#onto the garage roof and have some peace and quiet | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lovestrucked-again · 5 years ago

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Only You | L.Mark

Summary: When your childhood friend finally comes home on tour, he confesses something he never would’ve before.

Pairing: idol!Mark X female reader Word count: 4.7k Warning: okay more smut than storyline. oral sex (reader/Mark receiving), virgin, cum licking/swallowing, marking, biting, hair pulling, unprotected sex, rooftop sex, 18+

Genre: fluff, smut - first time

Hi! I love the way you write so much! Are you open for requests? If yes, I hope you could make another first time with mark lee but this time he’s an idol. I hope its slow fucking and intense as the one you did first. I think out of all the smut fic that I’ve read yours are the best and detailed! Gosh I loved it so much!

a/n: I hope this is it.. <3 _____

“Should we come here some other time, then?” you ask innocently, spreading your arms out to the open scenery as you turn to look at him.

He laughs, “That’s a great way to ask me out,”

“That’s because I know you’re not going to,” you counter back.

“I’d love to ask you out.”

“Then ask.” You watch as he hesitates, parting his mouth to form a word before he shuts it quickly, deciding not to. “See what I mean?”

The two of you climb down from the rocks and he offers you a hand, guiding you down carefully. As you land your last foot down, steadying yourself Mark clears his throat, turning to face you, a question on his tongue.

“So, Y/N…I was wondering if you’d like to, you know, go out on a…date?”

You can’t help but burst into another fit of giggles feeling guilty as an embarrassing blush creeps over his ears and cheeks.

“What are you so afraid of?” you ask, “You’re so confident on stage, but balk at the prospect of asking a girl out on a date.”

“I guess I need some more practice,” he replies cheekily. “So?”

You step closer, wrapping your arm around his neck and pull him until your faces are centremetres apart. Up this close in the dark, his soft brown eyes are spellbinding, determined, yet scared. As your lips inch close, the realization strikes him.

Before you know it, he moves first, your lips meeting, soft and hesitant. On an instinct, he pulls you closer against him, mashing your mouths together. You lose yourself in the soft, warm feeling. He pulls gently at your lower lip, sucking on it and you let out a moan, winding your fingers in his hair and pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

His hands, with a will of their own, roam over your back, sighing contently as your body rubs gently against his, your breasts soft against his chest through the fabric of your shirt and the warm scent of his light musky cologne infusing your senses.

Unfortunately, the kiss goes on for so long that you never notice your lungs begging for precious air. You part reluctantly, your lips producing a soft ‘pop’ as they separate and you bury your face in his chest.

“How’s that for a yes?” you ask, voice muffled against him.

He takes in a deep breath, your body rising with his as he speaks, “Wow.”

The two of you remain like that, just holding each other, basking in the warmth and quiet companionship.

“So, that’s what it’s like to kiss someone?” he asks after some time.

“I…it was a first for me.” You whisper.

He looks down at you and smiles. “We’re on the same boat, then.”

***

The two of you kiss for a good fifteen minutes, each round growing more fierce and desperate than the last. It’s good, but it’s not enough. You want more.

“It’s getting late,” he whispers reluctantly. “My manager will raise hell if he finds out about my nocturnal activities.”

“Let’s go to your house then.” you propose, craving for more of his touch. “You can tell your manager you’re staying home for the night since you're here.”

He gulps. “Are you sure?”

“Well,” you trail, running a hand lightly over the obvious bulge in his jeans “someone wants to play,” He lurches back from the illicit contact.

He regains his composure very quickly. “Okay, call someone from your house and say that you’re staying over and…whatever else you need to say.”

Oblivious to him who seems to be stuttering all over the place, you’re already done texting a message before he can complete his words. You grab his hand and race towards his car leaving him a stumbling mess as he rushes to keep up.

The drive back to his house is full of anticipation. As if time has slowed down, making the short journey incredibly torturous. You kiss some more during the red signals, not even noticing the light turn green until the driver honks angrily behind you.

He opens his garage doors long before you’re in sight of the house and parks the car with squealing tires. You don’t know how you navigate through the house, but somehow, you end up on his bed in a tangled heap of intertwined arms and legs. Your hands are everywhere at once, as if it’s the end of the world with far too little time to spend.

“I have a crazy idea,” you say, pulling back from the kiss.

“What?”

You give him a cheeky smile, “Let’s go to the roof.”

He smirks, “I like the way you think.”

The two of you rush up the stairs, careful not to make much noise. He settles the blankets and pillows on the roof and you push him onto his back as soon as he’s done.

“Easy,” he laughs, but you swallow his next words with a kiss.

You’ve never felt so…daring, so eager for someone’s touch. As if a dam has broken somewhere inside you, carrying you away with its tide. It’s the one thing that you’ll never regret doing in life. He rolls over on top of you and holds your hands above your head, controlling you effectively.

“Slow down, we’re not going anywhere,” he says, grinning down at you. You try to think up an excuse, but you realize he’s right. You’re both panting like dogs in heat. “Nice and slow,” he says and buries his head in the crook of your neck, sending tingles of shock as he nuzzles into your skin.

His warm body is a comfortable weight atop of yours; allowing you to wrap your legs around his hips and hold him closer to you, sighing in contentment as he kisses your neck and shoulders. Your heart feels full, almost to the point of bursting out of your chest with sheer joy.

He kisses your cheek, your jaw and descends down to your throat. A startled gasp escapes you when he kisses a particularly sensitive region. His lips quirk into a devilish grin as he spends more time on that place, licking and nibbling and eliciting small gasps from you. He nibbles at your neckline as his fingers search for the zip of your dress.

Your heart jumps when he finds it, holds it and pulls it down slowly. The sound, instead of arousal, brings panic. He stops. Holding your chin, he makes you look up at him. His eyes are sincere, full of love and understanding.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, Y/N,” he says simply, and just like that, a sense of peace and calm replaces the panic. He leans down and kisses you once more, your lips molding with each other’s. “If anything makes you uncomfortable, tell me, and I’ll stop.”

You nod gratefully. He pulls the zip down to your waist. Threading a finger to each of the straps holding your dress, he pushes it aside and brings it down to your waist. His eyes remain glued to your skin, revealed inch by inch, as a piece of your dignity is carefully pried apart. You raise your hips as he pulls the material down to your legs. I’m out of it, finally, clad only in my bra and panties.

You wonder if anyone can see you on the roof, with you laid flat in your underwear. Maybe doing it in such a romantic setting was a bad idea.

“No one can see us,” he says, reading your thoughts. “It’s just you and me.”

Just you and Mark. It sounds like music to your ears.

He draws another lingering kiss from your lips and then kisses your sternum, down to your cleavage. He reaches behind your back and unhooks your bra…or tries his best to. You giggle uncontrollably as he fumbles with it and curses under his breath.

“I hate this thing,” he says, mock-anger in his voice.

“Maybe you need some more practice.” you smile and reach behind yourself, unhooking the bra and holding the cups with one hand.

He watches you with barely contained lust. You feel like a virgin deflowered by the meanest wolf around. The panic begins to resurface, but a sudden kiss on your lips surprises you, making you open your eyes. The sight of his face so unexpectedly close to yours brings you to realise that you closed them out of fear.

“I wish I could tell you how beautiful you are to me, Y/N,” he says, a faint smile on his lips. “You don’t have anything to hide.”

You bite down on your tongue, trying to keep the laugh that’s trying to escape, “You always know the right thing to say, don’t you?”

“Yes, I think…” he trails off as you let the bra fall.

Your breasts, though not the biggest, are well-formed – teardrop shaped topped with light pink areolas and nipples. Many times a day you would stand in front of the mirror, wishing them to somehow grow bigger; but not today.

“Like what you see?” you ask, even though his expression of sheer awe says it all.

“Love it.”

His warm hands make your breath catch as they caress the sensitive underside, hefting your breasts and worshipping them slowly. Your insides clench with pleasure as he rubs your hardened nubs, rubbing and rolling them over. His touch, so foreign, make your nerves tingle with an electric shock as he gently lowers his head and takes one of your pink nubs inside his hot mouth.

“Oh,” you gasp, as his wet tongue flicks over your flesh.

Your eyelids shut down as you take in the sensory overload of two nipples being stimulated simultaneously. You never notice his other hand moving down onto the crotch of your panties so when his tentative fingers rub your slit through your moist panties you jerk beneath him.

It’s only a matter of a few moments before a small wave of contractions grip your body in its throes of orgasm. Everything falls apart and you clamp your thighs closed, nearly crushing his hand.

You barely hear his grunt of pain as you familiarize yourself with the foreign feelings coursing through your veins, stimulating you to a limit far beyond your imagination. Slowly, the muscles of your legs relax and Mark pries his hands away.

He lies down beside you, draping an arm over you, embracing you sideways, as you stare at the stars above.

“You look adorable with your eyes shut.”

“Really?” you ask. It feels like an out-of-the-body experience for you, as if someone else had asked it.

He laughs softly. “Having my hand crushed for that cute scrunched up face was definitely worth it.”

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize, reaching for his hand.

“It’s the other one,” he says, amused. You reach for it, but he holds it away. “It’s alright, Y/N. You didn’t break any bones.”

As you lie there, doing nothing and basking in the comfortable silence of the twinkling stars, a realization hits you.

“Hey, how come I’m the only one naked?” you ask.

He grins as you get up and straddle him. You open his buttons one by one, following each with the softest kiss. After you throw the offending piece of clothing away, you start kissing back again from his neck, biting particularly hard at a spot near the junction where his throat meets his chest.

“Ouch,” he yelps. That bite will bruise proudly on his neck for everyone to see. “I’ll have a hard time covering that up,” he says.

“I’m marking my territory,” you say a little more harshly than you had intended.

"Always yours," he replies sincerely, taking your hand and kissing it softly.

You respond with a sweet kiss to his cheek. You unbuckle the belt and pull his jeans and shorts down his legs in one go before he can protest. His cock jumps up, freed at last. You hold the warm throbbing flesh with your hand, marvelling at its warmth and inherent pulsating beat.

Mark looks at you apprehensively. “Look, Y/N, you don’t really have to…OH SHIT!”

The next few words are drowned by his moans of pleasure as you envelope the sensitive head with your mouth and lap it gently with your tongue. While you are a virgin, you were no stranger to blowjobs, but you never thought that you’d actually enjoy giving one.

“You were saying?” you ask innocently.

He grunts his denial, and you happily go back to your mission of keeping him in touch with pleasure. You take your time, marvelling at the way his thick shaft hardens further inside your mouth. A strange taste invades your senses as his precum oozes out, lubricating him further. You pump him rhythmically, swirling your tongue and sucking over his glans.

“You know what?” he asks mirthfully.

“Hmm?” you hum, sending vibrations straight to his cock. He moans and clutches a handful of blankets as the gratification scatters his train of thoughts. You want to giggle, but it’d ruin the effect.

“Masturbating with my hands will never be the s-same.”

This time, you have to pause and laugh. The little remaining tension in your gut dissipates as you laugh together.

You dive straight back to your homework after that. His hands reach for your hair as his back arches off the makeshift bed. The head of his cock hits the back of your throat, and you gag. Thankfully, it doesn’t last long and he pulls back, letting you take control once more.

“Y/N, I’m going to cum,” he gasps after a minute.

You look into his eyes and renew your efforts, watching his eyes lose focus and then roll back as he ejaculates inside your mouth. The first spurt hits the back of your throat, and you swallow it quickly, making sure not to let it leak over and make a mess.

Mark tastes somewhat like peach, a sweet-salty peach at that. Your instant reflex was to spit it out, but you bear it quietly, knowing that you’d do this for him. He calms down after a few moments, and shudders sporadically as you lick him clean. His semi-limp manhood pops out of your mouth apparently satisfied for the moment.

He hooks his hands under your arms and drags you upward until you’re lying on top of him. You half-squeal in fear but calm down as your common sense takes over. He kisses you hard, possessiveness evident through the act, like never before.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“Thank you too,” you whisper back.

He catches his breath, while you acquaint yourself with the turn of events. Never in your wildest dreams did you think about having sex with Mark, on a rooftop at that. It seemed like such a foreign idea. Now? Well, your compromising position speaks for itself.

The sensitivity in your body dwindles somewhat, renewed slightly by the friction as your nipples rub against his chest. You feel him with your hands, slowly this time, wondering if it’s a dream.

“I’m real, Y/N,” he says, “Everything is happening for real.”

“Will you regret it in the morning?” you ask quietly, “will you regret it when you’re back in Korea next week.”

You don’t know why, but your insecurities always crop up as mood spoilers just when you feel most vulnerable.

“Never,” he says without hesitating, “tomorrow morning or the next ones after that.”

you just hold him tight, afraid to think what would happen if he ever chooses to leave you. It would be too much to bear.

Mark kisses you again, his touch gentle and reassuring. He rubs your nipple and pinches it, sending a sudden jolt to your senses. He leaves behind a trail of wet kisses as his lips trace a path from your lips to your shoulders and down to your breasts. The attention goes back to your nipples again, this time more roughly. He suckles on one nipple, and then bites on the sensitive nub.

You’re just a wet, shivering mess. You’re sure that your panties are thoroughly soaked with your juices as he kisses your stomach. More than a source of arousal, his tongue is ticklish on your skin and you end up serving him an accidental kick towards his groin area, luckily just skimming past his most sensitive spot.

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’ll live,” he wheezes.

Carefully avoiding your tummy, Mark skips down towards your feet, planting soft smooches all the way. Lingering on your mound, he peels off the last remnant of your clothing, leaving you completely naked. You raise your hips and watch the soggy cloth being carefully ditched to the side with your dress.

Each kiss sends a thrill from your legs to your spine and straight to your head. You nearly faint as you feel his wet lips on your inner thighs. Your scent must be overpowering him as he stops just short of your sex.

“Do you want me to kiss down there?” he murmurs, afraid to do anything that you didn't want. You nod, fearful that your voice would be too weak for an answer. “I can’t hear you,” he teases.

“P-please kiss me down there,” you beg, voice stuttering out the words.

Your legs part and you feel a gentle touch of his warm lips against your inner thigh, just an inch away from your pussy. A groan of frustration is all you can manage.

“Not there,” you whine.

“Here?” he asks, placing another kiss on your outer lips, centremetres away from your throbbing clit.

“Please kiss it.”

“Kiss what?”

“My pussy,” you cry exasperatedly.

He runs a slow tongue on your slit, from the perineum to your clit that’s aching to get out from underneath its hood. He wraps it up with his lips and sucks it gently. Your back arches and your thighs jerk to close instinctively, but he holds them apart.

There’s no escape. The assault is slow but relentless. The pressure builds up as he licks your warm folds, almost exploding as he sucks on your clit. Your legs, held roughly apart by him are of no use so you use your hands instead, clawing at the soft sheets and grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

You explode when he firmly wedges his tongue inside you and begins to explore. Breathing is a foreign idea, as is seeing. It’s not a tidal wave, but a storm that sweeps away everything in its path. The cry that escapes is hoarse, deep throated and guttural as the joyous feelings course through your veins.

Another storm sweeps, unexpected and sudden as he reaches up and pinches your nipples rhythmically, suckling on your clit hungrily at the same time. Your thighs clamp shut on his head, your hands on his trying to stop and augment his touch at the same time. You take a deep breath and cry out in joy, uncaring of the judgmental world that can hear you.

Your vision darkens around the edges, and soon, you see nothing but blackness as your thighs lose their strength and rest lazily on his shoulders. He licks some more, feeling you quiver with each stroke of his tongue before you finally collapse.

“Stop,” you whisper, exhausted

“Don’t you like it?” he asks, sucking your clit to emphasize his point.

You groan and pull away. “It gets sensitive.”

“Oh.”

He sits up, kneeling between your legs. With your hair askew and skin visibly flushed, you look magnificent to him. Lying by your side again, he holds you close, feeling your breathing slow down to a normal pace.

“Where did you learn to do this?” you ask, still twitching occasionally as you try to relax.

He grins, “That’s a secret.”

"Here!" Haechan says as he dumps a freakishly thick book on Mark’s bed.

"Guide to a Woman's Body," Mark reads the title out loud, incredulous, then looks up at him. "When did you get the time to buy this piece of crap?"

"Hey! It's not a piece of crap." Haechan holds up the book with an expression of sheer reverence. "This is my gift, in advance, for your birthday."

"I don't get it.” Mark slaps his head in dismay.

"You are going out on a date with Y/N."

"Sooo…?”

"You are in the ‘Friends' zone of her brain. Nothing more than a male acquaintance she can freely talk to without getting hit upon, you get my drift?" He starts pacing back and forth. "If SHE has asked you out for a date, then I believe the day is not far away when she wants to take things a step further. The last thing I want you to do is to perform a two-second squirt and go your different ways singing Sayonara.”

Mark flips through the first few pages, grudgingly admitting that the younger boy is probably right.

"Just read it. You won't regret it, I promise.”

***

“Well?” he asks. “Now what?”

“That’s a rhetorical question right?” You ask, confused at his use of tone; sounding like it’s time to wrap up and go home after a long day. He chuckles quietly as you both stare up at the night sky.

“I’m scared,” he admits.

You roll over on your side, shuffling around to get on top of him. “Would you like to know a secret?”

He grins, holding you at your waist to help you balance, “Gladly.”

“I’m scared too,” you whisper, your breath hot in his ear.

Slowly rising until you straddle him, you place your hands on his chest for support as you adjust your position. You grind on his cock slowly, just like the last time, lubricating with your juices, preparing it for the inevitable.

“I’m safe; on the pill,” you tell him, rising and positioning the mushroom tip to your opening, grazing the sensitive head along the entire length of your slit. “Let me do it.”

You don't move as you prepare yourself. Taking a deep breath, you plunge down on his length. The barrier inside your walls resists as his cock pushes against it, and then it gives away. Barely half of his shaft is inside when you stop, tears brimming in your eyes.

“Fuck,” you mutter shakily, “that hurts.”

Your hands tremble as you fight against the pain, trying your best to accommodate the intruder. Your slick wall pulsates around his cock’s head, making him want to push further inside and take you completely.

It’s a terrible way of testing his self-control, but somehow he does it. He sits up and holds you tight against himself, running a gentle hand on your back, soothing you as you sniffle quietly against his chest. Ever so slowly, you calm down and he slides down along the rest of his shaft, feeling your walls stretch as you accommodate a cock inside for the first time in your life. Your groins meet as you hold each other in an embrace, each of you trying your best not to lose control.

Mark stays silent for a few minutes, waiting for you to adjust, “It hurts, but not as much as I expected,” you admit. He hums in response, focused on his breathing and trying to push out the fact that he’s actually inside you.

You stay like that for a few moments, just you and him in your own embrace. You push him back again until his lying down on his back and start moving tentatively. He lets you do the work as you grind your hips in slow, tight circles, bouncing a little and trying to adjust to his size. Your insides are like a hot, velvety glove that wraps tightly around his shaft and milks it gently.

Your breathing gets faster and more ragged as you grind against him. He traces a path from your thigh to your clit with his thumb and rubs it gently. your eyes fly open and you hump faster as your own climax approaches.

Mark spurts of semen coat your insides as his control caves in. He squeezes the soft flesh of your breasts with the other hand as the pleasure mounts to dizzying heights. The pleasure rises as you keep thrusting down on his length until you remain still, but your insides are a different matter altogether. Your insides pulsate erratically, your slick channel’s warmth providing a giddy pleasure. You bite down on your lip and attempt to stifle your moans. Your breathing becomes hard as your nails dig into his chest, making him grit his teeth as the pain combines with pleasure.

As the tide fades, you lie down on top of him with your forehead resting on his chest. His dick slides out of you and electric tingles shoot lazily from your over stimulated nerves as the head slides against your skin.

“Mark?” you ask after some time.

“Hmm?”

You trace a finger on his chest, drawing abstract patterns of circles and triangles. “Do you love me?”

He stares up at the dotted lights, wondering what you’re up to. “I think I do.”

“You think?” you laugh.

“I don't know what it’s like to be in love.”

“What about your family?”

“That’s a different kind of love. Certainly different than this,” he emphasizes squeezing a palm over your breasts.

You smile. “Sometimes I wish you’d stop making this much sense.”

“Me too.”

***

The first rays of the sun hit your face, waking you up. You swear you had only closed your eyes to rest them for a while, but somehow you ended up sleeping the entire night.

Mark’s asleep too, this time to your side with an arm draped over you.

“Good Morning.” You whisper, intertwining your fingers with his.

He mumbles something back and scoots closer. You contend yourself by studying him. His hair is astray, and his face radiant. He looks peaceful, serene and ethereal. And its nerve wrecking to think, he’s yours.

You know you can’t live without him. When time comes for him to leave once again, a part of you will hate yourself for falling into this that brings nothing but pain for the two of you. A part of you hates his profession as much as you know you shouldn't. You don’t want to let go.

“What are you thinking?” He’s barely awake, but alert enough to have sensed your inner turmoil.

“About you,” you say. “About us.”

“I love you."

You stare at him, the question evident in your eyes. After all, he had claimed to be unaware about love just the night before.

“This is the most I’ve felt and cared about someone else,” he confesses. “If this isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

You kiss him, a soft lingering touch. “I thought you’d never say that.”

“I know you’ve been hurt before,” he continues. “I’m not the perfect guy, but I’ll try my best to give you whatever I have.”

You kiss him again. There’s no urgency to it, just a gentle reminder of what you are. It grows fierce, but you pull back.

“I need you.” He whispers, breaking away. You roll over obediently until you’re face to face. You pump his shaft until it’s rock hard and wraps your legs around his hips.

“I’m all yours.”

He slides against your silken lips, finding your opening and pushing inside. You groan as he sheaths himself inside you slowly, inch by inch. He expects a bit of dryness as you had cleaned up last night, but to his surprise, your channel is slick and ready. As your hips merge, he pumps the last inch inside you quickly, mashing against your clit and taking your breath out.

There’s more control this time. He keeps a steady rhythm of pumping inside and grinding against your clit at a few intervals. He wraps his lips around an erect nipple, suckling on it and making you gasp.

You shudder unexpectedly as he thrusts harder, feeling his own orgasm approach. He buries himself to your hilt and lets loose spurts of semen inside you. The two of you mold into one. He stays there, taking his weight on his arms and knees instead of crushing you beneath.

“I love you too,” you whisper softly, the smile lingering on your lips.

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ladecena · 4 years ago

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MY BRIGHTEST STAR🌌🌠

May 14,2020

11:15 pm

There are 45 minutes before my birthday. I got out of bed, holding my phone, because I couldn’t sleep no matter what I did.

I slowly opened the door and tiptoed out of my bed, taking care not to let it creak. Everyone in the house is still sleeping, so I can’t make any noises that would wake them up. Since my throats were dry and I needed to remain hydrated, I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. After all, I can’t be dehydrated because I’m supposed to be hydrated all the time.

I walked out of the house wearing my oversized T-shirt and night shorts, leaving my glass on the counter. Since there were some torches, the whole subdivision was quiet and dim. The sky was lovely, but the boy who had just entered with his silver bicycle was even more so. I told myself, “Shut up, all boys are gorgeous.”

“Are you ready?” Miguel stated as he brushed his long, silky golden hair back with his lovely fingers. I grinned and walked over to my pink bicycle in the garage. “Where is your gear?”

“Where is your gear?” I questioned as well after noticing that he had not brought his. He squinted and raised one of his thick brows. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Especially because you’re here with me.

His lips curled into an endearing grin, exposing his charming dimples. I got on my bike and pedaled down the road first, hoping he’d be close behind.

The cool night breeze caressed my face and caused my hair to fly, making me happy. I took a left and later realized Miguel was standing right next to me. He hasn’t changed since I first saw him with his hair flying and his aesthetic dark eyes. He is still the boy I loved and admired, still admire, and will still genuinely love.

11:30 pm

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” Just don’t breath—“

“Do you want me to die horribly?” When my eyes accidentally went down, I exclaimed. I screamed and turned away, my eyes closed. Miguel sighed and his hands rested on my shoulders, which helped me relax a little. Only a little bit. I’m in a panic, crap.

“What I mean is, don’t breathe too quickly; instead, breathe slowly. Exhale slowly after taking a deep breath, then repeat. I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to die, okay?” He said calmly, which made me feel bad for screaming at him while he was simply trying to help me from panicking.

I followed his instructions and, to my surprise, it succeeded. When Miguel wrapped his handkerchief around my knee to cover the cut, I slowly opened my eyes and yelped in the quietest way possible. When he kissed it after tying it, I bit my lip and felt my face flush. He got up and extended his hand to me, which I gladly accepted.

“Are you all right now?”

“Thank you very much, Miguel.” I smiled, and he smiled even more. God, I love that face.

“Oh, if you weren’t so stubborn, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” He said it with a little frown on his face, which made me laugh because he’s so sweet when he’s upset.

“If you hadn’t been there, I would have passed out in the middle of the road right now, but I’m still standing and breathing.” As I smiled, his frown vanished, and all he did was shake his head before walking to get his bike.

“You’re stubborn as hell. As he grasped the handlebars of his bike, he uttered. “Instead, let’s go for a stroll.”

“If I’m right, give me 500 pesos.” Your favorite shirt right now is the blackpink t-shirt I gave you.” Miguel muttered something and smirked as he looked at me and the path we were walking on.

“Wrong my favorite shirt is the other black pink t-shirt which I bought last Saturday. “I confidently replied and smirked back at him. Aw, you don’t love me anymore?” he pouted and gave me that cute puppy look. My weakness.

“oh my gosh, stop that. You look like an idiot.” Yes I’m a great liar.

“ugh, darn it.” He huffed and continued walking, which made me chuckled because of his cuteness.

It became quiet after. Enjoying the peaceful and satisfying cold wind with each other’s company was already enough.

I know in my heart that he has a problem but he didn’t want to share it with me and I respect his decision.

“ Has the thought of leaving me ever cross your mind?” I asked out of nowhere to cut the silence while we’re walking down the silent road with our bikes.

