot, if you must know. Who woulda guessed you were such a fighter? Put up quite the scrap. Woulda been funny if the balls weren’t mine. You just have a rest and don’t worry your pretty head too much. I’ve got everything under control!”

***

He had everything under control. Even if Mei was proving to be a much harder nut to crack than he’d first thought. Especially after she had been the one to crack his nuts. But the little lady seemed pacified for now, or at least resigned to her fate. She had even apologized for their little misunderstandings earlier, which he considered a step forward.

And best of all, this ‘Winston’ wasn’t her boyfriend. Definitely another step forward.

Maybe she’d lighten up after a tucker and a good night’s sleep. He didn’t have any broccoli to give her: not yet, but he’d get her a whole pile of vegetables to gnaw on like a rabbit, and maybe she’d finally smile for him.

As it was, he would have to try and whip up something with what he already had. So he leapt upright, turned to give her a fond pat on her head, and limped over into his makeshift kitchen. What did he have, anyway? He always kept a ready supply of meats, but those were out. So were his cans of soups, his canned curries, and even his emergency cans of dog food (which he’d been forced to turn to more than once) all had meat in them. He was a carnivore at heart, and had stocked accordingly.

He eventually settled on dumping some beans and rice together, popping in some canned corn, onions, and several different types of hot sauce. Frankly, the whole meal looked like a rather sad affair to him. Even adding the dog food might have livened it up a bit. But for her, he persisted. He persisted in making her this sad, sad, healthy slop even when he had better stuff available, for whatever crazy reasons she had.

The television hummed the low voices of some news program, much as it always did. But he could occasionally hear her shuffling on her mattress behind him. A few times she even coughed or sniffled, reminding him that she was there. Dare he say, it felt almost wholesome? Just your average bloke cooking dinner for his date. Yes, his date was currently chained to the wall on pain of death for everybody, but he could ignore that part and hopefully she could eventually do the same.

“Soup’s up, love!” He whirled around with a steaming platter of rice slop, sticking the mixing spoon in it and walking it over to her. “Now, it might not look like much! But it…uh…well, it’s…it’s not much, actually. But I’ll get you something better soon, swear it.”

“Oh! N-no, it’s fine. Thank you, Mr. Fawkes.” She looked down at the rather anemic-looking meatless meal, seeming to inspect it.

He was heartened to see that it seemed to pass muster, and soon she was digging into it with hungry zeal like before. He really needed to get her a proper spoon if she was going to stay with him, although some part of him delighted at the way her precious little lips stretched around that larger spoon. Probably best not to watch too close then. He might start imagining other things and the last thing he needed was to pop a fat and then have to explain the bulge in his shorts to her. Couldn’t scare her or anything.

Instead he all but collapsed into a cross-legged sit at the coffee table across from her, starting to shovel food into his open jaws. They watched TV and ate together, which was what regular people did on dates, and things were going splendidly. Even if they had roughed each other up a bit and misunderstood intentions at first, that was all in the past now. He just needed to take Hog’s advice and try not to overwhelm his guest with…himself. And he could be charming without being overwhelming, if he was careful.

What did city folks talk to each other about? Mei was a fancy lady and his usual topics of bombs, sports, and barbecue probably wouldn’t interest someone like her. He eyed her where she was watching the screen, clearing his throat and trying to think of something else.

“S-so! Uh! It’s uh, it’s really weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

Shit. That probably wasn’t it.

She blinked and turned to him with a slightly confused expression. “Oh? Um, yes? I suppose it is. Although it’s really too hot for my tastes.”

“Phwaw, this is barely hot at all! Barely breaking a sweat in the arvo. Asides, better to be too hot than too cold.”

She tilted her adorable head at him. “Well…I’m afraid you’re going to be in for a very long few months ahead for your winter, then.”

“Eh?”

“Mm-hm. We were just talking about it at the climate summit. The dead zone in the Pacific has altered one of the main equatorial currents to your east, and the Flinders current is no longer going to push back the Antarctic Circumpolar current, which means all that cold water and weather coming northward from the pole is going to clash with another system that’s going to come from the Tasman Front and going to outflow, and create what is probably going to be rather harsh storm conditions, combined with the cooling effect from—”

He stared at her dumbly as she went on, his fork half-raised. She jabbered on more about things he didn’t understand, using words he didn’t understand, and she might as well have just been speaking Chinese at him, for all he knew. She even started gesturing, talking about frontflows and currentwhatsits and prevailingthingies.

“Oi!” he said eventually, pointing his fork at her. “You’re like a weatherlady on the telly! You didn’t say you were a weatherlady!”

She looked a bit irked at that, cute lips pinching off to the side. “I am not a weatherperson. I mean, not like that. And weather is just one aspect of the whole climate, the whole environment. I told you, I have my doctorate in climate science.”

“A weather doctor!”

“I…Um. Okay, yes. A weather doctor. I told you, I was taken from the environmental summit in Sydney. That’s why I was there. There are so many things that I can try to help with here. Australia has very particular problems with climate shifting—”

“And bots!” he agreed. “Fuckin’ omnics really did a number on Oz, eh?”

She looked at him and he couldn’t really place her expression, so he just continued.

“Roadie says things were real different afore the Omnium blew us all to hell.”

“Your friend— erm, your bodyguard? Was he around for the cataclysm? Were you? I mean…you knew Australia before the omnium, before there were junkers?”

“Heh! I guess so. Not sure how old I am, really. Don’t matter. Not that I can remember any of it, afore Junkertown. Ah, real shame I can’t take you into town proper.” He brightened, grinning at her again. “Show you some real junker culture. You ever been to a scrappin’, Mei?”

“A-a what?”

“A scrappin’! Oh it’s load of fun, you’ll love it. I’ll take you to one eventually. They test out the new mechs and fighters on the omnics we bring into the arena. Blood and oil, oi oi oi!” He hooted, banging his palms down on the table enthusiastically and not noticing her startled jump. “I bet I can get us tickets to the splash zone, even! And after the champs have finished scrappin’ the last omnic, they sweep all of ‘em up into the pit! Hehe! Sometimes they’re still twitching, although not for long after we start lootin’ for parts—”

She looked upset for some reason. “Mr. Fawkes, please!”

“Huh? Oh!” He blinked at her, smiling sheepishly. “Forgot you’re all fancy-like. Probably don’t want blood and oil all over your nice clothes, once I get some for you. We might miss out on the best parts by the time we get there, but for you? S’alright! We can just sit in the back. You can still see enough from the nosebleed section, and the back bleachers aren’t too—”

“No! No, Mr. Fawkes! Junkrat, that’s absolutely horrible. H-how can you even suggest…No, I don’t want to see that. That’s murder! You are talking about murdering innocent omnics. I’ve read stories about junkers disliking omnics, but this—!”

“Wha? Nah, nah, it’s fine. Aw, you got a real tender heart, huh? They’re just bots. They don’t got feelings.”

“That is not true!” She pushed her mostly empty plate away, giving him a horrified glare. “Just because omnics are different from us, that doesn’t mean they’re not people! Please don’t tell me you believe such awful things!”

Junkrat was torn between trying to pacify her and argue his point. His brain and his tongue couldn’t agree with each other, and it resulted mostly in him sputtering again, spittle flying off his lower lip, eyes flickering aimlessly from object to object in front of him as if searching for a solution. “Wha— No! Ffft! Sppt, nah! Yeah!— I mean, they don’t! Yeah, nah! No! Eh!”

That didn’t seem to help things. Mei only looked more affronted than before. “That is terrible. Completely barbaric. I’d read all kinds of warnings but I thought— Hmph! No wonder everyone hates junkers!”

His mind came into a sharp focus all at once, head jerking towards her. “Wot’s that?”

“I said that it’s barbaric behavior, omnics are—”

“Everyone hates junkers, eh?” he corrected her coldly, and his voice sounded strange even to himself. “Junkers like me? S’that what you said? No wonder, eh?”

“What? No!” She faltered slightly. “W-well I…I had heard warnings…”

“Warnings about junkers, yeah! Everyone hates ‘em! Trash! Belong in a bin where they were probably born, right?! Garbage people from a garbage home, nothin’ good can come from junk!” he snapped. “Yeh! Who told you all them warnings? Your little doctor friends? All the rest of you suits?”

“I never said—”

“Nah, s’great! Didn’t wanna take you to a scrappin’ anyway. Might get a speck of dust under your fingernails, perish the thought! And sorry my house isn’t good enough for you. And all the rest of it. Hope I didn’t filth you up too bad when I lifted you out of that boot. I know you suits aren’t used to us dirty junkers n’ all!”

She had been a suit after all. He’d been so stupid. No wonder Roadie had laughed at him. He’d been mooning over some stuffy foreign weather doctor, and she’d only been using her adorable little lips to sneer at him. This whole time she’d been sneering at him and he hadn’t let himself see it. He’d wanted so badly to believe that it had all been a misunderstanding, that she was just a good girl who was out of her element and just needed a helping hand. But he only had one hand, and she found that hand to be filthy and beneath her. Everyone hated junkers, after all.

Just another suit who looked down on him, like everyone else.

That was probably why she was wincing down, backing up on her mattress. “No! No, I didn’t say that. That just…it came out wrong, please. Let’s just calm down, Mr. Fawk—”

“You done with your food or not? I got things t’do,” he grumbled. “Things what might offend your sensibilities and all, Dr. Mei.”

Lowering her head, she slid her plate towards him. “I didn’t mean it like that. I am sorry, it’s just been a long day…”

“Then go t’sleep.” He snatched the plate and scraped it onto his own, carrying them off towards the sink. He ate the rest of his meal there, refusing to look back at her.

He could feel her eyes on him, though. And several times she made a noise like she was trying to get his attention. But if he turned around, he was going to say things that weren’t appropriate for a fancy lady like her…and he wasn’t sure if he sincerely meant them or not. So he just kept eating, shoveling the rest of their meals into his open maw. Even this shitty vegetarian meal he’d tried to make for her: waste not, want not.

“Mr. Fawkes?” she called gently. “Junkrat?”

He swallowed another mouthful of rice slop.

“…Jamison?” she tried.

She’d remembered his real name. Shit. Why’d it have to sound so nice when she said his name?

He paused, wiping at his lips with his forearm before he whirled around without looking at her. Limping over to his couch, he snatched up the rough blanket crumpled up atop it and unfurled it before throwing it at her. It settled rather comically over top of her like a shroud, though she pulled it slightly to the side and peered up at him with one of those big, beautiful brown eyes of hers…

Shame he was still peevish at her and all. He was allowed to admire if he was still angry, wasn’t he? Maybe he should ask Roadie that one, the old pig man seemed to have a real knack for romance and all. Maybe he’d been right about rescuing his fair damsel in distress, too. Being a hero was nothing but an awful lot of trouble.

“Just go t’bed, Miss Mei,” he finally grumbled, rubbing at the bruise around his throat. “You said it. Been a long day. Gonna stay up for a bit, draw up some new plans…Get you back to the city proper all the earlier so’s I can get my reward and you can get outta here. Win, win!”

“Is there anything I can do? I’m sorry for earlier— I sometimes have a temper, I know. Or…” She sighed a little when he climbed onto his stool at his workdesk instead. “M-maybe we can talk in the morning?”

He grunted an affirmative and bent over his stack of papers, grabbing his least-gnawed-upon pencil and getting to work.

“Yeh, alright.”

Behind him, Mei gave him a rather concerned look, but seemed to give up. She pulled the ratty blanket over top of her, curling atop her mattress as she switched off the television and pulled off her glasses, turning her face away from the yellow glow of his desk lamp.

“Good night,” she said softly.

Damn her, why did she have to mess everything up? Now he was pissed at her instead of her being pissed at him, and he couldn’t even imagine things like pulling himself into bed after her, or wrapping himself around that soft little body all cuddly-like, and maybe even her putting those lips on his forehead for a kiss goodnight. He also couldn’t imagine waking up right next to her, and making them breakfast in the morning like he’d intended to do, or laughing over cups of coffee like he’d seen pictures of in the magazines.

Maybe it was better to just imagine the fat stack of credits he’d get when he turned her in safely?

He chanced a very brief little glance back at the little bundle under his blanket, brow knitting before he made himself turn back to his desk and his stacks of drawings and plans.

Well, maybe it would be better this way. She clearly didn’t think much of junkers. And he supposed he’d never been cut out to be a hero in the first place.

#junkrat #jamison fawkes #mei #mei-ling zhou #meihem #junkmei #meirat #overwatch #fanfiction #writing #special delivery #junkers #outback #story #what a mess you've made of things

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f-umo-blog · 6 years ago

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NOTE: The following post will mention ( @ ) several of Gokudera’s allies. I don’t expect or need replies to this post, thus grouping it all together: Gokudera is giving the same thing to multiple people, and putting it all in one post makes the most sense to me! The first mention will give full explanation of what’s being given, but otherwise you can skip reading the full thing at your whim (everyone will be given similar explanations of how to use it).

If you do want to reply I am totally down for it, and you’re welcome to mention me in a new post or send an ask or anything else! If not, if you could hit me with a like to lemme know you saw it that’d be chill!

　　 ◆ * This project had been a long time coming, had been started before several of the currently-present Vongola had ever arrived, and had been delayed in no small part by everyone’s sudden transferal to a fantastical realm at war-- wherein Gokudera’s project had been left in his room at home, components spread out none too neatly in spite of his otherwise stalwart cleanliness. When he’d returned he’d been pleasantly surprised to find things untouched, and after a long ass nap and about a pack and a half of chain-smoked cigarettes he’d gotten himself right back to work putting together the finishing touches.

It hadn’t been too long since they’d returned, but they all seemed to have gotten back to whatever counted as normal in their daily life here anyway, so it took some measure of planning to reach out to them all in turn. He had already approached all with their true Vongola rings to attach the apparatus, though he hadn’t been fully clear about the purpose yet; and to those he had passed out the replacement rings, he hadn’t mentioned having a purpose at all.

@ilbronco :

The easiest to seek out was incidentally the only one not of the Vongola Family, but there was no way Gokudera could leave him out of this particular loop. Entering Dino’s office during work hours, he offered a short “sup” and waited for Dino’s work to come to a suitable lull.

When it did, he dropped a dark metal ring shaped in the visage of a skull on Dino’s desk. “Been workin’ on this for a while. It’s an early warning system-- kinda like a panic button. When anybody’s in trouble, they can alert everyone else without too much effort, and send out a beacon. Since you don’t have a Vongola ring...” He grinned a bit sheepishly. “I made you one instead. Just twist the skull to the left and it’ll set off the signal.”

He pulled out his phone and leaned over to show Dino what he was doing. “I developed an app for it too; I dunno if people will be able to use this part of it before they get internet privileges, but the ring side should still work regardless.” He twisted the gift ring to demonstrate, and his phone lit up, vibrated, with a notification at the top that said “ALERT: DINO”. Opening it found a distance marker in numbers (0.0km) and a red dot right on top of him that said the same: ALERT: DINO. Unfortunately, where it looked like there should be a map, there was only a blank texture. “This place’s map doesn’t seem to work... normally, so it’s just distance right now. And if you set it off by accident, there’s a chat function in the app to let people know you’re okay, or to talk to everyone about who’s on their way.”

He was pretty proud of his achievements here, making good on an idea he’d wanted to find time to act on even before arriving in this shithole, but he tried to contain his cheer for now. “The app is private, you have to have the password to download it, so-- uh.. try to keep it to yourself? I’m only trusting this to Vongola, and... not even Squalo, right now. Maybe after it’s out of the beta phase, I dunno. Point is, I’m, uh. Kinda trusting the lives of the Vongola to you. So.. thanks for being worth that trust, I guess.”

@itsmoistyams :

“Hey, there you are!” It was on his way to the next stop that he ran into Yamamoto, a lucky grab that he’d been planning to just call and meet up with at the end of the busy day ahead of him. “Been lookin’ for ya. You know that feature I added to your ring?”

He gave Yamamoto the abridged version of the explanation, knowing he would work it out better on instinct himself once he had the basics down. For him, though, there was a moment of brief silence after, before Gokudera put a hand on Yamamoto’s arm, mood serious.

“Seriously... I want you to use this. No matter how dangerous it is, if you’re in trouble, use it. I won’t be the only one who comes running. ..I promise I’ll use it, too. No stupid pride when shit hits the fan.” A bit embarrassed by the mood he’d brought on, he broke it with a clap on Yamamoto’s shoulder. “Call me if you get some free time tonight and we can hang!”

@caligosum :

“Pretty simple, right?” He’d just handed over Chrome’s skull ring, delighted to find it matching her aesthetics as well as he’d expected (they’d been made in his own aesthetics, to be fair, but he and Chrome had some great fashion overlap). “I know you’re tough, but it works two ways, so don’t hesitate to use it to call for help either!”

