#they’re used to people closing doors in their face so it’s better than antagonizing them

[miraculous-ninjabird]

I as an ex-mormon have found a pretty solid strategy for the missionaries who are always coming around my house. (I never bothered with the legal process of getting my name removed). It’s so far worked pretty well and doesn’t actually involve me telling them no (since I often have an issue with that. I’m working on it).

I’ll note my strategy won’t work for everyone. I’d encourage people who encounter mormon missionaries to try it if they are able but if you can’t or won’t then the best thing you can do is just politely tell them ‘no thanks’. Please don’t antagonize them it’ll just make thing worse. But anyways. Moving on.

I’ll almost always let them in when they ask unless I’m busy or have plans. I’ll often times let them schedule another time to come by if I am busy.

My strategy is to immediately engage them and get them talking about themselves. Their interests, where they’re from, their pets back home, what they plan to study in school, places they are interested in checking out on the one day off a week they get, ect. Anything other then the reason they came (religion).

My reasoning behind it as follows. These are young men and woman ages 18-22, many of whom this is their very first time out ‘on their own’ in the real world. But they have lots of rules to follow and they are literally expected to eat, sleep and breath religion. Even on their ‘days off’ they are heavily restricted on what they are allowed to do. I want to give them a chance to be just people without all that. I want to help remind them that they individuals and that their religion does not define them.

Guys you should see how excited some of these people get when they see I genuinely I want to hear about them and their interests outside of their religion. They’ll go on and on about this or that. Their favorite books or that movie they’re really excited to see when they finally get home or the dog that they miss or how they used to love helping out on their grandfather’s goat farm or how they hope that they’ll get transferred up norther next spring because they really want to see that solar eclipse or the degree that they’re planning to peruse. Often times they get so caught up in what they are telling me that they forget the reason they even came in the first place.

It’s both very heartwarming and in a way kind of sad because I know my house is one of the few times that they can just be who they are without the religion. When they are with me I actively encourage them to talk about and think about things that are important to them but that they simply don’t get the chance to talk about or hardly even think about while they are on their missions.

Often times I’ll get the same pairs coming back and a good 8/10 they forget the religion entirely and just get to be themselves. Sometimes I’ll make dinner for them. I’ll invite them to play board games (this invitation can be hit and miss). Overall we all have a pretty enjoyable time with the trade off is the 2/10 times they remember I have to sit through a prayer or a 5 minute lesson or an invitation to come on Sunday. But I personally don’t mind that. I spent a lot of time feeling oppressively surrounded by their belief system when I was just as an everyday member so I can’t imagine how bad it must get sometimes to have that be your only thought every moment of the day. If I can provide a space to help relieve that pressure on these missionaries then I’m more than happy to sacrifice here or there.

And you know. I’m queer and while I don’t flaunt it I’m not shy about it in my own home. Anyone who visits will immediately know. Most missionaries won’t ask or even bring it but but the results in regards to the ones that do have actually been resoundingly positive. They’ve been polite and willing to engage in an honest discussion with me about their beliefs in that front and why I take issue with it. I’ve had times where having these people over, engaging them on a personal level, and showing them that ‘hey I am a normal person just like you’ has actually made a legitimate difference. I’ve gotten missionaries to question the very bigoted beliefs held by many members of their church. I’ve had missionaries say ‘you know that’s a good point. I don’t know why that is, I’ll have to look into it.’

Even if that doesn’t happen I’ve never had things go badly. I’ve never been insulted or called slurs. I the worst I’ve gotten is them explaining their beliefs say my ‘lifestyle’ is wrong and then asking if they’re still anything they can do to convince me to change it. It’s always dropped when I say no. And while this is obviously not a good thing to say to a bi/enby person like me, I’m also fairly forgiving on that front. This is because I myself have had to go through the process of unlearning those bigoted beliefs. Unlearning and then Restructuring your entire worldview is a long, difficult, and confusing process and I personally am willing to give people the benefit of the doubt to allow them a chance to start that process. <- I will note that the missionaries that I have to politely but firmly shut down on this front often don’t come back but that’s fine since I’m not at all interested in what their religion has to say on the matter.

My hope here is that by being kind and welcoming and giving these people a safe place to see that ‘hey the outside world really isn’t as terrifying as the church tells you it is and that we are all just people trying to live our lives’ that maybe I’ll make a difference and encourage someone to reconsider their beliefs or give someone who doesn’t want to leave but feels trapped the courage to do so. I honestly couldn’t tell you if it makes a difference in their lives afterwards in regards to the church but I do know I’m making a big difference in their lives in that moment and for me that’s enough.

Plus there’s also the bonus of I don’t mind entertaining them for a few hours here or there and every hour they spend with me is one less hour they spend in the house of someone who really doesn’t want them there but was to nice to say no. So yea.

This was prompted by the fact that I had missionaries over at my house this morning and we had a lengthy and interesting discussion about space and exactly zero discussion about religion.

[watevermelon]

Just Enough | Diluc (Genshin) x Traveler!Reader

✧ Summary: Between freeing Dvalin and pursuing the Geo Archon, you were constantly moving forward to find your brother with hardly a second to look back. You were in a rush to find your lost sibling, not realizing how your heart had stopped in Mondstadt. Visiting the city while waiting for things to die down after Rex Lapis’ death, you return to a… jealous Diluc?

➳ Spoilers for the Dark Knight Hero quest and some of the manga background ➳ Notes: lots of fluff, slight angst and jealousy, character development, mutual pining at one point, a long one-shot that covers the (1.0) beginning of the Liyue story  ➳ Navigation

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If he had only asked you to stay.

To say that these past few weeks were a blur would be a severe understatement. For months you were simply a lost wanderer, traveling from world to world for any sort of clue that could lead you to your brother.

And in just a matter of weeks you were suddenly Mondstadt’s hero.

From bringing peace to Dvalin’s heart to meeting Mondstadt’s infamous Dark-knight hero, you were familiarizing yourself with a people and a place for a world you knew you did not belong to. Learning of the history of the Seven Archons, the Gods’ of contracts or of freedoms, suddenly you were being thrust into it all at once.

You shared the burden of knowledge with a few of Mondstadt’s elite, the true God of Freedom walking in plain sight to the citizens of his nation. And with him, were the quick allies you found side-by-side when fighting a dragon. 

It was all happening so suddenly and Lord Barbatos himself was giving you directions to the next country over, to continue on your journey in meeting all seven Archons to Liyue. 

To this day, you could fondly recall your final celebration in Mondstadt.

“To think that despite his small stature he can drink so much.” Kaeya commented from his seat at the table, eyes slid in the direction of Venti at the bar next to you. You could see the impatient stare behind Diluc’s eyes, not at all happy that their God was indulging himself so freely.

“Honorary Knight, Mondstadt thanks you for your service.” Jean formally stated, for the nth time since Dvalin had been freed.

“I’m just glad I was at the right place at the right time.” You answered back, offering a placating smile in return.

“Humility doesn’t pay for dinner!” Paimon hmphed next to you.

“But aren’t we at a feast now?” You countered, gesturing to the table. 

She sighed again before moving to get a taste of some of the honey roasted ham. “Fine, don’t blame me when we have to settle into that poor excuse of a tent!”

“Please, do not feel you are in any rush to leave.” Jean offered, “You are welcome lodgings at our Favonius Headquarters.”

“With the other Knights of Favonius?” Diluc asked, face completely blank if not for the small upward tilt of his left brow.

Kaeya flirted with you from across the room, uncaring of the other partygoers, “You could always stay with me.”

You laughed lightly and responded, “That’s a hard pass.”

The Cavalry Captain simply shrugged, offering it to you again if you changed your mind before grabbing another glass of wine and walking with Jean toward the busy table.

Barbara was trying different dishes and offering some to her older sister, spouting descriptions with medicinal purposes and flavors that compliment one another. Lisa was no better as Amber egged both of them on, completely sober as she continued to feast on the food laid before her. Other Knights of Favonius that you recognized were scattered about, enjoying the first truly peaceful night in the past few weeks.

“You are welcome to stay at the Dawn Winery, while you look for your brother.”

He relished in the sight of your smile.

