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blazedgraysons · 4 years ago

Note

babe can u bless us w some new years smut w papi gray ?

oml i’m sorry it took me so long to finish this but of course, angel!! lmaoo let’s start the new year out with some hate sex with gray.

warnings: so i guess the words papi gray triggered something in me because i don’t really know what this is anymore. anyways hatefucking, a smidge of choking, some dirty talk and the return of my fave: cocky fuckboy grayson. anyways hope you like it bby <333

New Year’s had never been your favorite holiday. Too many blacked-out people in a bar, all with high hopes for the year that come quickly crashing down the next day along with their hangovers. Plus, it doesn’t help that you’ve been puked on two NYEs in a row.

It wasn’t like you had a personal vendetta against the holiday, just the older you got, the more you wanted to spend New Years' at home. So you ended up creating your own traditions: Indian food, shitty beer, and rewatching your favorite chick flicks.

This is why you were so surprised to find yourself outside of a huge party this year. Your two best friends had dragged you with them, explaining how they didn’t want to ring in New Year’s without you.

“I look like a disco ball.” You groan as the three of you walk in, Ali and Stella confidently leading the way.

“You look hot.” Ali assures, smiling in what you figure is supposed to be a comforting way. She had been the one to invite the two of you tonight, and a part of you feels bad for your miserable attitude, knowing that she just wanted to spend time with you.

“Warning: Dolan at 3 O’Clock.” Your other friend, Stella, whispers into her red solo cup, and you can feel your bad mood return. Turning your head slightly, you can see Grayson Dolan walking in with his entourage, already acting as if he owns the room.

You can hear Ali snapping at Stella, reminding her how they agreed not to point him out tonight, but all you can focus on is how arrogant Grayson looked.

The two of you had never gotten along, a wrong first date leaving each other permanently on the other’s shit list. Despite your disdain for another, the two of you ran in the same friend group, so you saw each other more often than you like. At this point, everyone knew to keep you two far away from each other unless they wanted a whole night of insults, fighting, and yelling.

“Remind me why you two hate each other again? It’s been like two years.” Stella asks nonchalantly, tilting her head as she holds up her drink.

“We just do. He was a dick on our date. Some people aren’t meant to get along.”

“Aw, you two just need to kiss and makeup.” Ali coos, fixing your hair.

“More like fuck and makeup. So what if you had a bad date. The two of you still have this weird sex thing that needs to be figured out.” Stella interjects.

“I do not-“ Your friends start laughing at your loud objection, watching as your face grows hot in embarrassment.

“I do not want to fuck him!” You hiss, hiding your face from nosy onlookers.

“Why not? I would; he’s fucking hot.” Stella whispers, gesturing over to him. All three of you look over at where he’s standing against the kitchen counter, laughing loudly with his group of friends.

You hated to admit it, but she was right: he really was super attractive. He’s simply dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, denim jacket finishing everything off. It’s nothing special, but you hate the fact that he still somehow managed to look better than everyone else here.

He looks over, smirking when he sees your little group staring at him. All three of you turn away, doing a horrible job at trying to look inconspicuous. Your back is turned towards him as you fix your hair and smoothing out your dress. Ali’s eyes light up suddenly, and she’s whispering to Stella before turning back to you.

“Stella has to pee; we’ll be right back.” She rushes out while dragging Stella to the nearest bathroom. Before you can protest, Grayson’s taking their spot.

He’s chewing his gum obnoxiously, and you can’t help the way your eyes focus on how his jaw moves with every bite.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I was just leaving. Decided it’s not really for me anymore.” You get out, moving past him to walk to the door. You figured you can just call an Uber and text your two friends you were feeling sick. Before you can make it past, he grabs your arm to stop you.

“C’mon, it’s the last day of the year. Can’t you be nice to me just for tonight?” He asks, eyes shining with mischief.

“ Don’t you have some other girl to mess with?” You yank your wrist back, walking off as he follows you.

“Why? You jealous.” He asks, and you know that arrogant smirk is painted on his face.

“Over you? Hardly.” You keep moving until he says something that has you stopping in your tracks.

“Did you wear that dress for me tonight?” Your jaw clenches, annoyance washing over your body. However, you figure two can play this game, so you turn around, walking towards him with a flirtatious expression on your face. He’s looking down at you, appreciating the way your attitude has done a complete 180. You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his face towards yours, leaning in as if you’re going to kiss him.

“Fuck you.” You whisper, mouth millimeters away from his. You turn away, turning to look at him over your shoulder one last time. The irritated expression on his face and his clenched jaw should’ve warned you that you were playing with fire. Still, you simply keep walking forward, choosing to look for Ali and Stella.

Maybe you could stay a little longer to see how this plays out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuck Grayson Dolan.

At this point, you weren’t sure if you were angrier at him or if you actually wanted to fuck him.

All you know is he was pushing every last button.

It started with constant flirting - just with everyone else besides you. You knew Grayson was a tease, but you swore he had given every girl at this party his signature charming smile. The one that screamed, 'I'm Grayson Dolan, and you're the only one here for me.' You had pretended like you hadn’t seen red when he leaned down to whisper a joke in some girl's ear, winking at you when he notices the way your eyes had narrowed and your lips were puckered.

It only got worse when he decided he needed a refill on his drink, coming up to where you were standing in the hallway. He slyly placed his hands low on your waist, pressing up against you to squeeze by even though you both knew that there was more than enough space.

You were in the middle of debating on whether or not you should finally leave for good this time, figuring you shouldn’t have to subject yourself to this torture when you still have leftover takeout in your fridge.

“Hey, we need to talk to you. Can you meet us in the upstairs bedroom in like 5 minutes?” Ali appears out of nowhere, blonde curls messed up as if she’s been running her hands nervously through her hair. Stella just nods casually, and you look at the two of them suspiciously.

“What are you two planning?” You ask.

“Nothing! Upstairs. Five minutes!” Ali assures, kissing you on the cheek before walking off again. You can tell she’s drunk, smelling the lingering vodka shots on her breath. However, curiosity gets the better of you, and after five minutes, you’re slowly walking up the stairs.

“Ali? Stel?” You call out, getting nothing in response. You keep walking until you reach the end of the hallway, closed door in front of you. You open it, greeted with the sight of Grayson in front of you.

“What the fuck?” You both exclaim, the door closing behind you. You jangle the door handle, cursing under your breath when you realize it’s locked.

“We’re not letting you out until you guys kiss!” Ali calls out.

“You guys got 20 minutes until midnight.” Stella laughs, both still holding the door tightly to keep you from breaking through.

“Oh my God, we’re not fucking 12. This isn’t 7 minutes in heaven.”

“Less talking, more frenching!” Ali yells, giggling loudly as her heels slowly click away.

You roll your eyes, “You two are the fucking worst.” You kick the door before sliding down against it, tilting your head against the door.

“Your friends are weird.” are the first words out of Grayson’s mouth, and you roll your eyes.

“They mean well, they’re just really … stupid sometimes.”You get back up to your feet and start knocking on the door, hitting it with your palms, anything that could hopefully get a passerby’s attention.

“Can you stop banging on the door? It’s annoying.” Grayson mumbles out from where he’s sitting up on the bed after five minutes of your obnoxious knocking.

“I’m sorry, did you want to spend New Year’s locked in here with one another. I’m trying to get out.”

He leans back down on the bed, covering his eyes with his arms. “You realize it’s locked; we’re stuck in here. No one’s coming up here for a while.”

You hate to admit it, but you know he’s right. With only 20 minutes until midnight, everyone’s going to be downstairs, not wanting to miss the main event. You walk over to the dresser, sitting on top of it as you pull out your phone to find someone to text for an emergency rescue.

“We really should just sleep with one another.”

You nearly drop your phone in your lap from his sudden outburst. “I think that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Why not? I think you’re hot; I know you think I’m hot. Stop- don’t try to argue with me; I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. Let’s just get this over with; clear start to 2021.” He looks over at you, raising an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes, “I’m not sleeping with you Grayson.”

“What, scared you might actually like it?” He pushes himself up off the mattress and stalks over to where you’re seated on top of the dresser. You start to feel uncharacteristically timid, not knowing how to react under his dark gaze. You don’t say anything, just watching the way his eyes rake over your entire body slowly.

He takes a deep breath, “If I kiss you right now, will you let me?” You wait a second before throwing on caution to the wind, and nodding, deciding to give in to whatever tension is growing between you.

He leans down, softly kissing you before coming back to gauge your reaction.

“If you kiss anything like the way you fuck, this is gonna fucking suck.” You whisper, smiling at the way his face drops. He pulls you into him, forcing his lips onto yours roughly. It’s messy, teeth clashing into one another, noses bumping, and you love it. You didn’t want softness, you didn’t want intimacy, you wanted Grayson to let out everything he felt towards you.

He starts to roughly mark down your neck, leaving dark marks, and you whimper, desperately pulling his jacket off his shoulders. He leans back slightly, pulling his shirt over his head and your mouth falls slightly. You take in all the deep contours and ridges, not even missing the way he flexes briefly.

“Like what you see?” He rasps out, pants growing tighter at your open arousal.

“Just because we’re fucking doesn’t mean I’m another one of your fans. I still fucking hate you.” You pull your dress off and spread your legs slightly on the dresser. You mentally thank Ali for forcing you to skip wearing a bra because the way Grayson’s face zeros in on your bare tits has you whimpering softly. He moves even closer to you.

“Doesn’t seem like you hate me right now.” He whispers, eyes darkening at the dark spot growing on your underwear. His arms are on either side of your thighs as he’s standing in between your legs. You can feel the heat coming off from his body, close enough that you can pick up the subtle nerves in his energy under waves of excitement.

“Whatever.” You’re trying your hardest to remain unaffected, calm under his intense gaze. Still, between the lack of touch and the way he’s looking like he can’t figure out how he wants to ruin you first, you start to squirm.

He pulls roughly at your underwear; you watch as his biceps bulge until the fabric falls apart in his hands. Whatever facade of calmness you were trying to maintain flies out the window. You swallow deeply, eyes wide as he tosses the ruined underwear over his shoulder with a cocky smirk. The smug look on his face is enough for you to snap back to normal and return to your usual backtalk.

“Watch it, asshole. Those aren’t cheap.”

“Trust me, I’ll buy you two more to make up for it. Now shut up; you talk too much.” With that, he’s leaning down and sucking your clit hard.

You’re not quick to compliment Grayson, but you can admit he’s incredible at eating pussy. He genuinely sounds like he’s ready to die in between your legs, quietly groaning to himself with every suck and lick. Your breath hitches at the imagery, and he’s slowly licking up your slit, savoring the way you taste for him. He gives you a few more licks before he starts sucking at your clit again, and you can feel yourself growing closer.

“Fuck, Gray- I’m about to cu-“ Before you can finish, he’s pulling away and smiling up at you with shiny lips.

“Fuck you.” You practically spit out, and he just laughs shortly, amusement barely hidden in his face.

“Before I make you cum, I wanna hear you ask nicely.” He’s leaning into you again, lips hovering yours, mirroring the same position you had him in earlier. You push his shoulder, hoping to give you some distance, but he stays firmly planted in place.