There was a beat of silence. “But, uh..” Another, he glanced around; they were in Chrome’s own condo, and he was searching for evidence of the resident demonic presence. Whether or not Mukuro was here, Gokudera couldn’t tell, but his reaction was the same anyway. Bluntly, with only partially forced cheerful casualty: “Please don’t let Mukuro use the app! I don’t like him!”

@gyuupyo :

It was with some curiosity that Gokudera found Lambo not too far from Chrome’s apartment-- wasn’t this a bit far from anywhere he was supposed to be? Not that Lambo had ever cared much where he was supposed to be; that pioneering spirit could be a real pain in the ass, but for now, it had worked out in their favor.

“Oi! Stupid cow!” The ‘nickname’ was out before he’d even thought about it, catching up to kneel down next to the titular cow. “You still have that ring I gave you?” He pulled out a spare he had configured just in case (though it wasn’t configured for Lambo specifically, as he was more worried about someone else having tossed it than the actual kid, which was saying something). “It looks like this, but yours should still be in your hair.” Hopefully.

“I told you it’d be important, right? It’s kinda like your bazooka. It won’t bring you anywhere else, but if you turn the skull at the top--” he demonstrated, and immediately pulled out his phone to hit the cancel before anyone saw the odd notification. “If you turn it like that when you’re scared, someone safe will come to help you. You don’t have to worry about being left alone, okay?”

@yunyield :

Gokudera’s last stop was different, in that he didn’t make it for a few weeks more: He had promised Hibari some peace and quiet for a bit, and he wouldn’t be the one to break that for something Hibari wouldn’t even want. When he did arrive, however, the spiel was largely the same, except for how he handled the ring.

He held the same spare in his pocket, already with Hibari’s name on it, because honestly, there was no reason to think Hibari had kept the original. He wasn’t stupid, but neither was Gokudera, most of the time. He had learned that, maybe, honesty was the best policy with a carnivore.

“So if anyone runs into an enemy they can’t handle, they’ll turn the ring,” he demonstrated without turning it enough to set it off; Hibari got the idea, “and you can decide if it’s worth your time. There’s a chat function but it’s only available when someone sets off their beacon, in case it’s an accident.”

As for how Hibari wanted to handle his own ring, that was up to him: If he’d ‘lost’ it, and wanted it, he could say as much and get a spare. If he wasn’t sure, maybe he’d keep it, and have it as a last-ditch effort if things went south. Or maybe he would call Gokudera an idiot and forget about the whole thing; at this point, who fuckin knew what that dude was thinking.

#ilbronco #itsmoistyams #caligosum #gyuupyo #yunyield #PRAYS THIS FUCKIN @S EVERYOEN

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moonnfairie · 6 years ago

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defying gravity | ch 2

defying gravity, chapter 2

genre: angel!jimin, soulmate au

pairing: reader x jimin

word count: 6,011

warnings: slightly aggressive drunken behavior

summary: Your life had been a series of events that you had to face alone, leaving you to lead an independent yet lonely life. Come the day of your birthday, things take an unexpected turn given a twist of fate and an encounter with your saving grace, someone who just happens to be your angel in disguise.

ch 1 / ch 2 / ch 3

He’s staring at you with wide eyes for a few seconds, as if he’s discovered something the world has yet to find, then shortly after, his eyes shrink into crescent moons and displays a perfectly beautiful smile with his plump lips. You’re practically breathless at the sight, frozen like a deer in headlights. Thank god you closed your register or else people behind him would be yelling at your face to come back to Earth by now.

With a quick deep breath, Jimin’s expression changes yet again into something so gentle, so sweet, as he gets closer to where you stand and says

“These must belong to you then.”

“I’m sorry?”

Did you hear that correctly?

You step back aghast, turning the other way to hide the heat that crawls up your face. Is this insanely ethereal man, let alone insanely ethereal stranger, just messing with you?

Noticing he might’ve been too forward, Jimin nervously giggles while running a hand through his hair. “No, I’m sorry, miss-” he squints to read your name tag “-Y/N. I guess I have a thing or two to learn about appropriate pick up lines.”

He leans down and tilts his head in attempts to make eye contact with you, frowning at the still flustered expression on your face. “I promise I’m not a stalker or anything of the sort. I just” he pauses and takes a deep breath “think you’re very beautiful.”

You must be dreaming, right? To have Mr. Gorgeous walk into your grocery store, on your birthday, and even call you beautiful at first sight? Thank god you decided to get your eyebrows done yesterday, it has really made all the difference in your luck.

You stutter in response, “Well, I certainly appreciate it, and I didn’t find you to be a stalker or anything, at least from what my instincts tell me.” At this, you crack a smile, and Jimin’s eye smile returns, relieved.

“But before we get into anything,” you continue “I should probably ring these flowers up for you so you can really give them to whoever it belongs to.”

“I was in every way serious when I said they were for you, Y/N.”

Despite how wildly your heart is beating at this strange encounter, it’s as if his voice soothes your soul, calming your worries away. Did he really come here for your sake to give you flowers that just so happen to be your favorite color?

“I, uh, well” you close your eyes and heavily sigh. You really have to get yourself together. “Thank you so much…” your voice trails off as you look to him quizzically, realizing you don’t even know this man’s name.

“Jimin” he finishes, as if sensing just what you needed to hear.

“Right, thank you Jimin” you say with a bright smile that sends a rush of warmth all throughout his body. He hasn’t quite seen a smile as radiant as yours, and he revels in the fact that he gets to stare at yours in his remaining time on Earth.

After what seems like an eternity of staring into each other’s souls, you remember to pick up the bouquet, scan the barcode, watch Jimin’s delicately deft fingers reach into his wallet and slide his card through the machine, and hand the flowers back to him.

“I can’t be handed merchandise from behind the counter, so…” you meet Jimin at the end of the conveyor belt, as he gently places the purple roses back into your hands, making sure not to hurt you with any thorns.

Abruptly, Jimin speaks out, “I’m just going to go out on a limb here but… I’d love to see you again. Maybe I could take you out to dinner tonight? Or rather, any time that you were free, of course.”

You started giggling to yourself, noticing how flustered Jimin was also getting in return of your interactions.

Jimin knows he has one job, one that doesn’t require taking his soulmate on dinner dates, but there is a compelling force to you that’s driving his heart insane. It’s as if he wants to do more for you, as much as he can for you, just so you can be genuinely and wholeheartedly happy.

You nearly blurted out a big fat “Yes,” but your mind defogged at the mere thought of your best friend, Taehyung. As much as you’d love to be swept off of your feet by the mysterious yet intriguing godsend that is Jimin, you can’t even imagine leaving your one and only friend in the dust when he had made plans in honor of you.

“Jimin, I sincerely appreciate just how kind you’re being to me right now, and I’m insanely flattered, but I actually have birthday plans with my best friend tonight. Would you maybe like to do Friday night instead?”

Three whole days? You weren’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse to wait so long, but you didn’t want to come off too needy, so that would do. On the other hand, it would hinder Jimin’s trial to have to wait three days for you, but maybe he could make it work.

“Sounds good to me, Y/N. I’ll be seeing you then.” Jimin takes your free hand to kiss the back of it, and smiles ever so sweetly at you, your heart exploding with fireworks in your chest. All you could do was stare as he walked past you and outside the automatic sliding doors. You blink a couple times and clear your throat in attempts to gain your bearings, screeching as you turn around to immediately find Namjoon stood in front of you instead, grinning.

“What was that about? I’ve never seen you so expressive before” he says while chuckling loudly, drawing attention by your coworkers nearby.

“Oh, what, that? Nothing, it was nothing. Just a random guy, giving me flowers, on my birthday, no big deal.”

Namjoon raises his eyebrow at you accusingly. “A random guy doesn’t just give you flowers coincidentally, Y/N. Do you even know him?”

You gulp, and Namjoon notices the apprehensive look on your face. “Hey hey, I’m not here to lecture you or anything, but that’s pretty cool, I guess. Seemed like he really had a thing for you.”

“Did he? Really? Maybe, I don’t know…”

Namjoon grins at you again, reaching to pat you on the back before turning and walking back to the offices. “From the looks of things, I’d say you’re done for the day. Feel free to head out and enjoy the rest of your special day, bud.”

You can only nod and word a breathless “thank you” back at him before running to the break room and gathering your things so you can head home to get ready for tonight.

Despite how gloomy it had gotten outside while you were working, you still had quite the spring in your step and the feeling of joy radiating off of you as if you were the sun itself. Before entering your complex, you receive a series of text messages:

Tae

[4:47 PM] hey you

[4:48 PM] called you earlier but i guess you were still workin

[4:48 PM] just letting you know!!! that you’re NOT bailing on me tonight

[4:49 PM] and that i’m getting you DRUNK and we’re gonna go apeshit

[4:50 PM] also we’re going to have so much fun uwu

[4:51 PM] look like a bad bitch tho you never know who we’ll see ;)

[4:52 PM] ok n e ways see you soon love you bitch

You’re wheezing by the time you reach your door, turning your keys in the lock to find yourself in your empty apartment once again. Yet, for some reason, it doesn’t feel as empty today. At least you get to be out of here for the night. You slip your shoes off and walk through your spacious living room to plop onto your bouncy mattress in your bedroom, turning on your back and holding your phone up to the ceiling to respond to your best friend.

[4:59 PM] yeah, yeah shut up, i already know

[5:00 PM] best believe i’m lookin mighty fine tonight

[5:00 PM] i’m just gonna hop in the shower and all that jazz and i’ll see you tonight

You smile from ear to ear, remembering just how thankful you are to have one solid friend in your life to care about you as much as Taehyung does to be with you today and every day.

[5:02 PM] thank you again, taehyung

Tae

[5:04 PM] what, youre getting sappy on me now?

[5:05 PM] save it for when we’re drunk dude!

[5:05 PM] … but youre welcome. you already know i love you.

[5:07 PM] hey, save it for when we’re drunk!

[5:07 PM] … but i love you too

[5:08 PM] lol

At this, you plug your phone in to charge as you walk to your bathroom and take a much needed hot shower.

It’s been a while since you’ve felt this lighthearted. It could be all the interaction you’ve had today, considering when you normally go to work you try to cut all socializing to an insanely low minimum, but for once in your life you feel special, important, and wanted. You know, aside from the days Taehyung declares his undying love and affection for you and bugs you every time you deny a movie night at his place all because his roommate that can’t seem to stop ogling at you every time you’re there, but to know that some mysteriously handsome guy apparently has eyes for you too, has your stomach turning in excitement.

You keep thinking back to the moment you met eyes with him earlier, how sweet and warm his voice sounded when he told you that you were beautiful to him, and how his gaze seemed to draw you into him so effortlessly, almost tantalizingly over all the emotions that rushed to you in that exact moment. You want to dwell on the feeling, revel in the butterflies that float around in your stomach for hours thinking about seeing him on friday, but something switches on inside your brain as you realize one thing:

How were you supposed to meet again with no means of contacting him?

Before much thought could be put into creating a game plan of seeing Jimin again, your phone vibrates in spurts, signaling that Taehyung must be outside. You run to your mirror one last time to brush through your hair and smile at the reflection in front of you. You’re genuinely so excited and ready to spend your birthday with the one you love.

Walking to the designated pickup area of your complex, you see Taehyung leaning against a familiar grey civic, laughing at the confused expression that now colors your face all over.

“Ah, you didn’t tell me Jungkook was tagging along” you try to say cheerfully, but Taehyung sees right through you and pats your back rather aggressively to stop you from saying anything further.

“Indeed I didn’t, because he’s not! He was so kind to come along and drop us off. An act of kindness for your dear birthday, Y/N.” At this statement, you smile softly, crouching over to make eye contact with Jungkook in the driver’s seat. He meets your eyes quickly, grinning wildly and waving his hand frantically. You were honestly incredibly thankful for the gesture, but knew his intentions were always filled with something more, as he has always been into you from the moment you first set foot in Taehyung’s shared apartment.

Pushing these thoughts aside, however, you decide to just live in the moment and accept all the kindness you’ve gotten in one year’s worth on this very day alone. “After you, princess” Taehyung boldly declares while opening the passenger door for you, your face scrunching at his obnoxiously loud volume, and hand reaching up to pinch his cheek “You are so annoying and dumb but sweet. Thank you.”

Despite looking down into your seat while buckling up, you can’t help but feel Jungkook’s needy eyes roam your full figure, a notion you’d normally feel insulted by, but you realize he means no harm. He’s never seen you dressed up like this: tight fitting clothes, exposed collar bones, and heels, and even you seem to blush under his gaze.

“Alright Gguk, as much as you want to be staring at Y/N’s tits all night, we don’t have time for that. Let’s hit the road.” You turn around in your seat and slap Taehyung’s leg aggressively, causing him to laugh loudly in response and Jungkook to clear his throat while turning on the engine.

“Oh, don’t be such a dick Tae, and you” you sit turn to sit forward again, burning right through to Jungkook’s soul with your glare, “don’t stare at my tits and please drive safely. Thanks.”

Taehyung’s laughter is still dying down as Jungkook nods to turn on the stereo, but the air is still light knowing that’s the dynamic between you all. You’re pretty used to it by now considering most if not all of the people you interact with are men with their brains deep in the gutter.

Your favorite bar is in the heart of downtown, meaning it’s a little ways from where you live, but you really only go there on special occasions, and on nights like these, the boys really don’t mind. Through and through, you were a city girl, and if it weren’t for the insanely high price of living, you’d find yourself living in the apartment of your dreams overlooking the tall skyscrapers in the day and losing yourself in the city lights at night. To most people in your city, it was the same thing, different day, every day, but that wasn’t the case for you. You’ve managed to paint most of the town red, but there are still nooks and crannies that you have yet to uncover, and places you haven’t even hit just yet. It was like there was something about this side of the town that called to you. Something that had you longing for more, and you were absolutely determined to find out just what that was.

Pulling up to the curb, you groan at the sight of a short line at the entrance. “It’s literally a Tuesday evening, what are people doing at a bar?”

Taehyung sits forward, placing a big but gentle hand on your shoulder “literally the same exact thing we are.”

“Wow, you really got me there!” you shrug and state sarcastically, Jungkook giggling at your banter.

“Have fun tonight you guys, and happy birthday again Y/N!” You smile at him tentatively, feeling a little sad that he’s come all this way not to come with you. “Thank you, but are you sure you don’t want to grab just one drink?”

Before he could answer, Taehyung interjects “Nah, the dude has plans to play some tournament with some friends when he gets back. They’ll have their own fun.” Your gaze turns to Jungkook for confirmation, and he simply flashes a cute little bunny smile and nods.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and give Jungkook a quick hug, not noticing the way his face flushes pink before waving him goodbye and getting out of the car. Taehyung pats his shoulder next, thanking him then jumping out to meet you at the end of the line.

As much as you’d normally be impatient to wait in such a line, Taehyung passes the time by telling you about his artwork. At his university, two of his pieces have been chosen to be displayed at an exhibit of high prestige that buyers have the option to bid on. There is an amount of proceeds that go to the artists upon selling, but that was just a perk in the line of his work. He made pieces for the sole reason of creating art that spoke to him and those who got to see it. You even managed to snag a piece that he held onto dearly but ended up caving in and giving it to you at how much you loved it.

It reminded you of your mother.

It was an airy piece, but one still full of matter. It was light, it was delicate, and it was sweet. It made you feel calm, and it made you feel warm. It now sits above her recliner in your living room.

You finally make it to the front and are pleasantly surprised when the guard at the front even greets you a happy birthday. You smile and nod your thank you as you and Taehyung link arms and walk inside.

The bar is spacious yet relatively crowded for a Tuesday night, causing the temperature to rise from all the body heat, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. The ceilings are high, decorated with modern sconces that illuminate a dim, warm light. The scene is a perfectly balanced mix of a traditionally modern bar scene, split on the bottom floor with a lounge area and the actual bar itself, and the top floor for reserved parties and table service.

You were about to make your way to your usual spot near the back walls before Taehyung pulled you back to look at the staircase over to your right. “Hey, come on, you’re getting that special treatment tonight” he says with a wink, and you try to hold back all urges to gag.

“Excuse me, what? Tae we can’t just sneak up there, they have a list-”

Your bickering comes to a halt as Taehyung speaks to the server who stands at the bottom of the steps. “Uh yeah, we have a reservation under Kim.”

The server eyes Taehyung from head to toe in an almost doubtful way, then scans the two paged list within his hands. You’re almost about to apologize for Taehyung’s behavior, but the server speaks up “Ah, Mr. Kim I presume?”

The way in which you glare at Taehyung has his boxy smile shine thru, and you can only loosen up and squeeze his broad shoulder in return.

“Right this way.”

The two of you carefully climb the spiral stairway, giggling at the awfully nice treatment you are getting. The server walks all the way towards the end, missing the booths for two completely into a booth that could fit at least a few more guests.