“Thank you, Diluc.”

That was three months ago.

And since then you had been thrown into more of not your business but suddenly IS your business, business.

You remembered your last day before setting off from Mondstadt. The Knights of Favonius would surely call on you again and so you had quick goodbyes with Jean and Kaeya the day before. Venti was saved for last, a somewhat light-hearted and yet somber goodbye as he was the first and last person for you to see in Mondstadt. 

But Diluc… How could you even start that conversation?

He was the lone wolf with a prickly reputation and an even worse sense of patience. You remembered the first time you even spoke to him, clipped words meant to get straight to the point. Not to mention that he was the first person to antagonize Kaeya, who was one of the few people you kinda trusted in the beginning.

It was not until the side adventures, the little quests you did one-on-one that you realized how much more there was to the edgelord that was Diluc. 

Of course, he was still the strict type to focus solely on the mission. 

But you realized more about why Diluc had come to be this way. 

‘The uncrowned king of Mondstadt.’

As you worked together against the possible abyss invasion of Mondstadt, you poured over strategies and testing of his slime potion. And while slimes were not the hardest enemies to fight, he still complimented you on your form and appreciated your quick style with the sword.

You had a unique style, unlike Kaeya or anyone else of this world.

“Elegant, but deadly.”

You took that as a compliment.

And little by little Diluc opened up to you, cluing you into his personal history. 

He and Kaeya were step-brothers, growing up together at the Dawn Winery. How he knew Jean since he was child and once served as her superior in the very organization he now despised. How he still has things to protect, to avenge. And while his description about what happened to his father was nothing more than a quiet stare, you were still grateful that he was entrusting you into his world.

You remembered Kaeya’s words as he discovered Diluc’s nighttime secret:

“I’m glad you’re working with an assistant.”

Kaeya’s tone may have come out scathing, but you knew better. Kaeya and Diluc used to be close, close enough to entrust their lives with one another. There was no doubt that Kaeya still cared about his brother, but with Diluc pushing everyone away….

Again, you were so appreciative that he chose to let you in.

When Kaeya finally left the bar, you turned to Diluc with a smile. “I think my work tonight earned me at least one glass of wine?”

That broke a small smile on his face, not the slight tilt on the sides or the wistful, far off look he got when he recalled something beyond your knowledge.

“Alright.” He waved over a nearby waitress, all of the customers tonight employees of the Dawn Winery. “Let’s take this up to the balcony, I’m going to close up anyway.”

“Oh?” Paimon’s squeaky tone somehow went up another octave in curiosity, “I just remembered I have to ask Venti something! Why don’t you two enjoy your date alone.”

She flew away before you could swat at her for her teasing words, blush apparent on your face. Diluc kept his flat face as he maneuvered things behind the bar, wiping at something before putting something in the below cabinet. 

To your surprise, he handed you a bottle and two glasses, motioning with his head toward the second floor. Charles was among some of the ‘customers’ tonight, taking his usual spot behind the bar as Diluc stepped out.

You followed him wordlessly, walking up the steps and out the second-floor door closely behind him. He pulled out a wooden chair next to the table outside, you taking the seat underneath the stars as he plopped down alongside you.

“I thought the stars here in the city would get overcrowded by the lights.” You admitted, “But they’re beautiful even here.”

“Yeah, they are.” Diluc agreed, making you smile before turning to him.

“You’re not even looking at the stars.”

The pyro-user simply smirked, before looking up at the starry sky with you. You relished in the moment, glad to have some time alone with Diluc. Many had commented that the winery owner was so elusive, missing from the bar weeks at a time and unseen within the city walls. And yet here he was, enjoying the crisp air and a glass of wine with you.

“Thank you.” You started.

“Shouldn’t you be demanding thanks from me?” Diluc asked.

You laughed lightly, “Yeah, cause I’m sure that the abyss mage would have totally kicked your ass without me.”

Diluc had that slightly amused expression on, looking a bit more light-hearted as he turned to you with a slight tilt at the corner of his lips.

You continued, “I mean, thanks for entrusting me with your secret.”

Diluc paused, looking you straight in the eyes, probably to gauge your honesty. And he would concede that there was nothing else there. You wanted to be his friend, the first in a long time to have approached him without your own agenda regarding either the winery or his fortune.

In return, he poured you a glass of wine and replied, “You’ve long earned it.”

“Thank you, Diluc.” You took the glass and felt your heart flutter at the brush of his fingers. “I’m glad I got to know you.”

“I’m glad you’re in my life too.”

He shot you another one of his genuine, millisecond smiles before pouring some from the bottle for himself. 

“Wine and not grape juice today?”

But he did not answer, instead eyes latching onto the rise of goosebumps on your arms. You could not help it against the crisp Mondstadt air, naturally feeling a chill at this time of night. Without a word, he shrugged off his outer coat, the thick black one he wore at almost all times of day, and rested it casually on your shoulders.

You muttered a small thanks as you snuggled into it. Diluc’s iconic dark coat, a complete contrast to yourself. While you wore a white dress with open sleeves and plenty of skin, Diluc wore black covering most of his body with the exception of his neck and face. Seeing it on your shoulders only reminded you of that fact.

“Don’t need you getting sick anytime soon.” Diluc stated plainly, as he returned to his seat.

You huddled into it more and replied, “Aw, Diluc cares.” Again, you were rewarded with another flat expression. “Or rather, if the events of today are to show anything, you’ve always cared. Just in your own, protective way.”

He slung an arm across the back of your seat, leaning closer before stating in a low voice. “Don’t forget that.”

Your eyes snapped to his, the both of you basically sharing the same breath in your close proximity. His scarlet eyes, usually a searing color when on the battlefield, looked surprisingly tender only inches from yours.

“You mean so much to me, Diluc.” You whispered back, afraid that anything above a whisper would punctuate this amorous atmosphere.

He slowly dragged his face alongside yours, stopping beside your ear and continuing in his low voice. “So do you.”

There was no stopping the shiver of anticipation that crawled up your spine.

You could feel the small smirk grow against your skin before he pulled off and grazed his lips against your forehead.

The expression on your face was practically begging him to kiss you. From the small lean in your side against his arm slung around you to the way your eyes slowly fluttered closed, it took all of his self-control to stop himself before he pulled you closer. He wanted nothing more than to grasp you by the back of your neck, relish in the way you melt against him. To kiss you now and tomorrow and maybe even the morning after at the winery.

Diluc had to remind himself that in less than a week you were going to be long gone.

He did not want to ruin this memory a week from now, asking what if and why. And so he settled on a simple kiss above your brow before leaning back in his seat, enjoying the moment he had with you tonight.

You were disappointed, but actually not surprised. It was a feat in itself that you were so close to Diluc in this short amount of time, it would do no good in pressuring him into anything else. But also, another more rational part of you, had to remind yourself that getting attached to the people of this world would only make it hurt more when you had to return home.

This was for the better.

But no matter how much rational thought Diluc used to push you away, you were sure that you had already fallen for him. From the small interactions with Diluc, you could barely recognize the moment that you were completely enamored with him. It was not during the first time you saw him fight or even the night he leant you his jacket. No, you feared it was much before then.

To think you had gotten attached to Diluc in such a short amount of time.

But then you had to say goodbye.

“Safe travels.” Diluc stated from behind the bar when he saw you enter on your last day.

You were not sure what you expected, a drawn out goodbye or a fore longed hug, but Diluc was still, well. He was still Diluc. And to see him re-erecting his walls before you left for your journey was a sad thought, but needed while the two of you were hundreds of miles away from one another.

But you would regret it if you didn’t say anything.

Instead you settled on, “I’ll miss you.”

The hopeful look in your eyes spelled out exactly what you wanted to hear back.

Diluc instead replied, “You fight good.”

“Oh. Um.” The hesitation was clear in your voice.

Was this really how you were going to leave things?

But with Diluc turning his attention back to the wine glass he was previously wiping, yes. It seemed that this was exactly how he wanted to leave it. Paimon scoffed, but said her own goodbyes before flying away.

“Goodbye, Diluc.”

Outside the tavern, you let your frown grow at that interaction. After everything you had been through together, Diluc complimented you on your fighting? Then said peace out?