“Yep.” I pouted and glared at him immediately when he said but he just laughed. That hurt right into my heart. “ What, if I am be pooping, you wanna watch?”

“Gross, of course not.” I cringed which made him laugh harder. His laugh is annoying but also cute but its pissing me off but I still love it.

“How about you? Ever thought of leaving this handsome boy?” he raised his eyebrows up and down while staring at me, waiting for my answer.

“I don’t wanna promise that I won’t because we never know what will happen in the future but I assure you that no matter what happens, even if the worlds screwed up, we’re screwed up, I will always stay with you.” Miguel stopped walking so I did too and looked at him. He smiled at me before starting to walk again.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

11:45 pm

“Don’t go yet.” I whined quietly while softly pulling the sleeve of his hoodie. I know that its late and he might be tired but I wanna be selfish even just for now.

“Alright then, my princess.” Miguel smiled and pulled my hand going inside our house silently. Miguel being Miguel, he didn’t make the slightest noise even in closing closing the door. It was dark but with Miguel’s hand holding mine, I know that I shouldn’t be afraid.

When we reach my bedroom, he gently pushed me inside and slowly pushed the door behind him while his sexy dark eyes were staring into my soul, dominating me. He took little steps going towards me, not cutting eye contact, and as if I’m frozen, I stood still staring back into his beautiful dark grey eyes until I could feel and smell his strawberry scented breath.

“Let’s go stargaze even if I know to myself that gazing at you is better.” He huskily uttered before smiling and pulling my hand to go out the window. He assisted me to climb up the roof carefully before he followed.

He gently guided me to a spot between his legs where I could sit comfortably. As his arms wrapped around me and his big hands devoured my tiny hands, I laid my back on his chest.

Nothing beats sitting on the roof with the guy you want to spend the rest of your life with, gazing at thousands of sparkling stars in the midnight sky, which isn’t quite midnight yet, but let’s call it that anyway.

“Did you know that the sun is a star?” Miguel said as he rested his chin on my left shoulder. Our eyes glued on the sky full of stars above us.

“uh-huh.”

“Personally, I think that stars don’t appear only at night because if it only appears in the darkness, the isn’t it unfair that it doesn’t appear during bright days?” he said in a serious expression which made me laugh a bit.

“That doesn’t make any sense. And the sun is a star because science shit.” I replied which made him laugh as well.

“Yeah I know, I didn’t know what to say so I just wasted my saliva for bullshit.” He said while chuckling because of his darkness. What he said didn’t really make sense but he’s still cute so never mind.

“but let me tell you something, my princess.” He sat properly so I faced him to give all of my attention.

“if all the stars disappears, that doesn’t mean that its over. Darkness is everywhere already. No, don’t forget that the moon is still there, there to light up the darkness. And it lights up the most. So don’t ever think that you’re alone and your life is pure darkness just because the stars disappears.” He smiled for a while before continuing.

“the stars will appear again. But they may not be the same stars from before again.”

11:55 pm

When I got tired of watching the stars above the sky. I faced Miguel.

Miguel had the same dark grey eyes. The same dark grey eyes I used to always stare at since when I was six. He had the same small nose. The same small nose I used to always poke when we were toddlers since it was cute. He had the same chubby and soft cheeks. The same cheeks I used to always squish whenever I’m ecstatic, annoyed, sad, or normal. He had the same sexy pinkish lips. The first same sexy pinkish lips I kissed when I was ten. He had the same long golden hair. The same long golden hair I used to braid or play with when im bored though I always envy his hair since its straight and silky more as hell than mine. And lastly, he had the same effect on me.

Only realizing it now, his face was only an inch away from mine. His deep breaths made me look hotter.

“Advance Happy Birthday, I love you my princess.” Miguel said.

I slowly shut my eyes as tears started forming in my eyes. Seconds have passed and sobs started to come out. I slowly opened my eyes to look at the time.

12:00 AM

May 15, 2021

“It was all a dream” I told myself.

Miguel died because of the car accident. If only I hadn’t been selfish and let him go home that night, maybe he’s still with me right now celebrating my birthday.

It’s been exactly a year since my star vanished.

It’s just unfair that among billions of stars out there, he’s the one chosen to be vanished.

I held onto the shirt he gave me a year ago on my birthday while crying hard. It will never not be painful as hell.

His smile, his eyes, his dimples, his long golden hair, my Miguel that I will never get to see anymore.

“Wherever you are right now, I hope you’re happy.” I sobbed while looking above the sky full of stars. “I don’t do promises but I’m doing it now. I promise that I will continue living the nights with different stars. Only for you, baby. I miss you so much.

- meng✨

June 09, 2021

#dream #inspiration #short story #love cinema movie movies art entertainment life fantasy story #story

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kitchenscene · 5 years ago

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four a.m. [2.9k] buck follows the rain, so eddie follows buck, wherever he may lead

read on ao3

The firehouse carries a heaviness to it after a particularly long shift. The team packs their bags, heads turned down, trying to shuffle home to find some sense of comfort. Security. B-crew starts to roll in with all the enthusiasm in the world and Eddie wishes he could borrow just an ounce of that energy. Enough to carry himself home, lift his eyes up just long enough to drive without drifting to sleep.

Call after call, the team couldn’t catch a break. Electrical fire, two girls caught in a web of barbed wire, and a five car pileup. No chance to slip into the bunks, steal leftovers from the fridge, or take a momentary breath before the alarm rings. It’s a miracle they could still stand, let alone walk from the truck to the locker room after their last call.

Eddie slips into the shower, wanting to immediately fall into bed when he gets home. The warmth nearly lulled him to sleep. The station never sounded so quiet. All he can hear is water dripping along the tiles, spiraling to the drains, and the slow, tapping movement of feet outside the showers. He stands still, watching the water run clear until it starts to burn cold.

He steps out, sliding the curtain aside, dawning a fresh pair of sweats and an LAFD longsleeve. The navy blue sleeves, two sizes too large, bunch at the wrists, slipping past his fingertips. The soft fabric grounds him, he pulls the cotton tight in his hands. Freshly washed and warm.

The locker room stands silent, no laughter to echo off the glass walls, no movement filling the space. Dirt and ash trails along the concrete, leaving random footprints and smudges anywhere they could reach. Smoke lingers in the air, rising high. Tomorrow the smell would vanish, leaving no memory of the day. But for now it burns, leaving a tattoo heavy on his chest.

B-crew paces through the station, the hectic day coming to a halt as soon as they arrived. The alarm never rings. Eddie wishes it would.

His bag sits on the bottom shelf. The crew is gone, having all gone home for the day. His bag should sit alone on that bottom shelf, waiting to be carried away.

But Buck’s bag sits beside his, car keys still shining inside, phone left locked in one side pouch.

He glances around the room, waiting for Buck to appear, as if the weight of the day could’ve somehow blinded him from the sight of his best friend.

Outside the locker room he’s nowhere to be seen. B-crew works quietly, cleaning, restocking, gentle conversations. They mumble good mornings—it’s nearly four a.m.—and sip their warm coffees. He’s jealous at the ease they’re able to take, his own morning filled with wet hair and heavy eyes.

The loft is empty, the silence echoes, almost painfully. He’s never seen the kitchen so clean, so mellow and silent. No steaming pans, no shuffling plates, no grabbing hands. The lights glow softly, waiting for the next chef to pry open the pantry, but for now, the cupboards remain shut, locked away tight, no sign of Buck to be found.

He looks up from the edge of the loft, over the railings. The garage doors are wide open, the soft pattering of rain can be heard, but only just. It dances across the pavement, spilling inside the firehouse, leaving only wet footprints in its wake. The night darkens the sky, grey clouds tracing overhead. It’s almost peaceful, a welcomed end to a hectic day. But then he remembers Buck, nowhere to be seen. Buck, who, of course, could never simply witness a peaceful moment like this. Buck, who, naturally, would want to be up close, feeling the cold rain in his hands, on his skin, anywhere he could find it.

It seems obvious now; Eddie would never find Buck inside the station when there’s so much more to be said outside. A quiet, pouring night to end the bustling, restless day. Buck would follow the pour, follow the only sound to be heard. His eyes would brighten at the sight of it, despite the restlessness of the day.

He follows the stairs, follows the trail of mud that seems so obvious in retrospect. Follows it all the way up to the roof, away from the firehouse, away from the day they desperately needed to leave behind.

Eddie pulls his sleeves tighter, shivering at the sudden chill the fresh air gave. Raindrops stain his soft shirt and trail down his spine.

From the roof, he could see it all. The moon, half full, glowing softly, brightly in the dark from behind the grey, swirling clouds. It wasn’t so heavy, up here, all the weight feeding into the drainage pipes. The water washes across the concrete, leaving the air fresh, clean, new. City lights flicker in the distance, proof of a bustling life, even so long after sunset. He could barely see the rain, barely watch it fall, but he could see Buck.

Buck, who stood to the sky without a care. Buck, soaked in the rain, t-shirt pressed tight to his chest and boots logged with water. Buck, with his damp curls and bright smile, facing Eddie, inviting him forward.

Eddie, arms crossed, shivering, hiding at the edge of the roof under the only cover he could manage to find. Eddie, watching Buck, but only from a distance. Eddie, with his flattened hair and heavy eyes, who couldn’t help but smile back.

“Buck, what’re you doing up here? Shift ended…” he twists his arm, checking his watch, “half an hour ago.”

“It’s raining,” Buck says, as if Eddie couldn’t see the clouds above.

He watches Buck, who looks back and forth between him and the sky, the twenty-ish feet between them feeling too far away. Come home, he wants to say.

“It’s late, you shouldn’t be up here,” he says instead.

“Neither should you.” Buck shifts back and forth slightly, splashing the rain by his feet. Eddie uncrosses his arms, letting his sleeves fall.

He’s tempted by the rain, by Buck’s wonder. It would be far too easy to follow him to the edge of the roof, shoulders brushing as they watch the rain. The rain, so cold, but it wouldn’t matter because Buck would be there, warm and bright. So easily, he could drop his arm around his waist and pull him close, savouring a moment he would pretend to regret the next morning.

He could never regret it, not really. Buck, with his never ended kindness, would never hurt Eddie, he needs to trust this. Needs to trust that he is not alone in his feelings. He needs to trust Buck to stop him before he ruins this, ruins this perfect moment on the roof.

But it’s four a.m., and no good choices have ever been made so early in the day.

“You should go home. When’s the last time you slept?” Eddie asks, genuinely concerned.

“Even if I was at the apartment, I wouldn’t be sleeping,” he says, “I would be doing this. The only difference is I’d be doing it alone.”

The sentiment weighs on his chest; he’s not alone on this rooftop. It would be so easy to step into the rain and lay himself bare. To spill everything he has and let it wash away.

Buck takes a few steps closer, closing the mileage between them. He’s still too far away. But Eddie can’t move, can’t take those small steps forward, away from the only dry patch of the roof, away from the safety of the wall behind him.

“Come on,” he offers, “it’s just rain.”

But it’s not just rain, not to Eddie. There shouldn’t be anything different about this day other than the weather. Today, like every other day, he drove himself to the firehouse, worked side-by-side with Buck, and tried to keep himself from speaking his mind.

This, here, on the roof, is something they’ve been building towards for a while. He’s certain—nearly certain—that Buck wants this too. He’s never shied away from the brush of a hand, or a hug that lasted a few seconds too long. He’s held onto Eddie, as if at any moment, he would disappear, and Eddie wants nothing more than to promise he’ll never leave.

“What do you have to lose?” Buck asks, with a lightness around him.

Everything.

If he steps too far, if he reads this wrong, he’ll lose Buck. He’ll lose everything. He’ll lose a partner, a best friend, the only pillar he’s ever allowed himself to lean on. Buck has been there since day one, latching onto Eddie, planting roots in his heart and refusing to leave. If he ruins this, he’ll lose everything.

Buck holds out his hands, begging Eddie to reach out, take the leap. But Buck is still twenty feet away, and it’s still four a.m.

He sees those hands and the water curving around them. Wet hair dripping in those blue eyes, pressing against his forehead. Those blue eyes he can barely make out from so far away, but he knows them well enough to feel their brightness even from afar.

And he can’t deny the fact that it is, just rain falling around them, as Buck said. But it’s late and he’s tired and it would be far too easy to fall into Buck’s embrace. If he held that hand extended towards him, he may never let go, and when Buck pulls away, as Eddie believes he will, it will ruin the rain forever. Every drop will remind him of this; a moment that could’ve been.

“Buck…”

“I’ll wait here all night,” he says, arms open wide, “where’s the fun in standing all the way over there, anyways?”

It’s four a.m., it’s raining. Somewhere downstairs, the alarm rings, the trucks file out, one at a time, and for the first time they’re alone, truly alone. And Eddie’s too tired to hold back anymore.

He steps forward, into the rain, takes the leap. Buck is there, always has been, grinning as Eddie steps forward, arms unfolding. He was the one who followed Buck to the roof in the pouring rain. It’s inevitable that they’d end up here, standing together.

Buck takes his hand, strong and calloused, but gentle to the touch, and pulls him farther than he would’ve walked on his own. Up close, he can see the rain drops pressed to his arms, around every muscle. His shirt, entirely soaked through, clinging tight around his torso. He’s spent all night outside, in the rain, yet he never shivers under it’s touch.

“See? Not so bad,” Buck laughs, and Eddie can’t stop his own grin from forming. He wants to pull away, go inside, go home. Hide away from his touch, pretend he feels nothing. But Buck is here. He has to stay here. Buck turns towards the horizon, but Eddie still watches Buck.

“I still don’t get why you’re up here.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re gonna catch a cold, or something.” He tries to ignore Buck’s grip, still tight against his hand, and tries to slip into something lighter. An easy conversation without any real meaning to avoid what will inevitably become of this night—morning, rather.

Buck turns back to Eddie, eyebrow tilted. The rain drips around his eyes, still bright, still blue. “That’s not actually a thing, is it? I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing.”

“Either way, you’re soaking wet, and probably freezing,” he offers, hiding his worry behind a bit of laughter.

“I’m not freezing,” Buck holds Eddie’s free hand, pressing the back of it to his forehead, as if checking for a fever. He drops his wrist, but Eddie doesn’t move his hand. “See? Not freezing.”

Eddie turns his hand to push the wet hair away from Buck’s forehead, before sliding his hand down to rest on his cheek, his thumb wiping a raindrop away from his eye, tracing his cheekbone.

Buck doesn’t pull away. Rather, he leans into the touch, still smiling, his hand slipping out of Eddie’s and tracing up his arm. He shivers at the touch, knowing there’s no way he can slip out of Buck’s grasp. Not when he finally knows what it’s like to be so close.

“Yeah,” he says, not knowing how to fill the air, “not freezing. But you’re still soaked.” It’s barely a whisper, he’s close enough to speak softly and still be heard.

“So are you.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“You can’t blame me for the rain,” Buck says, pulling him closer, toe to toe, knees nearly knocking and hands holding steady. It would be entirely too easy to bridge the gap, to latch on a cut the tension hanging in the air.

Eddie says nothing, he can barely breathe. He rests his free hand on Buck’s waist hesitantly, giving him every opportunity to pull away, to stop him before he goes too far.

He can hear the rain, he can hear Buck’s breathing, soft and steady, and he can hear his own heart, skipping beats in his chest. It’s entirely too loud, and Buck could almost certainly feel it, the unsteady beating of his heart.

“But you brought me up here,” Eddie whispers, “I can at least blame you for that.”

“I didn’t expect you to follow me,” Buck admits, “but I was kinda hoping you would.”

He tries to analyze it, pull apart Buck’s words to find meaning in it all, some type of confirmation that he’s not alone in his feelings, that Buck wants him too. This, to Eddie, is as close as he’ll ever get. There’s so much to be said, but he’ll never find the words to say it all.

“You’re thinking too much,” Buck says, pulling him out of his head. “Whatever you’re trying to say, just say it.”

“I don’t think I can…” His hand, still resting on Buck’s cheek, slides down to his jaw. He looks between Buck’s eyes, his gaze landing on his mouth before leading back up to the thumb grazing his cheekbone.

“It has to be you,” he says, resting his free hand on Eddie’s hip. “You have to take the leap.”

It’s all the assurance he needs that Buck wants this too. But even still, he struggles to close the final inches between them, something in his head still convincing him he’ll lose everything.

He has to trust that Buck would never lead him astray. That if he takes this leap, Buck will be there to take the next. He’ll be there when he wakes up, leaving Eddie with proof that this is not a dream, and they’ll move forward together, taking every leap after that. He has to believe that Buck will always be there for him, just as he will be there for Buck.

But first he needs to take this leap. Buck nods, only slightly, as if reassuring him that he wants this too.

He moves slowly, still doubting himself, using Buck’s hand as an anchor to hold him steady. The rain only falls heavier, letting Eddie fall with it right into Buck’s arms. Buck is warm. He’s freezing, but his touch is still warm. He’s freezing but he doesn’t care. The rain, the sirens, the clouds, none of it matters because he’s so close to finally grasping what he’s always wanted.

There’s hardly space between them, mere centimeters keeping them apart. There’s no room for doubt, no room to change his mind.

So he falls, finally lets himself fall. He closes the gap between their lips, tilting his head up, and lets himself fall. And Buck is there, he always has been, to catch him, hold him up, pull him close. He kisses Buck slowly, softly, as if he’ll disappear. The rain showers over them, but he can barely feel it. All he feels is Buck, pulling him by the hem of his shirt impossibly closer and his hand tracing up his arms to rest on Eddie’s shoulder, gripping the fabric between his fingers.

His hand slides to the back of his neck, savoring every touch. He’s kissing Buck and he’s barely breathing, but he can’t let it end, not yet. They’re soaked and they’re cold but none of it matters. He’s kissing Buck and nothing else matters.

Buck pulls away first, not straying far, resting his forehead against Eddie’s. His breath, still heavy, brushes against Eddie’s cheek, mixing with the rain, leaving him cold. He can’t let this moment end, not yet.

He closes his eyes to take it all in, but Buck is there again, drawing him in for another kiss. It’s more determined this time, less hesitant, less afraid. It’s strong and assured Eddie lets Buck guide him. He opens his mouth and lets Buck take him in, desperate to feel him closer still. He hears the rain and he hears the sirens, a vague reminder that they’re still at the firehouse, they’re still on the roof, collapsing in each other’s embrace. The stress of their shift is behind them, nearly forgotten, and all that matters is this, on the roofs, grabbing each other by the waist, hip, neck, wherever they can manage. It’s peaceful, and it surrounds them fully.

Their foreheads press together again as they break away, still soaking in the moment. Neither of them try to leave, staying on the roof even as the clouds darken above, taking each other in wholly. It’s way past four a.m. but still they stand, on the rooftop, and Eddie can’t help but lean in again, kissing Buck quickly, once more, just to remind himself that he can.

#911 fox #911 on fox #911 fics #911 fic #first kiss #buddie #buddie fic #mine:911 #texas.fic #i wrote this because the astronaut fic gave me a headache so enjoy this unedited nonsense #evan buckley #eddie diaz

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strangerivy · 4 years ago

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The Beginning - Nineteen

Summary: With Peter Hales threat, Scott and Kacy have been keeping close tabs on there love ones but now with the winter formal can they have one night of being normal teenagers? Warnings: Swearing | Violent Depictions Pairings: Stiles Stilinski x Original Character (Kacy) Genre: 18+ | Fluff | Angst Word Count: 3.6k Author’s Note: We are finally here! The second to last chapter of the first part to this series being completed. Wow. That's wild to me but I am very excited to start the next. Thank you wonderful readers and I hope you enjoy!

|| One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Masterlist ||

I fluttered my eyes open to see a thin strand of sunlight streaming through the side of Stiles curtain on his bedroom window. I looked over at his clock seeing it read 7:00 AM, still early enough to get home before anyone really noticed. With luck, mom would have had a morning shift or was still finishing her night shift.

I rolled over to face Stiles, still sleeping peacefully his mouth slightly ajar with soft breaths coming out. I smiled softly reaching my hand up to gently trace his face with my fingertips cementing this little moment to memory. A little moment of pure peace.

Stiles’s nose twitched before his eyes fluttered open giving a soft smile when his eyes adjusted to the soft light in the room.

“Morning,” His voice raspy from waking up, I smiled leaning in for a kiss.

“Morning,” I whispered back leaning my head against his as I felt him pull me closer somehow, our legs already tangled together under the sheets. We stayed like that for a few more moments, eyes closed just listening to each other’s breath.

“I should get home,” I whispered breaking the silence opening my eyes to look at him again, he nodded stretching his arms before sitting up and taking the comforter with him. I let out a small groan from the sudden cold curling around his torso snuggling into his back. He let out a chuckle turning to look down at me. He patted my back.

“Come on,” He said getting out of the bed, he walked over grabbing my clothes from yesterday and tossing them onto the bed for me before going and taking a shower. He ran back in grabbing some clothes before running back out. I let out a small chuckle before getting up and changing my clothes.

I went over to his mirror trying to fix my hair as best I could until I got home. I went over to the side table grabbing ahold of my phone selecting Scott's name from my contact list placing the phone to my ear. It rang three times before going to voicemail. I sighed hanging up the call. Must still be asleep.

A fresh scent of pine entered the room and I looked back to see Stiles back in the room grabbing his keys and wallet before turning to me with a soft smile.

“Ready?” He asked, I nodded walking over and grabbing his hand as we went down to the Jeep.

We got to the house and luckily my moms’ car was nowhere to be seen but I saw Scotts bike up on the porch showing that he was home now. We got out of the Jeep and I looked up to Scott's window seeing his shadow move around his room frantically.

Stiles and I walked into the house and I could hear things being tossed about upstairs. I raised my eyebrow in confusion as we walked up the stairs.

“Scott?” I shouted up the stairs, I heard a crash then footsteps coming down the hall quickly. Scott slid to stop grabbing ahold of the corner of the wall for support to not fall to the ground and then down the stairs.

“Thank god you're home!” He shouted looking a little distressed waving us up the stairs, “Have you seen my phone?” Stiles followed behind me as we went up the stairs.

“No? Scott, what’s going on?” I asked a bit worried at his erratic behavior, following him down the hall.

“Stiles, can you call my phone?” He asked completely ignoring my question. That explains why he didn’t answer this morning. I rolled my eyes before going into my room.

“I’m going to shower,” I grumbled to Stiles before closing my door. I walked over shutting the bathroom door to Scott's room and starting the shower. I set aside a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt going into the steam-filled bathroom letting out a sigh once the hot water hit my skin. It was hard to relax though when I could hear a bang here and a bang there coming from Scott's room. I groaned quickly getting through the shower now.

I opened the door to Scott's room once I was fully clothed to see him still searching for his missing phone.

“Why don’t you get a new one?” Stiles suggested sitting on Scott's desk chair.

“I can’t afford a new one and I can’t do this alone,” Scott panicked, I scoffed drying my hair a little with my towel.

“Guess I’m just chopped liver,” I scoffed completely unamused. Scott shot up giving me a look an unamused look.

“Kacy, that’s not what I meant, and you know it,” He said before looking through his bed again, “We need to find Derek,”

“Didn’t you say Derek walked into gunfire?” Stiles pointed out, my eyes went wide, and I turned my head to Scott.

“What the hell happen?” I asked, Scott sighed throwing his head back clearly annoyed by his missing phone and Stiles and I’s pestering.

“The hunters ambushed us last night at the Hale house,” Scott told me before going into the bathroom, I shot a look over at Stiles who quickly put his hands up telling me he didn’t really know what was going on either.

“I knew nothing till now,” He answered my unasked question, I frowned before turning back to Scott, “Is Derek in trouble?”

“They’re going to just use him to get to the Alpha,” Scott confirmed tossing his dirty clothes out of the bathroom while checking their pockets.

“Alright so just let them do what they’re planning, problem solve- “

“Not if Peters going after Allison to find Derek!” Scott interrupted Stiles going back over to his desk to double-check, “I can’t protect her on my own which means we either find Derek first- just – just help me!” Scott began to panic tossing back an orange ball unknowingly hitting Stiles in the head, I stifled a laugh with my hand.

“You know, you probably lost it when you two were fighting. You Remember that? When he was trying to kill you?” Stiles asked Scott.

“You seem to know more than you’ve led on, sir,” I grumbled narrowing my eyes over at Stiles

“Okay, so I know a little bit,” He admitted, I shook my head at him turning my attention back towards Scott,

“Derek tried to kill you?” I asked angrily

“Oh, wait it gets better,” Stiles said pulling my attention back to him “He tried to kill Scott after he interrupted Derek trying to kill Jackson,”

“Well, Jackson is kind of ask- “

“Kacy!” Stiles shouted at me completely caught off by my reaction.

“What!” I asked, “He keeps threatening to expose our secret, that’s not my fault,” Stiles rolled his eyes at me going back to Scott.

“He wasn’t going to kill anyone.” Scott sighed looking back at us from his desk, “And I’m not going to let him die,”

The sound of screeching breaks broke Scotts and I’s focus, I turned my head to the window and listened further. Stiles looked between the two of us seeing our sudden focus.

“What?” he asked,

“Mom just got home from work,” I answered quietly still listening, she was on the phone leaving a voicemail to- Peter Hale about rescheduling their date, stumbling over her words a little. I felt a drop in my stomach as I then started to hear soft tears.

I frowned looking down at my hands pulling gently at the knuckles.

“Is she okay?” Stiles asked gently, I shook my head “What’s she doing?”

“Crying,” Scott Whispered walking over to the bed sitting down next to me.

“Scott you can’t protect everyone,” Stiles said

“I have to,” He stated before looking over at me, “We have to,”

School for the week went smoothly, I ended up staying over at Stiles a couple of days in the week when mom was on the night shift. Scott spent almost every night posted up on Allison’s roof.

It was the end of the day when Allison and Lydia approached, Allison waved as they got closer.

“Hey Allison, Lydia,” I greeted, Allison smiled back linking arms with mine when I shut my locker, I gave her a questioning look. “Where are we going?” I asked.