“The waiter will be with you shortly. Enjoy your evening.”

With only a quick bow, the server turns on his feet to find his way at the bottom of the stairway once again. You blink a few times in disbelief, before turning to face Taehyung who is seated across the table from you.

“Tae,” you start with a pout, and he tilts his head and smiles “you really didn’t have to do this. I already know how much this costs and I know you’ve been selling many pieces lately but-”

“Oh shut up, Y/N. It’s your birthday! You deserve it, and you already know I’ve been saving up to do something, anything, with you, so ta-da!”

How in the world have you gotten so lucky?

You scoot over in the wide booth to sit closely by Taehyung’s side, leaning your head on his shoulder and happily sighing. Closing your eyes, you tune in to the music from the live band that is playing downstairs, tapping your foot to the downbeat of the rhythm the drummer is playing before a beautiful toned saxophone breaks through the air and plays a hypnotizing improv.

“Okay,” you say with your eyes still closed “but it must’ve costed you even more to get a full booth like this. What’s up with that?”

“Actually-” Taehyung’s voice is cut off with the sound of dress shoes clacking on the hardwood in front of you, causing you to open your eyes and sit up with shock at the sight that beholds you.

“Seokjin!”

Seokjin. The Kim Seokjin, that you made a complete and utter fool of yourself in front of the last time you were with him, oddly enough, at this very bar as well. Taehyung met Seokjin at a film festival held at his university last year, thanks to Jungkook. Seokjin, an alumna of the school, had become an incredibly popular actor and well desired by many, but always knew to remain humble and stay true to his roots by participating in judging the at the annual festival, granting Jungkook’s indie film his first top three prize.

You knew of his existence, and have seen him in trailers and movie posters alike, but never bothered to give into any of the media craze, as you thought of him as only an actor of what the market has built him to be. The night that Taehyung had set the two of you up, you drank one too many shots and revealed your true emotions for him, or at least, your perceived thoughts on who he was, and though Seokjin was kind enough (or most likely drunk enough) to let it slide, you made matters worse by insulting one of the earlier movies he starred in, The Deserted, claiming the plot was “lame” and the actors were “dry,” when Seokjin had a big part in the production, and the story had elements true to his life.

And here he was now, standing before you like one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen in this world with your two eyes. His dark hair was perfectly swept and styled, his lips were so perfectly pink and so perfectly plump, and he was dressed simply in a black dress shirt, slacks, and dress shoes to match.

You don’t notice how you slightly topple over in the absence of Taehyung’s torso when he gets up to greet Seokjin, and you look to the side, rubbing your arm in embarrassment.

“Hey guys, I’m sorry it took a while, the driver had to take me to the back to avoid being seen in the front, you know, all that.”

“Damn, dude, didn’t realize you were getting that huge already!” Taehyung teases while playfully pushing Seokjin’s arm.

“Yeah, no, not really. The workers didn’t even know why I had to come through the back, but it was just for safety purposes.”

As if sensing your sudden alienation, Taehyung turns to slap your arm and get your attention, and you try not to squint too hard his way before turning to Seokjin and smiling as best you can, without letting the embarrassment eat you alive.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N! You look stunning tonight.”

“Ah, don’t flatter her” Taehyung jests, and you get up to slap his arm back and hug Seokjin in thanks.

You feel so small engulfed in his broad frame, but so warm in his embrace. His arms rest perfectly in the small of your back, making you feel as if you don’t want to let go. You haven’t had as much affection as a whole embrace in ages, considering Taehyung doesn’t even bother to hug you like this, and almost as if Seokjin agrees, he lets go when you do, but keeps holding you by the waist.

You don’t dare move.

“Thank you, Seokjin. I’m glad you were able to make it tonight.”

He laughs even more boisterously than Taehyung does, a sight to behold that makes your heart melt. “Well of course I was able to make it, I’m the one who booked the reservation!”

You gasp at the unexpected information, raising your brow at Taehyung who lifts his hands in surrender at your gaze.

“Hey, hey. I wasn’t lying when I said I was saving up. I’m at least paying for some of the drinks tonight, but Jin was so kind as to offer setting this all up.”

Seokjin did this all for you? What even is this luck with men suddenly being so kind to you?

You only tell Seokjin millions of thank yous after that, but you’re quickly ushered to sit inside the booth while Seokjin starts going down the menu and ordering round after round of drunks, eyeing Taehyung to see just how much he’d be willing to pay, and to your pleasure, he was willing to spend big just for you.

The menu that table service guests receive have names of drinks you haven’t seen before despite how many times you’ve been here, and Jin definitely isn’t shy to introducing you all to them.

What makes you really happy about tonight is that on most nights, you come here to ease your stress and forget the worries that life has thrown at you for just a couple of hours, but instead, you’re here with your best friend and potential man friend(?) who are paying for you to get happily drunk and enjoy your special day. Eventually you all get to the point of intoxication where your eyes are starting to droop, your limbs feel light, and your vision is only slightly wobbly, and that’s when you have to put your foot down.

You open your mouth to speak and don’t even realize how slow and slurred your speech is, “Listen... I appreciate you both so much right now, but you guys need to stop shoving liquids in me because I am this,” you hold your hand up lazily and with your fingers, try to create as small a gap as you can “this close to being completely and utterly shitfaced, and last time I was like this, I made a horrible fool out of myself in front of Seokjin”

Taehyung doesn’t seem to catch that as he’s asking the waiter for water, but Seokjin closes the gap between where you’re seated completely and places a hand on your thigh.

“Hey, I’m not even worried about that anymore. If I was, I wouldn’t even be here” he chuckles heavily, moving his hand up a tad more “don’t even sweat it.”

Oh, on the contrary, you’re sweating as if you’ve just ran a race while sitting under his gaze, but you’ve been trying to hide it as best as you can by dabbing your forehead with the readily available napkins when the drunken mess of men in front of you weren’t looking.

When your water finally arrives and you all take a minute to chug it down, Taehyung offers to go downstairs and dance, as the live band has been replaced with an open dance floor and loud beats that echo throughout the bar.

You hesitate only for a moment, wishing to stay under Seokjin’s lingering touches, but Taehyung grabs your wrist and drags you out of the booth to waddle downstairs, the both of you holding on for dear life in order to not topple down altogether.

The small floor is almost packed, but you manage to squeeze through behind Taehyung, Seokjin shortly following. You’ve always managed to dance playfully with Taehyung on nights like these, but now that Seokjin is here, you’re not quite sure what to do. After only one song, Taehyung pulls you close and speaks in your ear “Hey, I see some chick eyeing me from across the floor, you go have fun with Jin, kay?”

“Wh-what? Tae wait!” you manage to garble out without processing much of what he said, but before you can linger on it, you feel strong hands pull you by the waist as you crash into Seokjin’s firm body. It takes a while to get used to the sensation of dancing with him, but a song comes on that you recognize, and you throw all caution to the wind and just start having fun.

On this dance floor, you’ve seen many of the people around you start to get rather sleazy, dancing on their partners like this was their bedroom, but for the most part, Seokjin didn’t seem like the type to try and advance with you. Sure, his grip on your waist would get tighter every now and then the more you felt yourself in the songs that played, but it seemed as if the both of you were genuinely having fun. Holding onto each other tightly. With thanks to your heels, practically face to face mind the few inches up that you still had to look at him.

You could feel how intense his stare his gotten, his expression that looked just like what it did earlier when he had his hand on your thigh.

You were going to risk it all right then and there.

And by risk it all truly you just wanted to kiss him because god knows how long it’s been since you’ve kissed a man, especially a man with such plump lips, but before anything could be done, you hear someone calling for you from the side.

“Hey! Y/N! Listen...” he starts, eyeing up you and Seokjin holding onto each other tightly and shortly chuckles after, causing you to apologetically look up at Seokjin and peel yourself off of him.

“Oh this better be good Taehyung”

“Uh huh, yeah, I see what I’ve walked into and I was about to apologize, but it turns out my situation here could be for the better. Apparently Jungkook lost his key or whatever and left his spare inside. I gotta head back to let the dude in.”

You smile, knowing Taehyung would have probably gotten lucky tonight as well, but he cared about Jungkook too much, and for that you really admired him.

“Hey, if that’s the case, I’m going back with you-”

“Oh no no no no!” he yells above the music loud enough for the people dancing around you to look in your direction.

“You, missy, are going to have fun tonight,” he winks, and you punch his arm. “Jin definitely has means to get you back home safely so don’t even worry. Just text me from time to time, kay?”

He reaches forward to hug you tight, another first of the night, and you reach to embrace him back, yelling to him to text you when he’s home as he makes his way through the crowd.

Seokjin grabs you by the waist again, leaning down to talk into your ear “Oh, is he heading back already?”

You nod and speak loudly back since you can’t necessarily reach his ear. “Yeah, Jungkook got locked out and he’s being the hero.”

“I see” Seokjin says calmly, reaching down to whisper into your ear now, and you shiver at his breath against your lobe. “How about get out of here too, to just talk one on one?”

Your heart starts to race faster in your chest, somewhat managing to sober you up right then and there. As much as you’d love to see where the night takes you, you don’t necessarily feel comfortable in the idea right now, especially since your head is starting to pound mercilessly along with the loud music the dj keeps spinning.

“I, uh, actually should head home as well. It’s getting late and I’m actually thinking of picking up a shift tomorrow.”

You weren’t, but you figured you should say anything just to convince him, as it seems that his expression has barely lightened up, before he sighed and smiled softly before guiding you out of the crowd and outside to wait by the curb.

“I’ll call one of my drivers and he’ll take you home, alright?”

You nod frantically “Oh, no, Seokjin, you don’t have to do that, I can just call a taxi.”

He notices you shivering, and puts an arm over your shoulder to bring you closer as you both lean on a nearby wall.

“Just call me Jin, sweetheart, and” he pauses, typing fast with one hand and looking down at you right after “I already called him. He’ll be here shortly.”

“Oh, okay, thank you Jin.” you try to say politely behind chattering teeth.

It’s quiet for the next few moments, but now that you’re outside, you can definitely feel the alcohol still running through your system, as when you turn your head to watch the passing cars, you still manage to get slightly lightheaded.

“Are you alright?” he asks with a low, almost guttural voice. You turn to look up at him and lazily nod. He then proceeds to stand in front of you, pushing you up against the wall, maybe to hold you up, but from the way his body is reacting, probably for ulterior motives.

“Yeah, Jin, I’m fine, really” you smile back placidly, as he brushes a piece of loose hair behind your ear. You must be a complete mess once again in front of him, yet he’s still looking so intently at you.

“The offer still stands, you can come crash at my place, I can help you feel better.” The hand that moved your hair finds its way to your cheeks, caresses your jawline, and ever so lightly feathers over your neck.

The comfort he brought you before with his touch is now replaced with a feeling of fight or flight, your heart starting to pound in your chest, as you weakly try to push him off.

“N-no thank you, I think at this rate I just really need to sleep at home, really-”

“There’s no harm in letting me take care of you Y/N, I swear I won’t do anything you won’t like.”

“Jin please I said no-”

“Get off her!” a familiar voice rumbles not too far in front of you, and you can see Seokjin’s expression of concentration falter as he turns in the direction of the shout.

You prop yourself up weakly against the wall and squint your eyes to see a figure backlit by oncoming cars approaching you, almost as if to save you.

“Jimin…?”

Jimin rushes to your side as you practically fall into his arms, almost falling back himself but holding you steady into his welcoming embrace.

“Hey man, when someone says no, just let it go.” the way in which Jimin is speaking is a complete contrast to when you met him only hours ago, but you’re thankful as it seems to set Seokjin straight.

“Ah, I seem to have crossed the line.” he states somberly, his driver pulling up to the curb beside him. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Have a good evening.”

You say nothing more and wait until his car disappears from your line of view before sighing and sinking even further into Jimin’s arms, leaving him to giggle softly as grunts to pick you up bridal style, catching you completely off guard.

“Oh my god, please you literally don’t have to carry me like this, I can walk, I swear” he only shakes his head in protest, laughing even more.

“With the way you drank tonight? I don’t think so. It won’t be for long, I don’t live far so just enjoy the ride.”

You smile for the first time after what happened between you and Seokjin, and you thought to yourself that maybe you can relax in the arms of yet another stranger, until you start feeling light drops of water hit your face.

“You’re kidding” you state crossly, and Jimin starts to walk faster, almost jogging now with you still in his arms.

“I can’t cover your face or I’ll drop you, but protect that pretty face of yours, it’s just around the corner!”

You can feel how fast his heart is beating as your head rests against your chest, and at such endearing words, yours starts to race just as fast.

You both manage to make it into his lobby only moderately wet, Jimin’s hair sticking to his forehead and white shirt soaked through. You try your best now to stare at his chest while he lowers you onto your feet.

“Thank you so much, really, for all of that just now. I don’t even know how but you really just saved me.”

Jimin shakes his head aggressively before running a hand through his wet hair, eyes closed, exposing his forehead, looking like a man straight from a magazine spread. His shirt clings onto his torso as if for dear life, outlining his abdomen and… is that a v line? His denim is sticking onto his thick thighs like glue and you can’t help but feel yourself slightly drooling. Thankfully when he calls out to you, you wipe it off your face along with the water that drips down your cheeks and play it off like normal.

“My place is this way, only if you would like to come up. I can get you some dry clothes.”

Having been invited from one man’s place to another, you gladly accept Jimin’s invitation and find yourself anticipating what is bound to happen next.

a/n: ahhh this has been highly anticipated on my own behalf and I am so happy to have finally posted it! I have such a strong connection and good feeling about this story already, and hope you can enjoy even further down the road! much love always <3

#bts #bts angel au #jimin angel au #jimin x reader #jimin/reader #angel!bts #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bangtan fanfiction #jimin fanfiction #jimin fanfic #soulmate au #jimin soulmate au #bts soulmate au #softmochijm #defying gravity #dg2

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koboldburrow · 6 years ago

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Aurix update

There won’t be one of these for a while, since our schedules ain’t workin’ out until next month, buuuut:

Last time: Ronin wanted to get some Thieves’ Tools, and Aurix brought him to some shady-ass Drow gang to hook him up. He didn’t really wanna pay 50g for a set of tools, so instead offered to do A Favour. They asked him to get rid of an elf who was a High Priest of Savras; he agreed. Aurix asked him if 50g was a price he was okay with paying for blood on his hands, and promised to back him up in however he approached this job.

THIS TIME: Aurix made some very excellent use of her new spell, Flock of Familiars, in scouting out the Temple of Savras. We not only found out the high priests would be meeting tonight (one of which was our assassination target) so everyone could see them vote on a change in tenets, but we spotted a young girl that may be the child who was taken away by the temple. (I’m a little fuzzy on what THAT’S about, since it’s a plotline that was going on before I joined the campaign.)

Von (the bard) polymorphed Ronin (the samurai) into a spider, Aurix tucked him into her hood, and one Mask of Many Faces disguise later, we sneak into the temple for that big meeting. We see the girl is being kept behind a High Priest by the name of Shadowstone, who’s got a fancy tattoo on his arm marking him as a member of the dwarven shady-ass mafia. Ronin also picks up that our assassination target glances at Shadowstone with utter fear before voting the same way that he does. It’s pretty clear that Shadowstone is the dude behind the sketchy business, and it’s equally clear that the drow gang who Ronin promised to Do An Assassinate for probably picked this dude because he’s obviously in Shadowstone’s pocket.

The Polymorph is getting close to running out, so disguised-as-a-random-Savras-cleric Aurix tries to scootch out of the meeting all “bathroom break s’cuse me.” She manages to deceive all the high priests except one, ducks out, and hides away in an empty room so Ronin can be a half-orc again and not a spider. Knowing their cover may be blown, Ronin tries to suggest pulling out and coming back with the rest of the party. Aurix is wary, knowing that much of the party won’t be super on board with “murder a church guy” or really cut out for Stealth, and fearing that the suspicions they raised may lead to tighter security. She suggests instead that they do a “to hide a tree, use a forest” approach and try to slip in with all the leaving clerics when the meeting ends, and maybe try to follow their mark that way.

No luck seeing him among the people who go by, though, so Ronin figures that we should just cut our losses and leave. He gets caught on the way out, though, and we get taken to talk to the High Priestess who wasn’t fooled by Aurix’s “lol brb bathroom” bit. She talks about Shadowstone’s shadiness, a bit about our mark’s past, and how he’s one of Shadowstone’s many puppets. Aurix suggests that they, as ardent adherents to the tenets of Savras and not this skewed version Shadowstone is trying to push, try talking to the mark in private. Somehow, this works, and the priestess arranges for them to talk.