“If you think I’m gonna beg for your sorry excuse of a dick -“

He cuts you off, fingers slipping inside you, and he starts curling his fingers, your back arching into his touch. With how close you were to your orgasm, you’re falling apart in a matter of seconds. You start whimpering out his name, and he stills all his movements, thumb hovering over your clit.

“Beg.” He demands, and neither of you misses the way you tightly clench around him from the change of tone in his voice.

You stare at him long until he lightly brushes your clit, reminding you of what you’re missing in your stubbornness. You sigh dramatically before swallowing your pride and saying:

“Grayson, fuck me.” He stares at you pointedly, and you sigh again.

“Please, Gray. Want you to fuck me, please.” You whisper. It’s not a lot, but he knows that’s probably the most he’s going to get out of you at this moment, so he just smiles proudly and starts moving his fingers again. The coil in your stomach starts to grow tighter, and your toes curl when you start cumming all of your fingers. You cry out, nails scratching down his stomach as he continues to move his hand to work you through your orgasm.

He leans back, sucking up everything on his fingers before unbuckling and taking his pants and underwear off. You were glad he had made you cum before because he was big, bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with before. He brushes his dick over your entrances a few times, tapping his dick lightly on your clit. You whimper slightly, and he winks, arrogant persona back in full force.

“You’re still a dick.” You whisper, no real sting to your words.

“Yeah, I know.” He strokes his dick lightly before sinking in, and both of you moan out from the initial feeling.

He starts snapping his hips relentlessly, not giving you time to adjust to his pace. Your eyes begin to roll back, only able to focus on the wood digging into your back, arm wrapped around your waist, and dick ramming roughly into you. You’re moaning out constantly, nothing able to come to mind to express how good he’s making you feel.

However, Grayson is starting to get frustrated, not satisfied with the way you’ve laid out in front of him. He picks you up, holding you close to him before dropping you carelessly on the bed. Before you can say anything, he’s twisting your body around, so you’re on all fours in front of him and is sliding back into you, taking you from behind. You’re arching underneath him, allowing him to reach you even deeper as you moan out. He’s practically fucking you into the mattress, and from your constant sounds and ass jiggling in front of him, he’s releasing a guttural groan.

He places an arm next to your head while wrapping a large hand around your throat, lightly cutting off your air. His body is entirely over yours, encasing your entire body in his large frame. It all starts to get to be too overwhelming, and your mind starts to go blank from the pleasure, pulling at the railings to get away from how hard he’s fucking into you while also leaning back into him to get more.

“Stop running; thought you wanted to see how good I can fuck you.” He moves his hand to slap your ass, and his dick jumps from the way you start squeezing around him. He rubbing your ass, ready to spank you again, when the both of you stop from loud screams coming below you. You both hear yells about countdowns and New Year’s and Grayson’s leaning down, rutting himself into you before whispering in your ear -

“How much you wanna bet I can get you to cum before midnight?”

10!

You didn’t think he could go any faster, but his movements pick up, hitting your g-spot with every movement of his hips.

He brushes his fingers against your lip, watching as you slowly take them into your mouth and start sucking. You don’t miss the way he lightly swears when you lightly nip at the pads of his fingers. “Fucking brat.” He mutters before he’s wrapping his hand around your throat again.

He moves his hand, going back up on his knees so he can hold you still as he keeps thrusting into you.

With the way he’s gripping your hips and pulling you back into him, you already know you’re gonna be bruised with his fingerprints on your hip tomorrow.

You start to fall forward, and all you can think about is how badly you want to cum.

He starts rubbing at your clit, and you swear you can feel him deep in your stomach, knowing that he’s going to be responsible for your limp tomorrow.

“If only I knew earlier that all I needed to do to get you to shut up was to fuck you properly” were the words coming out, and you hate yourself for moaning out louder at the way he says it.

You can tell he’s starting to get close by the way he starts slowing down, choosing to grind his hips slowly into you.

You haven’t stopped moaning, volume picking up until you’re practically sobbing into the pillow. You briefly think how grateful you are for the screaming in the living room when Grayson smacks your ass hard before groaning in your ear, “Fucking cum, Y/N.”

The tight feeling in your stomach snaps, and a small spurt of wetness releases, you squirting into his dick and thighs. You practically collapse forward, suddenly exhausted, and it only takes a few more thrusts before Grayson’s pulling out to cum on your lower back.

Happy New Year’s, Y/N.” He whispers in a cocky tone, pride in how he practically has you reduced to nothing underneath him.

He covers you in a blanket before getting dressed and walking back out to the party, not even bothering to hide his self-satisfied smirk when his friends ask him why he missed the ball drop.

#cole write something under 1k challenge #sorry this took forever #grayson dolan #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan drabble #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan x reader smut #dolan twins #dolan twins smut #dolan twins drabble #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins x reader #dolan twins x reader smut #blazedwritings

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music-of-melody · 4 years ago

Text

A Fanatic Heart

Author: @acotazriel

Word Count: 7k

Rating: T {canon-typical violence & language}

Relationships: Riven/Musa

Summary: What if all the Winx fairies were specialists and all the specialists were fairies? What if Riven doesn't realise how he feels for Musa before it's too late? What if he never has another chance again? May be continued into a series.

A/N: So this started out as a simple picture but ended up being an entire universe thanks to the amazing @acotazriel - Skye you have been honestly incredible throughout this all, especially given that I gave you like 3 sentences to work with so all the kudos to you! It has been a joy editing this and being a part of the creative process!

Riven hovered on the balls of his feet as he scanned the forest clearing. The woods were far too silent, with no noise in the way of birds, insects, or even a breeze among the treetops. The forest was waiting, like him. He scowled, feeling familiar eyes on his back but not turning around to face them. The Burned One had disappeared only thirty seconds ago; he knew it couldn’t have gotten far. He took the brief moment of respite to wipe the sweat from his brow as his eyes raked over the stand of shrubs, seeking any and all movement that might betray his quarry’s presence.

A twig cracked to his left and from the corner of his peripheral vision he caught sight of a charging, blackened figure. He whirled and dropped into a crouch just in time for the Burned One’s misshapen claw to swipe uselessly at the air above his head.

It fucking snuck up on him. How the fuck had it done that?

Riven didn’t waste time wondering; instead, he leapt backwards away from the swinging, venomous claws. The Burned One snarled and snapped but still Riven danced backward, drawing his opponent onto the offensive, forcing it to take the lead. After several seconds of distanced swipes, it took his bait and pounced forward—just as Riven anticipated. He timed his own leap to react to the Burned One and took the smashing blow right in the center of his reinforced chest plate.

He smirked even as he staggered two steps backward from the force of the blow. Right where he wanted.

The Burned One was strong, and in the following second Riven focused his mind on that kinetic energy it had imparted on his chest plate. He lifted his hands upward with his palms out and then let forth that same force in a wave of energy, blasting right at the Burned One’s approaching figure.

Riven grinned as the Burned One immediately tumbled backward, heels over scaly head, until it finally rolled to a stop forty feet away. “Thought you’d like that,” he taunted.

It slowly got to its feet, baring jagged fangs at Riven as it straightened to reach its full height. Riven sank into a crouch and raised his hands, palms outward again, and focused on the Cinder at its core.

It charged, screaming its demonic yowl, legs striding faster and faster over the uneven ground. It was thirty feet away and closing fast. Riven’s leg wobbled beneath him, still sore from the wild kick it had landed on him when it had first jumped them from above. At least it hadn’t broken his skin—he wasn’t Infected.

Yet. He reached out with his mind and felt the Cinder as it smoldered within the approaching Burned One—hot to the touch and full of dark energy, friction, and hatred.

Fifteen feet away now, screeching for all it was worth, reptilian feet pounding over the earth as it lunged. Riven drew a deep breath and visualized the Cinder bursting into smithereens.

Nothing.

The Cinder stayed intact and still the Burned One charged. Riven exhaled sharply in frustration and rolled to his right to dodge.

The Burned One spun on its heel to follow Riven’s progress, and he braced himself for the bite of its claws into his left shoulder—

Just as Musa leapt over his head and slashed her staff downward with both hands against its neck.

It screamed again, that horrific squall that chilled Riven to the bone (though he’d never admit it), Musa’s staff splitting into the three sections with which she fought as she charged the Burned One. She was a blur of forest green and ivory, her staff appearing as three pieces or as one when it suited her, leaving no place for her opponent to dodge or avoid the striking metal. Riven watched with satisfaction as she struck its head, its gut, its thigh, and its neck in quick succession. It slumped to its knees in agony, its maw gaping with an unheard scream of pain, and Riven raised his hands again and closed his eyes.

The Cinder beat like a defective heart, seething and bubbling with aimless rage. Riven clenched his fists as if squeezing the Cinder from the outside and Musa raised a forearm to cover her eyes. The Cinder exploded into a thousand fractals of light and energy that ricocheted outward through the forest and faded harmlessly into nothing.

When the reverberation deadened, Riven opened his eyes to see Musa bracing a booted foot against the Burned Ones’ corpse to roll it onto its back.

She jerked her staff upward in the snapping motion that folded the three pieces parallel to each other and lifted her gaze to him. “Thought you were going to take that one down by yourself?” she asked in a mock casual as she sheathed her staff into its quiver on her back.

“I had it under control,” Riven said with a grin as he straightened up. He scanned his body quickly, looking for any tears in his armor or breaks in his skin. Coming up empty, he cocked his head towards the unmoving corpse. “Just didn’t want you to get lazy.”

She huffed a laugh. “Right,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, I’d be a real couch potato if I didn’t have to jump up and save your sorry arse every five minutes.”

“I was fine. I could have taken it,” Riven said. One of these days he’d take one down all by himself and prove to Farah he didn’t need Specialist support. Prove to himself that he didn’t need anyone.

“Whatever. Toss me the sampling kit.” She knelt to the ground beside the Burned One while Riven unclipped the small leather pack at his belt. He tossed it to her and she caught it deftly, unzipped it, and withdrew Professor Harvey’s biosampling tackle.

He watched her scrape some of the Burned One’s scorched flesh into a vial and wished he’d paced out his cigs better. Now he was restless and directionless until they could return to camp. “Maybe I’ll just let it get you next time,” Musa said after a long beat. He arched an eyebrow at her. “Once it Infects you and I have to kill it, maybe you’ll see why Farah wants everyone to fight in teams.”

“Yeah, Farah’ll really go for that,” Riven scoffed.

“Farah says mutual trust—”

“It’s not a question of trust,” Riven cut her off. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against a tree trunk with his eyes narrowed. “It’s a question of you doing your job, and me knowing that you’re gonna do your job.”

He’d lost count of the number of times he’d had this conversation. He avoided her frustrated expression and uncrossed his arms to withdraw the small throwing knife he kept in his boot, running his thumb over the blade to test its sharpness. He checked that Musa was still busy with the sampling kit and made another notch in his leather chest cuirass. “That makes nine,” he announced.

She wrinkled her nose. “I thought it was eight?”

“No, I’m counting that one back in the moor for us.”

She huffed another laugh. “Sure, just don’t tell Silva that—I already saw him tally it up in his count.”