“Do you not remember?” She chuckled, I shook my head causing her to let out another small laugh “We are going dress shopping,” I mentally smacked myself remembering vaguely the texted message I had received through a very heated make-out session with Stiles last night and vaguely remembered agreeing to whatever was in said messages.

“Ooh! Yes, yes, I remember,” I said with a smile exiting the school

“Kacy!” I heard a familiar voice shout from behind us, I paused, and Allison and Lydia stopped not far away waiting for me. Stiles burst through the doors out of breath walking up to me. I let out a small chuckle

“You okay?” I asked quietly, he nodded his head standing up straight once he caught his breath

“Where you are going?” He asked looking over my shoulder at Allison and Lydia then back to me curiously,

“Girls day, dress shopping,” I answered shyly, I saw his lip twitch and slowly rise into a smirk

“Girls day?” He asked surprise clear in his voice and face “Have you ever had a girl’s day?” I gently punched his shoulder

“No,” I turned back to Allison who motioned for me to hurry, I turned back around quickly kissing Stiles cheek, “I’ll text you when I’m done,”

“Don’t get too crazy,” He smirked as I ran towards Allison getting in the back seat of her car with a final wave.

The car ride was mostly quiet besides the radio playing to fill the silence. We pulled into the parking garage going into the nearest department store, Macy’s. We stood on the escalator and Lydia looked between Allison and me.

“You two look so grim,” She frowned looking up at the stairs “What’s wrong Allison?”

“Nothing wrong,” Allison shrugged her shoulders, “just a lot on my mind I guess.”

“Haven’t you heard the saying, never frown someone could be falling in love with your smile.” Allison scoffed quietly and I rolled my eyes “Smile Allison, I’m buying you a dress,”

“Have to admit as far as apologies go, that’s more than I expected.” We got to the top of the escalator and stepped off walking towards the formal and semi-formal dress section. Lydia went off in one direction while Allison and I went off in another. Allison and I walked around the aisles slowly. I turned a corner away from her spotting a dress that caught my eye but when I approached the dress the hair on the back of my neck stood and I stopped instantly becoming still as if hiding from a predator. But that is exactly what this was. I turned my head spotting Allison talking to someone I could not quite recognize until he turned just slightly revealing his face. Peter Hale. The alpha.

I could tell by Allison’s stature that she was uncomfortable and even though my instinct was telling me to run and hide, a more powerful instinct to protect my friend is what made my feet move towards her quickly grabbing the dress from the rack with a small growl in my throat.

“Allison!” I shouted just loud enough to grab her attention plaster an excited look on my face as best I could; I reached her pushing past Peter keeping my back towards him. I held up the dress to Allison to distract her from him. “Do you think Stiles would like this?” I asked innocently, I could see her starting to relax as she reached out to the dress feeling the fabric.

“Absolutely, he won’t be able to take his eyes off you.” She smiled before the loudspeaker interrupted.

“attention shoppers to the owner of a blue Mazda, license plate-” Allison frowned

“Did she say blue Mazda?” She asked looking up at me with wide eyes, “Crap that’s my car!” Allison took off towards the parking garage to handle her car situation leaving me here, with Peter, alone. My body instantly tensed as the air grew thick with annoyance and anger from the alpha. I heard him let out a sigh and I tensed when I heard his feet move closer to where I was standing.

“I have to say,” I flinched when he spoke standing directly behind me, “You and your brother continue to impress me with your ingenuity,” I stiffened as he gently grabbed a piece of my hair letting it fall between his fingers before stepping away. “But you two can’t be everywhere, all the time.”

“Ouch,” I hissed as my mom pulled on my hair just a little to tight with the curler

“Oh, sorry Hunny,” She apologized releasing the curl letting it fall in a perfect curl, pulled some from the front pinning it back. She looked at me in the mirror her hands resting on my shoulders as she gave a small kiss to my temple.

“You look so beautiful sweetheart,” She whispered, I smiled shyly twirling the hem of the dress in my fingers. A knock came from the front door and I perked up smiling over at my mom. She helped me up as I slipped on my heels grabbing my jacket off the chair. She went down the stairs ahead of me opening the door.

“Wow Stiles, I am impressed,” I heard her say as I turned the corner, my heels clicked on each step as I walked down. Stiles looked up and his face dropped as he watched me come down the stairs and I felt my cheeks heat up from embarrassment.

“Wow,” He whispered when I got to him grabbing my hand gently rubbing his thumb over my knuckles softly “You look incredible.”

“Come on you two, I need a picture” I laughed shyly turning and posing with Stiles so mom could take a quick picture before we rushed out the door as Scott was rushing in.

“You better hurry!” I shouted at him

“I am!” He shouted back and I let out a chuckle. Stiles pulled me along to the passenger side opening the door for me, offer his hand

“For you m’lady,” I snorted but still took his hand

“Why thank you, good sir,” I responded in a fake accent, he shut the door once I was in quickly moving to the driver’s side getting in. He reached over grabbing a hold of my hand not letting go the whole ride to the school.

We pulled up to the gym parking lot of the school where the dance was being held, Groups of people headed into the dance. Star-shaped lights were shining on the side of the building close to the doors that had lights dangling in the windows. Blue and silver balloons in various shapes lined the edge of the walk up to the doors. I spotted Lydia in the corner of my eye walking with some jock from the lacrosse team that I could not remember the name of and knowing Lydia she probably did not either. Stiles grabbed a hold of my hand giving it a soft squeeze grabbing my attention. I turned to look at him and he stared back with a gentle smile.

“Ready for our first school dance?” He asked with a small twinkle in his eye, I raised my eye curiously at him but unable to hide my smile.

“This isn’t our first?” I questioned

“It’s the first that matters,” His grin growing at his very cheesy statement but even then, I couldn’t bring myself to not smile. I let out a laugh while he got out of the Jeep in a rush hitting the bumper with his knee but recovering quickly to grab the passenger door offering his hand to me with a grimace.

“You okay?” I asked a bit worried taking his hand getting out of the Jeep. He shut my door with a small nod

“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” he reassured collecting himself. I smoothed out my dress and linked my arm with his. He smiled down at me as we headed into the dance. I suddenly felt tense as we walked closer to the building a sense of panic washing over me.

I stopped suddenly as we hit the sidewalk before walking up the stairs to the gym. Stiles turned back to see why I had stopped and frowned gently pulling me to the side out of the way from people.

"Hey," He reached up smoothing out my hair with a concerned expression, "What's on your mind?"

"I- I just -" I frowned not really sure how to explain, I nibbled on my lip looking down at the ground. He placed his hand under my gently softly moving my head to look up at him. His soft brown eyes were full of worry but also comfort. I let out a small sigh. "What if something happens tonight?" I finally asked, he tilted his head giving me a soft smile before pulling me into a hug.

"Then we deal with it," He said kissing the top of my head rubbing small circles into my back with his thumbs. He pulled away resting his hands on my arms looking me in the eyes, "But until then, we are two normal teenagers,"

I let out a small huff but nodded giving him a reassuring smile, "Two teenagers in love?" I teased with a silly grin, He threw his head back with a laugh before looking back down at me, nodding his head.

"Yes, now can we go in before we freeze?" He asked whining a bit for laughs towards the end, I looped my arm back with his

"Lead the way," I grinned motioning my hand for him to go. He snorted as we started for the gym once again.

As Stiles and I enter the gym the music was loud and I could feel the bass of the music throughout my body. He leads me over to the refreshments table grabbing us both a cup before heading to the tables placed on one edge of the gym near where people were dancing.

Stiles and I sat at one of the tables next to the dance floor. Lydia and her nameless date sat at the same table. Lydia's face in a permanent scowl it seemed for this night. Allison passed by flashing a small smile at me as her Jackson went off to dance, Jackson, looking very unamused.

Stiles quickly turned in his seat to face me catching me off guard to where I jumped in my seat a little. “Dance with me?” He asked offering his hand. I looked between the dance floor and his hand my nerves starting to flare up.

“I-I don’t know Stiles,” I felt my cheeks heat up as I blushed at his offer, he let out a small chuckle getting out of his seat kneeling on one knee in front of me so he could see my face better. He reached up rubbing my cheek with his thump, he leaned up placing a small kiss on my lips. “come on,” He grins pulling me slowly to my feet and towards the dance floor.

“McCall!” I suddenly hear in the crowd, I looked around confused at who was screaming my last name, “I see you!” Coach comes flying by in some sort of pursuit and I slowly realize he is chasing after Scott. I let out a small snort turning my attention back to Stiles wrapping my arms around his neck, he pulls me close by the waist as we begin moving slowly to the beat. This goes on for a couple of songs slowly feeling more comfortable and began bouncing and laughing when the beat picks up and then back to slow dancing.

A flash of red hair catches my eye, and a concerned Lydia passes by. I quickly reach out grabbing her wrist giving her a concerned look before she can runoff.

“You okay?” I asked, Lydia and I might not always get along but that does not mean I still didn’t care if she was okay or not.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just looking for Jackson.” She answers a flash of pain going through her eyes, I let go of her wrist before she disappears once again into the crowd. A few more songs went on and I noticed Jackson walk back into the gym but with no Lydia. I raised an eyebrow as an uneasy feeling fell over me. Stiles noticed quickly following my gaze then looking back at me confused.

“What is it?” He asked pulling back a little to get a better look at me, he pushed a stray hair out of my face.

“Stiles, could you do me a favor?” I asked him, Jackson and I made eye contact and I could tell something happened based on his body language. I started to walk towards him

“Go find Lydia, Stiles,” I asked, he gave me a confused nod but did what I asked. I quickly walked over to Jackson, grabbing his arm tightly pulling him out into the hall.

“What the hell did you do?” I asked him angrily, his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of the water as he tried to find the words. “Jackson, I need to know what the hell is going on?” I asked once again, he reeked of fear and guilt.

“I was out behind the school, and-” He stopped again, and I felt my body tense as doubt and worry began to flood my senses. “The Argents found me, and I was- I thought they were the alpha” he finally admitted. No.

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Tags: @criminalyetminimal @itshouldbe @sammypotato67 @reggies-flannel-shirt

#teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fandom #teen wolf imagine #Stiles #stiles fanfiction #stiles imagine #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #Stilinski #Scott McCall #allison argent #lydia martin #Peter Hale #derek hale

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dothwrites · 5 years ago

Text

part v of mafia!au

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

---

Dean’s never been so happy to see Sam in his entire life.

His gangly little brother sits behind the wheel of the Impala, face drawn tight with worry. He relaxes in stages as he sees Dean, sees the blood on his clothes, then sees that little of it belongs to him.

“Where’s Gabriel?” Sam demands as he rushes to open the backseat for Dean. His eyes widen as he takes in the ruin of Castiel, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t know,” Dean says, grunting as he hefts Cas’ unconscious body into the backseat. “Get his legs.”

Between the two of them, they get Cas into the backseat, though not as gently as Dean could hope for. If a few extra bruises are the price which Cas has to pay for his freedom, then Dean’s willing to fork that payment over.

He collapses against the Impala’s sturdy frame, chest heaving. Carrying Cas wasn’t easy; despite all his jabs about Cas being a nerdy little dude, Cas is solid, and carrying his deadweight through the halls of the Novak mansion counts as a workout. Sweat dapples the back of his neck, cooling unpleasantly as Dean waits.

Once again, he’s in the garage of the Novak mansion. He tries to keep his eyes away from the spot where he last saw Cas, though he can’t stop his morbid fascination with the place. He wonders if there’s a bloodstain there.

“Where the fuck is Gabriel?” Dean growls, when his body temperature changes from overheated to clammy. “We can’t risk sticking around here too much longer.”

As if in response to his prayers, Gabriel comes tearing down the staircase. He races towards them at a dead sprint, tossing a few flashbangs behind him. “Get in the car, get in the car!” he shouts, heaving himself in the passenger seat. Dean doesn’t wait for another invitation, but gets into the backseat, arranging Cas’ head on his lap. Sam spares him one shocked look before he gets behind the wheel.

Sam slams on the gas too hard, causing the Impala’s wheels to squeal and smoke against the concrete of the floor, but when he eases off a little, she jumps forward, as eager for freedom as the rest of them. Dean doesn’t breathe until they crash through the gates and the outline of the mansion disappears in the rearview.

After weeks, they’re all finally free.

---

Only when the mansion vanishes completely does Dean dare to look at Castiel.

Once he does, he regrets it.

He got a few glimpses when he first saw Cas, but he hadn’t been too interested at cataloging injuries. At that moment, escape was the only thought in his mind and Cas’ injuries were only obstacles to be overcome.

They have time now, or at least a lack of pursuit. In their world, it amounts to same thing. Dean flicks aside the tattered remains of Cas’ shirt and looks down at the bleeding ruin of his chest. His gorge rises as he looks at the wounds littered over Cas’ torso. Some of them are still bleeding.

Bruises spread over his skin in varying shades of purple, yellow, and green. There are several puncture wounds that Dean recognizes as belonging to a taser. Rage clouds up high and sour in his throat as he considers the varying stages of healing of the wounds. They’ve been hurting Cas from the first day they had him.

Rage and nausea rise in Dean until he thinks he might choke on them. The bastards turned Cas into a canvas.

“Son of a bitch.” He looks up to see Gabriel leaning over the front seat. Thin white lines of fury etch along his mouth and eyes.

In the past few weeks, he and Gabriel have come to understand each other as partners and allies, pushing aside their prejudices in favor of a common goal. Dean trusts him as much as he trusts anyone other than Sam, but for the first time since he began working with Gabriel, a little tendril of fear pokes at him.

“He’s alive,” Dean says, the barest form of comfort he can offer while being truthful. “He’ll be ok. He’s strong.”

A muscle twitches in the corner of Gabriel’s jaw as he stretches out his hand to brush through Cas’ hair. A soft noise caught between contentment and distress escapes through Cas’ lips and Gabriel withdraws his touch.

“Just get us home,” Dean tells Sam.

---

In hindsight, he should have expected the nightmares.

They made it back to their safehouse without anyone following, which makes Dean stupidly think that they’re out of the woods. Sure, they probably have both the Novak and Winchester families gunning for them, but he, Sam, Gabriel, and Cas are all under one roof. Together they’ve got enough brains, skills, and ruthlessness to take down any threat.

Dean thinks that right up until the first scream splits the peace of the night.

He bolts upright, gun already in hand, eyes darting wildly around in search of the potential threat. When he finds none in the immediate vicinity, he runs out of the room, already calling for Sam.

Sam’s head pokes out of his room, hair sleep tousled and eyes heavy with interrupted slumber, but he looks confused instead of terrified. The fear on his face is directed outward instead of for himself. “Dean? What’s going on?”

Another scream rips through the night. This time Dean recognizes the voice underneath the terror.

“Cas,” he murmurs, thundering down the hallway.

The door opens under his touch into a horror show. Cas writhes in the middle of the bed, sheets tangled around his body. His back bends into a rigid, impossible arch as his fingers claw at the mattress. Tendons in his neck bulge as he forces a scream out through clenched teeth. His feet kick uselessly, forcing Gabriel to try and dodge his inadvertent blows. Blood trickles down Cas’ bare chest as his wounds reopen.

“Cas, you’re ok, you’re all right, come on Cas.” Gabriel’s voice is frantic as he tries to pin Cas’ flailing body. “Easy Cas, easy!”

Cas screams again. The raw sound tears through the quiet night like a knife blade. The safehouse is removed from civilization, but not so far away as to be isolated, and Cas’ shrieks are loud enough to break glass.

“Sam, go get my bag,” Dean says. His heart is pounding so hard it’s amazing he hasn’t fainted. His gun is heavy in his hand, pulling his whole arm down to the ground. “There’s a sedative in there; it should be enough to knock him out.”

“No!”

Gabriel’s voice cracks like a whip, stopping Sam in his tracks. “What the hell?” A ragged, tortured sound rips out of Cas’ throat. It seems impossible that a single person could hold that much tension in their body without snapping in half.

Wild eyes and bared teeth are all Dean sees of Gabriel. “You are not putting anymore drugs into him!”

Dean’s eyes fall to Cas’ arm, to the series of haphazard bruises blossoming along the vulnerable flesh of his inner arm. An awful, terrible picture paints itself in Dean’s mind, one which explains Cas’ state of mind, his hazy eyes and wandering train of thought. It’s not real, none of this is real...in my head, there are things, there are people, and they lie--

Dean thinks he might be sick.

Without consciously realizing it, Dean finds himself moving forward. At first, he means to do nothing more than to help Gabriel restrain Cas from hurting himself, but then he finds himself murmuring soft reassurances, things that his father would have slapped out of his mouth if he could.

“Hey Cas, you’re all right, you’re all right, you’re ok, I’ve got you, me and Gabe are here, you’re ok now--”

He runs his hand over Cas’ forehead, wiping sweat away from his skin. “You’re safe, you’re all right. No one’s going to hurt you, I’ve got you.”

He’s aware of the weight of Sam and Gabriel’s eyes, but he keeps his eyes focused on Cas. One last, thin wail rips from his throat and then, like a puppet cut from his strings, Cas collapses bonelessly onto the mattress. He shudders once and is still.

Dean holds his breath for ten seconds. Then, when Cas sleeps peacefully on, he lets it out in one long whoosh. His knees buckle, threatening to send him crashing onto the mattress right beside Cas.

“Go back to bed, Sam.” A few hesitant protests come from Sam, but they’re swiftly silenced with a sharp bark of his name.

“Call me if anything changes,” Sam shoots off as a parting salvo, but Dean doesn’t think it’ll be necessary. If Cas has another screaming fit, Sam will know.

Sam’s door closes and Dean takes a few steps backward. His shaky legs give out just as his back hits the wall, and he slides down until his ass hits the ground. “Jesus,” he breathes. He buries his face in his hands, unwilling to allow Gabriel this view of his weakness. “God, oh god.”

For thirty seconds, he allows his horror, and anger free reign. Then, with effort, he pulls himself back together, stitching together reason and rationality until he’s able to think. He looks up at the bed, where Gabriel’s head is bowed low over the mattress.

“Drugs?” Dean finally asks, his voice a hoarse rasp.

Gabriel’s head rises like it’s moving on rusty hinges. His golden eyes are bleak.

“I recognize the handiwork. It’s from Naomi, one of Dad’s pets. She likes to experiment. Pump them full of hallucinogens, tear them apart, and see what falls out. By the end, they’re reprogrammed into something else they wouldn’t even recognize. Stands to reason they’d set her loose on Cas.”

Bile rises in Dean’s throat. Cas is brilliant, his mind sharper than a steel trap. Behind blue eyes, thousands of gears are constantly turning. To think of someone rummaging around in that machine, upsetting the delicate balances and systems...It’s perverse, an upsetting of the natural order. Dean doesn’t believe in God, never has, but the idea of Cas losing his reason due to outside influences is as close to blasphemy as anything else.

“Why don’t you get some sleep? I can stay with him.”

Gabriel’s scoff isn’t as strong as it could be. Instead, he just looks weary and defeated. “You know, when I first thought of a Winchester taking my place, I thought I was going to kill you myself. And now...” He shakes his head, dismissing whatever he was going to say next. “I’m going to get a few hours worth of sleep. I’ll come get you then.”

For a moment, Dean thinks Gabriel might go so far as to pat him on the shoulder. His hand hovers awkwardly in mid-air before it drops to his side. Gabriel shuffles towards the door, each step taking an eternity to accomplish. He waves at Dean, a limp gesture, before he heads down the hallway to his bedroom. It shuts behind him, leaving Dean alone with Cas.

It takes almost all of Dean’s energy to make his way to the opposite side of the room. He collapses into the armchair, still warm from Gabriel’s ass.

Blood dries tacky on Cas’ chest. None of the wounds he ripped open were deep enough to really hurt him, but seeing the reminders of his treatment torn stark red on Cas’ chest is still like getting a punch to the gut.

It seems wrong, somehow, for him to see Cas brought low. He knows Cas wouldn’t want to be seen like this. When he wakes up, Cas will probably either punch him or shoot him, and that’ll be fine. It’ll be worth it to see Cas’ eyes open and shine with lucidity.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. His voice sounds harsh in the quiet of the room. The very air molecules bristle with disapproval. It’s nothing compared to the contempt which Dean feels for himself.

“If it hadn’t been for me, you never would have been caught up in this. For whatever reason, you looked at me and you saw someone worth saving. I don’t know why you thought that. I don’t know what I did to make you think that I was ever worth this.”

Dean’s fingers crawl across the mattress to take Cas’ hand in his. Cas’ fingers are cold and limp. Blood is caked into his cuticles. In his sleep, Cas murmurs. Whether it’s a sound of distress or happiness, Dean doesn’t know. He’s afraid to know.

The first time he saw Cas was at the exchange. The Novaks were lined up on one side of the hotel and the Winchesters on the other. Dean had barely been able to swallow his rage at being sold off like a pawn, all so his father could swagger around the city like he owned something. He’d focused that rage on the family who, up until a few weeks ago, it was his purpose to thwart in any way possible, death not excluded. Now he was expected to join them, with nary a word spoken otherwise.

He recognized Michael Novak and he’d gotten intimately familiar with Gabriel Novak’s file. Neither of those Novaks were as interesting as the Novak who stood at the back of the room.

Even without knowing his name or anything else about him, Castiel was the Novak who caught his attention. He moved through the rest of them like a panther moving through wolves, all coiled grace and tightly bound intent. Where the other Novaks were stiff, he was fluid, where they were cold, he burned hot. Dean looked at him and saw the proverbial diamond in the rough, one jewel amidst a sea of imposters.

And now here he is, shattered into a thousand pieces, a sacrifice laid in front of the altar of Dean Winchester.

“I’m sorry.” Dean’s voice croaks on the last syllable. “Cas, I’m so sorry.” His instincts tell him to crush Cas’ hand in his, to bring him back with nothing more than sheer force of will, but he already knows that’s not an option. He needs to learn how to hold things without destroying them, how to love something without smothering it.

“I wasn’t worth it. Whatever you thought you saw, it wasn’t worth this.” Heat prickles behind Dean’s eyes and works its way up his throat. “I’m so sorry Cas.”

Misery forces his head low and Dean presses his forehead against Cas’ knuckles. Cas’ hand is so cold. The rise and fall of his chest is subtle, worryingly so. Dean doesn’t know how it feels to fall asleep without the taste of fear thick and sour on his tongue.

He falls asleep with his lips still shaping the word sorry.

---

Dean drags himself up from the pit of sleep, roused by a stimulus so weak it might as well be nonexistent. It’s still enough to pull him out of a troubled slumber, heart pounding.

It takes his pupils a few seconds to adjust to the lack of light. When they do, they immediately find Cas. He lies, flat on his back, but his hand reaches out towards Dean. The weight of his hand is almost like a whisper as his fingers ruffle through his hair.

“Cas,” Dean croaks, his pulse suddenly racing like a runaway carriage. “Cas, are you awake?” Are you ok, are you whole, please, tell me you’re all right, tell me that I didn’t destroy you like I destroy everything else in my godforsaken life-

A faint smile creeps over Cas’ face, like the sun struggling to break through the darkness of night. It’s a faint sliver of a thing, but it’s there, inescapable and wondrous.

“Hello Dean.”

#destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #deancas #deancas fic #dean winchester #castiel #mafia!au #part v of vi #remember when i thought this was going to be three parts #anyway sorry that it's so late #but here you go #the thrilling conclusion next #dothwrites

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apocalypsewriters · 4 years ago

Text

Control

Summary: The world finds out about Victor-Hecate's relatively tame powers, and things go wrong when they discover a much more destructive side of their formerly self harming powers

Warnings: pain. Like lots of pain, unconsciousness, mentions of death (of course, it's Vee), and let me know if there's anything I missed

A/N: Consider this my triumphant and apologetic return. I come back from weeks of catching up with work and hours of exams bearing gifts of angst. Watch out for more rambling apologies in the tags. Also, the dialogue is a little clunky since this is my first short story based on a song (Control, by Halsey) and I tried to incorporate some lyrics. Not entirely happy with it, but here is this melting pile of angst and not so happy endings

The worst thing happened. Their greatest fear came true. The world found out about their powers. They were pursued everywhere they went - they were called a freak, demon, death personified. People shied away from them, afraid of what they could do to them. Rumors flew, blowing their relatively harmless powers out of proportion. They pushed away everyone who cared about them; their fears being articulated by the masses was too much. They spent night after night, day after day locked in their room, trapped in their emotions. Finally, their mom had enough - she sent them out for a walk, to clear their head, to get a breath of fresh air. She worried about them. Their hair was limp and gathered in clumps - they’d been pulling at it. Their pallor was even worse than before, grey and washed out.

Walking in the young morning light, they found some sort of peace. They were numb in the crisp air, walking robotically along paths they’d taken months before with their friends, their partner. A tear traced down their face, wiped away before it landed on their shirt collar. Suddenly, someone grabbed their hand. Phantom bullets riddled their torso, and they wheeled around, squeezing the wrist of the stranger. Surely he recognised them, going out of his way to ensure skin to skin contact. Animosity twisted his face as he loomed over them, wilting where they stood, lightheaded in pain. Rage turned the invisible holes in their chest to pinpricks of pain. For the first time, they wrenched control of their power, turning it against the inflictor. His sneer snapped off his face, replaced with agony. He collapsed onto the path, clutching his chest, feeling the pain they did moments before. They stood over him for a few moments, holding his hand aloft, relishing in the panic, the ache that someone else felt instead of them.

“Please.”

The single word choked out, pitiful, but it was enough. They dropped his wrist, appalled with themself. What had they done? Everyone was right to be afraid of them. They stepped back, tripping over an unseen root. Gravel ripped their palms raw, but the stinging was unnoticed as they scrambled up. Tears blurring their vision, they raced home. They were right, they were right. Everyone was right.

“Tae?”

Their mother’s voice broke through their haze halfway up the stairs. They halted in their progress, taking a heaving breath before turning around and cocking their head.

“Are you okay?”