At this point, Aurix is READY THE FUCK TO HIT. Hexblade’s Curse, poised to strike, waiting for Ronin to give the signal. He talks to this drow High Priest a bit. The guy doesn’t really know anything useful at all about Shadowstone, but he quickly realizes that we were sent by the drow gang to kill him, and starts sobbing and weeping. At this point, Ronin does a 180, and completely changes his mind about killing the dude. He kinda does a “well now you know that this gang wants to kill you, so we’ll just see what fate decides” kind of thing and asks how he can help and stuff. Aurix is like shooting him Looks and trying to mouth stuff like “DUDE WE NEED TO GET INTO THE UNDERDARK ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DOUBLE CROSS THE DROW MAFIA,” but she takes her oaths pretty seriously, so she doesn’t really want to run this clown through in front of Ronin after she promised “I’ll have your back, however you wanna get the job done.”

She knows that the High Priestess of Savras has seen his face and heard his voice, and she also knows that he openly admitted where he’s from, so she’s just thinking, like, “well shit, I gotta protect this poor naive idiot or he’ll absolutely get arrested and/or silenced.” She tells him “okay, go leave back to the inn, don’t hide it, just let people witness you exiting the temple.” Once Ronin clears off, she talks with the mark, convinces him “look, these people will just send someone who’s actually willing to assassinate you once they realize this failed, you have to flee, I can help you disappear so well neither Shadowstone nor drow can find you.” With some very lucky smooth-talking, she convinces him to tell some of the Savras clerics he’s heading out for a walk to clear his head (thereby proving he was still alive after Ronin left), and she takes him out to one of the city gates.

Now, at this point, her full intention was “get somewhere with no witnesses, run him through, dump him in a ditch.” She did NOT want to backstab the drow criminal syndicate for a lot of reasons.

They also knew Ronin’s face and voice, meaning they could easily come for him and/or the party he was with.

Aurix had been prepared all along for “I can do an assassination for you” to result in actually doing the assassination, so she was pretty braced for “this is a priest, he probably won’t go HELL YEAH KILL ME I’M EVIL AS SHIT,” so she wasn’t all that moved by tears at all

also Aurix is a True Neutral lizardfolk only really concerned with keeping her oaths and surviving, so risking the necks of herself and her friends for no better reason than “this total stranger did a real sad cry” is just not really something she’s wired to understand

Aurix is a fuckign criminal with an evil sword that thirsts for blood. She’s been in shadyville so long that she’s probably pretty numb to shedding the blood of sapient beings, especially ones that are cronies in some Real Fucky Business

they definitely did still need to get to the Underdark, and the only really accessible entrance is in this exact city, so thumbing your nose at the drow seems REALLY unwise

It didn’t actually work out that way though. The mark passed out a little outside the gates, an elf standing guard there was all “HEY WHAT ARE YOU DOING.” Aurix tries the “hhha ha ha he’s just drunk I’m taking him home,” but the dude just automatically knows that’s horseshit. I’m thinking “jesus christ this unexpected morality moment is going to get my character arrested and/or killed,” so I try to cast Hold Person. Automatic fail (I guess elves resist paralysis or WIS saving throws?). I’m like. [SCREAMS INTERNALLY] and just..... try to bribe the guy to forget he saw anything

I think the DM feels sorry for me and my utterly screwed character lmao, because the elf kinda just goes “actually for this much gold I’ll just handle making sure this guy gets to the next town over lol” at which point I go “COOL THANKS IF ANYONE ASKS YOU SAW NOTHING” and just fuckign. peace out. So I ended up losing a chunk of change on this, but like.... at least Aurix didn’t Perish

So the whole party reconvenes at the inn, and Ronin has already spilled most of what they were up to. The group moves up to one of their rooms for Privacy and Aurix is... not entirely happy.... about the way things went. She’s pissed that he sprung a last-second backdown on her with no warning and put her into a situation where she had to break an oath to these dudes, that they’ve made enemies of both sides of a gang war, that she had to go through a bunch of money and trouble to clean this up, and that there’s now a loose end running wild on his way to the next town over. The vanishing of a high priest is very quickly noticed, despite the “just going for a walk” thing, and the alarm is raised across the city. We decide “hey this would be a REALLY GOOD TIME to skip town.” We wait until the next day, when Corrin (half-dragon ranger/sorc) can pick up her new +2 spell focus, Aurix picks up the Entire Live Cow she ordered, and we skip town to go back to the ancient dragon’s lair and see how much of the hoard the kobolds have dug up.

Aurix comes barreling in all “MY SWEET LITTLE LIZARDY BABIES I BROUGHT YOU A BEEF.” Kobolds are very pleased to get an entire delicious cow, and present us with A SHITLOAD OF STUFF. 11K gold tossed into our portable hole, along with 36 more magic items (most of them are scrolls). We explain that we’re gonna be away for a while and that the kobolds really should stay away from hassling the nearby city because AURIX NEEDS HER BABIES TO BE OKAY LMAO.

With our ducks all in a row, Von (bardy boi) does a Teleportation Circle, and we all blip back to Breedonne to hand in our dragonscales to (and get our magic items Identified by) the wizardy dude who we’re doing this Main Quest stuff for. We retire to an inn to discuss our next move. We’ll still need more dragonscales probably, but it took us a lot to find this white dragon, so we’re not all that sure how easily we’ll even be able to locate another dragon to hunt. Sticking to getting mindflayer helmets from the Underdark seems like the better move, but considering the only really accessible entrance is the one in the city we just messed with the drow in, we’re kinda unsure how well that will go. We figure that we’ll maybe just, like... spend a bit here in Breedonne preparing and researching and getting materials for our Underdark adventure, and hopefully by the time we’re ready to come back, the heat will have died down a little bit. On that decision, we end for the night, and we’ll pick back up sometime in March!

#aurix #troubled times campaign

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ugh-supersoldiers · 7 years ago

Text

The Barista and the Novelist

MASTERLIST

Characters: Barista!Bucky x reader

Summary: You’re a fresh university graduate, set on finding the world’s best cup of tea to enjoy in your most favourite season of all: Autumn. On a day off from your internship, you venture down to the next coffee shop on your list with laptop in hand, hoping to be able to work on the ending of the novel you’re writing. That’s what you meet the charming Bucky Barnes, a barista with an eye for you from the moment he sees you walk through the door who just so happens to want to hear about your book.

Warnings: This is the fluffiest of all fluffy fluffs. Bad editing, I’ll go back later I promise.

Words: 3885

A/N: Autumn is the prettiest season and Bucky is the prettiest metal armed super soldier. Coincidence? I think not.

Tea was probably your most favourite substance on the planet. English breakfast, earl grey, orange pekoe, chai, you name it. You’d discovered that fall was by far the best time to engage in tea drinking, and you’d scour the coffee shops of your town in search of the best cup the moment you started to see the leaves change from luscious greens to crisp reds.

When you stepped out of your home a cool wind hit your face, blowing your thick scarf back behind your shoulder as the blissful scent of fall leaves and cinnamon from your neighbor next door, who’d ever so kindly left their kitchen window wide open to let the inviting smell of their baking echo into the streets.

A smile decorated your lips as you began the walk to the next coffee house on your list, ‘Howling Commandos Coffee’, your leather boots picking up stray fallen leaves as you ever so happily marched down the sidewalk, a skip in your step all the while.

You reached into your purse, pulling out the pair of headphones that had be subject to a horrendous tangle while remaining stagnant in your bag for god knows how long. You were so prepared for fall, that you even had a fall playlist in your music.

Once you’d finally managed to detangle the mess that was your headphones, you plugged them into your phone, and connected yourself to your music, delving deep into the likes of the Goo Goo Dolls, Del Amitri, and the xx.

You were fresh out of university, and were deep into an internship with a local company that took a lot of time and focus, but on days off like today, you’d find yourself daydreaming about anything and everything you could think of.

Mainly, about the story you’d been consumed with writing for nearly a year. Writing was your passion over anything else, and you always found that you did your best work during this season. You found inspiration in the tumbling leaves outside.

When you reached the coffee shop, the sound of the bell ringing outwards as you opened the door. Another blissful smile graced your cheeks as the warm scent of coffee hit your nose.

The shop was almost completely barren, a testament to the hour of day. Now nearly seven in the evening, you’d figured most of the everyday coffee house goers had retired home, but you were only just beginning your journey of the day.

Happily, you strode up to the counter that was elegantly littered with different baked goods. Apple tarts, blueberry scones, sugar cookies, anything you could think of was laid out in from of you in a rather festive display of orange and red cloth laying underneath.

Your eyes were then glued at the menu of different drinks that you could chose from, an assortment that might have taken you a whole hour on your own, had you not heard the smooth voice of someone in front of you.

“Lemme know when you’re decided.”

Snapping your attention back down to the source of this voice, you saw the back of a broad shouldered man, cleaning away at the many machines he’d used during the day.

“Well, there certainly is a lot to look at.” You laughed.

A warm chuckle came from him, and you watched as he slowly turned around.

“Well, I’m always here to make a recommendation...”

His eyes met yours, and you watched his smile melt away, his entire focus now locked on you.

You hardly took note however, you were too in awe of him yourself to give a damn about the silence that loomed between you. You had never seen a man so gorgeous in your entire life.

Long chestnut brown hair tied into a low bun at the base of his neck, a few unlucky strands framing his cheeks and strong jaw that was dotted with stubble. His cable knot maroon sweater clung to his shoulder, fitting his chest just tightly enough for any viewer to be able to grasp how muscular he was underneath. He wore an apron, tied around his waist, a pair of worn out jeans beneath. And his eyes - God his eyes - were possibly the most magnificent of all features. Bright blue with hints of grey looming about them.

“Hi.” He said, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Hi.” You whispered back.

“I’m Bucky... Bucky Barnes.”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

He blinked a few times, as if snapping himself out of a trance, “What were you in the mood for?”

“W-well,” You regained your composure, “I’m currently on a quest for the world’s best cup of tea.”

“You don’t say,” He smiled as he leaned over the counter, resting his elbows on the surface to get closer to you, “It just so happens that I make the best cuppa in Brooklyn.”

“Oh yeah?” You asked him, walking the dangerous line of flirtation.

“You betcha, doll.”

“Prove it.”

A boyish grin came upon his face, one that you swore made your heart melt into a puddle on the floor.

“You take milk and sugar?” He asked you.

“Just a touch.”

“Take a seat, darlin’. I’ll bring it out to you.”

So you did what you were told, finding an open seat by the window and sitting, taking your beige jacket off and hanging over the back of your chair. You reached into your bag and pulled out your laptop, an air of excitement filling you as you opened the lid.

You’d been writing a novel for the course of your entire university career. A collection of narratives about your life, little stories about the people you’ve met, stories they’d told you, anything along those lines. It was a collection of every little piece of life that struck you as interesting or inspiring over the somewhat hellish previous four years of your life.

You reread the last segment that you’d added nearly a month ago, when you had first gotten your internship with an editing company. It wasn’t ideal, but it was a foot in the door of the publishing business which is exactly what you needed.

The sound of you finger tapping aimlessly on the side of the table would’ve annoyed anyone else in the shop, had there actually been anyone else accompanying you.

“Whatch’a workin’ on there?”

You glanced up to see the curious frame of Bucky standing in front of you with a piping hot mug in his hands. It was only now that you got a look at his one hand, completely made of metal. You hadn’t noticed it before.

“I’m writing a novel.” You said as he set the tea down in front of you and acknowledged the thank you that passed your lips.

“A novel,” He said, “Impressive. Can I hear some of it?”

You gestured to the seat beside him, and he looked around the shop to make sure no one else had come in. After assessing that it was in fact empty, he took a seat across from you and nodded at you eagerly, a signal to continue.

“It’s long,” You explained with a laugh, “Do you really want me to start at the beginning?”

“The pretty girl that comes into my coffee shop askin’ about the best cuppa tea ever is willing to read me - Brooklyn’s biggest book nerd - a novel that she wrote herself and you think I don’t wanna hear the entire thing? Doll, you’re crazier than I thought.”

“I might rival you for that book nerd title.” You smirked, reaching forward to grasp the mug while trying to hide the blush that spread across your cheeks. It was becoming apparently that this man knew very well how to charm a woman.

“Is that a challenge?”

You quirked an eyebrow at him from above the line of sight of your mug as you took a sip of the tea he’d prepared especially for you, “Only if you want it to be.”

A hum passed your lips as you tasted the drink, reveling in the flavour that danced across your tongue. It was true, Bucky did in fact make the best cup of tea in Brooklyn.

“Good?” He asked, his eyes sparkling with delight at your reaction.

“I’ve had better.” You smirked playfully through your fib.

“Now you’re just playin’ with me, sweetheart.” He laughed and shook his head at you.

Of course, he was right. This was absolutely the single best cup of tea you’d ever had. Ever. There was a sweetness about it that you’d never tasted before, perhaps it was the brew of tea itself, or perhaps it was the company that sat alongside you while your drank, you’d never know for certain.

“Why don’t you tell me about the book first, darlin’?” Bucky said, putting his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his balled fist.

“You sure?”

“Damn straight I am.”

You giggled, “Alright.”

So you explained to him exactly what it was; A collection of narratives that you’d collected over the last four years of your life. Starting during your very first week of university when you listened to one of the upper year students you’d met told you a story about a life changing moment that happened to them when they were younger.

You were mystified, inspired, and you knew that you needed to jot her story down. With her permission, you wrote her narrative down in a file on your computer.

Within a few months, you’d created more and more of these journals filled with every sort of story imaginable. One’s from your mother, your classmates, a few from your favourite profs and TAs.

Now, at a whopping 200 pages, your novel was almost complete.

“That’s incredible.” Bucky said, his voice lowering in volume.

“Thank you.” You said, “I’m doing an internship with an editing firm, I’m hoping to get it published when it’s finished.”

“With that much content, I’m surprised you’re still trying to write more.”

“It just needs something more, you know? One more story to cap it all off.” You explained, scrolling through the lengthy document.

“Do you have any of your own in there?”

“Huh?”

“You said you had a lotta ones from other people, what about one about you?” Bucky asked as you sipped at your tea again.

“I wouldn’t know what to write.” You laughed.

“There must be something.” Bucky said.

“Nothing that sticks out.”

He cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes, “If you say so.”

“My life has been surprisingly mundane.”

“I somehow doubt that.”

You laughed at him quietly, “Chapter one: The Adventures of Eliza in the Rain...”

By the time you’d gotten through the book, you had completely lost track of time. Bucky had taken a few breaks, momentarily having to serve the few people who came into the shop so late, none of them staying around after their drinks were made.

He’d already flipped the open sign over on it’s back, although you hadn’t even really noticed being too caught up in reading to him.

When you finished up the final story that you’d written, one that your grandmother had told you, you looked up at him with a grin.

“That’s it.”

Bucky’s eyes were completely wide, a huge smile placing itself on his face at your words.

“(Y/N), that was utterly brilliant!” He exclaimed, “I need a first edition!”

You giggled at his enthusiasm, your heart swelling at his excitement.

“I’ll have to mail you a copy.”

“God, please do, darlin’. That was the greatest thing I’ve ever heard. The way you write, it’s beautiful.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“You certainly know how to compliment a writer.”

“Only the good ones.”

You smiled.

“If only it were finished, then I’d print it all off and hand deliver it to you myself tomorrow.” You sighed, aimlessly hitting the spacebar a few times.

“I got an idea.” Bucky said.

You waved your hand, a gesture for him to continue.

“(Y/N), you ever been in love before?”

You stopped your spacebar-ing and stared at him, a blush spreading across your cheeks at his question. The truth was, no you hadn’t ever been in love. You were still young, but not young enough to not stick out as an anomaly because of this.

“The greatest stories are love stories.” He said.

You nodded your head but remained silent, staring down at the purple china mug that had run empty of tea hours ago.

“No.” You said.

“Hm?”

“No, I haven’t been in love.”

You wanted so badly to avoid his gaze, to crawl under a rock and shut him out, but he was right there, and his beautiful eyes were too tempting.

When you glanced at him, he was staring back at you, searching your face with a slightly mystified look on his brow.

“How is that even possible?” He asked in awe.

“Guess I’m just slow, I’ve never even really had much of a boyfriend.” You said, ducking behind the screen of your laptop.

“No, that’s not what I mean, doll.” He laughed, “I mean how is it possible that no one worked their ass off for you?”

“I don’t think I can answer that.”

“Maybe you’re right,” He said as he picked your mug up and hoisted himself up from the chair, “But anyone who passed you by before must’ve been a complete idiot.”

He retreated back behind the counter and began scrubbing at the mug in the sink that was there, the scent of lavender soap faintly lacing the air.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to remind yourself how to breathe for a moment as you watched the strong muscles under the knit of his sweater worked.

“Can I ask you something?” You questioned tentatively.

“Sure, darlin’ whatever you want.” He called over his shoulder.

“What happened to your arm?”