“That was really lame.” Paimon commented aloud as she floated alongside you. You could not help but internally agree, but you had a whole journey ahead of you. At least the busyness of Liyue would keep you busy from dwelling on that conversation.

But as you said goodbye to Venti, the both of you stood in silence under the giant tree staring at the city. You thought about going back three times, to get a proper goodbye out of Diluc. But doing so would do neither of you any good, since it would only open more issues.

“No more questions about the other Archons?” Venti asked, voice surprisingly serious.

“Can’t think of anything.”

“None even of a certain… winery owner?” You could almost hear the smile in his voice.

You rolled your eyes and responded, “You’re such a little shit.”

“Hehe.”

You both continued to stare at the city, the marvels of its people and history within its high walls. To think Barbatos and Dvalin were finally free, because of your otherworldly intervention. Venti was truly thankful for you, and while he knew his words were on the more mischievous side, he knew that you understood.

Venti’s voice permeated the air. “Be safe in Liyue.”

You smiled back and offered him a tight hug, replying. “As always.”

To think that the same day that you stepped into Liyue, Rex Lapis was murdered before your very eyes. It was like the Gods actually hated you, having to rely on a Fatui to run away from the government officials hot on your trail.

Since then you had been working with Zhongli to prepare for a parting ceremony. From running around for certain types of Jade materials to singing to flowers, you were happy to take a second to yourself at all. You were afraid that trouncing around Liyue with a bounty on your head would do you no good and often stayed in the wild areas. Visits to the city were for necessities only, which often left you relying on the ever so truthful Childe or the mora-averse Zhongli.

More than three months after your initial departure to Liyue, you stepped back into the walls of Mondstadt’s bustling city, a commission nearby and you figured you were safe simply due to your reputation under the Knights of Favonius.

Venti was the last face you saw and the first face that greeted you, beckoning to join him for lunch. With your final commission of the day finished, you joined him with a smile and ordered some honey roasted ham.

You recounted some of the news to Venti, meeting many of the adeptus and how out of touch they seemed with the region. You described Zhongli from the funeral parlor who always felt like he knew more and played a higher part in Liyue (and you inwardly noted how Venti’s eyes lit up in recognition at the name). And also, Childe the Fatui Harbinger that had you on edge. 

“You’re hanging out with a harbinger?” Venti asked.

“Uh oh.” Paimon reacted.

“Well.” You remembered your last encounter with Signora. “It’s complicated.”

Venti paused before sighing, “Is he cute?”

“That’s not why!” You huffed back instantly.

“So he is cute!”

“And rich!” Paimon added, joining in on the teasing.

“Not the issue here.” You stated, “He saved me from the Millelith and helped me get into contact with the adepti.”

Venti’s mischievous smile from the earlier teasing turned blank, as if he was fully ingesting your words. “... Why would he do that?”

“Huh?”

But Venti quickly recovered, waving away the question and urging you to move past it. “Just thinking out loud, continue. What happened after?”

And so you recalled everything from then. How the soldiers followed you all the way up the mountain and how you had to defend yourself from people that were supposed to be on the same side as you. 

How there was someone out there with the strength to take down a God.

Venti laughed at you for like, twenty minutes.

After his laughter subsided, he held a hand over his stomach and asked. “They think you killed Rex Lapis?”

He took another look at your pouting face and laughed again.

It only made you scowl further. “I’m glad you think my supposed war crimes are so funny.”

“I think I’m missing the punchline again.” Paimon added.

“Hehe. You’ll be fine.” Venti shot back his mischievous smile, “Besides, I’m sure you’re looking forward to laying low here with a certain… someone here.”

You paused and put your fork back down, “What are you trying to say?”

“Well, the Dawn Winery is throwing a festival tonight.” Venti stated clearly, “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“Wait, really?”

The mischievous light was back in Venti’s eyes, “I’m sure the winds of fate have brought you here purely on coincidence.”

You sighed and turned to him fully. “You trying to fight, old man?”

“Hehe.” His signature giggle, one you found almost endearing, was undoubtedly mocking you. “We should go together later.”

And true to his word, somehow you found yourself with the Anemo Archon heading over to the bar. To think that it was Venti who introduced you here and now he was bringing you along again.

That is, if you even had a chance to make it inside at this rate.

The area was packed to the brim, all the seats outside in front and on the side of the building already taken. There was a line out the door, many hopeful young women with gleaming eyes trying to get a one-on-one conversation with the current barkeep and owner.

You peered into the open door and saw Diluc and Charles behind the bar, the red-head adorned with his usual flat-expression. It was the first time in months since you had seen him, but he looked exactly as the day you had left. Still the same colored wardrobe and prickly atmosphere, Diluc was still, Diluc.

What did not help was the ever growing line of flirty men and women trying to vye for his attention.

It only seemed to further nail the pit in your stomach.

Was this… jealousy?

You didn’t dwell on the thought for long.

Instead, you considered for a single-second if you should just turn tail now, but Venti must have seen your hesitation and grabbed you by the arm to walk inside. Dozens of eyes followed you on the way in, many people recognizing you as the young hero of Mondstadt and honorary knight of Favonius.

The crowd was surprisingly less inside, but knowing Diluc he probably would have tried to corral everyone to the outdoor areas. Venti continued to lead you towards a table in the back and you saw a familiar red-bowed Outrider.

“I didn’t even know you were going to be here today!” She greeted you excitedly. 

“Tone-Deaf Bard here convinced us to stay the night.” Paimon replied.

“Oh?” Her voice lifted in a tone that only spelled trouble, “No matter, I’m glad to see you in one piece.”

“I’m assuming you’ve heard.”

Amber stretched in her seat and lowered her voice, smile turning to a smirk. “Well, I won’t confirm anything. But my suspicions are that the blonde person the Knights were pursuing for stealing the Holy Lyre may be the same blonde person running from the Millelith.”

“What a crazy theory.” Paimon responded as she cleared her throat.

“At least it’s just a theory, right?” Amber replied. “Anyway, we’ll hold the seats. Do you mind going up to the bar to order?”

Paimon chimed up as she floated down into the wooden seat, “Yeah, you should go.”

You barely had a second to object before Venti agreed and was motioning for you to go back to the bar. If not for their eager stares at you, you would have rolled your eyes at how obvious they were being.

“Fine, fine. I’m going.” You stated aloud, getting up from the seat you inhabited for at most ten minutes. 

Turning towards the bar, you took in a deep breath to collect your thoughts. To think you fought the Wolf of the North and Oceanid with more courage - it was just Diluc.

“Long time no see.” You greeted, trying to sound extremely casual. “Bottle of wine for one of your favorite people?”

Diluc looked at you for a quick second, then back down to the bar, then rapidly snapping back up to you in surprise. “Hey. Of course.”

Unsure what to say, you responded back with a simple, “Thank you.”

“Didn’t know you’d be in town today.”

“It was all coincidence. Venti told me about your event tonight.” You mentioned, motioning behind you to the table where the three of them were waiting. Amber waggled her eyebrows in response and you turned back to Diluc in embarrassment.

But he was looking at you the entire time. “For a war criminal, you look well.”

“Ugh, not you too.”

“Ironic how you delinquents always return here while hiding it out.” Diluc did not answer, instead openly teasing you.

Honestly, it was a little ironic that you and Venti ran here after stealing the Holy Lyre, just to end up back here while the Millelith were on the hunt for you.

Instead you replied, “They didn’t release any names.”

“Right, it’s probably some other sword-wielding blonde with white clothes and access to the Anemo vision.”

“Obviously.”

To think you were so involved in Teyvat's politics. An otherworldly being with no prior connections to the people or nations was somehow involved with the highest ranking people of every country you’ve stumbled into.

Everyone from the Dvalin team knew about your primary objectives: to find your brother and regain your full power through the seven Archons. And when news of Rex Lapis’ death reached Mondstadt, Diluc could almost physically feel the dread in his heart that something had happened to you. And when the Millelith released their man-hunt of your exact profile, there was no doubt that you were involved. 

To see you standing before him, in association with an Archon of all people, it was like a breath of fresh air on his heart. You were here in the tavern, fine and even enjoying the night. 