They nodded, afraid of letting out a sound, lest the truth spill out. Satisfied but skeptical with their response, their mother turned away, leaving them to face their demons. Quietly, they shut their door. The doors of their closet slid open, hiding the mirror on one of the panels. A leotard was laid on the bed. It had never been touched before; it was white with silky material cutting off at their knees and elbows, too much skin exposed for them to be comfortable. They slipped into the one-piece, binding their feet with gymnastics wraps. The window opened. The roof tiles whispered as they slid down them. Creaking, the gutter bent under their weight as they dropped to the ground, quiet as a cat.

They had to leave. Authorities would have heard about what they’d done by now. How could they face their family after they found out what they’d done?

Red and blue flashed behind them. Feet pounding, air rushing, arms pumping, they fought to outrun the pursuing vehicles. They couldn't get caught, they knew what happened to vigilantes and elementals that endangered the general public.

A calloused hand found the middle of their back, the only hole in the suit. An invisible blade sliced their thigh, making them falter in their relentless pace. They whipped around, placing a hand on the uniformed woman’s scarred arm. She fell to the floor, limp from the surge of pain. Freed from the agony again, they turned and ran. Guiltily, they relished in the euphoria of finally mastering their power. It would never control them again.

“Victor-Hecate, stop it. Get back here!” Tora’s voice rang out from across the road, 70 feet above the public. She hovered on the roof of the building, surrounded by her friends.

Violetta echoed her sentiment, “You’re better than this. Come back to us.”

The white-clad figure smirked cruelly down on them, perched on the top of a parking garage. “You don’t know what I’ve done.” They got to their feet, graceful and lithe. Taking eight steps backward, they set off at a run. Launching themself off the edge, they flew towards the group. The wind whistled past their ears. Closing their eyes, they relished in the bliss of free falling. With a sickening crunch, they landed on the apartment block, most likely having broken their feet. They felt nothing. Rising to stand before their once chosen family, their mouth twisted into a cruel imitation of a sad smile. Carefully stepping forward, their insides roiled as the group skittered away. “You see? You’re afraid.” Bella’s eyes went cold, darting around the group, assessing the layout of the roof. Nyx moved in front of Juni, expression steely as her girlfriend’s visage was etched with determination. Lynn’s mouth quivered as her hands lit up with icy blue light. Zach was the most controlled, standing stoically, one hand on a sheathed sword at his waist. His shirt partially concealed the tell-tale bulge of a gun. Shoulder to shoulder, with matching tense expressions, Aster and Violetta stood, united as a single front. Tora hovered at the front of the group, choppily cut hair whipping around her face, her arms sparking with barely restrained power.

Moving forward again, they placed a hand on Lynn’s shoulder, a finger brushing her neck. Stifling a panicked gasp that came as the air whooshed out of their lungs, they watched her crumple to the ground, unable to bear even a fraction of the pain from their broken feet. The group tensed, shifting forward, not daring to strike the image of the one they perceived to be their lost friend. Expression turning tender, they shot an apologetic look at Lynn. Was it sincere? They didn’t know anymore. A tiny part of them hoped it was. Gliding forward to stand in front of Tora, they gazed into her intense expression, admiring her courage. Taking her hand, they squeezed it gently. She drifted to the floor, her eyes softening, somehow believing their guise of peace. Their insides twisted, torn between guilt and triumph. Should they follow through? Follow through with which path. Stilling their stormy insides, enjoying the emptiness for one more moment, they decided. They crushed her hand, turning the tide of numbness against their once beloved. Tora crumpled to the ground, comatose.

"Stop it! You're scaring her!" Nyx's voice thundered, commanding as Juni's hand was white-nuckled in her comforting grip.

Letting out a manic laugh, they cried out, “I can’t help it! This power, this energy is me. However awful it is, this is me now.” Watching the hope wink out in most of their eyes, they snarled, desperate, conflicted, "Damn right, you should be scared of me!”

Gaze fixing on the only one who still stood tall, they watched Bella raise a hand. Cool metal suddenly pressed against their neck as an unusually messy mop of near-black hair peeked out from behind a fan. Her gaze grew distant, robotic. Blue sparks flew across Victor-Hecate’s view of the roof as she spoke coolly “There is no need for fear when something is tame. Who is in control?” Her piercing gaze shattered their toxic thoughts. Unsure and stunned, their legs gave out, and they fell to the floor. Black slid inward from the corners of their eyes, like curtains closing a show, as the last of their consciousness slipped from their grasp.

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easnuppa · 5 years ago

Text

The Cave

A little one shot I was requested to write, I hope you all like it.

A hugh thanks to @of-storms-and-sadness for beta reading, you are awsome girl!

You stumbled as you got up to your feet. It was dark, pitch black in fact. You couldn’t see your hand in front of you, even with how hard you tried to. You reached out and tried to feel your way around. Sharp rocks met your sensitive fingertips. You felt dizzy and you knew that you probably had a concussion. You sat down on the sandy ground and pushed your hair out of your face and tried to think back and figure out what happened.

You remembered Carol’s frantic chase through the woods. She had seen Alpha and was dead set that now was the day that the evil woman was going to die. The only reason you had joined this mission was to show your support and maybe make it clear to the man your heart was beating wildly for, that you were worth his time. Carol was important to Daryl, and Daryl was the only reason you were still breathing. You had felt this way from the first moment you laid eyes on him. Not only had you been knocked off your feet by his strikingly good looks, but you had soon discovered that his heart was as pure and good as it could be. The only problem was that he didn’t seem to notice you. At least not in the way you would like him too. You knew he cared about you, but that was how Daryl was, he cared about his family, and you were a part of that family. You had been with the group from before the prison fell. You had lost track of how many years it had been.

You had tried different things to show Daryl how much you really cared for him. Every time you went out on a run you had been on the lookout for weapons or bolts for him to use. As soon as you all arrived at Alexandria and Daryl had started working on his bike in Aaron’s garage you were constantly searching for bike parts that he might use. Daryl never saw your attempts to get closer to him the way they were meant. He looked at you the same way he looked at Carol, Rick, Maggie, or any of your other family members.

You inhaled shakily; the air was filled with dust but not as much as you would recon it would be from the explosion. The explosion inside the cave that you all had crept through, the explosion Carol had caused. Everything had happened so fast, you were all trying to get out, walkers and whisperers had been on your tail. You had all been fighting for your lives. Then, almost like it was god sent, you had spotted the small hole in the rocky roof above your head. You could feel the draft of fresh air against your skin and you had guided the group to where the entrance to freedom was.

At some point the cave had started to give in from where you all had made the exit hole bigger, your companions had tried to help everyone out while trying to hold the roof of the cave steady, but Carol had disappeared and you knew Daryl would never leave the cave without his best friend. Daryl had wanted to run after her, but you had stopped him, and told him that you would go, you would find her and bring her to safety. Daryl knew you were a strong and capable fighter and that you could handle your own, you had proved that time and time again throughout the years.

You had searched through the cave the way you had come. Your hand gripping the torch Daryl gave you before you walked back into the maze of rocks. You must have taken the wrong way at some point because suddenly you could not hear anything, it was like all sound and air was sucked out. It was then the explosion happened. You felt the ground shake underneath you; the rumble was echoing through the halls. You knew you were in trouble, you had turned and blindly sprinted back to the entrance, but you were knocked off your feet and as you fell you felt a sharp pain at your temple and then everything had gone black.

Now you were sitting there in the dark with a splitting headache, confused and disoriented. How the hell were you going to get out?

Your hands searched over your body, at least nothing was broken. Your body felt sore as all hell, and you figured you had a gash that was seeping blood from the sticky substance that met your fingertips, but you were alive. A fact that would not be true for long if you did not get out. You got down to all four and started crawling. You cursed as your hands and knees bumped against sharp rocks and pebbles. If you got out, you were going to have a serious talk with Carol. Enough was enough. You could only imagine the pain she felt after losing her adoptive son to Alpha, but for months she had acted reckless, and put the rest of your group members in danger. She had put Daryl in danger and that was not something you could accept any longer.

Daryl rolled around and jumped to his feet. He started climbing the pile of rocks that now was covering the group’s escape route.

«Help me get these rocks out of the way, we need to go back and find ‘er, » his voice broke as he desperately started to throw the heavy rocks to the side. He felt Aaron’s hand on his shoulder, and he peered over his shoulder at his friend with wide frantic eyes.

«There’s no way she would have survived that explosion, the roof of the cave gave in from it, » Aaron gently said with sorrow filled eyes, but Daryl would not accept that for a fact. You had been a part of his life, his family, for so many years. He could not imagine you not being around. He couldn’t imagine not seeing your beautiful smile, feel your gentle touch or hear your soft voice as you spoke. He needed you, he cared about you. For years he had known that he probably cared about you more than he should, more than you would welcome. You had stolen his heart, but he had been a coward and not found the guts to tell you. He regretted his decision to stay quiet now, who cares if you didn’t return his feelings, it didn’t matter, what mattered was that at least you would know that you meant the world to him.

«Daryl, we all know how much you care about her, but you need to let it go. This place will soon crawl with walkers. The sound will attract them from miles away. We need to go back home, » Aaron continued, and Daryl knew he was right. Digging through this pile of rocks was useless, he needed to find another entrance. He climbed down and grabbed his bow. He felt someone grip his arm and he violently turned towards Carol who was standing in front of him. Her eyes were pooling over and her lip quivering.

«Daryl please, I didn’t mean for her to get harmed. »

Daryl shook his arm free from Carol’s grip and took a step back, scowling at the woman he had considered to be his best friend almost since it all started. The woman who he had thought had his back through everything. He now realized that Carol was too far gone at this point. Her thirst for vengeance had drawn a gap between the two of them. A gap that probably would never be possible to fill.

«Don’t touch me, » he snarled out, «ya knew how much she means to me. She went back for ya! (y/n) would never let anythin’ happen to ya! That’s how she is! ‘er blood is on yer hands. This ridiculous need ya got to bring down Alpha gotta stop! It is putting everyone in our family in danger! »

Daryl turned to Aaron. «Bring everyone back to Alexandria! »

Aaron nodded, but his eyes were filled with unspoken questions. Daryl knew exactly what his friend was silently asking.

«I’m gonna look for another entrance. Even if she were killed in the explosion, I need to find ‘er and bring ‘er home. I ain’t gonna leave ‘er to turn under a pile of rocks. She would do the same for me, for all of ya’ll. » The lump in his throat that threatened to choke him made his voice break once more and he felt his eyes well up. He turned away from everyone and wiped the back of his hand over his eyes. Just thinking that you were no longer breathing was too painful.

He forced his legs to move. One foot in front of the other. It was almost an impossible task, but he needed to find you and bring you home. He needed to bury your body within Alexandria’s safe walls. You needed to be put to rest at the place where he had watched you blossom and thrive. Where your laughter had filled the streets, where you had seemed so carefree and happy…

You felt the hunger claw at your stomach, the thirst was unbearable. How long had you been trapped in this darkness? It felt like an eternity and you still had not found your way out. You knew that your time was slowly running out. The dust you continued to inhale was making your throat and mouth feel like sandpaper. You had at some point started talking to yourself, trying to encourage yourself not to give up, that you were going to make it. In a short time you would find yourself lying in your bed back home, safe, clean, and well fed. The dust and the lack of water had made your voice hoarse until it stopped working completely. You were so tired. Your body was aching and heavy. Your eyelids felt like bricks that threatened to trap you into darkness forever. At one point you had given in and your body had collapsed onto the floor where you had surrendered to the peaceful sleep that you thought would last forever.

Two and a half days had gone by since the cave had collapsed but Daryl had not stopped searching for you, he could not give up. He had been back at Alexandria to stock up with water, food and flashlights and continued the search. As he moved through the humid caves it felt like your voice was calling on him. It was almost like his heart led him through the narrow halls.

The light from his flashlight lit up the dusty ground, his strides had been hurried until he stopped dead in his tracks. There in front of him, lit up by the yellow light from his flashlight his eyes landed on your blue top. It had been your favorite, he knew because, even how worn and torn it was, you still seemed to wear it all the time. He hurried over to your limp body, whispering your name over and over like it would bring you back if he repeated it enough times. He turned you over to your back. Your body was limp, and your skin was covered with dirt and sot, still you were as beautiful as ever. His hands shakily cupped your face. Your skin felt cold to the touch. His fingers traced your skin down to your throat, frantically searching for a pulse. Could he feel a weak throbbing or was it just wishful thinking? He grabbed his backpack and tore it open, fishing out a water bottle. He uncapped it and lifted your head and parted your lips

«c’mon girl, don’t ya give up on me now. I’ve got ya! » he rasped out as he slowly started tilting the bottle. He could feel his hand getting soaked from the water spilling over your lips, trailing down your cheek and onto his hand. He needed to get you out. You had been so brave; you had almost made it out. Daryl had stumbled over an entrance only a couple of hours ago and his gut feeling had told him that this was it. He shouldered his backpack again and lifted you up. He needed to get you out, out into the sunlight where he could see if you were still breathing or if it was just his imagination. He jogged through the narrow halls. It felt like he was holding his breath until he reached the entrance and he took a step out into the fresh air. He sunk to his knees with you still in his arms. He pushed your hair out of your face and stared at you.

«C’mon (y/n), I can’t lose ya. I need to tell ya somethin’ I should’ve told ya a long time ago, » he forced his voice to work. It broke into sobs several times, but he needed to let you know. You could not leave this world without knowing.

«I love ya (y/n), I have for years, and I’ve been an idiot for not tellin’ ya. You’re beautiful sparklin’ eyes and yer pretty smile have been my only reason to get up in the mornin’. How can I go on without seein’ ya every day? Ya need to stay with me! » He felt the tears making his cheeks wet. He leaned over your limp body and he pressed his forehead against your chest. Inhaling your familiar scent. «Don’t leave me (y/n), I can’t go on without ya, » he continued to sob.

It was so weird. You heard a faint calling in the distance and you felt your face heat up from a bright light. Something or someone was tugging on you. How could you feel all these things if you were dead? How could you form a thought if you were a walker?

Your senses sharpened as you started to regain consciousness and then you heard it again. The same raspy thick southern drawl that you loved so much. Your eyes fluttered open and you stared right into the light blue sky. How could that be? When you had closed your eyes, you had been surrounded by darkness. It had swallowed you and you had given up on the thought of ever seeing daylight again. You tried to will your limbs to move. Suddenly a face you loved so much blocked out the clear blue sky and you stared into a pair of blue pools that always made your heart skip a beat.

«(y/n)? » you heard that raspy voice say. You tried to form a word, a sound, anything, but your mouth opened and closed like a fish on land. Your lips chapped and dry. Something cold was pressed against your sore lips and soon your mouth was filled with cold water. You swallowed and gulped, and you felt the water tickle your skin as it trickled down your neck, where you coughed what you could not swallow.

«Daryl?» you asked and his blue eyes locked with yours.

«I’m ‘ere girl, don’t speak, I’ll get ya home. »

You felt how he was about to move away so you grabbed him. Even if your grip was weak it stilled his movements. «I thought I was never going to see you again, » you whispered. Daryl tried to shush you again, but you needed to get something off your chest. Something you should have shared with him a long time ago.

«I love you, Daryl, » you continued to whisper. If you were going to die, then at least he would know how you felt, how you had always felt about him. You felt his movements still for a moment. Your eyes were searching his for any type of reaction. His blue orbs softened, and you felt him lean over you and press his lips against yours. The kiss was gentle and so soft that for a second you thought you had just imagined it happening. The next words that were mumbled against your lips though, they took your breath away. Those were words you had never thought you would ever hear from those same lips that had been pressed against yours just seconds ago. Those words were the reason you had been fighting through the dark tunnels. The hope that had led you to this very moment.

«I love ya too (y/n), always have. »

Now you knew that everything was going to be alright. You could fight to survive; you could make it through. You had his heart and it would give you the strength to take on anything.

#Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon/ Reader #Daryl Dixon oneshot #daryl dixion imagine #angst #hurt/comfort #twd fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #romance

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cadence-talle · 4 years ago

Text

Hang A Shining Star

Pairing: Keefe Sencen/Fitz Vacker

Wordcount: 2,667

Summary: Keefe nods, nudging Fitz’s shoulder. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. We’re going to raise the roof!”

Fitz snorts, taking a sip of his eggnog. From the living room, a stream of chatter weaves between the lyrics of Christmas Island. The whole house is warm and smells of nutmeg.

“Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

Other notes: Here we go! The Keefitz Christmas party fic! I hope you guys enjoy it.

Taglist: @everyonehasthoughts, @clearlykeefitz, @loverofallthingssmart, @a-lonely-tatertot, @enbies-and-felonies, @molly-sencen, @lemontarto, @appalyneinstitute1, @ruewen-and-rising, @silver-snow, @linhamon-roll, @hyperlollypop, @never-ever-too-many-fandoms, @keeper-of-the-lost-queers, @impostertamsong, @vibing-in-the-void, @yeetersofthelostcities, @mistythegirlfluxmess, @diamond-dreamerr

Read it on ao3 or under the cut!

If you had to give each season a word to describe it, winter would be quiet.

Summer is light, heat waves sinking across the country and sunshine spreading its rays. Spring is growth, flowers opening and leaves unfolding. Autumn is rest, leaves dropping to the ground and blowing away on the wind.

And winter is quiet. It’s something in the air- something about nature pausing, holding its breath, something about the way the snow muffles any semblance of sound. Winter is a time for introspection, a time to catch your breath. It’s peace.

Right now, though, the house is anything but quiet and peaceful.

Even from two floors up, Fitz can still hear the finishing chords of Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You, Biana humming along. He’s supposed to be retrieving the decorations from the attic, but he doesn’t want to leave the relative safety of his Justin Bieber-less space.

“Fitz?” Livvy pokes her head into the room, garishly-patterned Christmas sweater seeming to glow in the dim light. “Everything okay up here?”

“Yeah,” Fitz grimaces as Santa Claus Is Coming To Town starts up. “Just trying to save my ears.”

Livvy laughs, sitting down on a box labeled China Tea Set- DO NOT TOUCH. “Yeah, I get that. I love Dell to death, but her music taste is terrible.”

Fitz nods. “And it’s Christmas songs. How do you mess up Christmas songs?”

“Not sure, but they’ve managed to do it.” Livvy springs to her feet and picks up a fake wreath the size of her torso. “We should probably get this stuff downstairs.”

“Yeah.” Fitz picks up a box that just says X-mas shit and rests it on his hip. “All right. Into the beast’s mouth we go.”

“Maybe we can steal the aux cord and change the music to something good.”

Biana and Della do not, unfortunately, relinquish the music. They do change it to Ella Fitzgerald’s Christmas album, though, so Fitz counts that as a win.

Winter Wonderland is crooned through the speakers as they start to unpack the boxes, sparkling glass ornaments hung on the tree next to a horrifying glue-and-yarn monstrosity Fitz made in first grade. Biana pulls a tiny tissue-wrapped package out of a box and holds it up with a shout.

“I found her! The mermaid!”

Livvy whoops as they all gather around to watch as Biana hangs the ornament on a pine branch. The mermaid is vaguely misshapen, facial features in the wrong places and tail twisted in on itself. It’s a Vacker family tradition- Fitz and Keefe bought it at a gas station at 3 am once when they were fifteen and they’ve never looked back.

“Perfect,” Della says, stepping back to look at the tree. “All we have to do is put the lights on the house, then.”

Everyone groans. Having a huge house is nice for some things; parties, for example, or having sock-sliding races, but hanging lights is always a pain. It takes multiple people just to hang a single string- Keefe usually comes over to help.

“Where is Keefe, anyway?” Livvy asks like she can read Fitz’s mind. (She actually might be able to. She’s talented like that.) Biana, from where she’s seated on the sofa untangling the lights, looks up.

“Oh, he couldn’t come today. He and Marella have a date to-”

“A date?” Della interrupts, looking at Fitz. “Huh. I always thought… I mean, that is to say, I always assumed Keefe…”

Fitz flushes. “No, mom, not that kind of date. They’re just the only two people crazy enough to go sledding.”

“Tobogganing,” Biana corrects. “Marella found an old toboggan in her garage and decided to take it out. I think they’re going down a hill near here, actually.”

“Well, maybe they’ll drop in after they’re done,” Della says crisply. “Eggnog, anyone? I’ll put nutmeg in it.”

Fitz stands up to go help just as the doorbell rings. He blinks, turning towards the front hall. “I’ll get it, I guess. Maybe Marella and Keefe are already done.”

He opens the door to see two snow-covered figures standing on the porch. Fitz can’t even see their faces, covered as they are by scarves and hoods. The shorter figure shakes off her coat and resolves into the form of Marella.

“Hey, Fitz,” she says. “Can we come in?”

Fitz narrows his eyes at the two of them. “Yeah, sure, just leave all the snow on the porch. What happened to you?”

Keefe pulls the scarf off his face, dropping it in a heap at his feet. He grins at Fitz, cheeks rosy from the cold.

“You know that Calvin and Hobbes strip where Calvin drives his sled into a tree and it breaks and he falls into the snow?”

“Vaguely. Please tell me you didn’t break your toboggan.”

Marella pats his shoulder as she enters the house, the wrists of her sweater wet from melting ice. “Sorry, can’t do that. It’s a pile of wood now.” She shrugs. “It was kinda a shitty sled anyway.”

Fitz rolls his eyes as they walk into the living room. Biana’s head snaps up and she pushes the Christmas lights onto the floor.

“Marella! Hey!”

Marella smiles, pulling her into a hug. “Hey, Bi. What’s up?”

Biana gestures toward the lights on the floor, which are only marginally less tangled. “Oh, you know. Just… fixing up the lights. Want to help?”

The two settle down on the couch, and Fitz and Keefe share a long look before slipping off to the kitchen. Keefe waves at Della.

“Hi, hon,” she calls, serving out the eggnog. “How was tobogganing?”

Keefe lifts one shoulder and takes the offered cup. “Okay. Better at the beginning, that’s for sure. How’s your composition going?”

Della grins, one of those huge, bright ones that Livvy swears could light up the whole world. “Well! We’re going to see if the orchestra can perform it next weekend. Speaking of which- Fitz invited you to the party, right?”

Keefe nods, nudging Fitz’s shoulder. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. We’re going to raise the roof!”

Fitz snorts, taking a sip of his eggnog. From the living room, a stream of chatter weaves between the lyrics of Christmas Island. The whole house is warm and smells of nutmeg.

“Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

-/-

Fitz stares at his reflection, hands anxiously tapping the table in front of him. Jingle Bell Rock is playing on the radio on his dresser, the upbeat music floating through the windows and into the darkening sky. Della and Livvy are out for the night, so he and Biana have the house to themselves for their party.

It’s not a huge affair- it never is. Just them and their friends; Sophie and Dex, Tam and Linh, Marella and Maruca and Wylie. Keefe.

Keefe, of course, presents a problem.

Fitz isn’t stupid. He’s known what he’s feeling since it started four years ago. He’s known exactly what the clenching in his gut was, why his skin felt hot whenever Keefe brushed his hand.

He’s not stupid, so he’s not going to do anything about his feelings.

The music on the radio changes into something slower, sadder. Imogen Heap’s voice seems to echo in the room, as she repeats just for now, just for now. Fitz closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, trying to prepare himself.

A soft ‘psh’ comes from the doorway. Biana moves into the room, switching off the radio and giving him a sharp look.

“Really? Tonight’s a celebration, Fitz, not a pity party. You can be sad later.”

“I’m not sad,” Fitz protests. “I’m just getting ready!”

“Mmm.” Biana perches herself on the bed, green dress crinkling slightly. “You will be okay, though, right?” She asks, tone softer. Fitz nods.

“I’m fine. I promise.”

“Okay. But I’m here if you ever want to talk.” Biana stands up and ruffles his hair. “Now come on, I need your help with the cheese platter before everyone arrives.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rings.

“Too late for that,” Fitz says dryly as Bi darts downstairs. He glances in the mirror one more time before moving towards the stairs. “Here we go.”

Sophie, Dex and Marella burst in as soon as he opens the door, throwing their coats on the floor and attack-hugging him. Tam, Linh, Maruca and Wylie trail after them, calling “Merry Christmas!” as they kick off their shoes. Fitz tries to wave from underneath his hug pile.

“Merry Christmas,” he manages.

Finally, Keefe staggers in, covered in snow for the second time this week. Biana snorts.

“Need some help there?”

Keefe mumbles a word that might be “No” as Biana brushes some of the snow off of his shoulder.

“Come on, I think you might have an extra suit upstairs. Fitz, can you get everything cleaned up down here?”

“Sure,” he says, turning to the others and picking up discarded coats. “So did you all walk over here together?”

“Yup,” Maruca affirms, hanging her coat on a hanger. “Sorry about Keefe, by the way.”

“He fell into a snowdrift and had to change,” Marella explains. “I think he keeps an extra suit here?”

Sophie snorts. “He ‘fell’ into a snowdrift,” she says with exaggerated air quotes. “And by that, I mean Mare pushed him.”

“In my defense-” Marella holds up a finger- “his face was annoying me.”

“Right,” Fitz says, holding back a laugh. “Well, as soon as Keefe gets changed, we can-” A creak on the stairs interrupts him, and Fitz spins around to see Keefe standing there in a clean suit.

His suit.

“Sorry,” Biana says with a smirk that implies she is anything but sorry. “It turns out Keefe doesn’t have an extra suit here after all. And this one is too big for you, right?.”

“Y-yeah.” Fitz attempts to remember how to speak. “Yeah, no, that’s fine. That’s- fine. Good. Great. Yeah, it’s fine.”

He hears giggling behind him and turns towards the living room, resolutely not looking at anything else. “Anyway. Who wants food?”

-/-

“And that is why we don’t write personalized messages on bouquets anymore,” Maruca finishes, taking a delicate bite of a meatball. “Although there was also the guy who wanted me to write his ex a note that just said Hey Jane, fuck you and your fucking poodle. So, you know, it might have been more than one thing.”

Keefe snorts, leaning forward to grab another cookie. His shoulder brushes Fitz’s and Fitz stiffens before forcing himself to relax. He’s fine. This is fine.