A soft laugh escaped his lips, “I used to work with some pretty heavy machinery, fixin’ planes and huge tanks and freight cars.”

“Sounds kinda dangerous.”

“Well I did lose an arm, so I’d have to agree with you.”

You bit your lip at his quip.

“One day I was workin’ on the top of this huge train rig, had to get air lifted in because the whole thing stopped workin’ in the middle of a snow storm. I was tethered to the top, tryin’ to get my hands on one of the plates up there that was giving us problems when this huge gust of wind came outta nowhere. Tether snapped ‘cause of the cold and I fell right off the edge.”

You hung off of his every word as he shut the tap off and took a rag, drying the cup as he turned back to face you, leaning up against the counter.

“Wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, maybe a broken arm or leg or somethin’, on a normal day when the rig wasn’t stuck at the edge of canyon. Thought I was a goner for sure. When I came to, I was in the hospital with one less arm than I remembered having before.” He snickered and glanced down at his left hand.

“When did that come into play?” You asked, nodding at his arm as you stood up to go sit on one of the bar stools that was situated right in front of where he stood behind the counter.

“Well, I was part of this trial for amputees. They were studyin’ innervation in prosthetics and asked me if I was willing to join.”

“Innervation? As in... you can feel this?” You reached forward and gently grabbed his hand, tracing the lines of the plates on his palm.

You were absorbed in his hand, watching the way the plates shifted and moved when he reached to wrap his fingers around yours, holding your hand firmly, brushing his cold thumb along the back of your hand.

“Sure can, darlin’.”

You looked up at him and smiled happily, gazing right into his eyes. A sigh came from your lips.

“I think I’ve found somethin’ real special tonight.” He said, not breaking eye contact with you.

“Yeah?” You asked, leaning forward on the counter.

“Yeah.” He whispered, moving even closer to you, “I think I really have.”

He was impossibly close, your head was spinning. With his hand in yours still, you questioned if it was all a dream.

By the time your noses touched, you were convinced you’d died and were simply in the presence of an angel.

“(Y/N)?” He whispered, his lips brushing yours.

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

No reply was needed, you simply gripped the collar of his sweater and pulled him onto your lips, the anticipation being far too much for you to bear any longer.

With a chuckle muffled by your lips, Bucky deepened the kiss expertly, his tongue entering to explore your mouth.

When he attempted to pull you closer to him, he made a rather dissatisfied sound at this discovery.

“Fuck this.” He whispered, breaking the kiss in order to hop over the counter, taking a new position in front of you.

Reaching forward, he took your hand and pulled you up out of your seat, hoisting you up again, his lips planting back on yours.

With arms snaked around your waist, Bucky kissed you under the dim lighting of the coffee shop, hoping to God that he could exist in this moment with you forever.

When his lips left yours, you pressed your forehead to his, catching your breath after such a wondrous display.

A small laugh left your mouth, and he joined in at the beautiful sound.

“Somethin’ funny, darlin’?”

“No, you just seem to put a smile on my face.”

Well, if that wasn’t the sweetest thing Bucky Barnes had ever heard, he didn’t know what was.

He placed another quick kiss to your lips and closed his eyes, slowly swaying you back and forth to the beat of an imaginary song.

“I think I found something special too.” You whispered to him.

“Glad we have that in common.”

“Me too.”

He felt you glance over his shoulder and tense up for a moment.

“Oh my god! You closed three hours ago, Bucky it’s midnight. Gosh, I’ve kept you here for way too long, I’m so sorry!” You said, breaking from his arms and turning back to the table to pack up your things.

“Wouldn’t have let you stay so long if I wasn’t enjoying havin’ you around.” He said as he watched you swing your back over your shoulder again.

“I really should get going.” You said, knowing that you should at least try and get a few hours of decent sleep tonight.

“Guess so.” Bucky smiled sadly, approaching you until he stood in front of you.

You sighed as you looked at each other, neither one wanting to leave the other, but each with the knowledge that the separation was necessary.

“Thank you for listening to my story.” You said.

“Thank you for sharing it with me.” He whispered, reaching to take your hand in his and press it to his lips gently.

“I’ll have to share that first edition with you.”

His eyes lit up, “Must mean I’m gonna see you again, then.”

“Pretty soon too, I think I might have an idea for that last chapter,” You said, “I’ll bring it back here just as soon as it’s come out of the press.”

He smiled at your with a boyish grin, “I’d love that, doll.”

You retreated from him slowly, backing up step by step.

“Well, I suppose I’ll be seeing you.”

“Sure will.” He said.

You bit your lip and smiled at him brightly as your back hit the door. Never breaking eye contact with him as you pushed the door open from behind, you said one final parting.

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

You barely made it home before you squealed in delight at the experience, running up the steps into your bedroom, the laptop in your bag being quickly opened up, a flood of creative juices coming crashing down upon you at such a rate you didn’t even care about how early you had to wake up the next morning.

With shaking fingers, you typed in the final entry.

When Bucky heard the bell of his coffee shop ding open at ten minutes past closing that next week, he turned around while drying one of the several dirty mugs of that day to inform whoever it was that they were closed, his jaw nearly dropped to the floor when he saw you standing there, a manuscript in hand.

“(Y/N)!” He said, shocked to see your beautiful face again.

“Hey.” You laughed, walking forward to him, “I promised you’d be the first person to read it.” You handed him the print.

Shocked, he took it in his hands and smiled down at it, leafing through a few pages.

“This is amazing... Thank you, (Y/N).”

You smiled at him, “You’re welcome. It was incentive to see you again after all.”

“Well, I suppose I’m going to need something else so you can come back again.” He laughed, eyes still glued to the printed words on the pages that he held in his hands.

“Page 235.” You whispered before leaning over that memorable counter and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

In a flash, you were gone again, leaving Bucky in a complete trance. When he came to, he desperately flipped through the pages to find the number you’d specified. When he reached it, his heart thudded wildly when he heard the title.

Chapter 17 The World’s Best Cup of Tea Became the Muse that Finished my Book

He knew it was about him.

He read your version of events, explaining how utterly enamored with him you were and how much you desperately wanted to end with a love story, like he’d suggested, so you put the potential beginning of the likes of yours and his to finish off the book.

By the time Bucky reached the final page, he knew he was capable of loving you for the rest of his life. At the last word, he was certain of it.

Below the final sentence was a sticky note with your scribbled hand writing sprawled over it.

“Bucky,

I hope you enjoyed this. If I’m not entirely off base about us, I’d love to see you again before this goes through the publishing process (my boss saw it and wants to get it out there as soon as possible!) and it just so happens that I need this manuscript back, as they only really gave me one.

There’s your incentive,

(Y/N).”

Right below, there was a phone number and a large drawn heart. Bucky laughed out loud, unable to even fathom how just by chance he’d met you, the writer who wrote the first of the many love stories you would write about him in the book that would launch your career into soaring heights.

He clutched the manuscript tightly against his chest and smiled down at it, sighing heavily as he thought about the sound of your voice on the phone call that he would initiate just as soon as he could that very next day.

#bucky x reader #barista!bucky #barista!bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky headcanon #bucky barnes x reader #winter solider x reader #winter soldier #Steve Rogers #Sebastian Stan #sebstan #seb stan #sebastian x reader #sebastian stan x reader #marvel #mcu #fic rec #bucky smut

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machineryfield · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 1: Normal Days

Shulk looks over the communications set-up again and smiles to himself. This was the first time ever that the Colonies had the chance to be so interconnected… He just hopes it all works like it’s supposed to.

There’s a lot riding on this, and all of it is on his back. He was the technical genius who set up the communication lines. He was the expert at making sure they all actually connected in the right places…

And he was also the nerd that wasn’t much for talking, who was too nervous to contact strangers to make sure it all worked. Instant communication with so much distance between them all still scared Shulk a bit, and he wasn’t sure he could start with a stranger.

So he decides to wait. Fiora is busy right now, but the farmhouse she lives on should be the perfect distance… He can call her in the morning, and their first ever long-distance morning conversation can happen.

He readjusts his glasses and decides to do a little more work on this… It was crucial it works just right, after all! They didn’t want to lose any other colonies to the beasts and monsters that roamed the plains, after all.

The idea of another ending up like Colony 8 because they don’t get the distress signal in time… It sends a shiver down Shulk’s spine, because that would be his fault. Barely twenty and he’d be the reason they lost so many Homs… Not a fun thought.

So he keeps working -- promises himself that if it’s perfect he can mess around with that new-fangled computer Dickson bought him. He’s lucky to have one, and yet barely has time to poke at it… Funny how that works out, huh?

“Just a bit more,” he reminds himself, “if the Colonies are all connected, I’ll have plenty of time to have as much fun with the computer as I want.”

He can invite Fiora and Reyn to poke around it, too, he decides. They aren’t much for machinery and technology, at least not like him, but they seem to enjoy watching him. He thinks it could be a fun afternoon activity one of these days…

He’ll need to ask that nurse from Colony 6, Sharla, if she and her brother can keep an eye on Dunban, though. He knows how Fiora hates leaving him alone when he’s still recovering from… whatever it is that hurt him.

A sigh of frustration leaves Shulk. If he’d finished all of this just a bit sooner, they wouldn’t be in this position. Of Dunban, Dickson, and Mumkhar vanishing only for the two former to come back. Wouldn’t be at a loss for where they had gone…

He needs to work on mobile communication next, he decides. So people don’t go off the radar like that as much… Maybe with tracking, so even if they don’t have the communicative powers they can find and save the people.

No more like Mumkhar, he swears to himself. No more lives lost because he doesn’t work fast enough.

“Hey, kid.” Dickson’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. “That’s enough workin’ for today, you should get your arse to bed.”

“Dickson,” Shulk blinks out of his thoughts, “is it that late already?”

“Sure is,” Dickson nods. “Don’t want to see you staying up all night when the project is already done, anyway. C’mon, get, I’ll look it over for ya if it’ll get you to bed.”

“Okay,” he stands, “just make sure it all looks okay. If anything is wrong let me know and I can fix--”

“Shulk.” Dickson gives him a look that burns through his skull. “Bed.”

Shulk is used to this dream by now. Walking through the frozen tundra, searching for two people -- people he can’t quite remember. Maybe Fiora and Reyn? Dickson and Dunban? Maybe even his parents, lost to him before he could really remember.

It doesn’t matter, though, it never matters. He wanders endlessly, towards a giant spire in the distance -- Ose Tower. He doesn’t think it’s really so big, but he’s only seen it as a child. Scattered memories of it in the distance and his parents always coming to him as he sleeps.

He trudges onward, shivering as the cold seeps into his bones. He wants to make it there, and find whoever it is he’s thinking of. He wants the dreams to end, for the cold to stop gnawing at his very soul.

He makes it to the doors of the tower, for the first time, he actually makes it. He puts his hands on the doors and pushes them open, the warmth from inside hitting him in moments. How it can be so warm in there, he doesn’t know, but he likes it.

Eyes closed, he soaks in the feeling at first. Allows himself to let a calm that these dreams never bring him wash over him. Then he opens his eyes to velvety blues and the sounds of a woman singing.

He can just make out a figure, sitting on the empty pedestal he vaguely remembers from his childhood, and his eyes snap open.

Shulk stares up at the ceiling, the dream still registering in his mind… Was that person one of the people he was searching for? If they were, where was the other? And if not… who were they? Someone to point him in the right direction.

He’s not sure about that, but he’s sure the sun is coming up. That’s his cue to check in with Fiora and see if things are working right.

Pulling himself out of bed, he pushes the dream away. Whatever it means, he can figure it out later. There’s more important matters to attend to.

Shulk sits down in front of their new phone and smiles when he sees a note from Dickson. It says that everything was working just fine, Shulk should believe in himself more. That’s just like Dickson, he thinks, as he pulls it off the receiver.

The number to the farmhouse is placed in and within seconds, a familiar voice is filtering through the line.

“Hello?”

“Fiora,” he smiles, “looks like it works.”

“Shulk!” Her excitement oozes off her words and he can imagine the joy on her face. “I knew you could do it… Never thought I’d hear your voice this early in the morning.”

“What can I say? You were the first person I thought to call.”

“Aw, I think you’re just trying to flatter me now! Though, if you want to keep flattering me…” Fiora trails off for a moment, “you and Reyn could come by for a visit! It’s been a while!”

That’s right, he and Reyn had been so caught up in other things that they’d barely visited her. Shulk’s obsession with the communications and Reyn’s focus on training… Well, together they led to two blokes who were pretty bad friends, all things considered.

“I know, I know,” he sighs, kicking himself mentally a bit, “I’ll find Reyn later and we can come over for lunch.”

“That sounds great!” Fiora sounds giddy. “Maybe there’ll be enough time that we can head to town after. I have a little shopping I need to do, and Reyn’s arms could help me carry it all.”

Shulk laughs, “Don’t let Reyn hear you say that.”

“We both know that if I stroke his ego enough he’ll agree… I should get going, though. In the middle of making breakfast.”

“Yeah, talk to you later.” He nods as if she could even see him. “See you in a while.”

“See you! And oh,” a pause, “don’t forget to eat breakfast, okay?”

“You got it.”

#Series: Which All is Revealed #Fandom: Xenoblade #Character: Shulk #Character: Dickson #Character: Fiora #Post Type: Chapter

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queen-scribbles · 7 years ago

Text

Practice Makes Perfect

@pillarspromptsweekly fill 16, Roll For It! #4. I got Edér, gift, and memory, and it turned into 2k of Edérity fluff somehow. I dunno. I’m in too deep. Send help. (Also, Peycg is said PAYDJ, according to the wiki) edit:whoops, forgot to fix the title.

All too often, when the weather turned cold enough to prevent gardening, Charity found herself at loose ends. This year, her first settled into the Dyrwood, promised to be little different. She had friends, she had Edér (and the pretense of courtship they maintained). But still she found herself with more empty hours than full ones, especially once snow started to fall. That was probably why she decided to take up knitting.

It wasn’t something she consciously planned to do. She happened to mention(it might have been a bit complaining) that the days had more hours than she knew what to do with now while enjoying a drink at the Dracogen Inn. Peycg, the innkeeper’s wife, suggested knitting as a hobby both relaxing and practical.

“‘Course, that’s once you get the hang of it,” she cautioned when Charity’s eyes lit with excitement. “It ain’t that difficult, but some people do struggle.”

Charity laughed, twirling the end of her ponytail. “I’m very patient, and very stubborn.” She paused a moment and grimaced in self-deprecation. “And very bored.”

Peycg smiled as she nodded at the redhead’s fingers restlessly tapping against the counter. “I can tell. If you’re interested, come by t’morrow, an hour past midday. I’ll be done most of my work by then, and I’ve a spare set of needles and some yarn you can use. I’ll teach ya the basics.”

“Oh, I have yarn,” Charity said. “Ufdaen traded me some for the last of my tomatoes just before the ground froze over.”

“Ah, well, that’s lucky.” Peycg smiled even wider as her gaze drifted over Charity’s shoulder at the opening and shutting of the inn’s door. “Evenin’, Mayor.”

The sly look the older woman tossed her made Charity’s cheeks burn, and she fought the urge to hunch down and make herself less visible. Even aside from the courtship facade, Edér was her friend and there wasn’t really a logical reason for that reaction.

Then again, matters of the heart were rarely logical. Charity bit her lip and picked at the handle of her tankard until she felt Edér behind her. She half-turned and smiled fondly as she reached up to dust snow out of his hair. “You’re doing it again.”

“Not on purpose,” Edér protested cheerfully, leaning against the counter and signalling Dengler for a drink. This was a frequent topic of good-natured reprimand; he was so tall and broad-shouldered, Charity often complained he loomed without even trying.

“On purpose or not, you’re still doin’ it,” she teased. She brushed against his cheek on the way down. “You’re also freezing.” She cupped her hand against his skin, ignoring both Peycg’s grin and the bite of cold against her fingers.

“I’ll be fine,” Edér waved off her concern as he sat down. “I grew up with this weather, Charity. I’m used to it.” He tugged off one glove and rested his hand on her arm, the heat of it quickly soaking through to her skin. “‘Sides, the rest of me is plenty warm.”

“I can see that, crazy man,” Charity said, voice rife with amusement. “So, are you done your mayoral duties for the day and here to celebrate?”

Edér made a face. “Nah, I wish. Still got a lot of paperwork to wade through. Just thought I’d give my eyes a break for a bit, bolster m’self with ale and good company ‘fore I dive back into the fray.”

“You make it sound like a battle,” she teased, leaning closer than strictly necessary and very aware of the knowing glances Peycg kept throwing their way, even though she’d moved down the counter.

“Might as well be,” he snorted, nodding thanks to Dengler when the innkeeper plunked down a full tankard. “‘Cept this one I can’t win with a sword.” He took a deep drink. “Makes it a good bit tougher. I’d prefer a straight up fight.”