A large part of him wanted to ask about your journey, what was it that had you on the run again? But with the growing line out the door, he knew he barely had time to keep this conversation going.

So instead, Diluc grabbed glasses and a bottle of wine from beneath the bar and asked, “Spare a few minutes for me later?”

You nodded quietly, handing him the necessary Mora before returning back to the table.

Amber did not pull her punches, “So, you guys dating yet?”

You almost dropped the bottle, but Venti was quick even through his laughter.

“Yeah and I’m the Archon of Snezhnaya.” Paimon replied sarcastically.

“Shut up.” You pouted, “It was just nice to see each other after all this time.”

“Oh so you had a good conversation? Did he ask you to stay after? Are you going to stay the night? Did he offer for you to stay at the Dawn Winery?” Amber spit out question after question, not a sense of patience or tact in her words.

Venti was still laughing like the Archon of assholes he was.

While they prodded through their multiple questions, you tried to wave them away to another conversation topic. If Amber was prodding you like this, you could only imagine that the other Knights, such as Kaeya and Jean, were also aware of your strange relationship.

Amber tried to push it a bit more, but you were able to spin the conversation to ask what the others were up to. It was interesting to hear about the little tasks in Mondstadt, small commissions that the Knights take care of in the city as well as guarding the areas further out into the country.

And while you hated to drift off with them sitting right in front of you, your mind often wandered toward the red-head behind the bar. Diluc had personally asked you to stay back later, undoubtedly to speak to you about something one-on-one. Would it be cowardly if you left early? Would the others notice if you tried to make a break for it at one point?

Again, it seemed as if Venti was capable of reading your mind, lightly calling you to attention and putting a casual hand on the back of your chair.

He was not letting you get away from this.

Venti even shifted the conversation to you, asking about Liyue and the local adventures you had while in the city. Unable to ignore the direct questions, you told them about the stories of the people you met so far and the strange events you seemed to be dragged into.

“Wait, start over.” Amber cut into your most recent story about a ship just outside of the Liyue city. ”You just glided down onto the Pearl Galley?”

You paused then replied, “Well. I mean the ship was just sitting there outside the harbor and I was curious.”

“And so you boarded a luxury ship without an invitation?”

“Yeah, so?” Paimon answered with a question, genuinely confused.

“And yet you wonder how you keep getting involved in all these crazy schemes.” Amber answered ambiguously.

“Well, eventually I did get an invitation.”

“But after you were already on the ship.” Amber pointed out. “How did you even glide that far out?”

“I climbed to the top of the nearby mountain and then just dropped down.”

“Wow.”

“Is it really a surprise?” Venti commented, “She doesn’t even follow the proper stairs here in the city. Don’t think we don’t see you climbing over every wall here in Mondstadt.”

“You’re such a weirdo.” Amber sighed with a smile, “You’re lucky we love you so much.”

You continued on with your stories, some in the city and others within hidden temples deep in the wilderness, puzzles and timed traps masking treasures you sought to find. Amber and Venti listened on in rapt attention, asking questions here and there and even teasing you about your constant climbing.

You hadn’t even noticed how the bar patrons were starting to slowly thin out.

The night with Venti and Amber was such a refreshing feeling compared to the nights you spent staring up silently at the night sky, only Paimon at your side. It was nice to hear and speak to other people, to not be on the run and always looking over your shoulder.

Feeling a light tap on the side, you turned to see Diluc standing at attention.

“Hey.” He greeted you again.

“We were just on our way out!” Amber exclaimed, standing instantly with Venti not far behind her. “Mondstadt’s star Outrider has to be up bright and early tomorrow.”

“Which is why you’re both leaving…?” You asked.

“It’s my duty to ensure the safety of the city and we said we were going to discuss something.” Venti answered ambiguously.

You crossed your arms, “Discuss what?”

“The— !” Amber paused, “The thing. You know, with the stuff at the Seven Winds Temple.”

“Right! Let’s get going.” Venti turned to Paimon at the last second, “I think this will interest you.”

Paimon winked at you before turning to Diluc, ”Right, the stuff!”

Diluc motioned you to follow him and so, once again, you found yourself following behind the Pyro-user out the second-floor balcony. However, instead of sitting at the table, you learned against the railing while Diluc stood to the side.

“Wasn't expecting you to be gone for so long.” Diluc started with a flat voice.

You turned to him with a slight grimace. “I’m sorry, I ended up getting caught in something important back in Liyue.”

More important than him.

The implication was quiet in the back of Diluc’s mind.

But that would always be the case. To think that the first person in years to open up his shell was someone who could only be in his life temporarily. You intrigued him to the high heavens - the strange mix of both pride and humility as you fought and carried yourself. You were strong, but merciful. Kind, but a purveyor of your own brand of justice.

It had been a while since he met someone with such genuine reservations as you.

But your time together was already ticking down, from your time in Mondstadt to your time in his world. You were looking for your brother and who knew if he was even in Tyvat currently? It would be unfair to be bitter towards you. And so he resolved long ago to simply cherish the moments you had together.

So instead of snapping back, Diluc teased you.

“I’m sure. I’ve heard of your extensive… wanted days.”

You sighed aloud, “How did the news travel here so fast?”

Diluc smirked, “First Barbatos and now Rex Lapis? What kind of luck do you have?”

“The worst kind.”

Of course, there was something he wanted to learn more about. After he had caught wind from Katheryn in Liyue, Diluc still wanted to be informed about your current situation. To think that you were in close association with one of the high Fatui Harbingers after Signora personally attacked you, it was almost like you were openly inviting trouble.

It also did not help that many of the gossip mills included how attractive this particular Fatui was.

He goes by the alias of ‘Childe.’ Young, but deadly!

A Fatui, but doesn’t wear his mask - for good reason! He’s quite the looker.

I wouldn’t mind if he impaled me somewhere. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Needless to say, his sources did not alleviate his worries.

Of all people? A Fatui was one of your close associates in Liyue? A party of him wanted to snarl, the thought a worse downgrade from the Knights of Favonius. At least he knew Kaeya would do you no harm; he doubted the same could be said about Childe.

Archons, why did he care so much?

Diluc told himself multiple times that your abrupt parting was necessary to keep himself from getting too attached to you. But it hardly mattered when he was worrying this much anyway in spite of that.

Fuck, why did he just let you walk away like that?

Diluc was not going to make the same mistake.

He turned to you and asked, “Like the Fatui kind?”

You sighed, “Believe me, I don’t like it either.”

“And yet somehow here we are.”

“It’s complicated, okay?”

“When is it not with you?” Diluc asked, more hypothetically. And while from anyone else, it may have felt offensive, you could tell from his tone that it was just a tired sigh.

“Tell me about your journey.” He continued.

“What?” You answered with a question, genuinely surprised. “It’s a long story, not all that interesting.”

Diluc took a step forward, taking the spot next to you against the rail as your shoulders touched. “I want to hear it from you.”

You couldn’t help but smile, “Okay.”

And so you recounted your journey to find the Geo Archon, how the adepti set up strange puzzles and at some point you swore you were pulled into a teacup that somehow contained a full domain.

There were also other missions on the side, other things you would do to collect Mora or materials if you were going to get any stronger. Some of them made sense — doing deliveries, clearing abyss camps, and other mercenary like duties. Other instances, not so much.

“Only you would accept a commission from a ghost.” Diluc teased as you recounted the treasure in the mines.

“In my defense, I didn’t think he was a ghost at first.”

“Right. Nothing suspicious at all about a transparent old man in the middle of an abandoned village.”

“I was reading the poster he was showing!”

“And when did you realize he was a ghost?”

“... After I met three other ghosts.”

Diluc cracked a smile at that, only making you pout more. You had adjusted your postures overtime, standing against with rails to your backs as you faced the tavern.

“He paid me good Mora!” 

“How…?” Diluc thought about it before waving it off, “Forget it. I don’t want to know.”

You laughed back before you saw the lights inside the tavern switch off, complete darkness in the windows as the remaining employees packed up and went home. 

“Oh wow, I hadn’t even realized how long we were out here.” You admitted, “I’m sorry I took up so much of your time.”