“So, how about some music?” Marella says, plugging her phone into the speaker. The opening notes of Let It Go trail through the air and Dex boos.

“No Frozen!” Linh calls. Fitz blinks.

“Wait, I thought you loved Frozen.”

“Not anymore,” Linh says, settling back into the sofa cushions. Marella sighs and skips to the next song, cutting Elsa off in the middle of her line. Pentatonix’s Joy To The World starts up and she flops onto the floor.”

“You’re all homophobic.”

Biana laughs, sliding off the couch to sit next to her. She hands the smaller girl a mug of hot chocolate. “Here. Drown your sorrows in this.”

“Is it alcoholic?” Marella squints at it and takes a sip. She makes a face. “No.”

Patting her on the back, Biana turns to the rest of them. “Want to watch a movie? I think we have It’s A Wonderful Life-”

“No way,” Wylie cuts her off. Keefe nods.

“It’s Charlie Brown or nothing.”

Biana rolls her eyes and grabs the tv remote, clicking her way to A Charlie Brown Christmas. Next to him, Fitz feels Keefe stretch his legs out before curling up on the corner of the couch. He leans his head on Fitz’s shoulder, and Fitz takes a deep breath.

Yeah. This is fine.

Onscreen, Lucy tells Charlie Brown to direct the Christmas play. Keefe smiles and snuggles closer to Fitz, wrapping one arm around him. Fitz glances down at him, but the other man is completely engrossed by the movie. Maybe he’s just cold.

He must be really cold, then, because by the movie’s end, they’re practically pressed together. When the lights come back on, Fitz expects Keefe to move away, but he doesn’t. They stay snuggled on the couch all throughout Tam and Marella arguing the merits of The Polar Express and Linh’s terrible rendition of That’s Christmas To Me. (Fitz loves her, but the woman can’t sing to save her life.) Keefe only moves when someone mentions Silent Night, turning to Fitz with an excited look. Fitz stares back.

“No,” he says. Keefe pouts.

“Please?”

Fitz sighs, standing up. “Fine. Let me get my cello.”

Playing music, even the worst, most religious Christmas songs, always calms him down. He and Keefe used to do this a lot, play together when they were sad or worried or stressed. Dragging his bow along the strings as piano notes lift into the air is familiar, easy.

They get through Silent Night, Carol Of The Bells, and Hallelujah before Keefe just slams his hands on the keyboard and shatters any semblance of peace they’d had. Fitz can’t bring himself to care, though, not when Keefe is laughing.

Livvy always says that Della’s laughs are the most beautiful thing in the world. Looking at Keefe, Fitz understands that.

Biana plugs her phone into the speaker and Bing Crosby starts to sing about how it looks like Christmas. Laughing, everyone stands up and starts to dance. None of them are very good, and they’re all slightly drunk, but it’s nice.

And they must be playing some sort of Bing Crosby album, because White Christmas comes on next. Almost immediately, everyone pairs up, swaying back and forth. Fitz looks at Keefe, blinking slightly.

Keefe smiles and puts his hands on Fitz’s hips. They move around the room slowly, taking tiny steps in time to the music and finally dancing right out onto the front porch.

The sun has set by now, and the frost on the lawn seems to glitter in the soft moonlight. Snow is still falling, and it seems almost magical when the next song to come on is the Nutcracker Ballet’s Waltz of the Snowflakes.

“I used to love this song,” Fitz says quietly, sitting on the top of the porch steps. “We went to see the ballet in the city when I was a little kid, and I thought it was the most amazing thing ever.”

“Huh.” Keefe sits down next to him, staring out at the silent greenery. “I never saw it,” he offers. Fitz snorts.

“I know. Your dad wasn’t really big on theater.”

“Yeah.” Keefe gives him a small smile. Fitz turns to look at him, biting his lip.

“Are you- happier? Now?”

Keefe takes his hand, running his thumb over Fitz’s knuckles. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been,” he says. “With all our friends, and your mom and Liv, and…” he glances up for a moment. “With you.”

“What-.” Fitz looks up, too, to see a spinning green bundle of plants hanging above them. Mistletoe. “Oh.”

He looks back down, straight into Keefe’s eyes. The other man is smiling, and Fitz thinks that’s where he gets the courage from.

Carefully, he leans forward and presses their lips together.

It’s short and sweet, and when they pull back they’re both blushing. Keefe scratches the back of his neck. “So, uh,” he starts.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Fitz blurts. Keefe blinks. “Sorry, I just- I needed to-”

“Uh. Me too,” Keefe says, snorting a little. Fitz stares at him, a smile spreading across his face.

“Well. Good.”

“Yeah,” Keefe laughs, leaning in again. “Good.”

Winter is quiet. But even now, with music and laughter spilling out of his house and his best friend (boyfriend?) smiling on the stairs next to him, Fitz is at peace.

Winter is quiet, but sometimes it’s nice to make some noise.

#lynn rambles #my writing #keefe sencen #fitz vacker #keefitz #biana vacker #kotlc #kotlc fanfiction

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poetatertxt · 5 years ago

Note

sangcheng for 62!!

62. “Please, don’t cry.”

The game had started out innocuous enough. Jiang Cheng, without his elder siblings to play with, had gone to his best friend’s house. Nie Huaisang had no one else to play with either. So, with just the pair, they set up a game of backyard tennis.

Jiang Cheng usually had to beg him for ages to get him to play any kind of sport, but tennis was the one exception. They lay a jump rope across the grass and fished the rackets out of the garage. The ball, they unearthed from a hedge. Then all that was left was to play until Huaisang got tired, or Jiang Cheng was called home.

An easy Saturday afternoon. Quiet. Peaceful—that is, until Jiang Cheng hit the ball onto the roof.

Huaisang shaded his eyes and looked up. “Jiang Cheng! You hit that way too hard!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Jiang Cheng squinted. He really had hit it too hard—the ball was firmly nestled in the gutter. Gross. “I guess.. I should get it down.”

“What?” Huaisang dropped his hand, eyes wide. “How are you going to get up there?”

Jiang Cheng’s shoulders hunched. “I don’t know!” he snapped. “I just.. I’ll figure it out.”

Except the Nie back porch didn’t have a railing. There wasn’t even an outside swing set like at Jiang Cheng’s—he’d seen Wei Ying scale the whole house that way. All they had was.. each other.

“Huaisang,” he said. “How strong are you?”

His best friend’s mouth popped open into a perfect o. “You have to be joking. Please tell me you’re joking!”

“You don’t see any other way for us to get it, do you?”

“No—well—I could get Da-Ge—”

The idea of asking Nie Mingjue for help sent goosebumps down Jiang Cheng’s spine. “Uh, no. Let’s not do that.”

They compromised: Jiang Cheng on the ground, since he had wider shoulders; Nie Huaisang on his shoulders, since he had longer arms. With any luck, they'd grab the ball and get down before anyone noticed how quiet the backyard suddenly was.

If only everything went according to plan.

“I think I feel it,” Huaisang panted. “Jiang Cheng, can’t you—move a little to the left—”

“Like this?”

“No, the other left!”

Jiang Cheng huffed. “Your butt is hurting my back! Hurry up!”

“I’m trying, it’s just a little—” Huaisang squirmed some more. Jiang Cheng wished he didn’t do that; it made his arms burn. “Wait! Take a tiny step back—yeah, like that—”

“H-how’s this?”

“Perfect! I think—” He gasped. “Jiang Cheng, I’ve got it! I can touch it!”

“Then grab it,” Jiang Cheng snapped. “My arms are getting tired!”

“If you’d just—” Huaisang squirmed even harder. “I can almost—” He leaned forward even more, forcing Jiang Cheng to lean back to adjust except it’s too much—

Huaisang flew backwards out of his grip. The tennis ball soared through the air. Jiang Cheng’s arms flailed wildly as he landed smack on his back, all of the air rushing out of his lungs.

He lay in a daze for a moment before managing to roll over.

“Huaisang,” he gasped, “I—” His eyes widen. “Huaisang!”

Huaisang lay awkwardly in the grass, face scrunched, arms wrapped around one knee. Blood had already begun to ooze.

“Crap,” Jiang Cheng whispered. He crawled forward to hover over him. “Huaisang? Huaisang, how is it? Are you okay?”

“I—” His eyes squeezed shut, a tear slipping free. “It hurts.”

Panic flared in Jiang Cheng’s chest. He moved before he could think: cradling Huaisang’s head, rubbing his back, anything to get him to stop crying. He’d never seen Huaisang cry before. He didn’t even think such a thing was possible.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please, don’t cry. It’ll be okay. Shh.”

Jiang Cheng’s shirt muffled Huaisang’s whimpers. Tears gently soaked the fabric, but he didn’t mind. All that mattered was making sure his best friend was okay.

Minutes passed. Birds chirped overhead. Somewhere far away, a car honked its horn.

Finally, Huaisang pulled his face away. His cheeks were blotchy and pink; his eyelids, swollen. Grass and dirt stuck to his skin.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “That was so..”

But Jiang Cheng didn’t mind. Relief flowered in his chest like a lotus in bloom. Huaisang was okay.

“I thought you’d broken a bone,” he choked. “You—you didn’t, did you?”

“No. It’s..” Huaisang shifted, wincing. “C-can you help me sit on the porch? I might have sprained something.”

Jiang Cheng’s heart sank. So he’d gotten hurt after all. “Okay,” he mumbled. “Let’s see..”

It turned out that Huaisang had sprained something. His right ankle swelled like a grapefruit. Once he found them, Nie Mingjue had to carry Huaisang to his bed. They couldn’t play outside for weeks.

But in truth, Jiang Cheng didn’t mind all that much. Whether it was backyard tennis or video games in Nie Huaisang’s room, all that mattered was that they got to be together. Anything that made Huaisang smile was good enough for him.

“Thank you,” Huaisang finally told him three weeks later. He had to be careful with putting weight on it—no backyard tennis, Nie Mingjue had said—but they could finally take walks around the neighborhood again.

Jiang Cheng’s cheeks burned. “Huh? What for?”

Huaisang smiled. “For being my best friend.”

Jiang Cheng flushed redder than the sun. “Whatever,” he muttered. “Someone has to do it, right?”

They were big words. By the way Huaisang’s smile grew, he must have known what Jiang Cheng really meant.

Of course. Anything for you.

#mdzs #sangcheng #spud writes #i hope this was okay bean! i kinda got carried away 😂#daydreaminglikeabadass

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lilithsgayadoptednephew · 4 years ago

Text

Holy Hands

Fandoms: Shall We Date?: Obey Me! Not Rated Graphic Depictions Of Violence F/M, Other Complete Work

Chapter List

Chapter 26

How could MC possibly hide from him all day in such a small house? Lucifer searched every room including the basement, then he checked the town, finally he double-checked the house and still came up empty.

He would find them, he wanted his answers and he'd get them one way or another. That being said...he missed them. They always avoided him now unless they were reminding him to eat. He wanted to get back to how things were before they'd moved to earth. When they could banter and have fun in each other's presence.

What had changed?

As the night fell he retired to MCs room, defeated. The only way they could've evaded his search was if they'd sprouted wings and flown away. He could see them now standing on the roof to take off.

The roof…

MCs room was on the second story, but the garage roof was only one story tall. Which meant in theory…

Getting up from MCs bed he walked to their window and peered through the curtain.

Sure enough there MC sat on a convenient ledge of roof just under the window, face turned to the night sky. He felt victory well up in him as he opened the window to address them.

"Ah so I've finally found your hiding spot." Lucifer smirked in triumph as he stuck his head out the window. With a sigh they dropped their head.

"Good evening Lucifer," they didn't look at him as they spoke. "What have you eaten today?"

"Everything you've made me eat, you know I don't need you doing that. I'm fully capable of feeding myself."

"Have you drank water today?" They asked blandly. Lucifer cringed, water was something he wasn't fond of indulging in anymore.

"Yes… a little."

"Ok"

Then there was silence.

"Why can't you just tell me why you're avoiding me?" He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, is that what you wanted to know? I had no idea…"

"You will tell me."

"That right there"

"What?"

"That" MC twisted around to face Lucifer. "You haven't actually asked, you've just demanded an answer." They turned back around and looked at the sky again. "I don't owe you anything…" Even though their words were irritated, their tone was simple and wistful as they looked up at the starry sky.

"You don't seem to understand MC, you–"

"Stop talking from the window and get out here" they shook their head. Lucifer stopped and examined the small window. It was a tight squeeze but he managed to step out onto the roof. Standing beside MC he saw what they were staring at. The trees blocked a lot of the surrounding light pollution. The stars showed brilliant strips in the sky, even the Milky Way was visible. They were never this bright in the Devildom.

"Have you considered that you're just...too distracting?" MC interrupted his admiring the sky. He looked down at them but they didn't meet his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"I have nine people in a house barely fit for two. And…" they shook their head.

"And what?"

"It doesn't matter, I'll figure it out. It's just taking a lot of work." Lucifer looked down and thought to himself. Thought about how much work MC was actually doing for all of them. Picking up extra shifts, making sure his brothers were comfortable, making sure Lucifer did basic things he should be able to do himself.

Maybe they had been a little justified in accusing him of slacking, from an outside perspective it did look like he'd given up. He looked down at them and thought, maybe looking down on them was the whole problem. He sat beside them, demon next to human, and he asked again with less force.

"What is it?" MC paused before answering.

"We're broke"

"What?"

"I'm completely out of money…" they buried their head in their arms folded on their knees. He was immediately in solution mode, no longer would he be slacking.

"That's alright, my brothers and I can work, we've done it before. It's the least we can do after all you've shared with us."

"Okay, but let's not think about it, not out here" they looked back up to the stars. The night air shuffled the inky branches of the surrounding trees, an ominous scene against the starry sky. "I don't think of real things out here."

Lucifer watched their face, a small smile on their lips. They looked tired, but peaceful.

"Why do all of our conversations have to be tense?" He didn't even know he was speaking until he'd asked. He had no proof they'd ever loved him, but he had a suspicion, and now they only ever tried to make him go away. They gave him a strange look but answered anyway.

"I tried to be on good terms with you, I just...you freaked me out when you yelled at me."

"Pardon?" Lucifer didn't remember yelling at MC.

"Before…" they waved their hand at the general situation. "This...you tried to take Acacia's phone away, remember?" He did remember, but that felt like a lifetime ago. Technically it was since he'd died.

"I was not in a good place." He admitted tightly, staring ahead of him.

"Yeah I know you were stressed and scared, but a lot of what you said... wasn't ok." Now Lucifer was confused.

"I understand I may have yelled when I shouldn't have, and I spoke in a rude manner, but I didn't say anything I didn't mean."

Wrong move. MC stood and looked down at him. "Then we have nothing to talk about." They started to leave, Lucifer wasn't going to stop them, if they were going to act like a child that was their problem. They stopped and stood for a moment. Then they lowered themself back down to sit beside him again.

"No, we do have something to talk about. Avoiding each other isn't helping this so we're gonna get to the bottom of it." With that they turned to him. "You meant what you said? For real?"

"Yes, I did mean it. It's my job to keep you safe as long as you're in the Devildom, well it was, and that means sometimes you just have to trust what I say."

There was a tense silence.

"That is not what you said"

"You call me a liar?"

"No I think your memory's shot from the stress you were under and the fact that you drowned recently." They placated.

"Fine" he conceded, "what do you think I said."

"I wrote it down." They deadpanned. Springing up from their seat they climbed into the house.

"You what?" He had not expected them to have recorded the event. He heard them dig around their room for a minute before returning to his side. They opened their journal and thumbed through it for a while, finally coming to the page they were looking for.

"Here," they pointed to a passage scrawled on the page. It was hard to see in the dim light but they read it aloud easily.

"'You must be confused MC, the only one who will be figuring this out is me. The rest of you are to stay out of trouble here in the house.'

'You are mine to keep and you will do as I say.'"

They gave the book to Lucifer so he could see better. They'd doodled some very disturbing and angry imagery that dangerously resembled his demon form. "Yeah then your horns and shit came out and you tried to back me into a corner."

Lucifer stared at the page. That's...not how he remembered it.

"I...said this? Looked like this?" He asked, even though he already knew the answer. It seemed like something he'd say unfortunately.

"Yeah, but you were really stressed." They shrugged.

"I didn't mean to sound so...possessive. I don't know how I was trying to sound honestly." He shook his head and gave the book back to MC.

"Wanna hear my guess?" They raised an eyebrow. His curiosity got the better of him.

"By all means."

"Well, and stop me if I'm wrong, but I think at least subconsciously you don't understand I'm...a person." They paused to gauge his reaction, his face remained carefully neutral. "You're a person, obviously. You have a unique thought process and outlook and values...but you're so far above a human like me, you never really grasp that I have that too. Just as much as you."

He couldn't help feeling a little patronized by their psychoanalysis, but he had agreed to it. They were on a roll now.

"I think you see me as more of a pet. Something too ignorant to know what's best for it, something you have to protect and order around so it doesn't get itself killed."

That one hit him a little too close. Had he really thought of them like that? He had to admit now that he was drawing comparisons, MC did hold a similar place in his mind as, say, Cerberus.

"Why?" He asked suddenly. MC was pulled out of their rant.

"What?"

"Why do I do that?" The question sounded rhetorical, but MC thought about it nonetheless.

"Maybe it's because you think so highly of yourself? I mean you're the Avatar of Pride and the definition of pride is to put yourself...above... God…" they trailed off, lightbulbs going off in their brain. "I bet that's it."

"What is?"

"God. God made angels to love him always, no matter what, you weren't given a choice."

"What does that–"

"Shut up and let me put this together" they waved him off. He wasn't comfortable with the subjects they were breaching, but they were on an interesting path. "God gave the humans the choice of whether or not to love him but he never gave the angels that choice. You see yourself above God and God didn't see your autonomy, so why should you see that in a human?"

He was actually really uncomfortable now, and it must've shown because he MC stopped their conspiracy there.

"Perhaps...my issues with my father went deeper than I realized." He said quietly.

"Oh no...I broke my own rule." They chuckled. He raised an eyebrow. "No thinking about real stuff on the roof." He was happy they were trying to lift the mood slightly. The roof really did feel like a place dark thoughts didn't belong.

"Ask me something stupid" he said. MC blinked at the unexpected request.

"Why?"

"Because I miss talking to you about meaningless things." He sighed. MC smiled, it was a simple enough reason.

"Ok lemme think" they were quiet for a moment. "Ok got it, so...nah that one's too stupid." They shook their head.

"No what is it?" He insisted.

"Heh ok well...is Satan like...your son?" They asked. Oh no, that was a weird one.

"That's complicated, you see he is made from my anger so in a way he's...how would a human say…a clone?"

"Really" they seemed genuinely interested.

"Yes" he was encouraged that they weren't unnerved by the subject. "Though I suppose in a way he's my... son" he admitted. "More than he's my brother."

"Then why do you call him a brother?" He didn't speak for a moment.

"I was far too young to be called... especially since I wasn't very fond of the man I knew who was called 'father'." He shrugged. The blush on his face gave away his embarrassment, but he didn't seem uncomfortable any more.

"Your turn." They said.

"To ask you a question?" He guessed, they nodded. He had a few silly questions he could ask, but he decided against it. They had made him very uncomfortable before and he couldn't just let that go without retaliation.

"Why did you stop loving me?" He decided to ask. He wasn't upset, but he was curious. He'd expected them to be thrown by the presumptuous question, but they took it in stride.

"I didn't." They shrugged

"Then what do you want from me?" He turned to them and fixed them with a stare.

"Nothing" now that he couldn't believe. How could they claim to love him but not want anything from him?

"You must be confused, surely you love something about me that you want. Is it protection? Status? Loyalty? I can offer you a lot if you just tell me what it is." His tone sounded light, but inside he was pleading. He'd had feelings for them for so long he was willing to give them anything their heart desired. And that was before they'd taken in his family, shared everything they had and resurrected him from the dead.

Didn't they know he owed them the world?

"'you must be confused'" they mimicked his tone. Did he really sound that condescending? "I don't want anything from you Lucifer. That's not how loving someone works."

He rolled his eyes in disbelief and they laughed a breathy laugh. As if having to explain it was silly to them. They thought for a moment on how to best put it into words.

"I love you...like I love the night sky" they decided. He looked up again at the beautiful night tapestry. "It's too far away to reach, but that's ok because I don't need to touch it. It's far too vast for me to understand, but I don't have to understand it to love it. It's there whether or not I show up to see it. And it's so beautiful no words could ever describe it." Their wistful eyes weren't on the sky as they spoke, but on Lucifer.

"It owes me nothing." They finished.

He was left speechless at the comparison. They had said no words were enough to describe the night sky but Lucifer had to disagree. What they'd just said was far more beautiful.

He was silent as he sat beside them, human next to human. He was silent for so long they must've thought the conversation was over. They stood slowly and bid him a quiet "night" before climbing back into their room. Lucifer just stared at where they'd disappeared from.

He thought he loved MC, but his idea of 'love' as a form of control was a far cry from the exalting definition they'd given him. To see someone just as they are, and to expect nothing. MC was a perplexing human indeed, their dignity and intelligence something he'd sought to own. Never taken the time to just see. As he thought of them he understood a little better that in the end they weren't his.

And they owed him nothing.

#obey me!#obey me fanfic #Holy Hands

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georgialouisea · 6 years ago

Text

I have a family

Pairing - Dean x Reader, Sam, Mary, John, Addison (oc)

Word Count -2.1k

Warnings - Angst, fluff, 300th episode /season 14 spoilers

Anon requests -

1) Hey! I saw request were open and I was wondering if you could write a Dean Winchester x reader based in Lebanon when John is talking to dean and says “i imagines you’d have a family..” and that line of dialogue and when Dean says “I do” he has a wife (reader) and maybe a kid together and Dean and y/n introduce their child to his/her grandpa. Just sweet and fluffy. You can decide the name and gender for the kid! Thanks❤️

2) Please, please, please write something about Lebanon. I love when you write about episodes.

Dean was fighting. He was fighting hard to keep Michael behind that door in his head. He was tired and in pain. He was trying to keep himself as busy as he could with hunts and research, you’d wake up to a text or a note from him letting you know he was off on another hunt.

Walking into the kitchen you expected to find it empty, not to see your husband stood at the sink. Walking towards him your arms wrapped around his waist as your cheek rested against his back.

“Hi.” He mumbled.

“Hi.”

Grabbing the towel he dried his hands as you let go of him he turned to face you. “You’re beautiful..” He smiled down at you, his fingertips running across your cheek to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“What are you doing here I thought you were off finding that skull the guy stole.”

“Oh we are, I’m just waiting for Sam, so you were awake last night on the couch, you just wanted me to carry you to bed?” He raised a brow at you.

“You two talking about skulls and pawn shops was the last thing I remembered before I actually fell asleep.”

“Hey, I’m ready -” Sam walked into the kitchen stopping when he saw you wrapped up in each others arms. “Sorry, I’ll be in the car.”

Dean nodded at him over your shoulder. “I’ve got to go.”

“I know.” You smiled up at him. “Go be the good guys.”

Leaning down his lips pecked yours as he pulled away. “We won’t be too long, I’ll be back in time to read Addison a bedtime story.” Winking at you he started to walk away.

“Dean.”

He stopped walking and turned to face you at the mention of his name. “Yeah?”

“Stay safe.”

“Always.” With a smile, he headed off to the garage.

Sitting in your car outside your daughter’s school your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling it out you expected an update from Dean, not a text from one of your ‘Mom friends’ as Dean called anyone you met because they were a parent of one of Addison’s friends.

‘Hey babe, I’m running so late at work I’ll be an hour or two. Can you please please please watch Libby and pick Max up from daycare? I’ll take you out for dinner and a huge glass of wine!’

‘I’m on it. Take as much time as you need!’

‘I owe you big time!’

‘Text me when you’re home I’ll drop them off.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Any time hun x’

Getting out of the car you texted Dean letting him know you’d be home a little later than usual. “Mommy!” Addison ran towards you with a grin on her face.”

“Hey, beautiful how was your day?”

“Good! Miss Adams gave me a sticker for doing good in math.”

“That’s awesome baby, hey where’s Libby?”

Addison looked towards where Libby was standing next to one of the teachers waiting for her mum to pick her up. “There.”

“We’re gonna hang out with Libby and Max for a little bit their Mom’s working late.”

“Okay.” She nodded as she looked up at you with her beautiful green eyes she’d got from her Father. Running off towards her friend you couldn’t help but smile as her light brown slightly lopsided pigtails bounced as she ran.

You never thought you’d be here, not in a million years. The day you met the Winchesters was still as clear today as it was all those years ago.

A man staggered into your Dad’s house clutching his shoulder as blood poured through his fingers.

“Y/N, get the first aid kit!” Your dad shouted from the kitchen as he helped the man sit down, running and grabbing it you held it out to your dad as you watched two boys walk in. “Y/N this is Sam and Dean Winchester, go and watch TV with them while I help their Dad, you got that Ladybug?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Taking the boys hands and pulling them towards the couch you smiled when they both sat down. “I’m Y/N.”

The older boy smiled back at you. “I’m Dean, this is my little brother Sammy.”

“Hi Dean, Hi Sammy.”

Ever since that day hearing the Impala’s engine rumble towards the house became your favourite sound, even after the house was burnt to the ground and your Dad long gone before he could see you marry a Winchester or meet his granddaughter, the sound of Baby’s engine stuck with you.

Walking through the bunker it was quiet, too quiet. Picking Addison up you raised your finger to your lips, she nodded and buried her face in your shirt, ever since an early age you and Dean had taught her when she needed to be quiet, run, get help and scream all with little hand gestures.

You stopped walking when you saw Sam and Mary in the kitchen. “Y/N.” Sam smiled at you.

“What’s going on? Where’s Dean?” You asked as your hand cradled the back of your daughter’s head.

“He’s in the library with Da-” Sam cut himself off when he saw your brow crease.

“With who?”

“We’re having dinner tonight, all of us.” Mary quickly changed the subject.

“That will be nice, sorry I’m late Laura needed me to watch Libby and Max.”