Riven shook his head and clucked his tongue. “He really lets getting chosen by a dragon get to his head, doesn’t he.”

Musa laughed, for real this time, her chestnut brown eyes glinting with glee. “You’re just saying that because he’s the only fairy to beat you in hand-to-hand combat.”

“That was a technicality—” Riven had just begun his retort when a loud shout echoed behind them. They both whirled, Musa already jumped up and her staff drawn and ready, studying the surrounding woods for the source of the noise.

“There,” Musa pointed out. In the far distance Riven could just make out a couple of trees that were swaying back and forth in an unnatural motion—not from the trunks, but from the roots. Another cry—this time a feminine scream.

They broke into a sprint at the same time. “I think it’s Flora,” Musa panted as they darted between trees and over shrubs.

“Nah, that’s Brandon’s style,” Riven refuted, thinking of the motion of the tree trunks. “Besides, I got way too good at recognizing Stella’s screams back when she was with Sky—”

Musa shot him a glare, but they both saved their breath as they ran through the woods. They reached the top of a ridge and paused when they caught sight of two Alfea uniforms—one Specialist, one fairy.

Brandon was down, lying on his side with one hand clutching his stomach and the other outstretched in front of him. Stella’s twin swords flashed in the sunlight as she hacked and parried the Burned One in front of her. The ground beneath their feet rippled and rolled like waves on a pond—every time the Burned One raised its arms, it stumbled on the erratic ground while the forest floor beneath Stella remained as steady as a rock.

But she was hurt, too—Riven could see from the way her left arm lagged behind her right, and sure enough, within a few seconds the Burned One managed to knock her left blade from her hand.

Musa and Riven didn’t wait another moment. They charged down the hill, Riven already reaching his palms outward, making sure to stay two steps behind Musa’s staff.

This one was bigger than the one they’d just killed - it towered over Musa’s compact form, although he knew this just played into her strength: speed. She was a flurry of flashing metal and darting green as she dodged the Burned Ones’ swipes and claws.

Riven reached Brandon and crouched on his haunches. “It got you?”

“Fuck me, yes,” Brandon hissed, and pulled his hand away from his stomach for long enough for Riven to see a smear of red blood and black Burned One bile webbing outward from the wound. “Got Stella too.”

“We’ll take care of it,” Riven promised. He rested a steadying hand on Brandon’s shoulder and turned to look back at their Specialists. Musa and Stella had already managed to bring it to its knees, and within a blink, Musa drew back with a powerful swing and leveled the Burned One with a furious strike to its neck. It keeled backward, and Stella raised her right sword with both hands and stabbed it downwards into its chest, pinning it to the ground.

Riven approached, palms outward again, and now—with little danger from the lifeless form—cradled the Cinder in his mind, then crushed it with minimal effort, squeezing his eyes shut as the energy rippling outward nearly surged through them.

Stella let out a slow, rattling breath as the Burned One’s life force drained away. She staggered back, catching her breath, and then immediately hurried to Brandon. In the span of seconds she reached his side, knelt, and rolled him onto his back. Riven and Musa approached as well, Riven drawing forth his first aid kit from the pack at his belt.

“I’ll be okay,” Brandon said thickly. His breath was ragged and both hands clutched at the wound in his stomach. His eyes never left Stella’s. “I’ll be okay.” Riven had the sense that his words were more of a plea than an assurance.

“Of course you’ll be okay,” Stella shushed him as she cradled his head in her lap. “It’s dead, we just have to get you fixed up.”

“And you’re okay, Stel?” Musa asked, running a questioning hand along Stella’s left arm.

“Fine,” Stella answered absently. “Just nicked my wrist, that’s all.” To justify her nonchalance, she extended her left hand out to show Musa and Riven. Her sleeve had torn and there was a line of blood where her forearm met her hand, but it didn’t appear serious.

Riven handed over gauze and healing potions. “Think you can walk?”

“I’ll be okay,” Brandon repeated. “Just give me a second.”

Musa took Riven’s forearm and pulled him backward to give Brandon and Stella space. They watched from behind Stella, handing her additional bandages and tinctures as she tended to her fairy. Within a few minutes, the color returned to Brandon’s face, although he couldn’t hide the pain that flicked over his features when he tried to stand. Riven offered an arm to help Brandon limp back to camp but the other fairy brushed him off. “I’m fine, I’ll just go slow,” Brandon said.

Stella looped Brandon’s arm over her shoulder so she could help him walk. “We’ll see you guys back at camp,” she said. “And thanks for the assist.”

“Yeah—thanks,” Brandon forced out before Stella led him forward.

Musa and Riven watched them walk away for a long beat before Musa collapsed her staff back into thirds, sheathed it, and then ran a hand through her hair. “That was a little scary.”

Riven shook his head dismissively. “I’ve been telling Brandon for weeks he leaves his core too exposed when he fights. And I’ve heard you yourself telling Stella she needs to tighten up her left side.”

She glared at him. “That’s harsh, Riv. People make mistakes—that doesn’t mean they deserve it.”

“I didn’t say they deserved it—and we don’t make mistakes,” he grinned. “We haven’t lost yet. Not with real ones, anyway.” The simulation Burned Ones that they’d faced back when they were still training didn’t count.

“Yeah, but…” Musa’s lips formed a thin line as she stared after Brandon and Stella’s receding forms. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re going to be saying that shit behind my back if I ever make a mistake.”

He hissed an exhale in frustration. “You think I wouldn’t have done the same for you? I’m doing my job, Musa, which means I’m not leaving you on the ground to die.”

“Even if I left my core too exposed or didn't tighten up my left side?”

She threw his words back at him, her tone mocking, and he stopped short and turned to face her. “Fine, you want me to say it? I do. I do care about you. You’re a fucking good fighter and I don’t want anyone else at my side.”

Her mouth curved into a mischievous grin. “So you do trust me.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“That’s what I heard.”

He huffed a sharp exhale through turned-up lips that ruffled his quiff. “Whatever. Let’s just keep patrolling.”

Before he followed her forward, he notched another mark on his cuirass.

===

They returned to camp a few hours later. The first thing they did was check on Brandon in the infirmary tent being tended to by Harvey, and then Musa went to wash up while Riven headed to the mess tent.

He loaded up his tray with as much food as he could fit before looking for Sky in the fairy tent.

“Heard you had a productive morning,” Sky asked from his cot, looking up from the throwing stars he was cleaning.

Riven nodded through a mouthful of stew and puffed out his chest to show the two new notches he’d made. “Told you we’re the best team,” he said with pride after chewing and swallowing. “What did you and Bloom do?”

“Killed three, actually.”

"Bullshit!" Riven exclaimed, but Sky just chuckled and shook his head.

“Ask Silva.” He stood up. “Actually, I’m heading that way, you should come with. He asked me and Bloom to try out his new idea—”

Riven's eyes narrowed, projecting his disappointment as irritation. "What about our debrief hike?"

Sky’s gaze dropped back to his hands and the pile of cleaned throwing stars at his feet. "Can't today—I already promised Bloom I would."

Scowling, Riven picked up his bread. "Right, can't compete with a shag now, can I?"

Sky frowned and glanced back up. "It's not a competition, Riv. I'm just moving our mates time, I'm not bailing so I can get laid."

"Right—you're just bailing and getting laid."

Sky rolled his eyes, set down his rag, and grabbed his cuirass from its hook over his bed and pulled it over his head. “You’ve got a letter, by the way,” he changed the subject and pointed at the desk against the far wall.

Riven lowered his head to his lunch and shrugged, ignoring the spike of inadequacy at its likely contents. "Don't care." Sky fastened the straps on his cuirass with a puzzled expression that made Riven's ears burn. He hated pity, and in his desperation to fill the silence with anything else he spoke again. "It's probably just Dad telling me not to come home next time we get leave."

"Riven..." Sky's tone was so full of unsolicited sympathy that it further frayed Riven's already irritated nerves.

"Read it, I don't care," he said through another bite. "Go on."

Sky finished tightening his chest harness, walked to the desk, and slit open the envelope. "'Dear Riven, you are most welcome at home in two weeks,'" he read, his voice rising hopefully. Riven raised a hand for him to read on, and Sky looked back down at the letter. "'...however your stepmother and I will be on holiday in Melody. You can let yourself in. Write soon.'" He finished, deflated, and dropped the letter back onto the table, at a loss for words.

Riven shrugged to prove to Sky that he didn't care. At least it was longer than his father's usual letters, he thought dryly.

"I'm sorry, Riv.” Had Riven been less peeved then he would have appreciated the sincere apology in Sky's voice. "Let's do our hike when I get back."

"Yeah, sure," he replied dully. "Enjoy spending time with your ball-and-chain."

"She's not my ball-and-chain, Riven," Sky sighed, exasperated as he laced his boots. "She's more than that... she's my lifeline."

Riven made a retching noise in the back of his throat, gagging at Sky's sentimentality, but after Musa’s comments this morning, the comment hit closer to home than he thought it would.

"Right, well, see you when we get back." He left the tent, leaving Riven to finish his meal in silence.

===

As soon as he was done Riven tossed his tray back into the mess tent and shoved his hands into the pockets of his uniform. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he couldn’t help but feel let down by Sky. Sky was the one who’d dragged Riven on these hikes at first, a way for them to have some time to themselves away from the girls, just the two of them like before. Riven had gone along begrudgingly at first but had in the last few months found himself looking forward to them—a chance to compartmentalize and destress with his best friend from the furor of battle and camp life.

And now, Sky had blown him off.

He set his jaw as he paced through camp. He knew that Sky didn’t mean anything by it, but it still niggled angrily in the back of Riven’s brain. He kicked a rock in the path, savoring the sweet agony in his toe because it distracted him from the nervous energy in his mind. He could have that relationship with Musa if he wanted—he just didn’t want to. They were soft, all of them, and if Riven knew one thing it was that the people you trusted always let you down in the end. If you gave them a piece of your heart, it was inevitable that they would crush it.

“What is it?” A voice in front of him spoke and Riven looked up, surprised to find himself in front of the infirmary. Musa looked up at him from where she knelt in Professor Harvey’s herb garden. “Does Dowling need us?”

“What? Oh, no,” Riven said quickly, silently cursing himself. He knew better than to connect the dots that thinking about Musa led to him finding himself arriving at one of her usual haunts. “I, uh— how’s Brandon?”

To his surprise, instead of a simple answer Musa glanced back into the tent, then stood up and brushed the dirt from the knees of her trousers. “Let’s talk out there,” she said quietly.

Riven nodded, falling into step beside her as they paced along the path and out through the temporary barrier erected around their campsite. “Huh, I didn’t know it was bad.”

“It hit his aorta,” Musa admitted, pushing aside the underbrush as they walked vaguely north. “He’s not Infected or anything, it’s just going to take him a lot longer to heal than they thought.”

“That sucks,” Riven agreed. Still sensitive about Sky’s comment, he chose not to offer any more opinions about Brandon’s form—in fact, he regretted his previous remarks. He thought back to his earlier conversation with Musa and cringed. “Stella must be pretty cut up.”

“She definitely feels guilty,” Musa admitted in a low voice.