“Don’t apologize. I wanted to spend this time with you.”

“Still, it’s already late.”

“You’re right. Where were you and Paimon going to spend the night?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” You admitted, “Venti convinced us to stay, but I don’t even know where he is.”

Diluc pushed off the railing to stand facing you, “You could stay the night at the winery. We can retrieve Paimon tomorrow.”

What game was he playing? Your disappointing departure with Diluc cutting you off and now he was asking for your time and space back into his life? You hated that he pushed you away just to pull you back in at his convenience. And while you understood his personality tended to keep people at a distance, you had your own limits as to what you could withstand. 

“... Diluc, what are you doing?”

“You’ll have to be more clear.”

You closed your eyes, trying to gather your thoughts and hamper down on your rising temper. “Come on, why are you being so nice to me?”

He stared at you expectedly, blank eyes urging you to continue.

It only served to make you more angry.

“Diluc, when I left you hardly blinked. And now that I’m here, after months of us not talking, you want me to spend the night?”

“I told you before how much you meant to Mondstadt.”

To Mondstadt? Not even to himself personally? 

You decided it was better to confront him cleanly asking, “Why didn’t you kiss me that night we were drinking here?”

Diluc paused, not a single hint of surprise on his face as you addressed the situation head-on. “Why should I have?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t feel it. There was something between us.” You scoffed.

He noticed your use of past tense.

“Does it honestly matter? You would’ve left anyway, I saved us both the trouble.”

You visibly recoiled in response. “Is that what this is about? I have to go to Liyue and the other counties, Diluc. I have to find my brother.”

“I know that.” Diluc cut in, before you got the wrong idea. “You don’t think I’m acutely aware of that fact? The fact that this is my home and not yours. That one day you’ll find your brother and I’ll never see you again?”

“Wait.”

“Believe me, I know better than anyone that you’re off to find your brother. And I’ll help you in any way that I can.” Diluc continued, not heeding your confused attempts to stop him. “But let’s not pretend like I was anything more than a stepping stone in your journey.”

“That’s not true!”

“Oh?” Diluc’s tone was almost challenging,  “It’s not? So once the dust is settled, if I asked you to stay here with me, would I be enough?”

You stuttered over your words, “I --”

“I don’t want to hear your excuse because we both know the answer.” He cut you off, “I was trying to save myself from that before it happened.”

“Will you let me speak, you idiot!?” Your voice cut through the silent evening air.

Diluc paused, standing a good ten feet away from you and looking angrier than you’d ever seen. But he did, thankfully, stop talking.

“Is it crazy to think that I feel the same way about you?”

“What?”

“Diluc, I’m just me!” You answered, “I have nothing to my name but an objective to find my brother — if he’s even alive at this point. I need to try and I need to continue on this path…”

He crossed his arms, but stayed quiet as he listened. 

“But just because I have so much ahead of me, that doesn’t I don’t care about where I’ve already seen.” You took a few steps toward Diluc as you spoke, “You mean so much to me and I wouldn’t ever want to throw that away.”

“You won’t have a choice if you have to leave this world.”

“If!” You pointed out, “Diluc you’re so worried about the future, about me walking away from you forever, but it doesn’t have to be this way.”

“And suddenly there’s an alternative?”

“There’s always been one, you idiot! You just never bothered to actually talk to me.” You put your hands on his chest, the light material of his dark clothes underneath your palms. “I would’ve tried. If you asked me to make this work, to come back to you at the winery back then, I would’ve done it.”

Diluc closed his eyes, taking in your words as his hands snaked down to your wrists.

“Don’t give me empty promises.”

“I mean it!” You defended, “You aren’t just another person, Diluc. I—“

He opened his eyes then, reflecting back to you as hopeful and curious. “You…?”

“I care about you more than you know.” You settled on, still unsure about the extent of your feelings. “Why are you giving up on us before even starting?”

You stared right back at Diluc, his silence paramount to the inner turmoil you were sure he was going through. From his late father to the betrayal from the Knights, there were plenty of reasons why Diluc was so hesitant to connect with other people.

But you’d be damned if you didn’t try.

Your hands felt heavy against his chest. Despite your small demeanor and even smaller palms, the weight of your hands seemed to play seesaw between his heart and mind. He had logical reasons to keep you at a distance, but here you were trying to carve your way through back to him.

It had been a long time since he cared about anyone like this. And Diluc could not even recall the last time he wanted to sorely kiss someone at all. But how could he not want to now? You stared up at him, eyes blazing with determination as you tried to convey your feelings.

“You mean so much to me.” Diluc stated after a few silent minutes, “Let’s make this work.”

The smile you shot him was wide and radiant, a private blessing that only he was gifted tonight. He wrapped his arms around your waist, eager to feel more of you — to envelop you in his arms and keep you within them tonight. 

One hand strayed upward, carding itself in your hair and pulling you closer until both your eyes fluttered closed. The soft skin of your lips slotted against his, an endearing frenzy to give one another tender pecks. You could not help the happy mewl that escaped your lips as Diluc licked against the crease of your skin.

Moaning aloud to his tender touch, Diluc was eager to explore every inch of your wet cavern. There was no battle of tongues, simply moving in tandem as Diluc dominated the kiss. You tried to maneuver to give him more access, but with your height difference it was the best you could do.

Diluc lifted one of your legs, wrapping it around his waist and lightly tapping the other to do the same. Eyes clouded with lust, you did as instructed and quickly felt the soft thump behind you, the wall of the tavern helping hold you upright.

You fell more and more into the passionate lip lock, pushing to match his intensity as Diluc connected you in one of the most intimate ways possible. One hand was still in your hair while the other continued its scandalized trail downward.

You prayed to Barbatos that nobody heard you outside the tavern.

The both of you would later attribute this impassioned frenzy due to the prolonged time apart and mutual pining (culminating in a mistake outside on the balcony, twice inside the bar, and the rest of the night back at the winery).

For the first time, you enjoyed the morning sun streaming in through the windows, a lazy arm strung across your waist as you snuggled in the chest of the man you were growing to love.

Diluc woke long before you, hand threading through your hair silently as he resolved to remember this moment. You kissed at the naked skin of his chest twice before nuzzling him, feeling the light arm pull you closer.

“Good morning.” You started, voice muffled against his skin.

But you would have never expected Diluc to be so affectionate.

He kissed the top of your head, murmuring in a low tone. “Good morning, my love.”

Nothing about your relationship was perfect. You still fought and cried like every other couple. But you both knew that what you had was real, willing to fight for it no matter the obstacles that came with the future.

It did not matter that Tyvat was not your home.

Wherever Diluc was, that was where you’d return.

---xXxXxXxXxXx---

Extra: “What if they end up fighting?” Amber asked the other two as they walked down a side-street of the city.

“Then we’ll find out the moment it breaks out. Trust me.” Paimon replied. After all, your Anemo power would only serve to make any fire larger.

“They’ve both been in that pining puppy phase for so long, I doubt it’ll come down to that.” Venti added.

“500 Mora says they’ll be dating by the end of this week.” Amber bet.

“1,000 that they’ll be together by tonight!” Paimon countered.

“10,000 that they’ll be joined in every way by tonight.” Venti added, the mischievous tone not missed by either woman.

“You tone-deaf bard!” Paimon exclaimed as she slapped her hands over her red cheeks. “The traveler is more dignified than that!”

Amber had a hand on her chin, “Dating? Probably. But more than that…?”

Venti held out a hand to both, vying for both to shake one and accept the bet.

Nothing, but a couple of suckers. 

Amber grumbled once when she heard the news, but otherwise excitedly congratulated you two on finally accepting your feelings. Paimon’s whine could probably be heard in a fifteen mile radius and Venti’s proud smile didn’t help either — accepting the easiest twenty thousand Mora he ever made. 

And, just to gode the tiny guide a little more, Venti turned to Paimon in the middle of her complaining rant. 

“Hehe.”

---xXxXxXxXxXx---

A/N:

The festival idea comes from Diluc’s story 1: “The winery holds festivities from time to time. These events are routinely attended by enthusiastic fathers, eager to introduce their wonderful daughters to the young and single winery master.”