“It’s fine, the boys were running late too.” She smiled at you as she pulled some more ingredients out of the fridge.

“Addy, do you want to stay here and cook with Uncle Sam and Grandma Mary? Or come and see Daddy?”

She pulled her head away from your chest to look up at you. “Daddy.”

Turning to leave Sam’s hand darted out stopping you. “You’re both safe, you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t, just don’t freak out.” His hand let you go, you knew Sam would never put his niece in any form of danger, walking towards the library you could hear Dean’s voice.

“Dean, I never meant for this.” A familiar voice echoed down the hallway.

“Dad we pulled you here.”

“No son, my fight, it was supposed to end with me, with yellow eyes and now, you are a grown man and I am incredibly proud of you, I guess that I had hoped eventually you would get yourself a normal life, a peaceful life, a family.”

“I have a family.”

“I’m not talkin’ about Sam and your Mom.”

“Neither am I.” Dean smiled as he looked at the floor. “Dad I -”

Walking into the room you looked between Dean and a man you never thought you’d ever see again. John Winchester. “Dean, what the hell is going on?” You took a step away from them cradling your daughter’s head again.

“Hey, hey, no, it’s him, there was a pearl, it’s a long story but it’s him, no demon, no angel, no ghost, it’s really him.”

“How?” You looked from Dean towards John.

“Y/N, we can explain later, but I promise you it’s him.”

“Y/N? Y/N Singer?” John walked towards you.

“Not Singer anymore.” Dean’s arm wrapped around your waist.

A smile broke out across John’s face. “You married Bobby’s girl?”

“I did.” Dean gave your waist a small squeeze, his free hand resting on Addison’s back. “It’s okay sweetheart.” Your daughter looked up at Dean smiling up at him. “Dad this is my family, my wife Y/N and our daughter Addison Mary Winchester.”

“You have a family.” John smiled at you. “It’s so good to see you again sweetheart.”

“It’s good to see you again sir.” With a small nod you let Addison down to the floor. “Why don’t you go get washed up and we’ll all have dinner.”

“Okay.” She nodded before throwing herself at Dean’s legs. “Love you Daddy.”

“Love you too bug, go wash up.”

Watching her run down the hallway you turned to the Winchester men. “How the hell is this possible?”

“I promise I’ll explain everything later but for now we eat.” Dean’s hand took yours giving it a small squeeze.

It was like a dream, Dean’s family was all together he had everyone he loved most under one roof. You knew there was a time limit on this just from the way Dean and Sam looked at John, like he would disapear in the blink of an eye.

His hand held yours under the table, his thumb running back and forth across the back of your hand trying to keep himself grounded.

Addison bounded back into the library. “What’re we eatin’?” She asked pulling out the chair next to you and climbing onto it.

“Something I used to make your Dad and Uncle Sam when they were little.” Mary smiled at her Granddaughter.

“Is it good?” She asked Dean.

John was watching her with a smile on his face you could tell he already loved his granddaughter and saying goodbye to her was going to be just as hard as saying goodbye to his wife and sons.

“So good.” He chuckled as he stood up and walked towards his daughter and John, crouching next to them. “This is my Dad, John Winchester.”

“He’s my grandpa?” She asked with a smile.

“Yeah he is, he’s your grandpa.”

“I have a grandpa.” Her face lit up as she looked at John. “Like Libby does.”

“Yeah just like Libby.” Dean nodded.

Eating dinner together as a family you tried so hard to be present and enjoy this miracle, but you couldn’t ignore the pang in your chest when Addison looked at John with a smile on her face. You wanted nothing more than for your Dad to be here, for her to meet her other Grandfather, for her to look at him the way she was looking at John. Keeping a smile on your face you held Dean’s hand listening to the stories everyone told of a life they used to know.

“Hey Dad, do you want to read Addison a bedtime story tonight?” Dean asked his Father across the table.

“I’d love to Son.”

Addison reached up wrapping her arms around Dean’s neck as he pulled her into his arms. “C’mon princess.” You watched John follow Dean and Addison down the hallway.

“You good?” Sam asked as he sat down next to you.

“Yeah, are you?”

“I will be.” He wiped a tear from his cheek as he wrapped his arms around you. “I will be.”

Hugging him your palm patted his chest. “Let’s get this place cleaned up.”

Walking towards your room Dean was resting against the wall next to Addison’s room, the closer you got the louder you could hear John reading to his granddaughter. Dean looked up at you as soon as you were in arms reach he pulled you close to him, his chin resting on the top of your head as he held you close, your arms wrapping around his waist. “What do we do now? What do we tell her?”

Smiling up at him your palm cupped his cheek. “You, you’re going to say goodbye to your Dad, properly say goodbye.”

“Y/N, baby, I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” You asked as he wiped a tear from your cheek.

“I got my Dad back tonight, my real dad, you’ve been living with the apocalypse version of your Dad who never had you, you never got to really say goodbye.”

“Then you’ll say goodbye to your Dad properly, you tell him everything you feel when you see him, that you love him, that you hate him, whatever just get it all out and say goodbye.”

“What do we tell Addison?”

“That it was a dream and the best on she’ll ever have.”

“She’s out.” John smiled at you as he closed the door behind him. “You two, I knew there was something there but I never expected it to become this.” John glanced back at the closed door. “You two are raising her a hell of a lot better than I raised you boys, Y/N, Dean I am so happy you found each other, the way you used to look at each other when you were kids Bobby and I knew we had trouble on our hands but if he knew what you two have now, he’d be so proud of you.”

Pulling away from Dean you hugged John. “Keep yourself and Addison safe.”

“I will, goodbye John.”

“Goodbye Y/N.” Kissing your cheek he pulled away smiling at you as he walked towards the library.

“Go.” You nodded at Dean as he followed his Dad down the hallway.

Sitting down on your bed you tried not to think about what Dean was going through right now, saying goodbye to his Dad again knowing he was never going to see him again. When you heard a crack echo through the bunker your stomach dropped.

Dean walked into your room with tears running down his cheeks you sat up, he walked towards you sitting down next to you, his arms wrapping around your waist. “He’s gone.” Laying down you pulled him with you, resting his head on your chest your fingers ran through his hair. “She met her grandpa, well one of them, baby, I’m so sorry I couldn’t get them both here.”

“Don’t, don’t do that to yourself, she got to meet your Dad, Dean our daughter got to meet one of her grandpas and I think that’s something to cherish.”

“Mommy, Daddy!” The door to your bedroom flew open as your daughter ran in jumping on your bed. “I had a dream about Grandpa John last night.”

“You did?” Dean asked with a smile as he pulled her closer towards you both. “Why don’t you tell us all about it…”

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5sospank · 6 years ago

Text

couldn’t forget you - luke one shot

Word Count: 9,996

Rating: NSFW

Keywords: fluff, bestfriend!luke, smut

Summary: You and Luke were best friends growing up. But, when he got whisked away into a world of fame, you were left behind. Your families always remained close, so when a beach weekend gets planned, you and Luke reunite.

A/N: wow this is so long and i’ve had this concept in my head for so long. enjoy you guys this is the first piece i’ve actually written and finished since maybe 2015? :)

Wherever Luke was found, you were usually somewhere nearby. You had known him since he had first taken the shape of a lanky preteen boy. In the brief months before high school began, the Hemmings family moved into the house that had gone up for sale next to yours. Luke had been equipped with knobby knees, an intense love for music, and a mildly awkward disposition that you had instantly found endearing.

Over the course of high school, the two of you had become practically inseparable. Your families grew close, you ranted to one another about the latest trials and tribulations of adolescence, and wasted away hours at the local pizza shop just talking. It was easy and effortless friendship. When you looked back fondly on your teenage years, Luke made an appearance in most of your memories. He was there for everything.

Until he wasn’t. Until his hobby of music skyrocketed into a full time, chart-topping, award-winning career. To be honest, growing up, you had never taken his garage band too seriously. They had inevitably improved after years of practice, but it took you by surprise when your best friend was sucked into a world of fame, money, and world tours. Suddenly, the person you had by your side as a constant was ripped away.

You presumed that was why your mother and Mrs. Hemmings had taken it upon themselves to plan a joint reunion trip. Your family had freed up a weekend in the summer to rent a house on the beach, and by some stroke of luck, Luke’s band had just announced their temporary hiatus. You hadn’t seen him in years. However, that was going to change, as the Hemmings would be joining you under the same roof for two whole days.

The thought of seeing Luke again after so many years left you slightly uneasy. The two of you rarely communicated anymore. You had become a facet of his past life; one deemed as excruciatingly normal and anything but exciting. The only time you heard from Luke was through DM to send you birthday wishes. Other than that, you only saw his face plastered on posters and magazines, heard his voice on the radio, saw him on your social media feeds. It was as if he had become some sort of unattainable fictional person. It was like you never really knew him at all.

You didn’t wholly reject the idea of the reunion trip, though. You had gotten off of work and were looking forward to a few days spent on the heavenly private beach. The house your mother and Mrs. Hemmings rented was rather large. It boasted a good number of bedrooms with lavish views, marble bathrooms and private balconies. The decor was light and airy, illuminated by the natural light that poured in through an extensive amount of floor-to-ceiling windows. It was beautiful, but you assumed that Luke had been part of the house-selection process.

You arrived before the Hemmings with your family quickly in tow. You picked the first bedroom you stumbled into, greeted by a massive bed with a fluffy white comforter and a skylight overhead. With a contented sigh, you dropped your bags in the corner by the door. The atmosphere surrounding was peaceful despite your impending nerves.

It was going to be a long weekend.

Your family had settled into the house with ease. The Hemmings had apparently hit traffic on the way there, which bought you some time to mentally prepare yourself. You ate lunch with your parents, listened to your mother complain about forgetting her collection of magazines at home, and unpacked some of your things.

The temperature outside had begun to cool down once you went out back to explore the beach. The sand was white and clean beneath your feet. You slid a pair of sunglasses onto the bridge of your nose, staring out at the ocean. It was endlessly blue and somehow calm despite the wind. The occasional curl of a wave released a calming sound onto the shore, reaching your toes and tickling your skin with sea mist. With such a hectic schedule, you hadn’t felt peace like this in a while. It was nice.

You had eagerly taken a seat in the sand when you heard him. His tone was deeper, nearly unfamiliar, but you couldn’t forget that voice. Not when you spent four years with him every single day.

“Long time no see.”

You looked up to see his figure looming overhead. He bent at the knees to sit beside you without invitation, his brow furrowed from the bright sun. He looked so different, somehow. Luke had grown up; it was evident in the slight beard that dotted his jaw, the absence of his old lip ring, the curly length of his hair. His shoulders were more broad, lined with muscle and strength. You had seen him in pictures but they surely did not do his physical presence justice. His mere physicality alone made you uneasy, shy.

“Luke,” You said his name awkwardly. “Hey.”

He let out a dry laugh. It exuded a wave of confidence - another new addition to his adult persona. “How’ve you been? Good, I hope?”

“Yeah, I’ve been doing well. I’m not a world-famous rockstar or anything of the sort, but still doing okay.” You managed to joke as you looked out toward the ocean.

“Good to hear.” Luke laughed again, softer this time. His eyes were studying you, drinking in the sight of you before him. He seemed to be in the same state of disbelief that you were experiencing.

A small silence occurred between you. It wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as you thought it would be. Years had gone by and your worlds had changed, but something about Luke’s presence had stayed the same. His demeanor was still calm and gentle. You could see it in the way his eyes were looking at you curiously, hesitantly, as if he wanted to ask you one million questions but was simply biting his tongue.

Instead, he asked, “Why don’t we find some beers?”

You had agreed, obviously, after greeting his family. His mother gushed over your beauty and congratulated you on your career, your new apartment, on making it into the real world. These accomplishments were much smaller than Luke’s record-breaking success, but still, the little victories counted in your normal world.

It was past five o’clock, which was the perfect time for a happy hour. You and Luke were already a few drinks deep out of pure anxiousness. He was sat at the outside bar across from you, beginning to ramble about his latest tour that had ended in Japan. You had never even thought of reaching foreign countries like that, but with the way Luke spoke about it, you suddenly respected how well-traveled he was. He had developed a certain knowledge of the world that you could only dream of attaining.

“What about you, though? What have you been up to?” Luke questioned after a moment. “My mom mentioned you got a new job.”

You shook your head and averted your gaze. “It’s nothing compared to what you’ve been up to, Luke.”

He frowned subtly. “My job and my life probably aren’t the most normal, but I’m still me, you know.”

The tone of his voice caused you to meet his stare again. He looked sad, almost wistful. The thought of how different your lives were suddenly struck you. You were aware of why the two of you had lost touch. Maybe Luke thought he was still the same, but you doubted it just slightly.

“Yeah, I got a new job. I moved into my own apartment,” you said softly. “I’ll be in debt forever from college, but it was worth it.”

A faint smile made its way onto Luke’s features. “I saw some of your photos on Facebook. Seems like you had fun.”

You raised your eyebrows. It was surprising to know Luke had made the effort to keep up with your life, even if it was just browsing through your drunken party photos from your days in college. Part of you was also slightly embarrassed about that, but your cheeks flushed with a pleasant warmth. The two of you were growing more comfortable with one another.

“Yeah, I could say the same for you. Except I see your photos in magazines,” you replied wrly. “You’re a big shot party guy now, huh?”

With that, Luke rolled his eyes and let out a scoff. He had a reluctant grin on his features, pulling at the ends of his mouths, lighting up his face. He looked handsome and you couldn’t believe the sentiment had even crossed your mind.

“You partied your way through college for four years, I drank Los Angeles dry.” Luke took a swig of his beer. “We’re not so different, actually. You’ll realize that at some point this weekend.”

As fitting as it was, you and Luke were slightly tipsy for family dinner. Your parents were not very receptive to your current state, although it was probably due to how quiet you were. You and Luke had avoided conversation during the meal as much as you possibly could. Instead, you both forked down a homemade chicken dish and listened as your mothers spoke about how time really flies.

You took it upon yourself to initiate clean up, clearing the table. You were alone in the kitchen beginning to load up the dishwasher when Luke appeared in the doorway. You studied his frame while tidying up, noting the way a simple black tee shirt hugged his biceps so tightly, tucked perfectly into the thick leather belt he wore. He was well-dressed and looked expensive; even for a lowkey beach weekend. Those ripped jeans and band tees from your high school days were probably thrown away as soon as Luke got himself a publicist.

You initially didn’t notice it, but Luke was watching you, too. His eyes followed your every move, following the way you quietly shuffled around the kitchen. Your families’ voices could be heard distantly from the dining room. It was faint background noise to your thoughts. They immediately grew frantic when you finally felt his gaze on you. It didn’t seem curious and gentle like before. It was heavier.

“Need any help?” Luke questioned to break the silence. He licked his lips absently.

You swallowed. “No, I think I’m about done in here. Thanks, though.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. He was all the way across the kitchen, but somehow, he felt too close. You were wrangling with the sensation of familiarity but also the contradiction that was there; the new layers to Luke. His appearance, his maturity, his demeanor. His presence instilled that same comfort in you, yet it also awakened a new sense of uncertainty. The combination of uncharted feelings left you wary to be under the same roof as him.

“Our parents are thinking about going over downtown, just to walk around a bit,” Luke stated. “They want to know if we’ll be joining them.”

You set up the dishwasher and turned it on. When you turned to face Luke, you pulled your hair back from your face and sighed. “Do you want to join them?”

“Not entirely,” he said. “But I’ll go wherever you go.”

His words made you smile, only slightly. You didn’t want to show the involuntary joy they brought you.

“I don’t think I’ll be going. Not in the mood for more family bonding.” You admitted with a breathless laugh.

“Me too. I’ll stay back with you.” Luke declared. He left the room to inform your families that the two of you would be staying home, alone, together.

Just like that, you grew nervous again. Your palms were warm with sweat and there was a hollow sensation in your stomach. You couldn’t decide if it was butterflies or not, but you definitely would not admit that, either.

You had to remind yourself; it was just Luke.

Once you had the place to yourselves, you excused yourself to go take a shower and sort some of your belongings out. While you were walking down the hallway to your bedroom, you noticed who had conveniently picked the room next to yours. Luke.

You peaked in, noting his expensive luggage and the clothes that were already sprawled out over the bed. Clearly he hadn’t ditched his messy habits over the years.

After your shower, you brushed out your wet hair and slipped into a tank top and cotton shorts. It was nearing half past eight and you weren’t feeling tired just yet. Your head was slightly hazy from your evening drinks, but you were still on edge knowing that somewhere in the big house was Luke and only Luke. You attempted to convince yourself that your nerves were only due to the fact that you hadn’t seen him in a while.

You stepped down the stairs and into the main living room, only to see that he was sitting outside by the pool by himself, scrolling through his phone. The lighting out there on the deck was dim, a small contrast to the dark sky above. You had planned on switching on the television and curling up on the couch, but instead, you moved in Luke’s direction.

You slid open the glass patio door. The sudden noise seemed to startle Luke, but he only turned around to look at you. A small smile was on his face. You noticed he had changed into a pair of shorts and an old cutoff. A large bottle was placed on the table before him, as well as two empty glasses.

You looked away quickly.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to come out here and maybe get drunk, but you found me.”

“I didn’t peg you as a wine-drinker.” You stated.

“I stay in a lot of hotels. Complimentary bottles of wine are a thing, apparently.” Luke shrugged. “I acquired the taste.”

It was a bottle of Pinot. It didn’t look too expensive, which meant that he had probably dug it out of the house’s wine collection in the kitchen. You couldn’t turn down the offer, which is why you poured yourself a glass first, then took a sip. Luke followed suit.

You sat comfortably in the quiet for a few moments. The ocean could be heard in the distance, as well as the cicadas and crickets nearby. The pool looked serene before you, illuminated in the night.

“Remember when we used to go pool hopping?” Luke asked suddenly. “Mrs. Walters caught us every single time, without fail.”

“She never called the police, though.” You pointed out and smiled fondly.

“She loved you,” Luke rolled his eyes dramatically. “She never would’ve call the cops on you.”

You took a sip of your wine and laughed, the memories of summers with Luke as teenagers flooding your mind. You two would be out late every night, traipsing through your neighborhood with stolen alcohol from your parents and cheap snacks from the corner store. Pool hopping was something you often did in the warmer months since neither one of you had your own pool. Mrs. Walters’ house was the most common destination out of the pure thrill of getting caught. However, you had used to watch her grandchildren, so she never took it upon herself to get you in trouble.

You finished your glass of wine and poured yourself another, setting it on the table. “Remember that time she caught us skinny dipping?”

Luke laughed loudly, the noise immediately making you grin. He ran his hands through his hair and placed his now empty glass in front of him. The motion made you stare at him a little longer, at the pleasant way his hair fell back into his face. The wine left your face warm.

“That was the last time we ever went pool hopping.” Luke said.

“With good reason.” You defended. “That was kind of embarrassing.”

Luke leaned forward in his chair, and you were acutely aware of how close the two of you were sat. “Let’s go now.”

“Pool hopping? Where?”

“No,” Luke grinned. “Skinny dipping.”

You shook your head instantly. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not? Just for old time’s sake.”

“Old time’s sake?” You repeated incredulously. “We’re already here with our families on a reunion trip. Isn’t that doing enough for old time’s sake?”

He was already standing up, slugging back the rest of his second glass of wine. You watched him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, a new expression overtaking his features. He was challenging you, clearly.

“Okay, be lame. The Y/N I knew five years ago would totally do it, though.”

“Maybe because it was five years ago.” You muttered, although your words were too quiet for him to hear.

You watched, internally panicking, as Luke pulled his shirt over his head in one swift motion. He glanced at you lazily. His hands hovered daringly at the waistband of his shorts. The smirk on his face diminished once he saw your stare rake over his torso, seeing the toned muscles and curvature of his body. His body looked much different this time around.

“Come on,” he urged temptingly. “I won’t look.”

You let out a laugh of disbelief. That’s exactly what he had once said to you in high school. The both of you knew that he had looked, though.

Reluctantly, you finished the rest of your wine, needing the liquid courage. Luke watched you all the while. His eyes were hooded from the alcohol, his hair disheveled and cheeks flushed. By how light you felt, you presumed you looked the same.

“Fine.” You stood up.

Luke let out a whoop of some sort. His laughter filled the space between the two of you, continuing as he pulled his shorts down so that he was left in his boxers. He had told you he wouldn’t look at you, and this time, he wasn’t. However, you didn’t stop yourself from watching him slide off his briefs.

When he caught your line of view, neither one of you said anything.

Instead, you peeled off your tank top, leaving your chest completely bare. The cool night air nipped at your skin through the blanket of humidity surrounding. Instinctively, you moved to conceal your chest, but stopped yourself. You were skinny dipping, after all.

Luke was walking toward the pool while you continued undressing. His skin appeared milky in the dim lighting of the deck. You watched the muscles ripple in his back as he jumped in, disturbing the still surface of the water. When he came up for air, his wet hair was pushed off his face and he was noticeably taking in the sight of you approaching the edge of the pool. So much for not looking.

You stood at the pool’s edge, looking into the water as Luke drew closer. It was quiet as you pulled your shorts down your thighs, leaving you fully naked. You didn’t dare look at Luke. You didn’t want to draw attention to the way he watched you undress and slip into the water a bit more gracefully than he had. It was cooler than expected, riddling your body with goosebumps. You slicked your hair off of your forehead and wiped at your eyes, finally meeting Luke’s.

“If someone told me at the beginning of this summer that I would be skinny dipping with Luke Hemmings again, I wouldn’t believe them.” You stated.

“Same here.” Luke chuckled halfheartedly. He didn’t appear as confident as before. The water was sobering, somehow. Now, he was a bit quieter, a bit struck by the way you looked under the night sky in nothing but your skin. He wondered where the sudden attraction was coming from.

The two of you fell silent again. Skinny dipping was not nearly as riveting as it was when you two were kids, trying not to get noticed by neighbors. Now, the exuberant atmosphere was instead replaced with a thick layer of tension. Only the gentle splashing of water was heard, and your proximity was absently growing closer.

“I missed you a lot when you left, you know,” You heard yourself say, or maybe the happy hour drinks and wine was saying it. “It was like you weren’t just mine anymore, when you were gone. You were the whole world’s.”

Luke frowned. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, and he stood up in the water so that his chest was visible. Water droplets slid down his collarbones. “Yeah, it was sudden. We didn’t expect overnight success like that, but I’m sorry I didn’t stay in touch.”

“It’s understandable.” You replied.

Luke looked down at you, where you were crouched in the water so that it was level with your neck, concealing yourself. There was only a few feet that separated you both. “I missed you too. A lot more than you think, probably.”

Your eyes were locked on his. For some reason, there was a lump in your throat. That was all you had wanted to hear for the past few years. Those words were part of the reason why you had agreed to the reunion trip in the first place. You were clinging to the slight trace of hope that Luke missed you just as much as you had missed him.

There was no thought to your movement when you stood up, took a small step toward Luke in the shallow end of the pool. Your chest was exposed and your body grew cold but you could barely register the sensation. You were consumed by your subliminary thoughts of him, of his confession, of the way he looked standing in the water before you.

His eyes involuntarily dropped from yours to your body, to the way your chest was bare and rapidly rising and falling with your nervous breaths. He felt his blood rushing in his ears, the heat in his cheeks and neck. You welcomed his proximity when he stepped closer to you, lips parted and eyes locking back with yours.

And he kissed you. It was gentle and hesitant, as if he didn’t fully commit to the action - his body commanded it. You leaned up into him, your hands on his jaw, and pressed your lips back to his. His mouth began to move against yours slowly, ever so slowly, tasting you. You felt his hands find your waist and pull you against him, your body flush against his beneath the water. With this new movement, his palms slid up and over the curves of your skin, pushing your wet hair out of your face.

Luke gradually backed you up against the wall of the pool. It became evident that he wanted to remove any inch of space between the two of you. His tongue traced against yours, licked into your mouth. The pace of your kisses began to increase. However, you slowed him down, running your hands down the ridges of his abdomen, lingering then pulling away.

“I really missed you,” you whispered, dumbfounded. “Good night, Luke.”

You slept very restlessly that night. After leaving Luke in the pool, you wrapped a towel around your body and went inside, ditching him to clean up the wine and get himself dressed. You didn’t have ill intentions. You simply did not want to get carried away with a kiss end up doing something the two of you could possibly regret. So you did what Luke physically couldn’t do, and you put a stop to things before they could get too heated.

However, trying to achieve a good night’s sleep with him in the room next door after a kiss like that proved to be difficult. You envisioned the flush on his cheeks, the look in his eyes. They’d held an expression you had never seen on Luke before. For years, you knew him better than you knew yourself, but you never saw the side of him that was tainted by lust.

The ragged breaths he had expelled, the tightened grip of his fingers on your hip, the solidity of his body against yours without the interruption of any layers of clothing; the moment was playing on an infinite loop in your mind. You wondered if he was feeling the same. You wondered if he was wide awake, thinking of you, too.

When morning came, your anxiousness returned. The exhilaration of the night before had come and gone. It was replaced with doubt and worry, the possibility that Luke didn’t entirely want that to happen and maybe he was drunk. You pondered if he would forget all about it, that he maybe had a girl back in LA waiting for him. You weighed every negative outcome of your actions. You couldn’t help it.

You were tying on a bikini when you heard a knock on your door. Briefly, you thought it would be your mother, waking you for the family beach day she had been looking forward to. However, it was Luke.

His hair was messy and deep circles ringed his eyes. He was already in swim shorts with a pair of sunglasses tucked into the waistband. He had opted out of a shirt, apparently.

“Hi,” You breathed out. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Luke immediately raised his brow, surprise etched into his features. “You left your clothes from last night out there. I’m returning them.”

You tore your gaze from his and looked at the crumpled mess of your tank top and shorts that you had left on the pool deck. “Did -”

“I grabbed them before our parents came home,” He interrupted. “Wouldn’t want them to see that, would we?”