“You’re not alone in that,” Charity said wryly. She drained the last of her drink and contemplated ordering another, but the light was already starting to dim outside. Cursed short winter days... If she didn’t want part of her walk home to be in the dark, she needed to get moving. “But you are about to be alone in here. Well, ‘cept for Dengler and Peycg.”

Edér’s brow crinkled into a disappointed frown. “You’re leavin’? Already?”

“Edér, I’ve already been here for at least an hour-” she glanced at Peycg and got a confirming nod- “an’ it’s a long enough haul back to my place, if I don’t skedaddle now I’ll be makin’ part of it by moonlight.”

“Here, I’ll go with ya,” he offered, pushing away from the counter and starting to button his coat.

“You just got here,” she protested, tugging on her ponytail. “You’re still thawin’ out, I can’t ask you to go back into that.” She gestured vaguely at the door.

“Charity.” He kissed her forehead and her entire face went hot enough to forge Durgan steel. “Darlin’. What kinda gentleman would I be if I didn’t walk the lady I’m courtin’ home?”

“That kind that acknowledges his lady can take care of herself?” Charity tried, praying furiously the blushing would stop. That was less likely than Hylea and Magran mending fences. Whenever Edér broke out the endearments, it was ridiculously hard to remember this was a fucking act.

“I do know you can take care of yourself,” Edér promised as he helped her with her coat. “I also know your company’ll be a better break than anyone else’s.” He winked at Dengler. “No offense.”

“None taken,” the innkeeper laughed, he and his wife both watching them.

Sensing his determination, Charity saved her breath, instead waving goodbye to Peycg as she linked her arm through Edér’s. “You know they’ll gonna talk,” she commented, wrapping her scarf an extra loop around her neck against the evening’s chill. “’Bout us.”

“Ain’t that the point?” Edér drawled, shoulders hunching as they exited the inn. “We want ‘em talkin’ about our ‘courtship’ rather’n wonderin’ about the... other thing.”

“Shh!” she hissed, squeezing his arm. There weren’t many people out, thanks to both the hour and the cold, but still, better safe than sorry. “So... what’re you doin’ tomorrow?”

He grinned, catching the hint they should stick to small talk. “Mayor stuff. You?”

“Peycg’s gonna teach me to knit.” Charity shivered and tucked herself closer against him. Maybe part of why he never got cold is he seemed to radiate heat. It reminded her of winters as a child, when she’d huddle close to her father on walks in order to stay warm. “I’m bored without my garden or crops, an’ much as I enjoy spendin’ time with you or my friends, you have your own lives, so I can’t monopolize your time.” Much as I might want to in some cases....

“I dunno,” Edér grinned, pulling his arm free of her grasp to wrap around her shoulders instead, holding her close. “If you came by while I’m workin’, I’m sure I could find somethin’ for you to do.” He laughed, breath clouding the air in front of them. “Prob’ly still really borin’, though.”

Charity scrunched up her nose. “Tempting. But I think I’ll stick with knitting.”

“Smart woman. Stuff I’m dealin’s with’s liable to make me grumpy, anyway.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You? Grumpy? I didn’t think such a thing was possible.”

“It does happen from time to time,” he deadpanned. “Usually involves Tavi’s idea of a prank...”

Charity giggled. “Alright, that I can see.”

It was Edér’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Does that say more about Tavi, or about me?”

She paused, measuring her words. “I think it says more about your friendship than either of you individually.”

He grinned and rubbed her arm. “Like I said, smart woman.”

Charity hummed her gratitude at the compliment and they lapsed into comfortable silence the rest of the way to her house.

~~~~~

It took a large portion of her willpower not to head for the Dracogen as soon as the sun was fully above the horizon. The promise of another escape from boredom was a tantalizing thought, but Charity made herself wait until the arranged time to grab her coat and go meet Peycg. It was warmer today, and she didn’t bother to button it for the walk to the inn.

Peycg was waiting with a smile and a pair of good-sized wooden needles, which she slid across the table to Charity as she sat down. “Hopefully they’re the right size. Let me see your yarn.”

Charity complied, twisting around to pull the light blue ball of yarn from one of her coat pockets. It was only slightly smooshed when she sat it on the table. Peycg reached over and took it in hand, calloused fingers stroking its surface, before nodding appreciatively.

“It’s good yarn,” she said. “Ufdaen’s really honed his trade.”

“That’s what happens if you don’t want to go out of business,” Charity replied with a small laugh.

Peycg chuckled. “True enough. But we’re here to help you hone a skill, not discuss to what extent one of our neighbors has done the same. What you have’ll work well with those needles, which is lucky. I won’t have to go upstairs an’ getcha ‘nother set.” She winked. “But before we get to the actual knittin’, I wanna explain some of the terms to you.”

Charity nodded as the older woman pulled out a knitted square of cheerful purple, her own needles still run through the top. “makes sense to be sure I’ll know what you’re talking about. Let me have it.”

~~~~~~~

It took a good ten minutes just for Charity to get a good grasp on the knitting terms. Learning how to do the actual stitches wasn’t terribly hard once she watched Peycg demonstrate a few.

“Now, the important question,” Peycg began, nodding with approval as she watched Charity slowly knit a few stitches, “Is are you planning to make something specific, or just gettin’ a feel for how it’s done?”

Charity thought for a moment, careful not to lose her grip on the needles. “Can’t I make somethin’ simple that’ll let me do both?”

“Sure,” Peycg nodded. “But if you’re aimin’ to do a particular project, you’ll need to pay attention to how many stitches you have in a row. If you’re just havin’ fun and learnin’ the ropes, it’s less important. Didja have somethin’ in mind you wanted to make?”

Charity smiled to herself, eyed the ball of cornflower-blue yarn. “A scarf.”

Peycg laughed and sent her a knowing look. “Good project for a beginner. I’m assumin’ you’ll want to make it nice an’ wide?”

Charity shrugged innocently. “All the better for keepin’ warm, right?”

“Of course.” Peycg winked, even more knowingly. “I’ll figure out your stitch count per row, and it looks like you have enough yarn there.” She waited until Charity was between stitches and lightly bumped her shoulder. “I’m sure it’ll turn out grand.”

Charity nodded, set down the knitting for a moment to twist her hair into a bun, and then resumed. “I sure hope so.”

~~~~~~~

If she dropped one more stitch, she was going to throw the whole cursed thing in the fire. Charity huffed in exasperation, then made herself take a deep breath and count to ten before she fixed the dropped stitch, finished her row, and decided it was time for a break. She had a headache. And a knot between her shoulder blades. Besides, despite her difficulties with grasping the skill itself, the scarf was almost done. It would be a shame to waste a couple weeks’ worth of hard work. Not to mention the needles and yarn. And she was meeting Peycg tomorrow to learn how to finish it off.

Literally a day from being done, she thought to herself as she tucked five feet of slightly uneven blue knitting in its place. Not wasting that.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Charity? You home?”

She smiled to herself, almost instinctively tugging the end of her ponytail. Just as well she was taking a break. “You can come in, Edér.” She heard the door open and close, the shuffle of him removing his coat. “Thought you said somethin’ about today being full up.”

“Two of the people I was supposed to meet with canceled,” Edér explained, underscored by footsteps. “You alright?”

Charity hastily dropped the hand that had been rubbing between her shoulder blades. “Yeah, fine. Just sat too long in one position’s all.”

He gave her a skeptical look. “Y’know, my mom used to say the same thing. Usually when she was tryin’ to downplay achy spots. C’mere.”

She didn’t really resist when he stepped close enough to pull her into a hug, and didn’t flinch away when one of his big, warm hands passed right over the worst of the tension in her back. She couldn’t, however, suppress a slight hiss.

“Thought so,” Edér nodded, and tugged her arm to pull her toward one of the low backed chairs in her living room. “Sit.”

“What’re you- ooooooh, Effigy’s eyes don’t stop.” Charity let herself slouch, leaning more against his hands as his thumbs rubbed over the knot between her shoulders. “Now I know why my father always looked boneless when Ma did this for hiiim.”

Edér laughed, sounded pleased with himself, as he paused for a second to tweak her ponytail. “Glad I’m not too outta practice.” He shifted position and dragged the heel of his hand down the center of the knot.

OhsweetEothas Charity bit her lip and sucked in a breath to avoid letting out a sound she’d previously only made, well, during acts of a far more intimate nature. Which was the last direction she needed her brain going right now. “Nope, not out of practice. So, um... when’d you learn to do this?”

“My mom used to get the same knot in the same place when she’d been knittin’ too long.” The last of the tension loosened and he gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze before moving to sit in another chair. “That is what that was from, right? Knitting?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, rolling her shoulders. She wanted to kiss him for how loose they felt, but with no audience, they were just friends having a chat. “Thanks. So did you learn how t’do that so you could help your ma?”

“Yep.” Edér grinned and cracked his knuckles. “But she and Dad moved away long time ago...”

“Hence the worry of being rusty,” Charity finished. She smiled broadly. “Trust me, you’re not.”

“Good to know.” He winked at her.

“So what brought you by in the first place?” Charity asked, playing with her ponytail in an effort to seem casual. “We didn’t have plans I forgot about, did we?”

“No, no,” Edér laughed reassuringly. “Just figured it’s been a couple days since we spent time together so I should come by.”

“So people don’t think you’re neglectin’ your lady?” she teased.

“And just ‘cause I missed seein’ you.” He shrugged. “Y’know, as a friend.”

“Sure,” Charity replied. “And I missed seeing you, too. So, whaddya want to talk about?”

He chuckled. “How was your day?”

“Boring and frustrating by turns. I’ve mostly got the hang of knitting, but every so often I’ll get goin’ too fast an’ drop a stitch, or make a row one stitch too long or short... The dropped stitches are the worst, ‘cause most of ‘em I don’t notice ‘til a row or two later, and while Peycg did teach me some tricks to fix stuff like that, I’m not nearly as good at them as general knitting.” She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. Haven’t wandered into town for awhile. Had a lot built up to vent.”

“‘S what I’m here for,” Edér said, amusement in his tone. “Both as your friend and as your fake suitor.”

Charity flashed him a grateful smile. “How ‘bout you, how was your day?”

“Not as bad as it coulda been,” he replied, fiddling with the Eothasian pendant hanging around his neck. “Few people less than happy with decisions I made about property borders, but there were those couple who canceled, which means not nearly as much paperwork.”

She laughed. “Take what you can get, right?”

“Exactly.”

~~~~~~~

Peycg was busy enough the next day, Charity didn’t get her knitting lesson until almost suppertime.

“Sorry, dear,” Peycg apologized as they sat at a table facing the door. “We weren’t expectin’ that caravan that showed up for lunch.”

“No, it’s fine,” Charity assured her. “The inn comes first, I understand completely.”

“Thanks for that,” Peycg nodded. “Now, you just need to finish this off, right?”

“Mm-hm.” Charity pooled the finished scarf on the table. “I added to it some more last night. It’s almost as long as me now.”

“Perfect. That’s a good length for a scarf.” Peycg lifted an inch or two of the knitting by the wooden needle and placed it in her hands. “Now, the closing row and knot is called casting off.”

“Makes sense,” Charity said with a laugh. “Cast on to start, cast off to finish...” She giggled. “Was knitting invented by a fisherman’s wife?”

Peycg laughed, taking up her own knitting to use as an example. “Maybe it was invented by the fisherman. Needed somethin’ to keep his hands busy waitin’ for a bite. But here’s what you need to do...” The process as she explained--and demonstrated--it sounded simple enough; knit two stitches onto her right needle, pull the first over the second, repeat across the row.

Putting it into practice was a smidge more difficult. It seemed like every other second stitch slipped off when it wasn’t supposed to, and usually took several tries to fix. By the time she approached the end of the row, Charity was biting her lip hard. Almost done. Almost. Done. Peycg said the first time is the hardest, so it’ll be better after this. Finally she reached the last stitch. “Okay, now what?” She did exactly what Peycg said, and still the knot nearly got away. “Hylea’s wings, it’s like this hobby wants to drive me away!”

“You’re doing fine, dear,” Peycg chuckled. “I had to redo my first casting off three times to get it right. What happened to you bein’ very patient and very stubborn?”

Charity rolled her eyes in self-deprecation. “Apparently they don’t extend to knitting. Or at least the patience doesn’t. But it’ll be better now that I’ve finished something.”

“That’s how it worked for me, too,” Peycg said with a smile. “It can be disheartening until you prove to yourself that you can do it. Once you have that,” she snapped her fingers. “Easy as a pie.”

“That’s a relief,” Charity sighed, spreading the scarf’s length across the table. Even if it was an over-simplification, it was a relief. Especially considering the final product was far from perfect. Slightly lumpy, with spots arcing like bubbles in the wool, some small sections narrower or wider than the whole, and very clearly a beginner’s attempt. “‘Cause I have to do better than this in the future.”

“You will,” Peycg assured her. “Just takes practice.”

“An’ I think it looks fine,” another, familiar voice chimed in. Edér strode across the room and ran an appraising eye over the scarf.

“Y’know, I’m beginning to think you have some kind of sixth sense for when I’m in here,” Charity teased, smiling up at him as she absently picked at a hangnail. “An’ I’m glad you like it, ‘cause it was supposed to be for you, crazy man who doesn’t know how to dress for the weather. But now I’m reconsidering giving this monstrosity to anyone, let alone someone I... care about.”

He grinned. “First of all, darlin’, I was actually here first this time.” He pointed to a back corner. “Sittin’ right over there havin’ a bite to eat. You didn’t see me, and I didn’t wanna distract you. Second-” he whisked the scarf off the table before Charity had time to react and draped it around his neck- “it would be my pleasure to wear somethin’ made by someone who cares about me.”

Charity rolled her eyes and grabbed the tails of the scarf to pull him down eye-level with her. “You really are a crazy man.”

Edér laughed at her matter-of-fact tone and kissed the end of her nose. “Yep. Makes life interestin’.” He straightened and tugged the scarf free to wrap around his neck a couple times. “I gotta get back t’ work. See ya later?”

“Sure. Later,” Charity nodded, grin plastered across her face as she watched him leave.

She was definitely keeping this hobby.

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

Since this is a few months into the fake dating, I’m definitely planning to go back at some point and write the earlier stages, where they were much more awkward about it and finding boundaries and all that good stuff.

#queens fic #pillars prompts weekly #eder teylecg #charity #ederity

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foreverlovingdaryldixon · 7 years ago

Note

Would you be able to write the Weird places to meet-first day on the job prompt? Please?! That one sounds fun!

A/N: I’m guessing you mean this one? first day at a new job and oh fuck my boss is the person I drunkenly hooked up with last weekend/night. (sorry I wasn’t sure)

Adjusting the hem of her skirt one more time Carol decided that was as good as it was going to get, her heels clicking across the polished floor with each step she took.

This job had been a lifesaver for her, barely having enough money in her bank to cover next month’s rent.

But that meant she couldn’t mess this up, she had to be on top form, bring her A game. And that’s what she intend to do.

As the elevator dinged to signal her floor, Carol took a deep breath, she’d already got past the difficult part, now it was just living up to expectation.

Coming into a small reception area, Carol walked towards the desk, smiling at the less than amused secretary.

“Um, hi, I’m Carol Miller, it’s my first day here.”

The secretary didn’t look any less bored, speaking a drawling tone that could’ve easily put Carol to sleep. “Oh, so you’re her. The boss wants to speak to you, take a seat.”

Carol nodded with a thinly pressed smile, turning to sit down, wringing her hands together nervously.

She’d yet to meet the boss, she was interviewed by one of his assistants, a blonde bombshell that made her even more anxious than if she’d just been interviewed by the man himself.

The sudden sound of the phone ringing startled Carol, trying not to look too surprised as the secretary picked up the phone with a sigh.

“Yep, yeah, she’s here, alright.” The dark haired woman slammed the phone down, pressing a button to release the door in front of Carol. “Mr Dixon will see you now, first door on the left.”

“Thanks,” Carol said quietly as she passed the woman, sucking up all her nerves as she confidently walked into the first door on the left.

It took her a moment to truly register the handsome man sat in the chair, reorganisation hitting her like a truck as he looked up from the papers he was studying.

“Miss Miller,” he greeted in that southern drawl that couldn’t have ever been anyone else’s.

She was frozen to the spot, all previous confidence gone with the wind.

Mr Dixon - the only name she knew him by - then suddenly realised it too, a small smile playing on his lips as he rose from his chair, sauntering over to her slowly.

“Nice ta put a name to a face,” he said, that smirk still plastered on his perfect face, extending a hand out for her to shake.

The movement finally seemed to snap Carol out of the state of shock she had fallen into, taking the hand in hers, fighting a shudder as he shook it firmly.

This couldn’t be happening, of all the bars, of all the nights, of all the men, this was the one she decided to have a one night stand with.