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

Shut Me Up

A/N: Here’s another smutty one-shot. I felt like something a little cliche so here it is. This was so fun to write! I’m still finding my footing in this fandom as a writer but I think I wanna start taking requests, the next fic I have coming out will be a request and I’m having fun with it so shoot me a message if there’s something you wanna see. I’ve just put together my Masterlist so you can check out my other fics there :)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer and Y/N don’t exactly get on well. Will they be able to work out some of their frustration when they’re forced to share a room for the night?

Category: Pure smut baby

Warnings/Includes: smut, graphic descriptions of sex, dirty talk, oral (female receiving), penetrative sex, name calling, light choking, hair pulling, scratching, please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 3850 words

The hotel is somehow worse than usual. It’s got so few rooms that they just narrowly grab enough for the whole team. But few enough that they have to bunk. Y/N didn't love sharing a room but it was better than having nowhere to sleep at all.

Prentiss tosses her a key, “That’s you and Reid” she says it so nonchalant that Y/N almost doesn’t notice it. Once in clicks in her head though she races down the hall.

“Hey, hey wait!” She calls out, a little too desperate, “Emily you can’t put me with Reid. We’ll kill each other.”

She laughs at that, it was on open secret amongst the team that Y/N and Spencer had something of a rivalry going. Bitter sworn enemies apparently. No one really bought it though. People who really truly hated each other would be a lot better at avoiding one another. But Y/N and Spencer could never seem to keep apart for very long.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to put your differences aside for a night.” she waves Y/N off as she heads into her own room, leaving her stranded in the hallway. Contemplating if the reception area might let her crash on the couch, she could even spend the night in one of the SUVs, the seats reclined far enough.

But that was stupid, why should she be the one who had to be uncomfortable, why not Spencer.

When she arrived at the door of her own room Spencer was slumped up against it, he stood up straight once he saw her coming.

“Took you long enough” he spat, reaching to take the key from her but she pulled it back before he had the chance.

“I was on the hunt for alternative sleeping arrangements” she huffs, unlocking the door.

“To no avail I presume?” he jokes but he’s just met with an eye roll.

“I’m taking the bed by the window” she stakes her claim before they even get through the door. Once they’re inside he lets out a chuckle.

“You’re welcome to the side of the bed by the window?” he jokes.

This was infinitely worse than she thought it was going to be. Where there were usually two generally uncomfortable twin beds in these standard small-town motels, instead there was a queen sized bed, staring at them as they stood at the foot of it.

“I get the bed” she says like she’s calling shotgun.

“Bullshit you get the bed, there’s nowhere else to sleep!” he complains.

She takes a second to scan the room, no sofa, no arm chair, the floor is a scratchy carpet. There’s no real option here. “You can sleep on the desk?” she suggests, and she’s not serious about it, but she wouldn’t say no if he agreed.

“Are you kidding me?” he almost shouts.

“Soft mattresses are bad for your back! Maybe it’ll sort out your posture?” she adds.

“There’s nothing wrong with my posture” he groans, massaging his temple.

“Okay sure, you tell yourself that”

They don’t say anything more about it as they unpack. Showering and changing for bed in silence. When Y/N comes out from he bathroom, Spencer is sitting up on one side of the bed, reading through case files by the light of the bedside lamp.

“Are you serious?” she whines.

“Look, we both need rest, just shut up and get over yourself” he says it without looking up from the file in his hand, his finger running over the lines at speed.

She doesn’t respond, she just climbs in on the other side, keeping herself as close to the edge of the mattress as possible to keep the distance in between them.

She lies like that for about 45 minutes but sleep’s just not coming.

“Are you ever gonna turn off that fucking light, I thought we ‘needed rest’” she mocks, turning over to look at him, still combing through the files, mumbling to himself every once in a while.

“We’ll both be useless tomorrow if we don’t get any sleep” she tries to convince him with a slightly more sincere tone.

This case wasn’t easy, the unsub had been abducting victims he’d met in online BDSM chatrooms. Bodies had been turning up murdered in ways that the victims had previously expressed were turn-ons. Suffocated, whipped, tied up in peculiar ways. There wasn’t much information to go on now, they just had to wait for the next body to turn up but that didn’t keep Spencer from pouring over everything a hundred times.

When he wasn’t being purposefully irritating Y/N honestly admired his work ethic. Just not when it was interfering with her much needed sleep.

“The bare minimum of sleep most humans need to live is just 4 hours in a 24 hour period” he blurts out, still not looking up.

“Well I’m not most humans, so knock it off”

He finally concedes, chucking his files onto the bedside table and shutting off the lamp. It’s now eerily quiet, and all she can hear is the steady breathing coming from the other side of the bed.

Enough time passes that she really should be asleep but it’s still not happening. So she’s already beyond irritated when she feels a slight shove against her shoulder.

“Hey, you still awake?” he sounds mischievous, she knows that tone of his voice and she doesn't like it.

“God! I am now! What do you want?” she mumbles into her pillow.

“I’ve just got a question” he says defensively.

She hums and rolls over to face him, he’s wide awake, “Well? Out with it” she encourages, the sooner this is over with the better.

His mouth twists into a smirk as he takes a minute to study her face, “What turns you on?” he asks it sincere, and she has no idea what to do with that.

Rolling her eyes on instinct she groans, “Ugh, are you serious? I was so close to getting to sleep, goodnight asshole.” she turns back around to end the conversation but he can’t leave it there.

“I’m serious actually, just all the talk about it earlier, I wanna know”

She doesn’t move as she speaks, remaining with her back to him in a bid not to engage, “You couldn’t handle that information.” She deadpans.

“Try me” he antagonizes, and that’s enough to set her off. He just didn’t know when to quit.

This could be a fun new way to tease him, is her first thought. Turn him on, leave him wanting, yet another game to add to their repertoire of spite.

“Fine I’ll give.” she turns back to him, staring intently this time, “Here’s one, I really get off on having my hair pulled” she scoots closer so she can lean in and whisper the next part, “like when I’m getting fucked from behind, or I’ve got someone’s cock down my throat. I love having my hair pulled, just the short sharp pain of it.” she sort of moans the last little bit right by his ear before settling back on her own pillow.

“That good enough?” she asks, and she can practically see his breath catch in his chest.

He takes a steady gulp, “Yeah, that was, informative” he breathes.

“And what about you?” she poses, he’s not getting out of this one so easy. He looks shocked, like he didn’t see this coming a mile off.

“Me? Uh—” he stutters, “My back, I get really— I get turned on when someone digs their nails into my back, like scratching and marking” something about seeing him flustered like this is almost endearing.

“I guess we’re both suckers for pain” she winks as she says it, making a move to turn around again in a bid to let the conversation die but he doesn’t give her the chance.

“Tell me another” he pleads, and she’s not sure what his expression means but she might just draw this out, see how far she can can tease this.

“Hmm, nosy aren't we?” she smirks, he doesn't respond, just waits for an answer. She thinks for a moment, “Have you ever choked anyone Dr. Reid?”

His breath hitches, and he shakes his head. She likes this new Spencer, the one that doesn’t seem to have some quip for her every two seconds.

“Well I think you might like it, you’ve got nice strong hands, long fingers too. I feel like they might make it the whole way round my neck if you tried?” her voice is soft like velvet as she speaks. He lets out a short pant, and she can see his eyes flicker down to her exposed throat before quickly coming back to her eyes.

“Does the idea of that turn you on Doc?” she teases.

“I— um—” he’s at a loss for words yet again.

“That’s not an answer now is it?” She taunts him, and moves to turn around once again. Feeling accomplished in her goal, finally about to get some sleep. But she’s barely closed her eyes when she can feel him move. He’s so close behind her that she can feel the heat radiating from him. His hand slowly reaches around and grasps her throat gently, she moves herself further into his grip on instinct and he runs with it. Using the leverage to pull himself right up behind her, and she can feel it. He’s hard, and she can feel him pushing himself right up against her ass.

“Is this a satisfactory answer?” he moves in close and whispers against her ear. She’s changed her mind, maybe this is her favorite Spencer.