You chuckled lowly, uncomfortably. “About last night, Luke...I’m sorry. Maybe we shouldn’t have...if you have a girlfriend or something, or if -”

“Don’t be sorry.” Luke interjected softly. He stepped into your room, looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was around. “I wouldn’t have been naked in a pool with you if I had a girlfriend.”

“Okay,” You nodded, looked up at him. “Okay, I guess.”

He laughed at your flustered state of being. His eyes wrinkled at the sides and his smile was genuine, faint hair lining his cheeks and jaw. The two of you were so close, you could feel his breaths hit your face. His stare had dropped down to your mouth, tempted, wanting. You remained where you were.

It took you by surprise when he kissed you. You had known it was coming, but for him to lean down and press his lips to yours gently was unexpected. His kiss was tender, short but lingering. It held promise.

“Come on,” He murmured once he pulled away. “Let’s enjoy the beach.”

Family beach day was quite the production. Your parents had set up chairs in front of the water, stocked a cooler with waters and booze, stuck an umbrella in the sand. You were steps away from the house, but everything you needed was already right in front of you.

The sun beat down on your head from above. It was almost unbearably hot on the shore. There was a lack of breeze that day and the air felt dry around you. Nonetheless, it was still beautiful in front of the ocean, and you actually enjoyed being with your parents and Luke’s family. It had been a long time since you all spent a few interrupted hours together.

You weren’t mentally present, though. You indulged in the small talk and a cold Corona, but that was all you had to offer. Your mind was elsewhere. It was still out by the pool with Luke, with his lean stature and eyes boring into your own. You were still dwelling on earlier that morning, on the kiss he left you that insinuated there would be more to come.

It was as if you were in a state of awe. It was difficult to believe you were here for a weekend with Luke Hemmings, former childhood best friend, current superstar dripping in fame. As teenagers, of course you had thought about what it would be like to kiss him. He was your everything. That was why you never dared to taint your friendship.

You decided to get up and head over to the deck. Your mind was swimming and it was a great time to put sunscreen on, you decided. The sun was too strong and you could feel your skin beginning to burn. Plus, you were tired of listening to your parents ask Luke about all the countries he had been to, all the tours he had done. You were happy for him but grew tired of the forced conversation.

As you dug through a bag filled with different numbers of SPF, you noticed Luke stand and begin to make his way toward you. His stature was tall and his shoulders were broad, sunglasses now perched on the bridge of his nose. You looked away and started applying some sunscreen to your arms.

“Getting tired of family beach day already?” Luke questioned. He appeared bemused, watching you dot some sunscreen onto your cheeks.

“Something like that.”

He hummed, then sat down on the chair in front of you. You tried not to look at him because it was too overwhelming. His body had changed so much. He wasn’t the lanky boy from next door anymore. He had grown into himself, become a man.

“Did you just come over here to watch me put on sunscreen?” You joked after a moment, quirking an eyebrow.

A crooked smile grew on his mouth. “No, not really. I can help, though. If you want.”

“Luke,” You said his name disapprovingly. It came across with a roll of your eyes.

“C’mere, let me.” He extended his hands outward, reaching for the bottle of sunscreen.

You looked over at the beach. “Our families are right there.”

“So? I’m just helping a friend out,” Luke teased dramatically. “Their backs are to us anyway.”

You had no chance to protest anymore. Luke already had leaned forward and snatched the bottle from your grip, nudging you to move toward where he was sitting before you. You looked down at him, unsure.

“Turn around,” He urged softly.

You did as he said, glancing at your family uneasily. You could only see the backs of their heads. No one was paying attention.

You heard Luke squeeze the lotion into his hand, followed by the cold sensation of the liquid on your lower back. The large expanse of his hands smoothed it into your skin, rubbing it in, feeling the ridges of your spine beneath his fingers. You swallowed thickly.

“You’ve got a tattoo?” Luke tapped the side of your hip, where ink stuck out just above the waist of your bikini bottoms.

“Don’t look at it,” You practically whined, forgetting the image was even there. “I was stupid. Drunk with my friends, sophomore year.”

You craned your neck to look at Luke do exactly what you had asked him not to. He pulled the spandex material down just slightly, examining the design that you had chosen from a big book at the tattoo shop. Luke’s fingers traced the small lines, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Wow,” He mused. “Can’t believe I didn’t notice it last night.”

You rolled your eyes once more at the sarcasm that dripped from his words. You moved to turn around and face him, but he stopped you, his grip holding you in place. His touch left your waist for a moment, then moved toward the curve of your behind.

You looked toward your parents again. “Luke.”

“What?”

“Really?” You hissed, both at him and because of the sensation of the cold sunscreen on your ass. You stepped forward slightly.

“Like I said, I’m just helping you out.” He stated, but his words were muffled by his low laughter.

He rubbed the liquid in, not skipping over a single centimeter of your skin. His touch was slow and pointed as if he was savoring every moment of this. Soon, your heartbeat was beginning to race.

His touch crept back up, feeling the arch of your back and the curves of your waist. He pulled you down into his lap and you were like putty in his hands. You were past the point of protest, simply wrapped around his finger as you slid down and sat on his thighs. You were turned sideways, your eyes clouded as they looked down and met his.

“Can’t forget your shoulders,” Luke murmured. “Don’t want those to burn.”

His voice was just above a whisper. It brought chills down your spine. All you could do was nod, stare at him like a deer in headlights.

You watch his every move. He took his bottom lip between his teeth as he poured more sunscreen into his hand, then rubbed his palms together. His gaze flickered back up to meet yours.

“Turn,” He urged, and you had to tear your eyes away again.

You turned so that your back was to him once more. His touch was felt on your shoulder blades, kneading and gliding slowly. He dipped his fingers beneath the string of your bikini and for a moment you were thinking he would pull the knot loose. Instead, he continued his journey on your upper back, rubbing and feeling the warmth of your skin.

His grasp was on the nape of your neck when he was finished. It curled, and he nudged you to look at him. His stare was so intense, all you were able to do was stare back. You shared the silence of the moment, you in his lap, his hand on your neck, lingering.

He knew exactly what he was doing. It was working, every second of it. You had melted into a puddle before him. You would do whatever he said when he looked at you like that, when he touched you like that. It was like magic.

He leaned up and kissed you deeply. You were lost in the gesture, disregarding any past doubt and worry. You didn’t care if your family was right there. You wanted to feel his lips move against yours in that same way forever.

Luke’s tongue delved into your mouth. His hands were on your face now, keeping you close to him, kissing and kissing and kissing. You wanted to turn to straddle his lap, but you stopped yourself, knowing that would be the point of no return.

Once his breathing started to become slightly staggered, Luke forced himself to pull back. His chest was rising and falling heavily and his expression was strained.

“You’re going to have to finish with the rest of the sunscreen yourself,” He said. “Otherwise, family beach day will end a bit early.”

Exhaustion weighed your body down, made your muscles heavy with tire. The sun always drained you, no matter how long or how short you stayed in it. However, that day, you had been out on the beach practically until dinner. It was the only thing keeping you from going inside and letting Luke do whatever he pleased with you.

Now, it was after dinner and everyone was heading to sleep early. Your father had dozed on the sofa while watching TV and you had excused yourself to your room to get ready for bed. It was quiet and peaceful in the house with the air conditioning on high. It felt like your favorite kind of summer night.

You disappeared into your bathroom to wash all the sand out of your hair. The room was extravagant, with beautiful tile and marble detail. It was a level of lavish that you could only dream of. It was equipped with a gorgeous jacuzzi, twin sinks, and an oceanfront view. It was dark outside, but you could still make out the water in the distance.

You decided to run yourself a bath to soak and relax. You sat in a towel as the jacuzzi filled, then foamed with the bubble wash you added to the hot water. Once it was prepared, you slipped in, allowing your body to completely ease.

You rested your head against the wall, looking out the window, thinking about how you ended up here in the first place. It was insane to reflect on the past twenty four hours. Seeing Luke and his family, being on the beautiful beach, staying in the gorgeous house. That alone was enough to shake you. However, the mere thought of your interaction with Luke - his body, your body, the kisses and the tension - was what was truly racking your brain. You couldn’t fathom that you had seen Luke, your old best friend, in such a way.

The opening of your bathroom door startled you from thought. It was him, in his gray sweats and white wife-beater. A light sunburn tainted his cheeks and nose. His hair was tucked behind one ear and he was looking at you with a small smile.

“Did you forget how to knock?” You questioned, your voice caught in your throat.

“I knocked on the bedroom door.” He explained.

“Oh. Well, yeah, I’m taking a bath.” You managed to get out.

Luke entered the bathroom fully and closed the door behind him. A towel was in his hand. “I know. I heard the water running.”

You shifted in the water, sitting up a bit. The bubbles concealed your skin. “You...want to join me?” You offered, but your voice was weak and that same unsettling feeling grew in the pit of your stomach again. It was like you were out on the pool deck, with his eyes seeing through you, seeing all of you.

He didn’t say anything in reply, only hummed. You watched as he crossed the bathroom in one stride, placing his towel close to the jacuzzi. He lifted his tank top over his head, ditching it and tossing it to the floor. He slid his sweatpants down, revealing himself to you fully, knowing that your eyes were on him. It still made your stomach churn.

You moved over in the jacuzzi, although when he got in, there wasn’t much room to work with anyway. The water rose slightly with his weight. He let his head rest back against the tub, his leg against yours.

“Do you always listen to depressing music like this?” Luke questioned after a moment, referring to the slow songs coming from your phone across the room.

You laughed, splashed him a little. “What would you rather me put on? Your latest album?”

“Honestly, yeah.” Luke grinned.

You rolled your eyes. The both of you lulled into a silence, and you spoke up again. “I can’t believe I’m here. With you, in this really nice house. It’s so weird. I haven’t seen you since we were eighteen and now...we’re in a jacuzzi.”

“Jacuzzi is one of the main reasons I picked the house. Actually, this was supposed to be my room this weekend, but you got here first, obviously.” Luke said casually, stretching his arms out across the top of the tub.

“What? You picked the house?” You questioned in surprise, looking him in the eye.

He nodded. “I mean...the weekend’s on me.”

“You mean what?” You repeated. You sat up straight, brow furrowed.

“The weekend was my idea, Y/N. I thought of it a while ago, months ago when the band scheduled a hiatus.” Luke spoke, softer now. “My mom was telling me she had been talking with yours. I just wanted to see you again.”

You blinked. You had been under the impression that your families had planned this on their own, that Luke had been roped into this the same way that you had. To think that he had organized and paid for the trip on his own shocked you. To think that you even crossed his mind over the last few months left you somewhat speechless.

“Why do you look so surprised?” Luke wondered. He sat up, too, raking a hand through his hair and over his jaw.

“I thought...I don’t know, I didn’t think you would’ve thought of this, I figured it was our parents.” You stammered. “I thought you forgot about me.”

Luke shook his head, his brow furrowed this time. You noted the disagreement in his gaze. “I never would’ve forgot you, you know that. I told you, remember? I told you, I missed you more than you think.”

You didn’t know what to say in return. You were still slightly awestruck that he had planned this weekend, that he had missed you to the point where he rented out a house on the beach just to see you again. Meanwhile, you had gone on the past few years accepting his birthday wishes, seeing his life, thinking that you were just a small facet of the old him. Maybe you meant more.

He was studying your expression when you looked at him again. Part of him was bemused, but the other part of him was slightly nervous. He knew you missed him, but he didn’t know if it was of the same measure as he missed you. Time had passed and things were definitely different, but he still thought about you constantly.

“Say something.” Luke spoke after a moment.

You didn’t know what to offer him. He was awaiting a thank you, maybe, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. Instead, you were overcome with the urge to kiss him, to wipe the expectant look off of his face, to finally feel his skin beneath your touch. He went to such an extent to see you, and all you could think of was how you wanted his lips on yours.

You leaned forward in the jacuzzi. Some of the water splashed over the edge, but you didn’t care. You moved onto Luke’s lap feeling his naked skin beneath you as you were perched over him. You tilted his head to look up at you as you admired the beauty of his face, the pink of his ample lips and the light of his irises.

You leaned down to kiss him, welcoming his taste. His hands rose to your waist beneath the bubbles, his thighs supporting your weight. His tongue rolled over yours and swiped over your bottom lip deliciously. You entangled your fingers in his hair, pulling gently, needing him closer. He was so different, so different.

He let out a pent-up breath once your mouths parted, his eyes blinking open wildly. He was looking at you with a certain hunger that stopped time. It was slow-motion and still when his gaze dropped from yours to your lips, then to your chest as he pulled away from you. He allowed the silence to speak as he lifted his hands from your waist, up your arms, moving the soap and bubbles over your skin. He let his palms glide over your breasts as he stared, taking you in, admiring you before him as your chests heaved.

“It’s like meeting you for the first time all over again.” He murmured, almost to himself.

He was right. You kissed him again, feeling his words and the disbelief on his tongue, the disbelief that he was seeing you like this. You let him bite down on your lip, pull back, then pull you in again. His hands were everywhere, feeling, touching, exploring. You were hesitant when your touch gravitated from his jaw to his chest, lower and lower.

He pulled away when your fingertips ghosted at his navel. “Let’s dry off.”

You nodded, entranced. He stood up and extended his hand, letting you taking it, helping you out of the jacuzzi. You were quiet as he wrapped his towel around his waist, then snagged yours.

“C’mere.” Luke said softly.

You leaned into him, allowing him to wrap a towel around your body. He let his weight rest against the sink as he rubbed the material over your skin, staring as you then moved to dry yourself off. You looked at him, took in the sight of his tall figure and broad stature leaning back and looking right at you, too. His lips were darker and his cheeks were more flushed, an obvious tent having formed in the towel he was wearing.

“I didn’t think I ever crossed your mind.” You found yourself saying. You wrapped the towel around your body.

“You were the best thing in my life for four years,” Luke replied. “You cross my mind often, actually.”

He pulled you closer to him so that you were virtually flush against his front. You pushed his hair up and out of his face, letting your knuckles drag across his cheek fondly. “I always wondered what it would be like to kiss you.”

Luke grinned, visibly pleased, then kissed your neck, your collarbone, your chest. “The amount of times I’ve imagined this, pictured it...you don’t know.”

“No need to imagine anymore.” You stated breathlessly.

Luke looked at you, his touch falling down your arm until his fingers wrapped around your wrist. “Let me show you what I’ve imagined.”

You stared at him, feeling his breaths fanning over your face. Those words and that tone. His voice was gravelly, the confession falling from his tongue with such weight and power. It hung in the air between you; a declaration and a cliffhanger all in one. You could practically see the way he was turning you over in his mind, thinking of all the ways he wanted to have you. The lust created a bubble around you both - nothing else mattered.

Luke’s touch was burning into your skin like an iron imprint, and you wanted it to remain forever. He shifted, moving so that you were both walking into the bedroom. It was dimly lit, crisp and untouched, but once he sat you on the foot of the bed, you knew what was coming. All attention was devoted to you.

He leaned down at an angle to kiss you again, his tongue melting against yours, the kiss wet and sensual. You allowed him to savor the action, your taste and your lips, as he moved his fingers to where your towel was wrapped. He pulled the makeshift knot open, nudging you to lay down before him as he pulled back and let his stare rake down your exposed skin shamelessly.

“Your body,” he whispered. “You’re gorgeous. So pretty.”

You felt as if you were on display for him. In a way, you were. It was as if he was trying to memorize the moment, his hands tracing the curve of your hips, the swell of your breasts. You normally felt a small shred of insecurity in times like these. Being fully naked in front of someone with nothing to hide was something that was terrifying and amazing all in once. With Luke and the way he was looking at you, you felt beautiful. You were beautiful.

He dragged his fingers down your torso, over your hips, landing them on your knees. Goosebumps rose in his wake and a shiver travelled up your spine. He then bent down on the floor before the bed, his head visible between your legs. He separated your thighs, hiking them up over your shoulders. The darkness in his stare was something so foreign to you, something you never could have pictured before. It made your stomach flip.

“This okay for you?” Luke breathed, unable to take his eyes off of you. His fingers were pressed into your hipbones.

“It’s okay, it’s good.” You mumbled almost frantically. You were shaking just slightly with raw anticipation.

Luke didn’t say anything else. He leaned forward, pressed his tongue against your center eagerly, bringing you instant relief. You caved into him as he began to move his mouth against your slit, dragging his tongue up and down as slowly as humanly possible.

“Luke,” You breathed out his name, your thighs instantly tightening and twitching over his shoulders.

He took this as easy encouragement, increasing the pace of his motions, the pressure of his grip on your hips. His eyes were shut and his hair hung into his face as he focused on pleasuring you, savoring your taste and the quiet noises that left your throat.

You tried not to let much escape your lips due to the fact that your families were under the same roof. If you were alone, you were certain you would’ve been screaming at the intense level of satisfaction. Luke knew exactly what he was doing - that you were certain of. He kept your weight pinned down with his hands as he moved his tongue in circles around your clit, burying his face between your legs.

His eyes looked up to you on occasion, to gauge your reaction, to see how inundated you were in the pleasure. He flattened his tongue against your center again, slowing almost to a stop, then continued his movements. He could have sent you over the edge right then and there, but instead took his grip from your waist and slipped a finger inside you, then two.

You were writhing with pleasure, biting down on nothing to keep from yelling out. Luke could hear you panting, hear his name leave your lips over and over again as he worked to make you feel good. His fingers pumped in and out of you rhythmically as his tongue kept at your clit. He curled them at the knuckle, feeling your walls contract around him, noting the way your back was arching involuntarily.

He lifted his head for a spare moment to stare at your, continuing the rigor of his fingers. “Look at me when you come.” He told you in undertone, voice almost broken.

You couldn’t react in the moment. Your head was thrown back against the mattress, legs squeezing around his head as he returned his tongue to your slit. Your eyes were rolling back as he increased the motion of his fingers, adding a third digit, curling again.

Like clockwork, you felt your body shake with unadulterated pleasure. You were thrown over the edge, lifting your head to look down at Luke as you came. His eyes watched you throughout the entirety of your orgasm, his tongue tasting every inch of you.

Soon, your breathing slowed and your muscles relaxed. Luke craned his neck to get a better look at you, taking his fingers into his mouth, tasting you. You stared at him in a daze. His lips wrapped around his fingers, painted a darker pink.

Your body was exhausted from the orgasm. It had been so long since you felt something like that. Still, the way Luke looked so primal and animalistic was making you stir. He was at his feet again, towel dropped, towering body in its purest form for you.

“Luke,” You said his name again. “C’mere.”

You didn’t need to say it. He was already on top of you, laying you down on the bed again. You could feel his erection flush against the inside of your thigh. He ignored it, focused on kissing you. The necklace he wore dragged over your skin as he hovered over you.

You wrapped your arms around him, nails scratching over skin. He kissed you slowly, as if he could have done so forever. You let him pepper his lips down your neck and over the hollow of your throat. His hair tickled at your face, and when he lifted his head, you couldn’t look away from his beauty.

“Let me feel you,” You mumbled, your touch travelling south. You wrapped your hand around his cock, feeling how he was practically aching.

He inhaled sharply once you squeezed and began stroking. It was taking everything for him not to collapse on top of you as you jerked him off, twisting at his head, watching his reaction to your movements.

“Hard as a rock for you,” he admitted lowly, facial features tense. “Fuck.”

“Can I taste?” You asked tentatively. Your voice didn’t sound like your own in the dim quiet of the room. It was strained, yet eager.

“Mm,” Luke hummed. “Wanna feel your pretty mouth.”

You looked up at him once he sat upright. His long legs were outstretched on the mattress as his arms supported his weight. He watched you, stroking himself a few times while you shifted before him. His dick stood straight and flushed at the tip, enticing.

You laid on your stomach before him, running your tongue along the underside of his shaft, building moisture. You wrapped your lips around his head and sucked harshly, looking up at him beneath your lashes. He winced at the sensitive feeling, his abdomen muscles clenching and jaw tensing. You could tell he wanted to curse but was trying to keep quiet.

You moved your mouth lower down his length, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat as you struggled to take it all. Luke’s hand flew to your head, keeping you there for a moment as he took his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Shit, take it, baby,” He drawled out. His tone was wrecked.

He moved your hair out of your face as you came back up for air and then licked his shaft again. You developed a rhythm, hollowing your cheeks and sucking his tip, stroking what you couldn’t fit. Luke’s head was thrown back in pleasure, his biceps flexing as he moved to lean back on his elbows. He was so lost, so hyperfocused on how you were making him feel.

You moved down to his balls, taking each in your mouth one at a time. You looked at him all the while, seeing how his eyes rolled as you sucked, then released. He was gripping the comforter so hard his knuckles were white. When you moved back to his dick, he shook his head.

“I’m about to come, we have to stop,” He breathed out through gritted teeth. “Okay, fuck.”

You couldn’t help the small prideful smile that toyed at your lips. He sat for a moment, catching his breath before looking to you again. When he met your smirk, you knew that he was enjoying himself clearly. You wondered how many times he truly did think of that moment.

“Wanna be inside you,” Luke muttered. He sat up, pulling you toward him for a kiss. “You want that?”

“Yeah, I do,” You breathed.

Luke turned so that his weight was hovering over you again, his eyes scanning over your body. He was so immersed in the moment, in the chemistry between the two of you, and it made you wonder how long he had been thinking of you. Did he always feel this way? You certainly didn’t, but something changed when he sat down with you on the beach yesterday. It was a new kind of connection. There was the Luke you knew for all of those years, and the Luke that was there before you. It was an intense and lovely combination.

Luke brushed your hair back and out of your face, moving so that he was situated between your legs. There was a brief moment where he met your eyes and you could see that this was different for him. There was a history and there was a present, and he had hoped for that.

Luke lined himself up with your entrance and pushed. Your walls constricted around him, adjusting to his girth, and that familiar pressure resonated inside you again. You and Luke sighed in sync, both in relief and out of pleasure. He bottomed out, slowly, feeling all of you and you feeling every inch of him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Luke muttered, his lips at your ear.

You braced yourself when he pulled out, then thrusted forward again, his hips against yours. You reveled in the feeling; the warmth of his body on top of yours, the pressure building in your stomach, the breathless noises Luke was making at your ear. You had never felt such pleasure and peace at once.

You wrapped your legs around Luke’s frame as he started moving into you quicker, deeper. The new angle hit you and you moaned out quietly, making an acute effort to silence yourself as much as possible. Luke lifted his head to look at you as he pushed in and out, in and out. You could only lock eyes as he fucked into you, lulling you into a stage of pleasure.

His brow was furrowed and his mouth was agape as he propped himself up over you. You could tell that he was already far gone, with small beads of sweat gathering around his hairline. Still, although he was immersed in the euphoria of it all, he leaned down, his lips brushing over yours. “Always been so beautiful.”

You moved your hands from his back to his face, cupping his jaw. His pace slowed again with this new position and your lips met, body jolting each time Luke bottomed out. He let his tongue drag over yours slowly. The kiss was sloppy but somehow flawless. The both of you had never been that close to someone, limbs completely intertwined, attached yet separate.

He dropped his lips to the crook of your neck, letting his face stay buried in your skin as he started up his pace again. You laid back, eyes rolling as he fucked into you more pointedly, hitting your g-spot with the thrust of his hips.

“Fuck, Luke, don’t stop,” You breathed out, your hands at each side of your head on the mattress.

“How’s it feel?” Luke mumbled, lifting his head again, eyes low as they watched your face contort into an expression of pleasure.

“So good,” You exhaled, teeth clenching when he thrusted forward abruptly.

You were suddenly surprised when you felt Luke’s hand on top of yours, fingers interlocked as he continued moving inside of you. He held onto you, his light eyes still trained on yours. He looked so pretty like that.

“Gonna come soon,” He told you, lips against your neck again. “You gonna come with me?”

“Mm,” You could only hum in reply.

Luke’s steady pace was building you up, sweat prickling up on your skin. You could feel every inch of him as he fucked in and out, lips dancing over your collarbone, eyes occasionally looking to you curiously. He cared. He wanted you to feel good, to feel like he did in that moment.

A low grunt emitted from his throat told you that he was getting close. The sounds that left him only fueled your arousal, and you held him tight against you as he worked to reach both of your highs. He moved his weight to his elbows, practically laying on top of you as his hips moved forward with every thrust. The new proximity made your body shiver, and soon, you were moaning quietly into Luke’s shoulder, thrown over the edge.

“That’s it,” Luke praised in undertone. His words were slightly broken as he felt you come around his length, your body writhing beneath his.

He leaned up once he felt his orgasm approach. You were panting, a heaving mess of limbs beneath him as he pulled out of you, stroking himself until his come painted your torso. His jaw contracted and his brow furrowed, a short whimper exiting his lips as he came, your name falling from his tongue.

Once his breathing returned to its normal pace, he let himself lay beside you for a moment. His cheeks were flushed, heartbeat erratic in his chest, but he was contented. You could sense this by the way he turned to look at you, tilting your head to look at him with his fingertips.

“I fell in love with you, back then. I never forgot you.” He said. “Things may be different now, but that will always stay the same.”

#wow um 23 pages later i think im crosseyed #also not my best but like hey am i back in the game maybe #oh well here r the tags #luke smut #luke one shot #luke writing #luke hemmings smut #luke hemmings one shot #5sos fic #luke fic #5sos one shot #5sos smut #Smut #one shot #writing

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dorotheajanegilmore · 6 years ago

Text

Closer to you - Chris Evans

CHAPTER ONE

Throwing my small brown faux leather bag over my shoulder, I raced down the cold metal staircase at the back of my apartment building. The elevator had broken down throwing a wrench into the works of my morning and now I was breaking a sweat to get myself back on track.

Finally the rusted blue door of an exit was in site. Just outside were the freezing cold streets of Manhattan.

My palms met the blue metal and my arms pushed until my elbows were flat. The door pushed through the snow leaving a semi-circle of wet pavement exposed beneath.

I ran through the frosty street, passing a few strangers. As I came to the end of the street where the quiet road merged with the busy road, a familiar white Toyota came purring around the corner.

My best friend Holly pulled up at the girl and she leaned across the pull the hand. "Quickly, get in!" She yelled as I hurried across the icy road.