“Likewise Mr Dixon,” she responded quietly, fearing if she said anymore she might actually be sick.

“Ya can call me Daryl,” he said, ushering her to sit as he took his own seat on the other side of the desk.

“Daryl,” she echoed, sitting stiffly from the man across from her.

There was a lingering silence as he let his gaze run over her, Carol’s skin tingling with ghosting sensations.

She couldn’t get it out of her mind.

The picture of him naked above her, kissing parts of her body that made her hot and bothered at just the thought.

“Ya slipped out pretty early the other mornin’,” Daryl’s voice made her eyes snap to meet his, finding them full of mirth and amusement. “I was gonna see if I could interest ya in some breakfast.”

Carol screwed her eyes shut, the one fucking time she hit it and quit it and he was her fucking boss. It wasn’t that she wanted to leave, oh no, quite the opposite in fact. But it was the fact that she didn’t want to leave that solidified her decision to haul ass out of there.

The idea of one night stands was that you didn’t stick around, she’d already stayed too long by falling asleep in his arms, his toned, long, muscular- stay on topic!

It was nothing like she’d expected it to be, nothing like her friends had told it would be like. He was attentive and passion, gentle but rough. When it was over he kissed her long and slow, his thumb brushing softly against her jaw, pulling her against his chest as they both fell into a restful slumber.

That’s when she woke the next morning, an entanglement of naked limbs and an ache between her thighs that had left her wanting more. But that wasn’t how it worked, she had to leave, before he woke up and found she was still there.

She was trying to avoid the awkwardness, clearly this was karma’s way of telling her she couldn’t.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to stick around,” Carol murmured shyly. God she was so awful at this! It was very clear that she was not the type of woman to go sleeping around with people, but she wondered from his smile if he was the type.

“Wouldn’t’ve hired ya if I didn’t want ya ta stick ‘round,” he said with a wicked grin.

“You knew?” Carol asked, gawping at him with owlish eyes.

Daryl chuckled, shaking his head at her. “I’m jus’ messin’ with ya. The hell did I know. Was jus’ as surprised ta see ya as you were ta see me, not that it’s a unwelcome surprise, although somethin’ tells me ya feel differently on the matter.”

“I’m-” What was she? Embarrassed? Sure. Regretful? Not so much. She didn’t regret a single second of what happened, although she did wish it was with her devilishly handsome new boss.

“Would ya have stuck ‘round?” he asked, snapping her out of her trance she’d fallen into yet again.

“When?” she asked, brows knitting together in confusion.

“If ya thought I wanted ya ta stick ‘round the next mornin’, would ya?”

Lying to her boss would be a bad beginning, start as you mean to go on and all. Not like it could get much worse now.

“I would have.” Her eyes wouldn’t meet his as she spoke, humiliation burning in her cheeks at her confession.

“Good,” he said, waiting for her to meet his gaze again before continuing. “Then next time y’all stay.”

“Next time?” Carol blurted, he couldn’t possibly be suggesting…

“If it ever does happen again, I mean. Ya should know though, I don’t sleep with my employees. You just happened ta be an exception ‘cause we didn’t know each other then. But now yer my employee, those kinda extra curricular activities can’t happen again whilst yer workin’ for me.”

Carol nodded dumbly, unable to stop herself from sweeping her eyes over him.

“Glad we’re understandin’ one ‘nother,” Daryl said with a raise of his brow, her open staring clearly not missed by him.

“I’ll get Rosita ta show ya to yer office,” he spoke rising from his chair, Carol following suit.

“If ya need anything, Glenn s’gonna be yer guy, he’ll be trainin’ ya up over the next few weeks.”

Carol was aware of the hand he had hovering over the small of her back as the walked towards the door, never quite touching it as he drew away to open the door for her.

“Ya need anythin’ else, y’know where ta find me,” he drawled, giving her an equally as open once over as he opened the second door to the reception.

Carol bit her lip through a smirk, Daryl shooting her a similar one back. “Enjoy yer first day Miss Miller.”

#this was kinda shitty and I'm sorry bc I'm tired and can't even be motivated to proof read #caryl #caryl prompt #caryl au #Carol Peletier #Daryl Dixon #twd #twd fan fic

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megsblackfirewrites · 7 years ago

Text

Two For The Road: Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Jesse pulled into the underground parking lot that Vanessa had sent him coordinates for. The building it was attached to would have been impossible for a younger him to ever get access to; sometimes he was still surprised by how far his family had come. He pulled into a spot next to a posh sports car, whistling slowly as he looked the beautiful blue vehicle over. He wanted to know who owned that car and how much he had to pay them for a ride.

Hanzo dismounted before him and pulled her helmet off, pushing her hair out of her face. It was slicked back with sweat and she was quick to wipe it away as if nothing had happened. Vanessa was leaning against a van a short distance from them, watching them with a smirk on her face.

“Howdy,” she greeted as she headed towards them. “Have a nice trip?”

“Wonderful,” Jesse replied as he hugged her close. “What’s going on?”

“Someone’s screwin’ around in one of Tom’s safehouses,” she said as she motioned for them to follow her. “Don’t ask why he has old Blackwatch ones scattered around the city under his control. I try not to think about it too much. Business tycoon and all that.”

Jesse frowned and nodded. Tom had never been part of Blackwatch; why would he keep the L.A safehouses under his thumb? It was a little unsettling. Tom just wasn’t a manipulating type or even that much of a stealthy man. Why would he want them?

Vanessa opened the elevator and they stepped inside. She pushed a key into the floor selection screen and turned it, accessing the topmost numbers that were unlit until the key was inserted. She pressed the topmost button and removed the key. The elevator doors slide closed and it headed upwards. Vanessa leaned against the wall and pushed her hat back on her head, sighing heavily.

“Sorry to interrupt yer trip,” she said. “But this has got Tom on edge. He can explain more once we’re in his office, but no one should have been able to get into those safehouses. No one but other Blackwatch agents and there ain’t any in the area.”

“Maybe someone slipped in?” Hanzo offered.

Vanessa smiled sadly at her. “You don’t know our bother, Hanzo,” she said. “You’ll see.”

The elevator opened at the executive suite and Vanessa swept out into the hallway. She pushed the double doors at the end of the hall open and walked in. Jesse let out a low whistle at the tables full of mechanical do-dads in various stages of completion. Hanzo looked just as amazed, staring around her as they headed for the man pouring over a set of schematics.

“Tom,” Vanessa called. “Jesse’s here.”

“I know,” Tom said as he lifted his head. “I heard him.”

Jesse didn’t have time to warn Hanzo before she flinched backwards in alarm. He had warned her about Tom’s unwanted and irremovable modifications, but there was no preparing yourself for the full reveal. The mechanical pieces in the remains of Tom’s left eye whirled and clicked softly as they adjusted to the change in focus. Tom’s regular brown eye softened as he ran a hand up into his buzzed hair; when had he decided that he liked his hair short? He’d always had a ponytail for as long as Jesse had known him.

“Sorry, was workin’,” he said as he pulled his eyepatch down over his augmented eye. “Thomas McCree, CEO and Lead Tech Manager of WesTech. Pleasure to meet ya.”

“Hanzo Shimada,” Hanzo recovered quickly and extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Thomas.”

“Just call me Tom,” he smiled as he shook her hand. “Yer family. Family doesn’t call me by my full name unless I’m in trouble.”

Hanzo smiled before she motioned towards his workbench. “What are the schematics for?” she asked.

“UN requested an update to their Petras Units,” he rolled his eyes and tapped the blueprint, bringing it up for them to see. “They want a new cog put in to facilitate the transformations easier. Apparently, the first one doesn’t work that good even though I told them to replace the part every sixteen months to keep it from losing its edge.”

“You designed the Petras Units?” Hanzo demanded.

“I assisted in their design; most of my input was thrown out,” Tom said. “Probably for the best considering the damn things are too good at their job.”

“I am torn between wanting to kiss you and wanting to punch you,” Hanzo said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Had a run in with the bots?” Tom smiled sadly.

“I did, but one of them is also the most precious thing in my life,” she said. “My Pet wouldn’t exist without you.”

Tom stared at her for a long time before he shook his head. “Small world,” he chuckled. “But, down to business so you two can get back to your vacation, right?”

Jesse stepped up to the workbench as Tom started typing at the console. A sprawling map of L.A appeared above the workbench before red dots appeared all over the map. Tom slipped something onto his hands and reached up to play with the images. He zoomed in on the city, spinning the streets around as he narrowed down what he wanted to show them.

“There,” he said as he brought up a blue-lined image of an old stone house. “It’s been a safe haven for lots of people hiding from the Petras Act. No one moves in or out of it without my knowledge. I have sensors all over the place, just in case I have to…well, I’m sure you know that Blackwatch was full of moles.”

Jesse and Hanzo nodded. Oh, they knew. They knew better than most. Sometimes he wished he hadn’t been so intimately involved.

“Well,” Tom shook his head, “I took it upon myself to monitor who’s comin’ and goin’. I have a contact, someone lookin’ to…eradicate those that would have tried to kill the people that matter to me. But, the thing is, I lost contact with that individual a few weeks ago shortly after they went on a raid of a local gang down in Mexico. They’ve been here a few times and I know their signature. The signatures in that house…they don’t make any sense.”

“How so?” Jesse asked as he narrowed his eyes and studied the picture.

He must have stopped in at this safehouse a few times during his time in Blackwatch. It looked familiar, but, then again, it looked like every other ramshackle hovel that Gabriel had collected over the years. She had liked buying places that looked like they should have been condemned and turning them into state-of-the-art home away from homes. Hell, this one could have had a whole armory under the stairs and you wouldn’t be able to tell from the outside.

“Well, the signature is like my contact’s,” Tom said. “But…it’s split in two and warped.”

“Split in two?” Hanzo lifted an eyebrow.

“I know it doesn’t make any sense,” Tom sighed and rubbed his face. “Trust me, I didn’t believe what I saw either but there’s no other way to explain it. Here.” He brought up a recording and pointed to the various bits of data on the screen. “This is my contact’s usual biorhythms. Slow heartrate, low body temperature output, normal respiration, and a higher than usual carbon component. Now, look at the signatures that were picked up the other day.”

Jesse frowned as two biorhythms appeared on the screen below the first one. What Tom had said made sense now; it was like the first biorhythm had been split in half. The upper half of the numbers matched the first one, but the lower half matched the other signature. Strange.

“Weird,” Hanzo frowned. “What do you want us to do?”

“We’ll go in together and find out what the hell is going on,” Tom said. “I want Jesse’s gunarm watching my back, but yer dragons might be the edge we need to get the upper hand.”

Jesse and Hanzo shared a look and Hanzo nodded. She was okay with this decision. So long as she was okay with it, so was he. Kita and Minami were her dragons and she had the final say in anything that happened.

“When do we head out?” Jesse asked.

“Dusk,” Tom said. “I have some food set aside for us.”

“I don’t say no to free food,” Jesse grinned.

“Don’t I know it,” Vanessa teased as she walked over to ruffle his hair. “Come on. Lunchroom’s this way.”

Hanzo followed Tom down the road towards the safehouse. Vanessa was up on the roof across from the building, her rifle trained on the windows for any sign of movement. Jesse was half a step behind her, his gun already up and ready. Her bow was heavy on her back, but she was reluctant to use it out in the open like this. Her only targets would be civilians and she was not taking the risk of harming the innocent.

Tom made a quick motion with his hands and Jesse slipped past them to brace his back against the right side of the door. Hanzo slipped her bow off of her shoulders and slipped her arm free of her shirt, tying the sleeve around her waist to keep it out of the way. She nocked an arrow and waited for Vanessa’s signal.

“All clear; good luck,” she said. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

Tom nodded and stepped up to the door. He slipped a key into the lock and opened the door, pushing it inwards. It creaked loudly and Tom ducked down into the dark hallway. He shifted his eyepatch to the side and his augmented eye swept over the hallway, analysing everything as they made their way forward. Hanzo had no idea how many things his eye could do, but the list was starting to get long. She was both impressed and unsettled.

Tom held up a hand and made a quick signal. Their target was just up ahead. Hanzo nodded and slipped her current arrow free of the string and fit a sonar arrow on instead. She fired down the hallway and it sank into the wall, emitting a high pitched signal that Tom’s eye could pick up and paint lifeforms with. He reached up towards his eye and pressed his first two fingers and thumb together. He exhaled and pulled an image from within his augmented eye. He flicked his fingers outwards, slapping the image soundlessly onto the wall.

There were two figures outlined in red on the other side of the wall. They were both bent over something on the table, slowly moving and pointing to different things on the surface. A map? One figure was dressed in a long coat and seemed to be putting all of their weight on their left foot. The other was wearing a large jacket and had their head cradled in his fingers.

Hanzo glanced at Tom before she crept forward. She kept an eye on the images before she slipped into the room. She nocked another arrow and slowly got herself into position. She rose to her full height and pointed the arrow between the intruders.

“Turn around slowly,” she ordered. “And we won’t make this painful for you.”

Both figures tensed before they turned slowly. Hanzo glared at the two of them, wondering why their stances looked so familiar. She whistled and the McCree brothers stepped into the room. The figure in black let out a soft snort and folded their arms over their chest, setting their weight back on their heels. A dark chuckle emitted from behind their bone-white mask.

“Well, isn’t this a welcoming committee?” they asked.

Their voice was distorted, but something about the cadence was familiar. Hanzo looked at Jesse, wondering if he was feeling the same unease that she was. His brown eyes narrowed and he shifted, resting a hand on one of his flashbangs.

The second figure shifted slightly, nudging their heel against the pulse rifle leaning against the table. The teeth-like design on their facemask was a little unsettling, but it was their white hair that kept drawing Hanzo’s attention. The white and gray outfit was tickling at the edges of her memory, telling her that she should know these people.

“We aren’t looking for trouble, not yet,” the second figure growled.

“No one walks into my safehouses without my permission,” Tom growled as he kept his guns trained on both figures.

“Your safehouses?” the first figure laughed. “You don’t look like Blackwatch to me, pup.”

“I keep the safehouses runnin’, therefore, they’re mine,” Tom said.

“Ooh, how sweet of you,” the figure sneered.

The second figure reached out and smacked the other’s elbow, shaking his head. Hanzo felt Minami crawl under her flesh and flexed the fingers on her hand. This was making her uneasy and she didn’t like it. Part of her felt like she was staring at ghosts, but they looked very solid to her.

“Now, I’m going to ask for names and then we’re going to go to my office and get you registered if you want to stay here in the future,” Tom said.

“Reaper,” the second figure growled as they pointed to the black-clad figure. “Soldier: 76.”

“Oh,” Tom blinked and squinted at Reaper. “Well, nice to finally meet you in the flesh, Reaper.”

76? That number sent a jolt down her spine. How many times had she seen that number stitched into Jack Morrison’s jacket? How many times had she pulled it over her shoulders to keep the worst of the cold Nepalese mountain air at bay? But it couldn’t be; it had to be a coincidence.

When had anything concerning Overwatch been a coincidence?

Hanzo straightened up and narrowed her eyes. “Soldier: 76,” she growled, drawing the man’s attention. She glared into the man’s eyes through his visor, clenching a hand into a fist as she stormed forward. “You son of a bitch.”

She punched the man across the face, knocking him back into the table. Reaper started laughing, doubling over and holding their stomach. Soldier: 76 groaned in pain, reaching up to rub at his jaw. She heard Jesse protesting behind her as she grabbed the man by the lapels of his jacket.

“I seem to be blessed with brothers that escape the jaws of death,” she snapped before she dragged the man into a tight hug. “I could kill you for this, Jack Morrison. Do you know how much I missed you?”

“Judging by the face that I’m going to have a decent sized bruise on my face, I’d say a lot,” Jack replied as he returned the hug. “There’s a lot to answer; why don’t we settle down and talk?”

“We can talk after I kick yer ass,” Jesse snarled as he took a step forward.

Reaper grabbed Jesse by the scruff of his shirt and hauled him away, throwing him on the couch and planting their boot in the middle of his chest. He grunted and tried to wiggle away, but Reaper just growled at him.

“Oh, stop your belly-aching, pup,” Reaper huffed before the mask and cowl faded away in wisps of smoke.

Jesse stared up at the figure before he let out a soft whimper. “Gabe?” he whispered. “What…happened?”

“Long story,” Gabriel’s voice said. “Like Jack said, settle down and we’ll talk.”

Hanzo dug her hands into Jack’s jacket and held on tightly as her knees gave out. Jack and Gabriel were both alive. Zenyatta had been right. The commanders were still alive!

But not for much longer if they didn’t have a damn good reason to not get in contact with them!