Riven pressed his lips together, holding a branch out for Musa to walk beside him and not get whacked in the head. “She shouldn’t—it wasn’t her fault. The one they knocked heads with looked like a nasty bugger.”

Musa allowed a small smile up at Riven. “It was—and someone’s being generous,” she teased. “Did Riven grow a heart?”

“Wow, say something nice about a guy on death’s door, and suddenly you’re a saint,” Riven shot back. “Brandon’s a damn good fairy. We need him.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Musa said, her tone dropping from teasing to mocking. “He’s just doing a job.”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“That’s what I heard,” she said again. She drew up short and turned to face him. “Tell me, have you ever trusted anyone?”

He stopped as well, feeling a twist in his gut. He didn’t want to continue this age-old conversation, but for a different reason than usual—he was alarmed that she was upset. He didn’t want one more person to push him away. “Why does it matter to you?” he asked. “Why do you care so much about trust when we should be worried about Burned Ones and Rosalind and fucking psycho Beatrix—”

“Because if I’m just a job to you, Riven, then I can’t do this.”

His lips parted and he stared, dumbstruck.

“If you can’t trust me then I don’t want to do this. I’m going to ask Dowling to be paired with someone else.”

His brain sagged at her announcement, briefly flashing through his life if he didn’t have his Specialist next to him. Having to start over with someone new… someone likely less capable… someone worse. Someone that wasn’t her.

“Musa—”

“No, don’t, Riven—”

An otherworldly scream cleaved the air above their heads. Riven flinched and looked upward in time to see a Burned One drop from a tree above their heads.

Fuck.

He reacted instantly with his training and skittered backward, stumbling at first and then more skillfully as his training took over. The Burned One had missed them in its initial lurch, but it was already upright and snarling towards them as they hurried to overcome the surprise.

“Got a shot?” Riven shouted as he ducked beneath a swipe of its jagged claws. He rolled to his feet and glanced quickly at Musa—thankfully she had kept her staff with her, and it was already twirling in her hands, a blur of metal and ivory.

“Take it,” Musa yelled back, and Riven acknowledged with a quick “Aye!” She was asking him to use his energy absorption powers to take a blow and then reverse the energy back onto it. Riven straightened up and danced backward, taunting the Burned One to prowl forward and away from Musa while she got her bearings. “Come here, you little fuck,” Riven shouted, hoping to distract it.

It lunged and Riven leapt sideways to take the brunt of its force on his breastplate. It struck true and Riven almost laughed in delight as he focused that energy back through his palms, and blasted the Burned One twenty feet backward.

With some breathing room now between the pair and the Burned One Musa charged. Her staff was a spinning twirl of silver and white as she advanced and struck forward as the Burned One pushed itself to its feet. Her staff struck over and over at any exposed areas the Burned One left open, causing it to keel backwards in pain. Musa rained so many blows on the creature that it keeled backward, stunned by pain, and if it had been anything but a Burned One Riven would have felt sorry for it.

Riven advanced with palms out, his mind sharpening on the Cinder at its core. Musa struck out again and again on Burned One while he located that beating mass of rage and hatred. He closed his eyes and focused on it, imagining it bursting into smithereens.

“Now,” he called out, their sign for her to shield her vision, and the Cinder exploded in another blast of light and energy.

The silence that followed the Burned One’s destruction felt more weary than usual. Riven dropped to his knees, cowed by the surprise and viciousness of their sudden fight, and opened his eyes to see Musa shakily folding her staff by hand into thirds before glancing over at him.

“Fuck, they’re getting bolder,” she said, and he nodded.

“Got to be on guard.”

“Luckily we’re ‘the best,’ right?” Musa said with a jittery chuckle. Riven’s lips thinned—they’d been caught by surprise. Only their training had saved them.

“Yeah, the best.” He righted himself, dusting off his uniform where he’d rolled on the mossy forest floor. Despite himself, he couldn’t help replaying Musa’s earlier words from that morning in his head—so you do trust me.

He knew by any other metric that’d be true. Riven finally forced himself to admit it. If Bloom was Sky’s lifeline, then he knew Musa was his. He could call it whatever he wanted, but it was trust.

The thought of admitting it to Musa made his gut twist again. It went against almost everything he stood for, to admit that he was wrong—except for his number one principle: honesty. If that meant admitting to Musa that he trusted her, then that trumped everything.

He opened his mouth.

Musa cocked an eyebrow at him—waiting for his smarmy retort—but before he could speak the brush behind her solidified from thorny oleander to the shape of a Burned One.

His words died on his lips, replaced by a silent scream.

The Burned One struck out at Musa from behind—her staff lay limply in her hand and her eyes were fixed on Riven. On him. Instead of herself and her back and the slim body that he should be defending.

It was like she recognized what had happened before he did. Her chestnut eyes sought his as the Burned One’s claw sank into her back, and he felt her scream on every level—physically, mentally, psychologically—and even fucking deeper than that. He felt her scream in his very bones.

He watched her fall almost in slow motion, her arms raising first in reaction to the pain, the staff falling from her grip and clattering uselessly to the forest floor—then her legs as she pitched forward, knees buckling, and the rest of her body followed, a rag doll to the deep wound from the Burned One’s dagger-like claws.

And her face. Her fucking face. Warped in surprise, with pain glossing over her features in a slice that made Riven feel as much if not more pain than she. His Specialist, in pain—attacked.

She crumpled. The Burned One stood over her body, crowing victory in its nonverbal tongue and still slashing at her body, and Riven felt a fire that he’d never felt before alight in his veins. It spread from his heart to his gut to his extremities, carrying surprise and rage and a loss that he had never before felt in his life.

Musa. It had hurt Musa. It had hurt Musa to the point that she’d collapsed and he was still standing, and he ceased to be Riven—he became a pillar of furor and mania.

It had hurt the one person who had fought by his side the last six months.

It had hurt the one person who was always there when he needed her, conscious or not.

It had hurt the one person who knew him inside out and still chose to fight beside him.

It had hurt his Specialist. His Musa.

He screamed in guttural rage and it felt as though his voice ricocheted through the entire forest.

Suddenly, in the midst of his fury, pain exploded between his shoulder blades. It wrenched through him with enough violence to cut short his cry, and he staggered forward as if pushed by an invisible force. Beneath the anger and passion he felt something else—something kinetic and physical, something fundamentally different about himself.

He fell forward onto his knees and pressed his hands to the dirt, blinking back tears of pain as something huge—something massive erupted against his back, ripping his shirt in half at the back seam. He crawled forward on his hands and knees, seeking to escape the burden on his shoulders, to slither out from beneath whatever-the-fuck-it-was now weighing him down and pressing him against the earth. It had to be a Burned One—another had snuck up on them, and gotten Riven this time, and this was what it felt like to be Infected, to have the venom coursing through his body, paralyzing him—

He wouldn’t be able to help Musa.

The thought made his head fly up and face her, every atom in his body resisting that thought. He had to save her. He fucking had to.

He grit his teeth through the pain and dared a glance behind him. Another yell escaped his throat at the sight—this time from surprise. Indigo talons twice the size of an eagle’s hovered over his shoulders, almost dagger-like in shape, connected with a lighter purple webbing—

He choked as he connected the pain between his shoulder blades with the apparition in front of his eyes.

Wings. He had fucking wings.

Riven fought to regain his breath as he pulled himself to his feet, stumbling a little as he compensated for the additional weight on his back. His shirt and reinforced breast plate fell from his chest but he barely noticed. He had wings.

More than that, he realized—he had power.

He could feel it thrumming through him—where before his magic had been a murmur, now it was a roar. It vibrated against his bones and he could feel it crackling at his fingertips. Power.

He barely had to focus—the only thing in his mind was Musa, collapsed at the Burned One’s feet, and Riven simply raised his palms.

The Burned One took a step backward, daunted by the change in Riven’s appearance. He flexed muscles that sixty seconds ago he didn’t know he had and spread his wings as wide as possible to make himself appear larger and more intimidating.

It recovered from its fright and charged at him in a frantic frenzy, but Riven found his reaction times halved by his normal standards—each swipe of the Burned One he met with a slap of his own hands, swatting it away before it could puncture his skin. It yowled in frustration and tried to clap its hands together around Riven’s torso but he simply ducked, leaving it hugging itself in a bizzare embrace. He closed his eyes—almost lazily—and within milliseconds cradled that Cinder in his mind—He didn’t need to concentrate on his focus nearly as much as before.

He focused that rage and energy onto the Cinder and felt it explode into nothing, from boiling hatred to empty peace, and then he opened his eyes.

It was gone. The Burned One had disappeared but Musa still lay on the ground. He knew she wasn’t in danger of Infection, but like with Brandon’s injury there was no time to waste. He scooped her into his arms bridal-style, and when her head lolled against his chest he felt a plunge of something deep in his chest, near where his wings had taken root.

Musa. His Specialist. He needed her.

He didn’t even know how he knew to take flight, but he just knew. His wings carried him through the forest, low and darting as a dragonfly over the brush and through the trees. His shoulders ached with the exhaustion of muscles weak with lack of use, but Riven didn’t care. He forced himself forward, not stopping until he reached the barrier, and even then he pumped his wings forward until he reached the infirmary.

He landed awkwardly on his feet and barrelled inside, Musa still in his arms, knocking aside equipment and paraphernalia left and right with his wingspan. He didn’t care. The only thing he cared about was the seep of her blood onto his shirt and then the floor, and how he had to stop it.

He had to save his Specialist. The one he trusted with his life.

Professor Harvey straightened up from Brandon’s cot, his eyes as large as saucers as he took in the sight of a winged Riven holding Musa’s limp body. A healing fairy stood in the back of the tent behind him, her jaw agape, gaze locked on the violet daggers of Riven’s wingtips.

Riven lifted Musa towards Harvey as if presenting a macabre offering. They weren’t helping. They weren’t moving. They just fucking stared.

“Help!” he bellowed at Harvey. “Help her!”

Harvey blinked but the spell finally broke. He leapt forward to take Musa from Riven’s arms and the fairy behind him hurried over as well. Riven and Harvey lowered onto a cot, her back and the worst of her injuries facing upward. Riven sank onto his knees and ran his hands through Musa’s hair, then over her face as if he could stroke life back into her. Her face was paler than he’d ever seen—even her lips looked desaturated. Her eyes were closed and looked far too relaxed, as if she was asleep, but he couldn’t think that because that’s always what people said when they d-

He forcibly stopped that thought and clutched at her head. “Musa,” he choked. “Musa, wake up—”

“Riven, I need to get by you,” Harvey said above him. Riven felt a pressure on his right side somewhere unusual and realized that Harvey was trying to lean over Musa through his still-flexed wing. He shifted two steps to the left so he was at the head of the bed, but he felt a hand on his arm.

He looked up at Sky, concern written all over his blue eyes. “Riven, come with me—”

“No,” Riven said, clutching closer to the metal frame of Musa’s cot. “No, not without her—”

Sky’s hand closed more firmly around Riven’s arm. “Riv, you’re in the way—let the healers work.”