“Mmhmm” she hums in response, and his fingers tighten around her neck. She pushes her ass further back, moving it up and down slightly to create some friction and she can feel him twitching through the thin layer of her nightdress. He starts to move with her, grinding against her, his other hand resting on her hip, fingertips digging in so that he can pull her closer.

She tries to moan when she feels his nails dig into her but it gets stifled in her throat.

“You sound pathetic” he whispers, “I’ve barely even touched you and you’re whining like a little slut” her hips buck involuntarily at that. “You like it when I call you names?” he teases.

The hand on her hip starts to pull at her nightdress, inching it up higher and higher until his fingers are on her bare skin. He digs his nails in just slightly and drags them around her thigh, letting them settle right at the hem of her panties.

“I bet if I put my fingers in here I’d find you soaking wet for me already?” When she doesn’t answer he tightens the hand around her throat so that it’s almost cutting off the air supply, then loosens immediately. “Answer me” he demands.

“Yes! Yes!” she moans, anything to get his hands to move where she wanted them.

“That’s what I thought” he laughs and lets go of her completely. Her dress hiked up, breathing ragged. She snaps back around to look at him and he’s already curled up on his side of the bed as though nothing’s happened. Left in shock she sits upright, crossing her arms across her chest.

“What the fuck was that?” she has to stop herself from outright shouting at him.

He turns back to look at her, taking in her sullen expression, “Disappointed are we?” he teases with a smirk. And that look makes her want to kill him.

“You’re such a dick” she huffs, and he sits upright next to her.

“You say that like I didn’t just beat you at your own game?” he tries to fight back.

“You didn’t beat me!” she protests

“Oh really, and how’s that?”

“I could feel you, you were rock hard before you even touched me” she spits it out, because if she turned him on first then somehow this didn’t feel as embarrassing.

“Yeah! Because you were teasing me!” he looks frustrated now,

“Exactly! Because I was teasing you, and you fucking liked it” he just rolls his eyes at that, pretending like it’s somehow not true.

“Shut the fuck up” he groans, running his hands through his hair and letting his head fall back against the headboard.

She quirks an eyebrow and looks straight into his sleepy eyes, “Make me.”

In less than a second his hands are on her again, grabbing and pulling her into his lap. One hand is firmly on her back, holding her tight against his chest, the other is tangled in her hair already. Grabbing fistfuls as their lips work against each other.

It’s heated, and ferocious, full of pent up aggression, or tension, or both.

As his tongue works against hers, she lets her own hands wander over him, finally coming to rest at the back of his head, tangling in his curls. When she grinds down into his lap she can feel his cock still hard beneath her, straining against the fabric of his boxers. She thought it was impossible but it felt harder than it had been earlier.

He breaks apart the kiss and they both take in wrecked breaths, chests heaving. He pulls at the hem of her nightdress, pushing it further up her thighs, grabbing a rough handful of her ass as his hands find the exposed skin there.

“We gotta get this off” he whispers, and she nods, pulling it off over her head so that she’s exposed now. Perched in his lap in nothing but her panties. “Fuck” he moans at the sight. His hands come straight up to grab her tits, rough and exited for a moment before easing up, kneading them, getting used to the weight of them in his hands. He brings his mouth down, leaning in so that he can place sloppy open mouthed kisses along her neck and collar bones, trailing down to the valley between her breasts. He takes one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking on it gently then teasing the bud with his teeth. When he releases it and looks up at her his eyes almost look glazed over, dreamy.

“I’ve always had a thing for your tits” he confesses, his lips coming down to repeat the action on the other nipple.

“Your turn to take your shirt off” she whines as he removes his lips, the cold air hardening her nipples now that he’d teased them. He drags his eyes away from her for a second so that he can peel his shirt off over his head.

On pure instinct she rakes her nails across his now bare chest, leaning in close to place kisses into the crook of his neck, moving up painfully slow, kissing along the column of his throat, landing on the soft skin beneath his ear. She can feel the moans rippling in his throat against her lips. While he’s stilled beneath her she takes the opportunity to tuck her hands in behind him, digging her nails into his back and dragging them across the skin with force. Certainly leaving harsh red lines in their wake. The noises that escape him might be the best thing she’s ever heard.

“You like it when I mark you up?” she moans into his ear, “When I make you mine?” she can feel wetness pooling between her own legs as she says the words. The very thought of it turning her on more than she ever thought it could.

Clearly he feels the same, something erupts in him and the hands that had been resting on her hips were now lifting her up and laying her down on the bed. He was on top of her now, his hair framing his face as he looked down at her, and she was biting her fucking lip in anticipation.

He almost can’t even look directly at her so he snakes down her body, littering her torso with kisses and licks. Once he lands at her hips he takes the elastic of her panties between his teeth, pulling it up and letting it go so that it snaps against her stomach. She lets out a low moan.

“Let’s see if I was right earlier, how wet are you for me?” his voice is low as he places small kisses over the cotton, making his way right in between her legs. He pulls back for a second to inspect the fabric, there’s a damp patch covering the majority of the area, as if he didn't know already. “You’re fucking soaked Y/N” he groans and presses his fingers right up against it, forcing the fabric between her folds so that it soaks up even more, “Such a needy little thing aren’t you?”

She can only let out a small whine in response, her teeth biting into her lip so hard she was afraid she might start bleeding.

“Better get rid of these, don’t you think?” he hooks his fingers into either side of her panties, sliding them down her legs. He takes them and places them on his pillow before returning to his position between her legs.

He’s slow and deliberate in his actions, teasing painfully as he places sloppy kisses on the delicate skin inside of her thighs. Stopping right at the top to nip and suck enough to leave a bruise. Taking the time to stop and leave a matching bruise on the other thigh.

She was starting to grow restless, she felt like she was literally aching for any stimulation at all.

“Spencer” she whines, “Please, I’m so fucking turned on already”. She can feel him chuckle, his exhale sends a burst of cold air right against her pussy.

“So impatient” he chastises, but gives in anyway. Laying his tongue flat against her, taking a moment to taste her before he starts to move. Licking deft strokes along her folds, alternating with sucking softly on her clit.

“Spencer, fuck, oh my god” is all she can muster as her back arches up off the bed, her hips squirming as he pins them down. “You feel so fucking good”

He takes the encouragement and brings a finger to her entrance, pushing it in at an agonizing pace, curling it upwards against her once it’s fully inside. “You’re so fucking tight Y/N, do you think you could even handle another finger?” he has to take his mouth off of her to speak but it’s worth it for the downright filthy sounds she makes in response. He takes that as a yes and slowly pushes two fingers in this time. Bringing his lips back down to wrap around her clit and suck.

Her hands fly down to his curls as he works his fingers in and out of her at a relentless pace. She grabs handfuls of his hair and pulls them harshly, not knowing where else to put the energy. “Fuck Spencer, feels so good, don’t stop” she mutters between gasps.

He continues his ministrations and he would be lying if he said the feeling of her hands pulling at his hair weren’t doing something for him.

A moment later and she’s barely able to control her movements, thrashing in the bed as he continues to work his fingers in and out of her, relishing the feeling of her walls tightening around him. Once she’s relaxed again he takes his fingers out, bringing them up to her lips, without telling her to she opens her mouth, taking the two fingers in, letting her tongue move around them to taste herself.

It’s one of the many memories from tonight he knows he wont forget anytime soon. Or ever.

“I can see why you like it” he says, leaning over her, talking into the crook of her neck, “having your hair pulled, feels fucking amazing” she lets out a weak laugh, regaining her strength.

“Told you you liked pain” she reaches down between them, grabbing his cock through his boxers, “You must’ve really liked it” she teases, squeezing as his eyes flutter shut and he nods.

He maneuvers a little so that he can take off his boxers, and finally she gets to see it. It’s perfect, bigger than she expected, it looks painfully hard, precum leaking from the tip. He moves back to hover over her, lingering for a minute to take her in. She thinks there might be something almost sweet behind his expression.

“Just fuck me already” she smirks up at him and he rolls his eyes without even meaning to.

“Will you ever stop antagonizing me?”

“If you fuck me maybe?”