#genderbending #Lady!Hanzo Shimada #Lady!Gabriel Reyes #minor body horror

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ericbrandonrp · 4 years ago

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warrioroflondonbelow:

A quiet gasp broke past when Richard suddenly felt Millie wrap him into a back-crushing embrace. He didn’t flinch nor decide to spurn her. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her figure– realizing that she seemed to have gotten thinner since last he saw her– before returning the sincere hug. “It’s nice to see ye’ again too,” he smiled. If anybody were to see the two of them embrace and hold one another close like old friends, or perhaps even star-crossed lovers, Richard was certain they’d throw sour looks their way. He could only begin to imagine what his own father would be like if he saw a ‘woman of her nature’ with her arms thrown around his shoulders. Then again, Richard didn’t really care. Throughout the time he’s gotten to know Millie, if there’s one thing she managed to tease out of him, it was humour and the unabashed caring of what society and their stuffy judgement and side-eyed glances decided to think. The truth was, Richard liked Millie. Immensely. And not in the way that Richard was fond of Eric. Yes, Richard counted Millie as a friend, but he knew that, if given the chance, the two could easily move onto something much deeper than friendship. Hell, he was certain that whatever platonic love he and Millie held for one another was balancing on a tightrope seeing that she was the only woman he truly paid attention to what with their hidden smiles and the occasional brush of a shoulder or fingertip against the other’s hand now and again. “How could I not? It’s the best whisky in the world.– As for ‘Fine Irish’ whisky? Mm. Fine, Irish? Not so sure ‘bout the ‘fine’ part. If Eric won’t touch the stuff, then at least tha’ leaves more for ye’. He can stick to his shoddy whisky,” joshed Richard, allowing himself to be lead into the familiar flat before schooling Eric a teasing nod.

“Christ! Wha’ happened? Did those bloody urchins try peltin’ rocks at the windows again?” he frowned, wrapping his coat a little tighter around himself. Richard’s face quickly turned back into a knowing look at Eric’s words. “Oho, no. I’m not fallin’ for tha’ again. I know yer’ tricks this time, Eric. We’re not gonna have a repeat of last time.. Besides, as ye’ know, I’ve got a new project I’m workin’ on. Can’t get anythin’ typed if I’m drownin’ in booze, can I?” remarked Richard before nudging Eric’s arm. “Speakin’ of work, how’ve things been goin’, Millie? Work, I mean? Anythin’ new?” He really did want to know how she was holding up. At the same time, it was his own disguised way of seeing whether she or any of the other ladies had caught wind of the recent killings. Maybe Millie had friends who knew the victims, not that Richard would disclose any of what he or Eric had seen earlier that day.

One thing she liked about Eric was that he was so terribly oblivious to the most obvious things going on right in front of him. Millie loved to flirt with his friend Richard, and she was pretty sure he was sending the same signals her way, too. Why else would their fingers constantly touch on accident? No, there was definitely more behind it, and she was eager to find out. Even now Eric didn’t seem to notice how her shoulder brushed against Richard’s as she passed him to go check on their dinner in the oven. The former thief, in the meantime, made himself comfortable on one of the chairs and glanced over at the broken window. “Project? Wha’ project?” he asked in surprise, but found himself being ignored when he noticed Richard’s attention shifting back over to his wife. His features darkened, and Eric silently begged him to not go down that path. Millie didn’t need to be confronted about the facts. Not yet.

“Anything new?” She chuckled loudly, her voice as bright as a bell. “Last night I had a very well-paying customer. Earned more than me darling-husband in one month!” She giggled, oblivious to Eric’s glance towards her. “Other than that…” Millie’s features became more serious. “Have ye heard? A good friend of mine was murdered! Poor Polly…then again, she had it coming, I guess! Was a week ago, and she’s already forgotten.” Another giggle. “But I got a few new customers thanks to that event!” She winked at Richard, the cheerful smirk having returned to her face. Unbelievable how easily her moods changed, Eric thought to himself. Almost scary.

#warrioroflondonbelow #rp: dear boss #;v:jack das rippchen

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mintchocolateleaves · 8 years ago

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Cost of Freedom (21/52)

Summary: In which everyone is in Tokyo, and Heiji joins the investigation to find the very people he’s helped break out. Prison!AU.

[Beginning] [Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter]

Tokyo - 4.01 pm

"I still don't think that this is a good idea."

Kaito doesn't respond to the nervousness this time, grabs hold of Shinichi's words and throws them out into the wind.

Nothing they're going to do, really, is going to be a good idea - breaking out of prison and causing panic across the police force was technically a bad idea, but they've done it. Catching the train into Tokyo wasn't the smartest idea either, but well, they've been walking around Chiyoda for over an hour now, weaving in and out of crowds.

He's not even sure what Shinichi's worried about. Either he's uneasy by the crowds that swamp them, drowning them in a sea of pedestrians, or he's unsettled by the fact that they've slowly started to wander in the direction of the police station they're planning to break into.

Kaito doesn't particularly mind it himself, slowly sidestepping closer and closer towards his target. They can't go into the station yet - need to prepare, need a little more time to come up with a plan that won't get them caught immediately - but they can case out the station.

"Listen," Shinichi mutters, "we shouldn't test our luck. We should plan and then go near the station-"

The thief turns to him, gives him a blank expression before shaking his head. It's stupid to hesitate, Kaito thinks. Why would they want to subject themselves to extra worry, negativity that might not even affect them at all.

He just needs Shinichi to think of something else. Anything that gets him to forget about their proximity to the police station will be welcome, and Kaito needs it to be big. He can't talk about their personal lives - cannot say anything that people might overhear and link back to them later... but...

"I never actually told you about Pandora, did I?"

Shinichi stops in his tracks. And just like that, Kaito's pretty sure that he's got the ex-detective's attention. It just sucks that he has to talk about Pandora, to get him to stop thinking about being captured again.

"You didn't." Shinichi says quietly, walking again, next to Kaito in the street. It's weird having conversations with one another in fake voices, Kaito thinks, but at least he's not the one who's listening to a female - he wonders whether it's easy for the detective to remain serious, or whether he has to try.

"It's a gemstone." Kaito says, after a few seconds. "It's the one I've been trying to steal for years. The one I ruined my life to find."

Beside him, Shinichi stares at the ground. Kaito doesn't know what's going on in the detective's mind, but there's surely something circling around, questions he wants to ask. Sometimes, when they talk, Kaito wonders whether Shinichi is judging him - he's not a criminal, and Kaito is... He wonders if he's judging him now.

"Why Pandora?" He asks, and Kaito isn't sure if he's asking why that gem in particular, or why he decided to choose Pandora over the rest of his life.

Sometimes, Kaito wonders it himself - he could be living a perfectly average life right now, but... He really shouldn't spend his time looking back.

"The original KID was murdered when he didn't steal it for them." Kaito says. "So, now I'm going to find it, and I'm going to destroy it."

Shinichi sighs, and for a moment, Kaito doesn't know how to react. He smiles instead, like a machine trying to act out emotions, the quirk of his lips strained.

He tilts his head when he looks at Shinichi, the subtle action screaming at him to respond.

"I'm going to take down the organisation that killed my father," Kaito continues, throwing his arms up and spinning around to face Shinichi on the pavement, walking backwards. He grins, "And you know what? It's going to make all of what's happened worth it."

The responding frown isn't very comforting, but Kaito doesn't let it bother him.

Instead, he waits for Shinichi to speak, watches at the ex-detective grapples for the right words - He doesn't seem able to find them.

"I didn't think you'd be the type of person who wants revenge." Shinichi says.

"You're trying to take down your own organisation," Kaito points out, "tell me that's not slightly out of revenge, for the fact that they got you thrown into prison. Tell me you're not going to feel any satisfaction when you get them thrown into prison."

"That's different," Shinichi sighs, and it's obvious to anyone with ears that this is not the way he'd imagined the conversation going. It's not how Kaito had imagined it either, but he's never been very good at letting things go - is probably why he's in this situation in the first place. "My indictment was a result of my investigation. And I was only looking into it because it was the right thing to do."

"I'm also doing the right thing." Kaito says.

"Are you?" Shinichi asks. This time, it is Kaito who stops walking - beneath his mask the blood drains from his cheeks, and his smile falters ever so slightly. He should have known that detectives only ever take the moral high road... But still... He takes a breath and reworks the smile back onto his face.

"Frankly, I don't know. I've only ever been taught the law - Nobody explained the difference between right and wrong. I think everyone just assumed that I got it, that rightness coincides with lawfulness, but that's... that's not true..."

Kaito turns walks ahead of Shinichi so that the ex-detective can only see his back.

"Maybe you're right..." Shinichi says from behind him. "The law hasn't exactly helped me out either... Looks like we're just on our own to figure it all out."

Kaito lets out a small laugh, "we've got a lot of time to figure it out, I suppose."

"I can't believe ya fell asleep on th' train."

Heiji lets out a sigh, rubs the sleep from his eyes as he pockets his phone. He's done the polite thing, has checked in on Hakuba's situation at the police station - You'll be able to find us in Department Two, we're sat in the main offices.

He's also done the illegal thing, and checked in on Kudo and Kuroba, the phone call short and brief, telling them he's also in Tokyo and that he'll check in with them properly when he's got more information.

Now, cradling his cheek in his hand, he stares out of the window of his taxi, Kazuha sat beside him. He's not told her everything about the reason he's decided to come to Tokyo, hasn't even mentioned the case - but she does know that it's got to do with him being a detective.

"I was tired, ya can' blame me for tha'." Heiji whines as the taxi pulls up at the station. He yawns, stretching his legs as much as he can in his chair. He can't wait to be outside again, to actually stretch without hitting his elbows against the car’s interior.

"I guess not." Kazuha sighs, "Were ya workin' a case again?"

Heiji nods, leans forward to pass the taxi driver his fare. As they're getting out of the taxi, he says, "yeah, was looking over a few murders."

"As you do," Kazuha says, climbing out of the taxi. They grab their bags - they've not brought much from Osaka, just two backpacks, each with clothes that will last them a few days - before making their way into the station.

Neither Osakan has been to the station before, and have to ask at the front desk for directions. It takes a while, since everything is so hectic - Heiji has the faint feeling that Kuroba would love to hear that, it seems to fit what he's read about KID - but after a while, one detective says that he's on his way there and that he'll show them the way.

He introduces himself as Detective Takagi, and Heiji tries not to let it show on his face that he recognises the name from Kudo's stories. Instead, he grabs hold of Kazuha's wrist and pulls her along with him, telling her to hurry up and not be an inconvenience.

"Ahou," Kazuha mutters, but her steps quicken.

"Don't be such'a idiot, idiot." Heiji says, and lets out a small laugh as she hits his arm.

It doesn't take long until they reach division two however, and their playfulness dies out, drowned out with the serious atmosphere that swamps the division.

Kaitou KID had been their biggest arrest in years, the sheer publicity of catching KID reaching the news stations not only in Japan but across Europe as well.

The fact that Kuroba is now free... well... The moment it gets out to the media, Heiji's certain the division is going to have difficulties surviving the scrutiny.

"Thanks detective," he says to Takagi, before calling out for Hakuba, who's sat by a desk. Kazuha trails behind him, mutters under her breath that ‘I wasn't expectin' th' guy to be so... blond...’ stopping a step behind Heiji by the table.

"The psych files ya wanted," Heiji says by way of greeting, and drops the file in front of Hakuba, grinning as the other detective jumps, glancing up from the stack of paper he'd been reading over. "How's th' investigation goin'?"

Hakuba frowns, before signalling at Heiji to take a seat.

He does, and beside him Kazuha sits as well, although she pulls out her phone. Heiji finds it astonishing how easy it is for her to tune out cases, especially when they're in a police station - it truly marks her as the daughter of a police chief.

"It's difficult." Hakuba says, passing the papers he's been reading over to Heiji to read.

They're about Kudo's time in solitary confinement, and Heiji glances over them with minimal interest. He already knows the basics of what had happened - Kudo had caught a lot of murderers, and inside the prison, he'd had to protect himself. Violence was a necessary evil, and while Heiji doesn't condone it, he understands.

"It's not easy to solve, I mean." Hakuba continues. "The solitary reports aren't telling me much. I've not looked at KID's yet, but Kudo-kun's are telling me things I'd already gathered. Some violence, although it's only ever against people he'd gotten convicted..."

"Except here," Heiji says, having flicked through the pages, and stopped on the final pages. "On this page, he gets two days in solitary fer attacking Yoshida Haruki - he wasn' one o' the men convicted by Kudo before he was locked away."

"No..." Hakuba says, taking the paper that Heiji passes to him, to look over the incident report. "But he was present at one of KID's heists a year ago... was arrested shortly after KID was for grievous bodily harm... Do you think... This was the first point of contact between the two?"

Heiji nods - it's the first link they've been able to find, anyway. He remembers Kudo telling him about standing up for Kaitou KID, and wanting to talk to the criminal he'd once squared off with in the past.

"And then th's final incident." Heiji says, reading over it. "He got eight days in solitary after a violent outburst wit' a guard?"

Hakuba nods. "It's probably a lead, but I'm not sure what to make of it yet."

Neither does Heiji... The next time he talks to Kudo, he'll have to ask him about it. It's something Kudo had kept even from him. He doesn't fully understand why Kudo would fight with a guard - either something big had happened to settle him... or... maybe he'd wanted to get himself locked in solitary for an extended time.

"It's something we'll have t' look into." Heiji agrees, and tries not to shudder at the thought of it. He crosses his arms, "what other leads have we got? We might need some to do with the actual escape, not what happened weeks before it."

Hakuba's expression shutters, and crosses his arms over the table. He steeples his fingers, and Heiji hates when the Brit does that, because he's one of the few people who can steeple their fingers without looking completely stupid.

"All the guards found in the cell when searching for any clues, was a playing card on the top bunk." Hakuba sighs, "it had KID's caricature on it, along with the words, ‘better luck next time’, scrawled in pencil."

Heiji has to suppress a grin. Such a bold display left behind by Kuroba makes him believe that the thief might actually want the police to come chasing after him again. He wonders whether Kuroba enjoys having the police on his trail - whether he likes the danger that comes along with it.

Maybe he'll ask.

"Well... then..." Heiji says, "maybe this is a sign that Kuroba plans on coming back to play games with the KID task force."

Hakuba glances up, "...Kuroba?"

Heiji freezes for a millisecond, realises that he probably shouldn't be referring to Kuroba by his surname, before offering a sheepish smile. "That's what KID's called right? There's no use calling him a phantom thief if everyone knows his name."

He receives a raised eyebrow. "... I suppose that makes sense. You're probably right though, KID isn't just going to give up his heists, when I spoke to him last, he told me that he was searching for something. He'll resume heists until he finds the gemstone he's after."

"Do you think he'll come back to Tokyo then?" Heiji asks, despite knowing that they're already in the city, walking around, waiting for Heiji to send them crucial information on the locations of any safe houses that Kuroba had before his capture.

"It's certainly possible." Hakuba nods. "Aoko-kun... Ah... Inspector Nakamori's daughter, seems to think that he'll return to Tokyo."

Heiji nods. "And Kudo, do you think they'll be travelling together?"

Hakuba shrugs. "I'm not sure yet. From the way he got angry over Kudo-kun's case however, I think that KID might be loyal to Kudo-kun for at least a short time. But, I'm not sure."

"Okay..." Heiji nods his head, takes the information in. "Suppose they're in Tokyo... I imagine KID would have places they'd be able to hide. I'm pretty sure newspapers said that he had safehouses. Think he'll use any?"

"It's possible." Hakuba reaches over, picks up a bulky folder. It's labelled Kaitou 1412, and Heiji waits as the detective opens it up, flipping through pages until coming to a stop. "There were four locations found when he was caught. All found through CCTV feeds to give us more evidence for a conviction. We could suggest to the Inspector to watch over the locations, just in case they drop by."

Heiji nods, stands and reads the locations over Hakuba's shoulder. He says, "that's a good idea. We're probably closer to catching them already."

4.26 p.m

A text buzzes in Kaito's pocket - he'd taken it from Shinichi shortly after the phone call with Hattori, testing his pickpocketing skills - and he pulls it out, almost eagerly.

In the text, are four addresses. Kaito curses, but after a few moments of hesitation, passing the phone over to Shinichi to read, he brightens again.

"Don't worry," Kaito says after a moment, "there are more places we can go." Shinichi raises an eyebrow, "really?"

Kaito nods, leans forward and grins. "They only found four of my Tokyo safe houses. I've got two more - so where do you want to go, Shinjuku or Nakano?"

#AN UPDATE WOOO #I've actually got the end of Arc 2 all planned out #I just need to find the time to write it!#Either way please enjoy this chapter you guys!#Fic: Cost of Freedom #DCMK #mywriting #Kuroba Kaito #Kudo Shinichi #Hattori Heiji #Hakuba Saguru #Toyama Kazuha #Nakamori Aoko #Mouri Ran #Mentions of Nakamori Ginzo

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