Maybe Sky was right—the healing fairy squeezed past his wingspan to reach the supplies above his head—but he couldn’t leave her. It was his fault she was hurt, they’d been arguing—he should have protected her.

But Sky wasn’t leaving him a choice. Silva appeared next to him, and between the two of them they grasped Riven’s upper arms and pulled him from the tent, his errant wings still knocking bottles from shelves and curtains from their rods. Riven’s vision stayed fixed on Musa, dread pooling inside him at how small and frail she looked on that cot.

He didn’t even realize they had dragged him into the strategy tent until he blinked and Silva was snapping his fingers in front of Riven’s eyes to rouse him.

“Riven,” Silva said. “What the hell happened?”

Riven stared at Silva, but he wasn’t really seeing him. He saw Musa, her face torqued in pain, the way her knees and elbows bent as she fell, her brown pigtails splayed out against the earth. His fault.

“Riven,” Sky reached out with a hand and turned his chin to force eye contact. “Riven, are you alright?”

He swallowed thickly and jerked his head downward out of Sky’s grip to stare at the ground. “Burned One came out of nowhere—we killed it, but then there was another—camouflaged somehow. It got M—” his voice caught and he stopped, unable to finish.

“But you killed it?” Sky prompted, and Riven managed a brusque nod. “Musa’s gonna be fine, Riven—she’s hurt but not Infected.”

He screwed his face up at that. Sure, she wasn’t Infected. She was just unconscious with pain and incapacitated for who the hell knew how long, and it was his fucking fault.

“Riven.” He wished they’d stop saying his name. He didn’t want any of them—he wanted to be alone. With her. With Musa.

He felt another hand on his arm and tried to pull it away, but the hand clenched harder, forcing him to look up. Silva stared down at him, expression full of something akin to sympathy. “I know you want to blame yourself, but it’s possible to make no mistakes and still lose. That doesn’t mean you’re a bad partner—it means you are alive. That’s life.”

Riven shook his head, but as he ran the fight back through his head, he found the smallest bit of solace in Silva’s words. He drew a shaky breath and gave Silva the barest hint of a nod.

Silva released his grip on Riven’s arm and nodded back. “Want to tell us how you got those?”

Pushing aside his guilt about Musa meant that the sensations of his body all came roaring back, and Riven grimaced in pain. His shoulders ached at the notch of his wings, his chest was sore from taking the Burned One’s blow, and he felt a general sense of exhaustion from his flight back to camp. “When the Burned One got her,” he said and lifted his gaze to observe the tendrils of purple reaching above his head. “It just happened. I was so angry—and then they just burst out of me. It hurt like hell.”

“Looks cool as hell,” Sky said with a grin, circling Riven to admire the wings from all angles.

“What else happened?” Silva asked, and Riven turned back to face him with a quizzical expression. Silva gestured to the wings. “Anything besides these?”

“Yeah,” Riven said slowly, recalling that thrum of energy that had surged through him. “Power. It was like my magic was twice as powerful and half as easy. I’ve never killed one so quickly. Not on my own.”

Sky wolf whistled in admiration and Riven allowed a small grin.

Then his grin vanished, replaced by a grimace of pain. He stumbled forward and grabbed Sky’s shoulder to keep himself upright as his back muscles wrenched and contorted. A keen of pain escaped his clenched teeth—it felt like his back was splitting open between his shoulder blades. He gasped and sank to his knees, pulling Sky down with him, his legs unable to support him in his agony.

As suddenly as it started, it stopped. Riven stayed on the ground, hands on his thighs, breathing away the memory of the pain. He felt lighter and somehow lesser—more muted. He looked up and confirmed what he’d suspected—his wings had vanished, receding inside him.

“Now that was cool,” Silva chuckled.

Riven grimaced again and used Sky’s shoulder to haul himself back upright. “Does this mean I can go back now?” he asked, looking from Silva to Sky. “I can stay out of the way.”

Silva and Sky exchanged a glance, at which Silva nodded. At the smallest motion Riven immediately turned for the tent flap and hurried forward.

Sky came with him, for which Riven was silently appreciative. Even though he didn’t want to talk, he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts either, and Sky was his best friend. He would be a silent companion if that’s what Riven needed.

Harvey begrudgingly let Riven back inside and Sky left Riven in an out-of-the-way corner, an agitated but quiet spectator to Harvey’s ministrations. He returned a few minutes later with water and a clean shirt, both of which Riven accepted gratefully.

They waited long into the night, Riven’s gaze never leaving Musa. Sky’s head drooped against his shoulder and he reflected on what his friend had told him earlier, about his Specialist being his lifeline. Fuck, he’d been right.

===

Some color had returned to Musa’s cheeks, but she was still weak from loss of blood and the extent of the Burned One’s claws in her body. Riven only left her side to eat, which Harvey did not permit in the infirmary. The other teams came in at various times to wish her well and congratulate Riven on his transformation. He always hated when they brought that part up. As impressive as it was (so they said), it was without a doubt the worst twenty minutes of his life.

After a few days’ recovery she lay on her stomach with the white bandages still wrapped around her torso while Riven perched on a stool beside her cot, one foot up on her bedframe and the other tucked on the crossbar of his stool. “I’m still mad I’m the only one who never got to see them,” she sighed and rested on hand beneath her chin. “Stella says they wouldn’t have been out of place at a spring fashion show.”

“My wings were extremely masculine, thank you,” Riven said, and Musa laughed hard enough to grimace in pain and clutch at her ribs. They fell silent and Riven ran a thumb along the seam of his trousers, still unable to think back to that time without flinching. “Maybe I’ll learn to control them, but until then I honestly hope you never see them.”

She gave him a bracing smile, and he knew she understood without him having to say it—that if it took Musa getting mortally hurt for his wings to appear, he’d rather never transform again.

She reached her hand out and he took it, thumbing a wide arc over the back of her hand. His Specialist. His partner. His life.

#winx club #fate the winx saga #RivusaRevolution2021 #rivusa week #Day 6: AU #acotazerial #riven x musa #I am so honoured to be a part of this #thank you so much for helping me!!!#riven #musa #rivusa #fan art #my drawing #digital art #this will also be posted on ao3 #myart

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch2: I’m Not Jealous...Why Would I Be Jealous? Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Summary: The Losers run their first mission together since they bust the Child Sex Trafficking Ring a few months ago, and things don’t quite go according to plan, leading to some nasty tension between Jake and Stella. As time progresses the rift increases leading Jake to make a decision about the nature of his and Stella’s relationship, and the consequences of his decision lead Stella to make one of her own…

Warnings: Bad Language words. Some angst and 2 dumbasses so afraid to admit their feelings to one another, they’d rather ignore them completely…

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

A/N: Yeah, yeah, we’re sorry…but what would our fics be without the standard angst and dumbassery…and let’s face it, Jake IS a total dumbass. A lovable dumbass, but still a dumbass. Also, in this is a lot of Creative License. There’s limited detail about the CIA base online (dur) but I do have a fairly good grasp of UK Military codes and security levels as I worked on a lot of bases so we’re running with that…if it’s not directly the same over in the US then…sorry not sorry!

And yes, our other OC in here is shamelessly named after Evans… and our bub needs some love today.

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 1

August 2007

“OK Losers, let’s fuck this shit up and get home. I got a date in less than 23 hours.” Clay grinned at Pooch who let out a chuckle.

“You sure don’t wanna miss that…she’s volatile.” Roque’s soft baritone came back over the coms.

“Yeah, which means I’d rather not be late.” Clay replied.

“Good call Clay, I’d hate to be picking up the pieces of you like I had to do with Pooch when he missed Future Mrs Pooch’s birthday last month…” Jensen replied, looking at Pooch as he sat in the van, laptop open “How is Little Pooch performing since she ripped your balls off?”

Pooch glared at him and elbowed him harshly in the ribs “Ouch, Pooch be gentle!” Jensen rubbed at his side, wincing.

Clay rolled his eyes as Pooch and Jensen started bickering between themselves, Cougar’s soft snickering echoed down the coms from his vantage point perched on the building next door. “Ok, seriously, we’re trying to work here and all I can hear is you lot.” Stella hissed, “Can you focus up?”

“Sorry Arty.” Pooch said, shooting one last glare at Jensen who simply arched an eyebrow and sniffed slightly, tapping at the keyboard.

“And I can see you.” Jensen grinned as the CCTV footage of the inside of the office flicked onto the screen “Wave for the Camera Stel…”

At his words, Stella turned to look at the camera which was above her in the corner of the room and flipped him off. Clay gave a snort.

“That’s not a wave sweetheart.” Jake said and she let out a growl.

“Jensen, I swear to God…”

“Enough you two.” Clay groaned “Roque, Arty get on with it. Cougar, sit-rep on the auction.”

“Still going on…” Cougar obliged “Everyone still in the main room.”

“Jakey…” Stella spoke, and as they watched she began to search the room as Roque kept watch at the door. “Are you sure it’s in here?”

“Yup…” Jensen said “The signal says you’re right by it.”

On the screen Stella paused and looked at the large, ornamental cabinet against the right wall. She stooped to examine the lock and then snorted. “Standard dead bolt.”

“You think they’d be a little more careful…” Pooch mused, watching the footage on the laptop.

“Well to be fair they have a lot of security on the door” Stella replied, and with that hitched the skirt of the tight, figure hugging midnight blue body-con dress she was wearing up slightly and retrieved a tiny device from the top of her stockings.

Jake gave a groan, and then a little yelp as Pooch slapped him round the back of the head. “Pooch man…like, didn’t you see that?”

“Shut up!” Clay said, glaring at him, his eyes then flicking back to the screen as Stella began to wrestle with the lock of the cabinet.

“Boss, they’re wrapping up. Cougar spoke. “The device has sold…I got eyes on our middle man…”

“Ok…” Stella said, and they watched as she gave the little picking device a twist to the right before she sharply jabbed it downwards, then up. Then she gave a little “yes” of triumph and yanked the door open, only to then give a groan of frustration.“Shit.”

“Shit, what’s shit?” Roque asked, and Clay saw him turn back to look at her from where he had been peeking out of the door.

“It’s in a damned case…” She said, yanking it out and dropping it on the desk, crouching down so she was eyelevel with the locks. “These are harder to pick than a fucking padlock.”

“You got company heading your way.” Cougar spoke “2 guys, armed, approaching from your left.”

“Fuck.” Clay mumbled, as Jensen tapped another button and a smaller viewing box appeared in the top right of the monitor displaying footage of the corridor.

“Want me to drop them boss?” Cougar asked.

“Let’s wait a bit, see if we can get out clean.” Clay said. “But be ready just in case.”

“Got about 40 seconds tops until they turn the corner and I won’t have a shot.”

“Roger.” Clay said

“Once Cougar loses sight we have about another 60 seconds before they hit your position.” Jake said, his eyes flashing as he watched the CCTV of the two men walk down the corridor before his eyes moved back to the larger footage box of the room Stella was in. “Come on Stel…”

“I’m going as fast as I can…” she grumbled, twisting the device in the fiddly locks. One of them sprang open and she hastily moved to the other.