I practically threw myself into the passenger seat and as soon as my door closed Holly sped off. "Let's go girls."

I looked back at my friends in the back seat. "Morning."

Teegan gave a small wave and Chloe nodded, both of them struggling to keep their eyes open.

I let out a sigh as I took my phone out of my bag, knowing I would have a series of unanswered messages from my mother. "Listen to this." I started, glancing at my friends to get their attention. "Good morning sweetie, have you left yet? Lessi ? You awake? Darling? Have you left the city yet? Where are you? Do you want me to send dad to come and get you? Are you even awake? Oh child of mine do you see the morning light? Hurry up and get here before dinner gets cold. Granddads not getting any younger." My friends were sent into fits of laughter at my mother's lunacy.

“Your mother is the greatest." Teegan mumbled, nearly asleep.

"Agreed. Tracey's the queen of sarcasm." Holly added as she drove onto the highway.

We had a twenty minute bout of silence as we all broke free from the morning anger, apart from Holly who seemed to be too chill for someone with dangerous road rage.

We stopped at McDonald's for some breakfast before hitting the road again. About fifteen minutes into the resumes drive Holly glances at me. "So, does your Mom know about Simon?"

"Alvin And Theodore? Yeah she knows the chipmunks." I bite my lip and look out the window, trying to dodge the question and giving my answer.

Holly rolled her eyes, there was no way she was letting this go. She briefly lifted her hand from the gear stick to hit me on the knee. "Answer me."

"Yeah she knows." I mumbled quietly, just loud enough for my girls to hear. Even though we were secure in the four walls of Holly's car, I still felt like I should be secretive about the subject of Simon.

Simon Holdsworth was my boyfriend for four years before dumping me. Me! After I found him cheating on me in MY bed with some NYU art student who stole my jewellery and the batteries from my tv remote. Ok maybe she didn't take my batteries but I have no other explanation for that so she's getting the blame.

"His mother called my mom and yelled at her because I was a apparently a bitch to Simon. She said I didn't allow him creative freedom to express himself with other women." I rolled my eyes and cursed under my breath.

"Hippies." Chloe shook her head as she picked her nails, remembering when she first met Simon's mother. When Simon first moved in with me we had a house warming party on the roof of our apartment building. Simon's mother, Nora, brought two bags of weed and brownies and set up camp in my living room. Nora also brought various scarfs and blankets that she draped over my living. She also replaced the coasters that my mother bought me for ounces made from tree bark that had been carved into peace signs. Chloe threw them in her log burner as soon as Simon moved out.

"What did Tracey say?" Teegan asked. All of my friend were on first name basis with the fantastic woman that birthed me. Not only were we best friends, we were raised together. We were all born in the same hospital, in the same city. We were raised in the same town, same schools, same university. Plus Teegan is my second cousin so.

"She laughed, told her to piss off and put the phone down."

"Yes Tracey." They all cheered her on.

"It's a pity you can't do the same thing." Holly replied with a serious tone, raising a brow at me.

"Hey, you know I'm strong-willed when it comes to people screwing me over. I just like to argue with him, he tried to get to me. He purposely likes to call and harass to upset me, he wants me to break. He would love nothing more than to see me cry. But he won't win, he won't." I shook my head, feeling the anger curse through me again. "He thrives on hurting people. But he won't hurt me, I won't let him."

"Good on you." Chloe nodded, putting a supportive hand on my shoulder.

Holly nodded in approval. "That's our girl."

\|\|\|\|\

It took three hours and forty minutes to get form Manhattan to the little town of Fairfield, Massachusetts. Soon enough we were surrounded by familiar buildings that had now been covered in a blanket of snow and driving through streets we used to run drunkenly through as we disobeyed our parents (and the law.)

First Holly dropped Chloe to her folks house, then Teegan to hers and finally I was looking at my parents house. I looked back at Holly with a puppy dog look and asked "Can I come to your house for thanksgiving?"

"Of course you can." Holly out a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. "Next year." She then have me a playful shove and I opened the door.

"Thanks for the lift. See you later yeah?" I asked, knowing I'd be needing a drink after an hour with this crazy lot.

"Sure, I'll text you." She nodded.

I grabbed my suitcase from the trunk and headed to the pavement. I gave Holly a wave and she watched me walk up to the driveway. She waited until I knocked and somebody answered before she drove away, always one for safety.

My little brother Alex opened the door. "Shit, when did you get so tall?" I cursed looking up at the nineteen year old.

He chuckled deeply and stepped back for me to go in. "You mean since I saw you two years ago? Yes I've grown. When did you get so short?"

"It's all the coffee." I shrugged as I left my suitcase in the downstairs cupboard and headed into the living room, at least I thought it was the living room. It was in the same place and it was the same shape, however it was all so different.

The red poppy wallpaper above the grey stone fireplace had been taken down and replaced with a cream paper with turquoise flowers, it also had an overspray if light silver glitter that matched the silver chandelier and doorhandles. The normally dark doors had been replaced with white ones and the rest of the walls painted white as well. My sweet childhood cottage had been replaced with a modern townhouse.

The burgundy couches had been replaced with chocolate colours leather and my dad's favourite recliner was nowhere is sight.

Moving further throughout the house i couldn't see any of my relatives. I looked back at Alex and asked "So, where is everyone?"

"Dad's in the garage working on the car and Mom, Nana and Lucy are in the garden with Joe and Leo." I nodded and walked through the kitchen to get to the back door.

I stopped in my tracks when I saw that there was now an orangery that had been extended into the back of our house, I glanced back at Alex to see him shrug at me.

He stepped around me and walked through the orangery into the open backyard. I followed slowly, taking in the new changes. I quickly glanced back at the kitchen. Huh, no changes their. The grey slate and white marble must've been modern enough for Mom.

I stepped out into the yard to see my mother, sister and grandmother gathered at the fence talking to our neighbours. Joe and Leo were over at the trampoline, at least there was one piece of my childhood left.

Leo gave me a wave and I waved back, this must've caught my nephew's attention as he stopped jumping, letting gravity drop him on his ass so he could jump from the trampoline and sprint across the yard.

As he ran at me I saw him lift his arms and I knew exactly what he was gonna do. He jumped as high as he could, I reached forward and caught him at the torso and he wrapped his arms around my neck.

"Auntie Alessia!" He yelled as he hugged me tightly. His shouting caused my family to turn their attention to me. I hugged Joe back before setting him down on the soft grass and kneeling down to talk to him.

"Hi bud! How are you?" I asked as I held his hand.

He beamed brightly and showed me his teeth. One of his front teeth had fallen out. "Look, I'm a big boy now." He pointed excitedly at his mouth.

"Wow!"

"My mommy said that if I put my tooth under my pillow the tooth fairy will come and she will take it and leave me a dollar! A whole dollar!"

"Well let's not encourage selling our body parts. Here." I reached into my back pocket and took out my change from earlier. "Here's five bucks, give your tooth to your dad."

He nodded and looked at me like I was crazy. "Thank you auntie Lessia!" He hugged me again before running back to Leo and the trampoline.

I stood up and headed over to my mother. As I approached the fence I saw she was talking to a woman I had never seen before. Where's Cheryl? I wondered.

"Oh Alessia, darling. Come meet our new neighbours." My mother wrapped her hand around my arm and practically yanked me over to the fence.

"Hi." I waved politely to the kind woman staring back at me with a warm smile.

"Hello there, Alessia. My name's Lisa. You're mother ya spoken so highly of you, it's so nice to put a face to the name." She said sweetly.

"It's nice to meet you too. Are you new to the area?" I inquired, wondering where our old neighbours had got too.

"Oh gosh no. We moved a few blocks away as my mother passed recently and she left us the house."

"Cheryl? Oh god I'm so sorry. She was the nicest woman, salt of the earth. I'm sorry for your loss." I felt real sadness as I spoke, not believing that sweet old Cheryl had passed on.

"You knew my grandmother?" A deep male voice said from my left. I looked in the direction of the person speaking and nearly had to do a double take. Standing beside Lisa was a very handsome brunette man with striking blue eyes and full beard. He was about 6 foot tall, with muscles and wide shoulders. He was wearing a deep maroon tight long sleeve and navy patriots cap.

"Hi." I breathed out, staring at this specimen in disbelief. How can one person be so unbelievably attractive? "Yes I did. Uh, I grew up doing chores for her. I kept her company on Wednesday's when Arthur would be at darts. She taught me how to bake and knit." I giggled lightly at the memories.

The man gave me a soft smile while Lisa smiled at me. "I'm sure she loved every minute of your company." Lisa nodded at me. "She actually left me a box of things labelled with your name. I'll have to have Chris dig it out and bring it over to you sometime."

"That would be lovely, thank you." I smiled, wondering how I had missed so much.

I could feel her son's eyes on me as I stepped down from the gathering or grass to allow my mom to finish her conversation.

"Hey." My sister Lucy said as she wrapped her arms around me to give me a hug. "I've missed you sister sister."

"Missed you too." I mumbled into her shoulder as she crushed me. She pulled back and placed a hand on her stomach before putting her pinger finger to her lips.

"It's a secret." She whispered and I nodded with wide eyes. Shit. She's pregnant again.

"Congratulations!" I whisper yelled at her and she widened her eyes at me and looked back at my mom and grandmother to see if they noticed. They hadn't, they were busy gossiping with Lisa.

Chapter two

#chris evans fanfic #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fic #chris evans romance #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers #chris evans #captain american #captain america x reader #cute #romance #closer to you #closer to you chris evans

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lazywriter7 · 6 years ago

Text

part by part

“And you won. Congratulations.”

Stark’s ribs are starting to show, ridges of bone pushing against pallid, stretched-out skin. His face is sallow, his fingers trembling. Nebula knows he hasn’t eaten anything for the past sixteen hours. He must be delirious; it’s why he’s saying such things.

But he sounds so sure. Like winning is that easy. Achievable. Like it hasn’t been designed for the express purpose of being a remote point on the horizon, to chase after with no peace or rest or end.

(warnings for canon violence and abuse)

They test her.

Component by component, before they attach it – (graft it, screw it onto her body, weapons bolted to a hunk of breathing flesh) – test the arm and leg and cranium. Melting point, freezing point, corrosion by acid and plasma, ability to withstand concussive impact. They ponder on the best metals, the best configuration. And then the components become parts of her and are tested again – because you couldn’t have a nervous system shutting down due to massive shocks, due to something as commonplace as pain. What use would that be? What use would she be?

You were insufficient before, Thanos tells her, and she’s so grateful for his honesty. For his commitment to making her better. You have to evolve.

But night falls on Sanctuary II, lights dimmed in homage to Titan’s diurnal cycle, and she’s strung up limb to limb and there’s no one. No Korath to sneer at, no Gamora to resent, no Thanos to grit her jaw for and pretend that she’s stronger than the agony. Just a body that has never been hers, and long fingers that trail delicately through the air, pulling her open.

You are replaceable, the Maw whispers – and in the dead of space, there’s nothing else to hear. She’d have torn out her vocal chords if she’d been allowed to keep screaming. Her heart is deadened under plated ribs and an engineered sternum. No value except what we choose to bestow.

Night falls on Sanctuary II, and Nebula believes him.

“And you won. Congratulations.”

Stark’s ribs are starting to show, ridges of bone pushing against pallid, stretched-out skin. His face is sallow, his fingers trembling. She knows he hasn’t eaten anything for the past sixteen hours. He must be delirious; it’s why he’s saying such things.

They’re shaking hands now. “Fair game. Good sport.”

Maybe it’s reachable if the rules are designed different. It’s a traitorous thought – her mind wants to flinch away from it, even now. There are other thoughts to console her – if he’d been in a better state, not half an inch away from starvation, she’d never have been able to beat him.

But he doesn’t look beaten. Stark looks calm, and has a warmth in his eye that is the most alien thing about him.

“You had fun?”

“I had fun.” She rasps – and the world tilts on its axis, and the world stays the same. Because she can’t go back, now. She’s accepted the victory, and it sweeps over her, baffling and wondrous. It’s nothing she remembers feeling, and yet she’s the same person she’s always been.

“Here.” Stark maybe says, and food is being pushed into her hands, and Mother smiles. Her silver hair has gone ragged and grimy-yellow, the sleeves of her tunic hanging loose on knobby wrists. They’re hunched under an awning together, water splashing around their ankles where the Close has been waterlogged for over two weeks now, same as all the narrow alleys in Sector V. But she’s holding a mallowfruit in her palms, slightly squashed at one end but still bright and purple, and Nebula rips it from her hand even though her own fingers don’t completely fit around it.

“Leave some for Aramis.” Mother cautions, but she’s smiling at Nebula’s grubby face and sticky chin, running grimy fingernails through her spiky locks of hair. “You know he hates it when you don’t share.”

Sweet on the outside, with a juice tangy enough to burn the back of your tongue. She hasn’t tasted a mallowfruit in decades. Stark would probably like it.

He doesn’t look surprised when she nudges the food back. It feels like a bigger revelation than winning.

Thanos believes that true gratitude is only possible when you know from where you came. From where you’d risen. It’s why he leaves her all the memories.

Pink skies over the city of Luphom, vivid and brilliant, like the colour of a Krylorian’s skin – tinting to a peach-like hue closer to the horizon. Hilly terrain, sloping streets, air sticky-hot as dawn ripened to dusk, humidity bursting to torrential rain when the night came. Every night without fail – it’s what she’d been named for. The constellations and nebulae that Luphom never got to see, a distant dream.

The rain fills up the streets, drains too narrow to flush out the sheer volume – and they all find their vantage points, the water-climbers. Up on a metal dumpster with a part of its lid still intact, the roofs of speeders long deserted in closed-down garages, in low-hanging balconies whose owners would never come out in the spitting rain. They’re water-climbers because they can’t be anything else, squatting in wet season on the streets.

Aramis can climb with the best of them. They are a laughing, frolicking pack – holey shoes and flyaway hair, not a full set of teeth between them. They find footholds in nothing, sail paper boats down the flooded road, splash and tumble and pull each other up; and Nebula shivers in her little awning, water licking at her thighs, mouth pursed stiff and envious eyes.

He always comes back though. He comes back when the rain stops and dawn is a fine film of mist away; slips a coin into her ragged pocket, and rests his head on her bony shoulder. She stays still until he starts snoring, and then winds her fingers through the fluff of his hair.

Aramis is eight, when the Sanctuary II warship blots out the pink skies of Luphom. Nebula is ten.

Heavy boots splash through the streets, dogged by the sound of snapping mongrels. Blasters. Crying. They’re all nimble, all hardened by what fate has chosen to dole out to them throughout their lives. No one escapes.

Except Nebula, you see – because she is separate from the pack. Separate from the masses huddling together, thin shoulders and pale faces, flinching back from the drooling maws of the mongrels. Shepherded together, knee-deep in water that tranquilly reflects the skies – pink that is steadily darkening as blood seeps into the streets.

She is separate and Thanos takes it to be a mark of strength. Takes her, and it isn’t until they’re halfway up the ramp to the warship that she scrapes together the courage to look back. Peers over the massive arm steering her trembling shoulders, sees the herds in the water. They’re too far now for her to make out any faces.

She searches anyway. Sight leaping from blurry face to blurry face – there, that glint of light off a pale head, that could be Mother–

The arm around her pushes. Nebula snaps her head away reflexively, immediately. She walks. Step after tiny step, till the water level recedes from her ankles; a last, clutching grasp before ebbing away entirely.

She remembers the feeling for years after. The touch of water retreating from her feet as she finally climbs high enough, and the sick pit of self-loathing in her belly.

The Benatar is unsettlingly quiet. It is an M-class spaceship, with only the two of them to putter around, but the raccoon has never struck her as the silent type.

He’s silent now, as they fly out of the Hiberlac system – all the planets in the vicinity have been hit hard by power and supply shortages in the aftermath of the Snap. They dropped off a shipment, and took off straight after by unspoken agreement; neither were comfortable with the all too palpable gratitude in the eyes of the people. It isn’t like they were up to helping with any of the real needs here – leadership, shoring up a crumbling social system, dealing with a population reeling with uncertainty, no idea of the true causes behind what had happened.

They’re in the cockpit now. The racco– Rocket, has been fiddling with the nav panel for the past hour, screwdriver held between his sharp teeth. He put it in there half an hour ago, after one too many times of opening his mouth as if to speak to a spectre, before clacking his jaw shut. He reminds her a bit of Stark in that way – the same strained, uneasy quiet while working, like they were too used to babbling at someone that was no longer there.

(After the glowing woman in Kree gear had brought the ship down to Terra, Stark had offered Nebula a roof for as long as she wished, even though he’d just been reunited with his wife – she’d considered it for a second, before remembering Rocket’s diminutive figure silhouetted against the massive, empty entryway to the Benatar. It hadn’t really been a choice, in the end.)

Rocket screws open a corner of the panel, before screwing it down closed again – he isn’t really paying attention to what his paws are doing. His eyes, beady-black and reflecting the shine of the plasma lights, are staring fixedly at a point on the floor. There seem to be a few grains of something brownish, maybe soil, flattened against the grey flooring.

He reaches out in increments, brushes against it gently with his toe.

“Do you want to play paper football?”

“Wha…?” Rocket blinks, head swivelling in Nebula’s direction.

Nebula presses her lips together, awkwardness twisting up her tongue. She can’t say it again. “Nothing. It’s just a stupid game.”

Rocket doesn’t say anything for a while, before – “Can’t be any stupider than Arcade Defender.”

She ponders that for a second. “What’s an arcade?”

“Hell if I know.” Rocket absently sets his screwdriver down, where it rolls away from him unhindered. “Quill had the game on him when he first left Terra. We couldn’t get Groot to stop playing it…. stupid handheld thing… you could only go left and right, and shoot at bits of light falling from the top. How dumb is that?”

“Very dumb.” Nebula says.

“Quill wouldn’t admit it, but he hated it when Groot started beating all his high scores. Insect chick just stood over Groot’s shoulder and watched like it was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen.” Rocket’s whiskers fluff up a little, like a quiver of amusement. His eyes are glassy. “Drax only tried it once, and got game over in thirty seconds. Said, this machine has thwarted me, and never played again.”

Rocket’s small shoulders curl inwards, bent even smaller. “They were all so, so stupid.”

Nebula’s eyes flick over the metal ports embedded in his back, draggled fur and skin red and scarred-looking around them. It prods at the ache in her own mechanised joints. “Once… when we were younger, Gamora had just been rewarded for making her first kill. She came to find me, to share her winnings. We were both punished when this was discovered.”

That’s… not a funny story, just so you know. Stark’s imagined voice echoes in her head, a warm reproach.

But Rocket barks out a laugh, claws tapping heedlessly on the nav panel, “Yeah. She was pretty stupid too.”

Silence relapses in the cockpit again, six empty chairs and both of them squatting on the floor. A detached part of her mind wonders if Quill left his music-machine down here somewhere.

“It’s.” Rocket begins abruptly, words escaping half-bitten. “It’s better. Having someone around who also knew them.”

It’s like a glitch in her brain, trying to connect better with herself. Her entire life has been about eking out achievements, desperately clawing for better – how did she get it the time she isn’t even trying?

“You too.” The words escape her tongue on reflex, and Rocket nods as if he understands, even though she doesn’t.

Gamora would be proud. Strangely enough, it’s her brain forming the thought – not Rocket, or some remembered echo of Stark. The words don’t ring hollow, or false.

She would, Nebula repeats to herself. And I would totally beat her at paper football.

Coming face-to-face with herself is like cracking open that old pit in her stomach – loathing bubbling out uncontrollably.

Or at least, only for the first few seconds. It spikes and fades, and Nebula is left studying her own mirror-image, wondering what the others see when they look at the past version of her.

Cruelty. Slavishness to a despicable cause. All things worth loathing.

Yet, it’s remarkably difficult to hate something when it looks this desperate. This terrified. Maybe it’s why Gamora (herealiveherehere) tries to reason with the past version of her, even if Nebula knows for a fact it won’t work.

This version of her hasn’t spent three weeks drifting in space with a frail Terran man brave enough to go against Thanos. Hasn’t said ‘I wasn’t always this way’, only to hear back ‘neither was I.’ Doesn’t know a basic, solid truth –

It won’t stop hurting. Nebula watches her own face and feels the loathing seep away. Feels nothing. You think it will, but it won’t. He won’t stop hurting you if he likes you. He said he loved Gamora, and he came back with the Stone, and Gamora never came back at all.

This version of her lies on the ground, after Nebula presses the trigger. It doesn’t feel like an act of hate.

When she steps out on the battlefield, the Sanctuary II is looming in the skies.

For a second, she’s frozen in time. Chin lifted, heart frantic in her chest, watching a too-familiar nightmare. Except then the chaos around her filters in – the yells, the clash of steel, the sparks of magic and lightning and mongrels getting mowed down where they stand.

This isn’t a massacre. This isn’t an array of the defenceless, whose existence was deemed too burdensome to be allowed to continue. This… they’re fighting back.

The air is thick with dust, and Nebula breathes in it all. Her batons sizzle by her sides, electricity arcing up and down her arms.

She hacks and slashes her way through – plunges a baton into the gut of a mongrel and rips it right back out. One leaps onto her back and bites at the steel of her shoulder; she catches it by the head, and snaps the neck clean.

She’s brought down to the ground in the very next instance; a giant blade lodging itself in her knee, attached to a long, black handle – ah, Corvus Glaive. She’d always found the Black Order particularly repellent.

She turns on her back while she’s on the ground, rams a baton right into Corvus’ filthy maw. He howls with the pain, and she takes the few seconds to wrench his scythe out of her knee and swing straight for his head. It separates clean, and rolls to a stop next to her side – Nebula grits her teeth, spits out blood, and yanks her kneecap back in place. Pushes herself up; the pain is secondary. And she has yet to get to the figure in the centre of the field, towering over everyone else.

“You should have killed me.”

“Would have been a waste of parts.”

By the time she slaughters her way to the epicentre of the battle, Captain America and Thor are already down. Thanos is a hulking figure with his back to her, tall enough to eclipse almost everything else. He’s facing Stark, who’s half-braced on the ground, face bloody and ashen and etched with lines of desperation.

Not him. Nebula holds her batons at the ready, metal crackling viciously at her fingertips. Rage swirls through her head, a building blaze. Not him not him not him nothimnothimnothi–

Even across the distance, she can see Stark’s eyes flicker over to her, perhaps caught by the arcing electricity. His hand is half-raised, red-and-gold knuckles glowing with five blinding points of light.

Her fingers slacken, and the batons drop to the ground, sizzling against the soil. She stretches out a hand, unaware of what her face might be saying. Do you believe I can do this?

Stark’s face twists for a second, visible conflict and agony. Then his jaw straightens, firms up in resolve, eyes clear and trusting – and reaches his hand out toward her.

Thanos lunges forward, all-too-clearly realising his mistake, but it’s a second too late. The gauntlet streams through the air, broken down into its component parts – the wrist cuff slamming into her cybernetic hand, metal on metal, the interlocking plates following shortly behind. The Stones are six glowing points of heat on her unyielding skin, and she waits for them to slide in place before closing her eyes and breathing out.

Snap.

The pain. The pain is–

Nothing. Her arm begins to liquefy, gauntlet charring and dropping to her heels, elbow sloughing off after it. It’s nothing she hasn’t felt before, nothing that registers beyond the cold, furious triumph ringing in her head.

Her shoulder moults to a stump, and Nebula pushes herself up to her feet.

She looks down at the slurry on the ground. This is who she is. This is how she was made. An amalgamation of replaceable parts, each one discarded to make way for something better. This is the body she has, and it belongs to her.

At the corner of her vision, she can glimpse Stark’s face – bright eyes and lined with a savage sort of pride. There’s a ember of gratitude beginning to light in her chest, but there’ll be enough time for that later.

Nebula walks. She walks till she’s facing Thanos on his knees, and goes up even closer. Takes in every detail of the man – the dark eyes, the stolid chin, the lips so often flattened in dispassion but now trembling with pain.

Look at me. I did it. I did what you spent your entire life chasing, what nearly killed you, and it couldn’t even keep me down for a minute.

She doesn’t say any of it. Reaches out with her remaining hand instead, runs two fingers over where his brow is beginning to disintegrate.

“You never loved her.” She strokes down his cheek, like he used to with all of his children. His soldiers. And she smiles. “I won.”

Thanos crumples to dust at her feet.

It’s been pouring for the past hour.

Water plinks off the drainage pipes set into the roof, patters on the wet soil and rush-green leaves, hits the surface of the lake to set off a thousand ripples. The wind is angled enough to soak the back porch too, but Nebula is disinclined to move.

The floor is cold under her thighs, the wall colder against her back. She folds her legs in tighter, feels the spray of the rain on her shins. The world smells freshly washed. There are puddles forming beyond the porch, little pools of grey that ripple continually as the drops continue to fall.

She hears bare feet padding across the floor – her ears prick, but there’s no tell-tale sound of slipping heels or a yelp. She looks straight ahead, breathes out and waits.

Morgan comes and sits beside her, legs folding one over the other in imitation, till her bony knee pokes against Nebula’s thigh. Nebula doesn’t twitch.

A minute elapses, maybe more. Morgan fidgets with the hem of her t-shirt. “Do you like the rain?”

Nebula turns her head, regards the small face looking up at her. “I do.”

“I like the rain too.” Morgan scooches up closer to her, till they’re almost hip-to-hip – Nebula extends an arm on automatic, so the cold of the wall doesn’t filter through the thin material of that t-shirt. Morgan presses her back to the arm, small torso warm against Nebula’s side.

“Do you know how to make paper boats?” Nebula asks.

Morgan shakes her head.

“I’ll show you.” A brief pause, then Morgan presses her cheek to Nebula’s side. She’s said she likes the smoothness of the metal.

Nebula settles her hand on the back of her dark head. Winds her fingers gently through the hair, and watches the rain fall.

#avengers endgame #fixit #nebula pov #happy ending #nebula and tony #nebula and gamora #fanfic #canon divergence

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