It was deadly silent, Jensen holding his breath as his nerves started to get the better of him. Roque and Stella were both unarmed, they had to be to get into the auction in the first place. The only reason Stella had managed to get that lock pick in through the metal detectors was that it was made out of a specialist, plastic resin. His right hand rested over his mouth, fingers pulling at the whiskers on his goatee as his knee began to jerk slightly.

“Ok I got it…” Stella said, and she grabbed the large, metal hard-drive, flipping it over. “Jake now what?”

“The back should screw off.” He said, watching as she flipped it over, dropped it on the desk and hastily worked at the screw positioned at the top.

“I lost sight.” Cougar said.

“Ok, grab the drive and get of there.” Clay instructed and at that point Roque spun back into the room, making to pick it up but Stella slapped his hand away.

“Arty, what…”

“If we do that we’ve no chance of tracking this back via the middle man to the buyer…” she shook her head, still working at the screw.

“Our priority was retrieving the device.” Clay said, “The buyer is a bonus.”

“Stella, do what he says.” Jake said, swallowing nervously “Get out of there, now!”

“No, I almost got this…” Stella mumbled and with a final twist of her wrist the back sprang open. Quick as a flash the three men in the truck watched as Roque pulled off his watch, twisted the back of it and retrieved the data chip inside, handing it to Arty.

“Lift up the large, flat circuit board in the middle.” Jake said, and she followed his instructions, quickly swapping the chips out. She then hastily screwed the back on before jamming it back in the case. She snapped the lock shut, before she rammed it back in the cupboard.

“30 seconds…” Jake muttered, “Stel…come on…”

She didn’t reply, instead she quickly locked the cabinet door and Roque grabbed her hand and they ran into the corridor, running in the opposite direction to the approaching danger.

Jensen hit a button, flipping the footage of the corridor so it filled the screen and felt his blood run cold. He could see the corridor was long. And there was no way Roque and Stel would make it to the corner at the bottom before the men spotted them.

“They’re not gonna make it…” he muttered, and all 3 of them in the van stood up, grabbing their guns.

“Cougar…” Clay instructed as they emerged from the van.

“I’m by the gates” he said simply and Clay cocked his gun.

“Roque, Arty try and hide until we get in there…” he said simply as they sprinted across the road towards where Cougar was waiting, all the time listening to the chatter on the coms.

“Door, door…” Roque muttered “Shit it’s locked…”

“Roque…” Stella hissed.

“What?”

“Shut up and…”

Her voice cut off and Jensen heard a noise on his comms, a noise that sounded very much like…

Oh hell, no.

“Are they…is she…” he looked at Pooch as besides him Cougar started chuckling “Are they kissing?” Jensen wheeled round to look at Clay “Tell me, that’s not kissing I can hear!”

Clay shrugged as Jensen pulled a face, making a disgusted snort through his nose. “Stel, are you kissing Roque? What the fuck-“

“Hey, what the hell are you 2 doing back here?” an unfamiliar voice sounded in Jensen’s ears, followed by the loud noise of lips smacking and he looked at Pooch, his mouth hanging open.

“Sorry…we just…erm…” Stella giggled, “Yeah, we…”

“Can’t keep my hands off her” Roque chuckled, and Jensen couldn’t help the growl that bubbled from his throat at the words “Can you blame me? She’s a stunner, right?”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t be back here.”

“I know, we’re really sorry…I guess, well, I guess the excitement and the champagne…just got me a little…” Stella trailed off, giggling again.

Pooch grinned as Cougar winked at Jensen who’s jaw was set. He could picture exactly the face Stella was making, batting her eyelids all innocently, biting her lip.

And she’d just kissed Roque.

Fucker.

“Go on, get out of here…” the man’s voice instructed Roque and Stella and Roque said something back that Jensen didn’t quite catch as he pulled his ear piece out and turned off his coms link.

“Ok, back to the van.” Clay ordered, looking around at Pooch, Cougar and Jensen, who’s expression looked like that of a bulldog licking piss of a nettle. As the 4 of them headed back down the small lane to the non-descript Cable Company van, Clay shared a glance with Pooch who simply raised his eyebrows. Over the past 3 months since Stella had moved to the base in Virginia, the dynamic between her and Jensen had been the subject of immense puzzlement for the team. Stella had assured Clay when she joined that whatever had been going on was over, as they hadn’t seen each other for a year, but it was clear to see that them being in such close proximity of one another had thrown fuel on the allegedly damp fire.

For all intents and purposes the team basically agreed that they might as well actually be dating. They spent their evenings together, watched movies, went home for the same weekends… the whole “friends with benefits” thing they had going on was also complete bullshit as neither of them was seeing anyone else. Clay got the distinct impression, however, that Jensen was the driving force behind it not being official but here he was acting like a total brat because she’d had to kiss Roque as part of her cover. It was fucking ridiculous, but until either of them ended it or admitted their feelings, there was nothing he could do.

“We’re out. Heading to you now.” Stella sounded in his ear just as Jensen opened the rear door to the van.

“Good.” He said with a smile as he climbed into the back of the can. “Nice work guys. All of you, job well done.” He said, nodding.

“Yeah, especially you Roque from the sounds of things!” Pooch quipped and Cougar gave a snort as Jensen slammed the ruggedized laptop shut.

“Watch it, that’s worth more than your annual pay check.” Clay pointed at Jensen, then to the laptop.

“Ah don’t mind him Clay, he’s just a little jealous.” Pooch teased.

“Jealous? I’m not jealous.” Jake said, far too quickly “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because Roque just totally tongued your girl” Cougar grinned, making Pooch snigger. Clay rolled his eyes.

“She’s not my girl.” Jensen snapped, and at that exact moment the door to the van slid open. Jensen turned to look at Stella, and he inwardly groaned as he knew full well from the expression on her face she’d heard him. But her outward slip was quick, and she recovered herself fast, stepping into the van closely flowed by Roque.

“Oooh, someone kissed someone.” Pooch grinned and Roque glared at him.

“What are you, 5?”

Stella flopped onto one of the fold down seats in the back, and took the water Clay handed her with a mumbled thanks.

“You ok?” he asked her.

“Yeah.” She nodded “I’m fine. Was just a close one.”

“Can say that again.” Pooch said and Stella rolled her eyes.

“Alright, knock it off.” Clay said, looking at her and then to Jensen who looked like a sulky teenager, and it was too good an opportunity to miss, so with a smirk he added “Otherwise Jensen’s gonna have a fit and as annoying as he is, we need him.”

“Like he cares.” Stella mumbled, and Jake glared at her, positively shooting daggers with his eyes across the van.

Roque chuckled, more amused at Jensen’s attitude than anything “Well if he doesn’t care he’s an idiot. You’re a damned good kisser Arty.”

Stella looked at him, and raised her eyebrow. “Glad I met with your approval Roque.”

Cougar nudged her and she looked at him as he nodded towards Roque, tipping his hat slightly “How was it for you?”

“A solid 7 and a half outta 10.” She shrugged and Clay, Pooch and Cougar erupted into laughter at Roque’s indignant look.

“7 and a half?”

“I docked half a point for the fact you bumped your head into mine…” she shrugged “And it would have been a 9 if you’d felt my ass.”

Pooch banged on the dash of the van, howling with laughter as Clay chuckled deeply, shaking his head. Cougar grinned at Roque who himself gave a snort, and Stella turned her head to look at Jake. Her eyes locked onto his to find him simply looking at her, not a shred of amusement on his face. Eventually he raised his eyebrows and looked away, taking a deep breath.

Stella rolled her eyes and swallowed. Ok, that had been a bit out of order, but hearing what he had said just before had hurt her. Yes, she knew she wasn’t ‘his girl’, she hadn’t been for a while but if she was honest she was struggling with that, and was fast coming to the conclusion that she couldn’t keep doing what she was doing.

The trouble was, she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to end it.

*****

As it turns out, the decision was taken out of her hands. Upon return to base, the relationship between them grew increasingly icy over the following week or so. They had no contact outside of work, and even in work it was civil at best. Stella was angry at Jake’s behaviour, how pathetic he was being over the whole Roque thing, a kiss that had been nothing more than an undercover distraction, but more than anything she was hurt. It was clear to her that he didn’t care about her like he used to. Things had already shifted between them dramatically since that evening a few months ago back home after they’d been out for drinks with Pooch and Jolene. He’d become a little more aloof so to speak, and whilst they still hung out, did all the things they used to do as best friends, and still fucked, she’d noticed how he was less affectionate before and after. Almost like he had deliberately put up a wall to remind her that this was simply an arrangement, so in her mind, especially after his outburst in the van following the latest mission, he had absolutely no right to be pissed at her for kissing or going with anyone, regardless. But, after a fortnight or so of being treated to Jake’s cold stares, being intentionally ignored in conversations, and being subjected to watching him attempting to flirt with any female he came across, Stella went into self-preservation mode and avoided hanging around with any of them outside of work as much as she could.

August ticked into September, and it was almost a month or so after the mission when Clay rocked into the little office the Losers used on the base and Stella smiled at him, looking up from a report she had been writing on a couple of recruits she’d been asked to train.

“I didn’t know you were back.” She smiled as he perched on the edge of her desk.

“Got in this morning.” He replied, “Where’s the rest of the team?”

“Pooch is on Drill Ops, Cougar is on the shooting range and as for Jensen, your guess is as good as mine. I haven’t spoken to him in ages. In fact, I don’t even know if he’s in the State or not.”

“Still?” Clay groaned “Oh come on Arty, don’t you think this has gone on long enough? When are you gonna sort stuff out?”

“When he grows up and apologises for being a jerk.”

“So basically never.” Clay rolled his eyes.

Stella shrugged “I don’t want to talk about it Clay.”

“Fine, whatever.” Clay sighed, “Do you reckon you could at least try to be civil though? It’s gonna make running this team hard work if you two are at each other’s throats. And I don’t wanna have to ask one of you to leave.”

She looked at him, and he stuck his bottom lip out and she sighed before she turned back to her computer “I’ll think about it.”

“Suppose that’s better than a flat out ‘Fuck off, Clay…” he rolled his eyes, hopping off the desk and ruffling her hair. Stella ducked out of the way, swatting at his hand. “Oh, before I go, you got the reports on the Atlanta job?”

“Yeah, they’re in the Red Link area…” Stella pushed her chair back and stood up, smoothing down her uniform top before she gestured for Clay to follow her. Together they made their way down the corridor and Stella stopped at a high-security door, bending down so the scanner pad could take her retina print. Once inside the door shut behind her, and she swiped her ID into the slot to the side of the other thick, glass door which opened in front of her. She moved into the main room and turned, waiting for Clay to enter behind her.

“I fucking hate those things.” Clay mumbled as he stepped through the entrance. “They make me feel like I’m about to plummet through the floor into Thunderbird one.”

Stella chuckled “Its top secret, classified info Clay, you know this.”

She strode over to the key safe positioned on the wall, punched in the code and then selected the relevant key. Clay followed her to the a cabinet at the back which she unlocked and pulled out a Manilla file with the words “MILITARY SECRET- CLASSIFIED” Stamped all over, and the words “Operation Bon Echo” underneath. She handed it to him and then grinned.

“I don’t need to tell you that ya can’t take that outta this room do I?” she teased and Clay shot her a look.

“Stel, I been running Military ops since you were knee high to a grass hopper.” He arched an eyebrow and she laughed.

“Do you want me to stay so we can go through it or…” “No.” he shook his head “I just want to read it now it’s not that fresh in my mind. Helps me analyse it a little better. I’ll call an official Lessons Learned at some point.”

“Ok, well when you’re done make sure you lock up.” She said. “And don’t forget to make sure you swipe your ID again on the way out, or the system will still think you’re here.” “Grasshopper.” Clay looked at her again and she laughed.

“I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t check.” She smiled “I’ll catch you later.”

Clay waved her off and Stella let herself out. Deciding that she could do with a break she wandered out of the Original Headquarters building she was stationed passing the Kryptos sculpture in the little courtyard and made her way down through the landscaped garden area where a few people were milling around, sat at the various benches, taking in the bright early September Sun that had settled over Virginia. She passed the main entrance to the CIA Museum and made her way over to the Starbucks near the New HQ building. More people were sat outside on the benches and she felt herself inwardly groan as she recognised 3 of them. Pooch, Cougar and Jensen. Of course.

“Hey Arty!” Pooch called and she smiled, making her way over “We were just talking about you.”

“Sounds ominous.” She said, her eyes focussed on him to avoid looking at Jensen.

“We ain’t seen you properly in weeks.” Cougar leaned back in his chair, his hat as always perched on his head.

“Well I’ve been busy” she shrugged, “And speaking of which, I gotta get back so...” she gestured to the door of the Starbucks and smiled.

“Movie and pizza on Friday?” Pooch asked “Jolene’s coming here this weekend, sure she’d be pleased to see you.” “Yeah, maybe.” Stella nodded. Pooch flashed her a smile, as did Cougar, before she turned and walked away.

“So now you’re not even speaking? At all?” Pooch looked at Jensen who shrugged, picking at the label on his Starbucks cup. The words “Glasses” had been scribbled on the side by the barista as a means of identifying who the coffee belonged to. They weren’t allowed to ask the Agents’ names so instead they usually provided physical descriptors of something around their appearance when ordering. Cougars usually bore the word “Cowboy” given that he was rarely without his black Stetson and Pooch’s held the words “Eight Ball” on account of him being that closely shorn he was almost bald. Jake had found it amusing at the time when he’d offered that up to the pretty girl behind the counter…

“You’re being a pain in the ass.” Pooch glared at him. “And a buzzkill.”

“How, what…why am I a buzzkill?” Jensen looked at him, frowning.

“Cos she’s not hanging around with us anymore because you’re being a prick.” Cougar shot back, picking up his coffee and taking a sip.

Jensen ignored Cougar, as he placed the cup down on the table, his finger absentmindedly trailing round the rim of the plastic lid. He knew he’d fucked up. He could remember the hurt in Stella’s eyes when she had opened the door in the van to hear him protesting how she wasn’t his girl. He’d been pissed off, and had snapped it out in a moment of frustration and anger but deep down he knew that it wasn’t true. Well, it was true…she wasn’t his girl anymore, because of decision he had made years ago, a decision that he’d come to with the best of intentions but knowing that didn’t make it any easier.

What hurt him more than anything now, however, was the realisation he’d come to that night of the mission as he’d led in the hotel room. He was still dragging her along with every damned decision he made, and the more he thought about it the more he realised that had been the case through the entire time they’d known one another. They started dating when he finally plucked up the courage to ask her out. They quit because he decided it was right. Then the ‘arrangement’ they had was something he came up with, because it suited him and he’d been selfish, well and truly had his cake and eaten it. She played along with his decisions every damned time and that made him feel like shit. Because she was such a strong, vibrant, stubborn person in every other area of her life. She was fierce, took no shit, she was a fucking bad ass…and the only explanation for her allowing him to be the way he was, was that she loved him, like really loved him. And he didn’t deserve her.

He knew what he had to do, he had to end their arrangement although he was pretty sure it was at an end anyway. Maybe his outburst in the van had been a blessing in disguise. But that said, she was still the best friend he’d ever had, the person he cared about most in the world and he didn’t want her to hate him to the extent she didn’t want to speak to him ever again. He might be a dumbass but he wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t naive enough to think that things could ever go back to how they were before they’d dated, but he had to try and salvage something…even if it was simply so that she could actually bring herself to hold a conversation.

**** Stella was sat on her sofa, munching on a bag of popcorn when there was a knock on her door. Given that no one had buzzed through, that meant it was someone who lived in the block that housed The Losers’ CIA Owned Condos. Pressing pause on her remote, temporarily halting Simba’s pouncing lesson she padded over to the door and checked through the viewer. When she saw who it was she gave a deep breath and debated not answering it, before she gave her head a shake and mentally told herself to grow up.

“Since when have you started knocking on my door?” she asked, opening it “You usually just walk in…”

“Well given how things have been between us I wasn’t sure you’d appreciate me using my key.” He smiled at her. “Can I come in?”

Stella turned around and headed back inside her condo, “You want a beer?”

“No, it’s ok. Thanks. I errr, I wanna talk to you.”

“Sounds serious?” she turned back to look at him as she crossed towards her sofa. She perched where she had been previously sat, tucking her legs up besides her and Jake took a seat a few cushions down, nodding at the TV.

“You must know this off by heart by now.”

“You know full well I do.”

“Yeah, that and every other damned Disney film out there.” he snorted and she grinned, before she took a deep breath.

“I’m pretty certain you didn’t come over to discuss my Disney obsession Jake.”

“Yeah, erm…” Jensen cleared his throat. “I came to apologise. I’ve been an ass, a childish ass, and I’m sorry.”

Stella looked at him, before she took a deep breath, but she didn’t speak so he carried on.

“I want us to be friends again.” He said gently and she studied him for a moment before she sighed and gave him a soft smile, reaching for his hand.

“I’m sorry too Jake.” She said, licking her lips “I haven’t exactly behaved like a grown up either…and I’ve missed you.”

Jensen looked at her, and saw her eyes were shining and he knew she wasn’t getting him. He let out a soft sigh and hung his head and instantly her hand moved from his, reading his body language and signs as she always could.

“Jakey, what’s wrong?” she asked softly and he raised his head to look at her and he shook it gently side to side. God, she was making this so damned hard.

“I think you got me wrong Stel…” his eyes locked onto hers, his voice soft.

“What do you mean?” she frowned “I thought you wanted things to go back to how they were?”

“I do, but…not like that.” He shook his head “This thing between us, this…arrangement…I think its best we stop.”

Stella felt a wave of cold crashing over her and she temporarily froze as she realised that this was it, his final admission that his feelings for here were nothing more than friendly, that she was nothing more than a convenient way for him to simply get his dick wet from time to time. And now she wasn’t even that.

“Stel?” Jake said softly and she blinked a little, pulling herself together. She gave him the best smile she could muster and nodded.

“If that’s what you want.”

��I think it’s for the best” Jake chose his words carefully, because it wasn’t what he wanted, and despite himself, even now, he couldn’t lie to her.

“Ok.” She nodded, giving him another small smile.

“Hey, we had a good run.” He said, attempting to break the tension and she rolled her eyes.

“You’re a jerk.” She shook her head, and he shrugged.

“I know.”

There was a moment’s pause, and for the first time Jensen could remember, it was fucking awkward. And he had to get out of there. “I err, I should…” her gestured over his shoulder towards the door with his thumb and Stella nodded.

“Sure.” She agreed “I got a film to finish so…”

“I’ll leave you to it.” He said, standing. “Buy you a coffee tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Stella smiled.

He nodded to her, his hand falling to her shoulder as he stood up, giving it a squeeze.

Stella just managed to hold her tears back long enough for him to shut the door behind him.

***** Things between the two of them settled down after that, but there was a shift, that didn’t go unnoticed by them or the rest of the team for that matter. The once best friends turned lovers turned best friends with benefits now had to navigate simply being buddies. It was odd for them both but they managed to remain on good terms. Not great, but good. They could hold a conversation, laugh, joke…the team was happier because of it. But there were no movie nights, no time spent alone. Neither wanted themselves put in that position, this was the new normal for Jake and Stella now, just how it had to be. It hurt them both- after so long, of course it would…but it was better than nothing.

Another month ticked over, and October brought some cooler weather. The leaves on the trees turned to their firey reds, golds and yellows announcing that Fall had arrived, and brought with it Stella’s favourite thing of the season…pumpkin spiced lattes.

“You have an unhealthy addiction to those things…” Pooch grinned as she picked up the coffee from the counter.

“Best thing about Fall.” She shrugged, turning to leave. She instantly collided with a wall of solid muscle and her precious latte went cascading down the front of her uniform and the crisp, white shirt of the unfortunate man she had collided with.

“Shit!” he yelled and Stella’s hand flew to her mouth

“Oh my God, I’m so, so sorry!” she looked at the man, instantly noticing the deep, blue eyes that looked back at her. They were shining with a natural, kind natured glint and she swallowed as the man sighed, and shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it.” He said, his voice deep “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Stella placed the now half-empty cup down on the side, and took the pile of napkins Pooch handed to her.

“Thanks…” she mumbled, before she offered them to the man.

“What, you’re not gonna wipe it down for me?” he winked and she gave a snort before she chuckled a little, shaking her head.

“I think I’m in enough trouble as it is, don’t you?” she smiled and he gave another chuckle, as he dabbed at his shirt which had now started to go a little see through thanks to it being wet. A not entirely unpleasant turn of events in Stella’s opinion. She scanned him up and down quickly, taking in his sharp navy suit, shiny shoes, black tie before she looked back at his face which sported an immaculately trimmed beard, sharp nose and jawline, brow furrowed in concentration as he focussed on cleaning his shirt up.

“No trouble.” He flashed her a smile that lit up his handsome face, his eyes crinkling slight in the corner and Stella swallowed a little, surprised to find her stomach fluttering ever so slightly with butterflies.

“I err, I should go…” she nodded. “I’m sorry again.”

“Like I said, don’t worry about it.”

She gave him another smile, the heat in her necks and cheeks unbearable, before she picked up what was left of her latte and along with Pooch exited the store.

“Ok, so he just totally watched you leave.” Pooch nudged her and she shook her head.

“Stop!”

“Girl he was eye fucking you!” Pooch snorted “And you were eye fucking him!”

“I was not…” she protested, before he looked at her and she laughed, shaking her head “Ok, maybe I was…a little. Girl can look, right?”

“Hey, no judgement from me!” Pooch smiled “You’re young, free, single…”

“Yeah…” Stella sighed, stealing a look over her shoulder taking in the mystery man from behind “That I am. Thanks for the reminder.”

“You know you could just tell him how you feel.” Pooch gently suggested as they walked towards the entrance of their building.

“What?” Stella looked at him. “How I feel? I just, literally bumped into the guy.”

“I don’t mean him, I mean Jensen.”

“What? Why would you…” Stella looked at Pooch who raised an eyebrow at her. She shook her head “That’s done, it’s over. He ended it, again, and this time it’s a clean break. I’m not raking over old ground, Pooch. Nothing good comes of it.”

Pooch looked at her as he swiped his access card, pulling the door open and allowing Stella to step into the building in front of him. She headed down the corridor, her camouflage clad shoulders slumped a little and Pooch sighed.

“Pair of dumbasses.” He mumbled to himself, as he headed after her towards the office.

***** The good thing about Arty and Jensen being on speaking terms was that their team social events were lighter in atmosphere, and at the end of the week when Clay suggested a few beers they all accepted.

It was the Friday before Halloween, and The Losers were gathered in a bar not far from their Condo building. It was packed full of people, some in fancy dress, some not. The bar itself was decked out in Halloween decorations, Jack-O-Lanterns spaced along the dark wood bar and on the taller tables at the sides of the room. As Roque and Clay came back from the bar with drinks for the team, they handed them out and Clay paused as Jensen had picked up the lantern from their table. He held it next to his face and arranged his features into a grin and Pooch snorted as Jensen placed it back down, picking up his beer.

“I take it from the fact you’re back that your pick up line didn’t work on that nurse.” Pooch looked at Jensen who shrugged.

“What was it this time?” Clay asked “Did you use the ‘did it hurt when you fell from heaven’ line or was it more of a ‘I’m a trained, lethal killing machine, wanna see my weapon’ kinda moment?”

Cougar, Roque and Pooch snorted, whilst Cougar looked at Arty who was studying the label on her beer bottle “Tell me you didn’t fall for anything like that?” he quipped.

“JJ never used a chat-up line on me, Coug.” She shrugged and Jake looked at her.

“I was 10 when we met, Stel.” He arched an eyebrow “10 year olds don’t use chat-up lines.”

“We didn’t start dating until we were 17.” She looked at him, taking a swig from her bottle.

“Exactly, seven years later. Didn’t need one.” He winked. She rolled her eyes before she grinned.

“Actually, you kinda used one once…but we’d already been dating for 10 months by that point.”

Jensen frowned “What?”

“Prom night. We got home to yours and you turned to me, and said, and I quote, ‘wanna fuck’?”

Jensen grinned and Cougar looked at them both “Wait, you dated for 10 months before you…” “We did other stuff.” Jake shrugged.

Cougar snorted.

“We were kids, Coug.” Stella smiled

“Awww, did you pop his cherry, Stel?” Pooch grinned and Stella smiled in response.

“Hey, I popped hers too.” Jake chipped in.

“I feel like I should be congratulating you or something.” Clay said, causing the team to laugh and Stella rolled her eyes.

“It wasn’t some big mission, Clay…” She looked at him and Jensen snorted.

“It felt like it.” He placed his bottle on the table before he smirked “I had to get my dad to make sure the house was empty.”

That entire day was imprinted on his brain, fresh as if it had happened only yesterday…but in that moment he was taken back to the conversation with his dad as he stood in the living room, just before heading out to pick Stella up.

“Hey dad…” Jake looked up as John walked into the room. “Will anyone be home when I get back?”

John Jensen looked at his son, arching an eyebrow “I know your game…” Jake shrugged and grinned. “Just…oh, I dunno, just be careful ok? I’ll take your mom out for a drink but I can’t promise we’ll be out late.”

“That’s ok.” Jake said, “Me and Stel aint planning on staying too long anyway. Just long enough to see who spikes the punch or starts the first fight.”

“As long as it ain’t you.” His dad looked at him and Jake grinned.

“Hey, I’m a lover not a fighter.”

“Yeah, sure you can kill ‘em all with love when you join the army.” John snorted and Jake shrugged.

“Come here, let me sort your tie…” John sighed, stepping forward to straighten the knot. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m asking you this but…you got any condoms son?”

“A few.” Jake shrugged.

At that John laughed “ A few? I admire your optimism.” He paused and then narrowed his eyes “Did you steal them from my stash?”

“No I bought em, Jesus…” Jake groaned “Like I needed that image.”

“Yeah because the image of my 18 year old son banging his childhood sweetheart is so much better.” John rolled his eyes.

“You and mom are like a hundred or whatever.” Jake looked at him, pulling a disgusted face “It’s gross.”

“Ok.. Now listen to me. If your mother finds out you’re…you know…this conversation, never happened.” John stepped back “You hear me?”

“Loud and clear pops.” Jake nodded “You know though, Stel’s stayed here before. Mom didn’t seem to mind.” “That’s because your mother never heard you hitting each base like I did. She thinks Stella stays in the spare room, whereas I know full well she stays with you and then sneaks back in there before everyone gets up…”

His dad had come through for him. He house was empty when they got back. His mom had actually been cool about it all as well to be fair, she loved Stella, still did as a matter of fact. As the memory of the morning after their first time came back to him, he grinned and looked at Arty.

“Remember mom knocking on my door in the morning, asking if she was bringing 2 cups of coffee in or 1?”

“Fuck, yes.” Stella snored “I nearly died of embarrassment.”

“But she never bothered putting you in the spare room again.” He winked as the group laughed. “Good times.”

“Yeah, yeah they were.” Stella sighed, before her eyes fell back to her bottle of beer, biting back the snipe she had brewing in her mind.

Before you fucked it all up…

“Hey…” Pooch nudged her and she looked at him, noticing he was watching something at the bar “Aint that flash coffee dude?”

“What?” Stella asked, her eyes snapping to where Pooch was looking “Oh yeah.”

“Who’s flash coffee dude?” Clay asked.

“Guy at the bar in the grey sweater.” Pooch said, grinning “Arty spilt a pumpkin spiced latte all down his shirt. He didn’t seem to mind though, was too busy undressing her with his eyes.”

At that Jake’s head snapped up and he looked over at the man who was stood with another guy a little shorter than him, chatting as he perched effortlessly on one of the high stools, his long jean clad legs stretching out in front of him, right foot resting on the rail at the bottom.

“That’s Evan Christianson.” Roque said “He works in Intel.”

“What kind of a dick name is that?” Jensen snorted

“Who cares?” Stella said, her eyes still on the man “With a body and face like that he can be called what the fuck he wants. Look at his poise…”

“You know…” Cougar took a pull of his beer “I’m not gay but I’m considering giving it a go.”

They all laughed bar Jensen who was studying the man Stella seemed to have the hots for. He wasn’t surprised at all to feel that green eyed monster stirring in his belly, but what could he do? They were free agents, it wasn’t like he expected her to stay single forever. He stole a look at Stella who was smirking a little at something Cougar had just said, shaking her head.

“Absolutely not, I’ll make a tit of myself.” She protested.

“You already did that when you spilt coffee all down him.” Pooch smirked “Don’t be a pussy.”

Stella bit her lip, weighing up her options. Should she? Could she? In the corner of her eye she saw Jake turn away, and momentarily felt a flash of guilt before she shook herself out of it.

He doesn’t want you anymore…

“Oh fuck it…” She shrugged, and grabbing her beer she headed off in the direction of the bar.

“Where is she going?” Jake asked.

“Don’t be a dumbass Jensen.” Roque smirked “It’s obvious.”

The men watched as Stella reached Evan and gently tapped his shoulder. He spun round and flashed her a huge grin, showing immaculate white teeth as he said something to her.

“Why is he smiling at her like that?” Jensen demanded and Clay looked at Pooch.

Cougar snorted “He likes her.”

“No shit Cougs…” Roque looked at him.

“Oh, he’s buying her a drink…” Pooch said, as Evan nodded towards Stella’s beer and then turned towards the bar tender.

“We have lift off boys!” Clay grinned, and the group smirked at one another, before they turned away, not wanting to watch or intrude. Jensen’s eyes, however, remained where they were until Clay slapped him on the shoulder.

“Cheer up Jensen.” He said gently

“I’m not…I don’t need to cheer up.” Jake shrugged, turning back to his beer. His eyes flickered around the bar then, deliberately avoiding the two of them stood at the bar before he focussed in on the Nurse he’d been talking to before he rolled his shoulders back and stated “Innabit losers, I got stuff to do.”

He headed across the bar towards the blonde and the remaining 4 men all looked at one another before shrugging, and continuing with their conversation. But Clay, always the leader, made sure to keep one eye on them both.

****

“It should be me buying you a drink.” Stella smiled and Evan laughed.

“Well what kind of gentleman would that make me?”

“The kind who had a hot cup of coffee spilt on him by a clumsy ass Captain who wasn’t watching where she was going.”

“Well, if I was the type of guy to use a pick up line, I’d tell you I was impressed that the clumsy, but might fine ass, belongs to a Captain.” He smiled and Stella grinned, her ego stoked a little at the veiled compliment to both her appearance and rank.

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She flirted back, thanking him as the bar tender slid their drinks over to them.

“I hope so.” He winked, taking a pull from his bottle. “I’m Evan by the way.”

“Evan Christianson, yeah I know.” She smiled, taking a drink herself and he looked at her, his eyebrow raised “Roque told me.”

“Oh you know Roque?”

“Yeah. We worked together under Clay.” She nodded to her team where they were all stood round their table, noticing that Jensen wasn’t with them. But before she could think anymore of it Evan spoke again, as he raised his beer to Roque who did the same in acknowledgement.

“Small world.” He smiled at Arty. “So, do I get to know your name or…”

“It’s Stella.” She smiled, “Stella Stevenson, or as that lot call me Arty…”

“Let me guess, short for Artois, like the drink.” He smiled and she laughed, nodding. “Well, Stella or Arty, pleased to meet you. Again.”

“I promise to try not to spill a drink on you this time.” She smiled and Evan gave a little chuckle.

“Well I am partial to a pumpkin spiced latte, prefer to drink them though not wear them if I can help it.”

“I thought you wore it pretty well to be fair.” Stella smiled and he raised an eyebrow, a cheeky glint flashed in his eyes.

“That so?”

She bit her lip and turned back to her drink, picking it up and taking a big sip, smiling to herself as she felt Evan’s eyes studying her face.

From there the conversation began to flow. Evan told her a bit about him, his role in the Intel branch, how he’d himself been in the Navy having worked his way up to Commander by the time he was 30 before leaving a few years back to join the CIA. He was a few years older than her at thirty-five, and hailed from Boston, although Arty had sussed that anyway through his accent. She in turn told him about her life, her career and a little about her family. He seemed interested, genuinely. Asked her questions, answered hers as he bought another couple of drinks, each time declining Stella’s offer to pay.

It was a surprise to her just how easy the conversation and gentle flirting came to her. Whilst her and Jensen hadn’t been together or badged as exclusive, she hadn’t had any kind of relationship since he’d ended things with her 5 years or so ago. She hadn’t been interested, but here…well, she was finding that interest piqued.

A few hours later she left the bar with a smile on her face…and Evan Christian’s number safely stored in her phone.

***** Chapter 2 Part 1

#too loose and you'll lose it #jake jensen x ofc #jake jensen x original female character #jake jensen #the losers

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years ago

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Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch 2- I’m Not Jealous, Why Would I Be Jealous

Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Warnings: Bad Language words. Some angst and 2 dumbasses so afraid to admit their feelings to one another, they’d rather ignore them completely…

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

And yes, our other OC in here is shamelessly basically Mr Evans himself...

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