With that he leans down to capture her lips in a heated kiss, she can taste herself on his tongue as it tangles with hers. She can feel him push up against her, the head of his cock just teasing at her entrance before sinking in so slowly she was almost angry.

“Fuck Y/N, you feel so good, so fucking tight, so fucking wet for me” he’s whispering right into her hear and she can barely string together a sentence.

“Spencer, you’re so big, fill me up so good with your fingers, with your cock, fuck” as he starts to move they both start to lose it, her hands digging into his back, her nails sinking into his shoulders leaving small half-moons in his skin. He finally starts to build a steady rhythm, thrusting in and out of her, filling the room with the pornographic sounds of skin on skin, coupled with their moans.

Once she can feel the familiar feeling building within her again she starts to lose control completely, her nails scratching marks into the expanse of Spencer’s back, hearing the little breathy gasps he lets out each time she does might be enough to make her cum all on their own.

“I’m close” she mewls, letting her head fall back against the pillow, exposing her neck, eyes screwing shut.

“Fuck, me too” he takes the opportunity presented to him, and wraps one of his hands around her neck, squeezing ever so slightly.

“Ahh, fuck” she breathes out with the little air that she has, “gonna cum” and she does, he can feel her tighten around his cock, her body writhing beneath his and arching up off he bed as he continues to fuck into her.

He’s following behind just a second later, spilling into her as he collapses back down, releasing his grip on her throat completely and settling on her chest.

They both take a moment. Melting into one another, steading out their breathing.

It’s Y/N who breaks the silence, “So you’ve always had a thing for my tits then?”

He cranes his neck up to look at her, “Shut up” he breathes, laying his head back down on her chest. She cards her fingers through his hair, smoothing it back down.

“Now you know how to make me.”

Masterlist

[calaofnoldor]

What’s Mine

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 7,595

Summary: The secret you and Sam are hiding from Dean is threatened by your inability to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings: 18+ no actual smut but plenty of implied smut, pre-smut, and smut adjacency lol, secret dating, enemies to lovers, jealousy and possessiveness (exhibited by both sam and reader), slight obsession with sam’s big ass hands (i blame this largely on @walkerboy290​‘s glorious hand porn gif sets), and language

A/N: inspired by and written for @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ bc she’s been bugging me to write smut and using her birthday as a bargaining chip, so i hope you’re happy sai. happy (belated) birthday babe! i suppose in my subconscious need to truly honor you, this became the longest one shot i’ve ever written... that and this is now also a little birthday gesture for the brilliant and beautiful @sams-sass​​ (damn your close birthdays!) even though she never asked for smut (if you hate it, i’ll write you something else!) happy birthday to you too, darling!

also written for @superbadassnatural​‘s 333 badass followers celebration with the prompt “___ and I are together.” “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa.” and @writethelifeyouwant​‘s 300 follower fic challenge with the prompt “All the pretty girls like Samuel” (both prompts are bolded in the fic) i’m sorry i’m so late! congratulations to both of you and thanks for letting me enter your challenges!

[basically i have a lot of people to blame for this disaster 😂]

Square Filled: Secret Dating for @spnfluffbingo​ and Enemies to Lovers for @girl-next-door-writes​ Make Me Feel Bingo

MASTERLIST

The waffles on your plate are surprisingly good for a sketchy, 50’s-themed diner, but unfortunately your attention is elsewhere. In fact, the two distinctly masculine voices behind you have been obnoxiously impairing your ability to savor the buttery, syrup-doused carbs since their owners sat down in the adjoining booth. It’s the topic of their discussion that disturbs you, and nips at your conscience until you realize you can no longer take off without imparting a few words to your oblivious colleagues.

Turning your head subtly to the side, you try to catch a glimpse of the men you’re about to confront in your peripheral vision. From what you can see, they’re both rather burly, a little rough around the edges, and from what you’ve heard, recklessly cocksure. You know the type all too well. Being a lone hunter of the fairer sex for most of your life means you’ve long since learned that the best way to combat their kind is with a steadfast façade of thick skin and unwavering confidence.

So you sigh and put on your best smile before turning around, crossing your forearms along the top of the booth seat, “Listen fellas, I hate to interrupt, but I really wouldn’t bother with the bamboo dagger and Shinto priest if I were you.”

“And who the hell are you?” the one with shorter hair demands. He’s a bit stockier than his companion and has a face that looks like it was designed by Abercrombie and Fitch - well that explains the arrogance.

“I’m the person who’s about to save your asses evidently,” you respond with a smug grin, trying not to let their absurdly good looks deter your act.

Abercrombie’s partner, the Fabio wannabe, releases a quiet scoff, “And how are you gonna do that?” he questions dubiously.

“By letting you in on a little secret…” Throwing him a tight smile, you lean forward and lower your voice, “That ōkami you’re after? It’s not an ōkami, it’s a ghoul.” Sitting back, you await the outrage.

“What?! But that’s not possible, I checked the lore. And it’s obviously got a type.” Fabio’s glossy chestnut locks fall across his delicate features as he shakes his head in disbelief, and you almost snort out loud. How did this amateur expect to hunt with hair like that?

You look him over, taking in the broad shoulders and muscled arms, as well as the obvious height advantage he’s got over Abercrombie even whilst they’re both seated. To be honest, you’re surprised he’s referencing lore at all. Guys his size always assume they can either outman or outgun whatever obstacles cross their path, and they almost never take women like you seriously, despite your ample years of acquired knowledge and invaluable experience. It’s this experience that surmises a bit of antagonism here is inevitable, so you might as well get a head start.

“Yeah well maybe you should check again, big guy,” you glance down at his hands, your first mistake as their sheer size render you speechless and subsequently agitated at yourself for the momentary lapse of visceral lust, but the show must go on, “Make sure those giant, lumbering hands of yours don’t fumble over anything important or you might miss the connection to Isabelle Harding. You see it’s not ‘a type’; it’s revenge.”

“Wh- Bu- I looked through the files. I wouldn’t have missed that,” Fabio insists.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you type ‘Isabelle Harding’ and ‘1987 school bombing’ into your search bar and see what comes up?” you gesture towards the laptop on their table with a raised brow. Minutes later, both men are dumbfounded by the revelation on the screen, staring between it and you with their mouths agape.  

You chuckle silently at their faces, “Don’t worry, there’s no need to thank me. Although you rookies might wanna go home and let the more experienced hunter finish up here.” As you’re about to bid them farewell, you dip back in to add, “Oh and a word of free advice, maybe don’t discuss supernatural monsters quite so loudly in public spaces next time. It might invite unwanted attention.”

With that, you turn around and slap some cash down next to your unfinished waffles, before grabbing your jacket and strutting out the door.

Sam is left in utter confusion. The sudden animosity you had spouted his way seems completely baseless and unwarranted. Had he somehow offended you? Sam generally considers himself a highly respectful and fairly easy-going guy, not quite as hot-blooded as his brother, and thus not as likely to provoke such antipathy from a complete stranger. To make matters worse, he certainly can’t deny that something about you had registered within his subconscious as inexplicably attractive, despite the way you’d embarrassed him. In his flustered and slightly aroused state, it had been all he could do to remain awestruck in his seat and stare blatantly at your ass as you walked away.

The next time Sam sees you is only twelve hours later and no less humiliating. You’re mid-swing in the killing blow against what you had accurately predicted to be a ghoul as he and Dean tumble in. Despite the low lighting, Sam is once again stupefied by your raging beauty, augmented by the incredible skill you’re displaying in a much more physical sense this time around. Before he can drag his eyes away, there’s a collective shout of “watch out!” and suddenly you’re right in front of him. In a blur of events, you somehow manage to push Sam out of the way and successfully decapitate the unexpected second ghoul that had been sneaking up behind him, with only a slice across the arm to show for it.

“Didn’t I tell you two to go home?” You’re panting from the exertion and Sam’s gaze lands on the neckline of your shirt, skewed from the fight and revealing a good amount of cleavage. He quickly averts his eyes. What is happening? Sam can’t remember the last time anyone had evoked such a staggering reaction from him. He feels as if he’s a mere spectator in his own body.

Across from him, you press your hand against the wound and curse when it comes back covered in blood. At your groan of pain, Sam finally finds his voice again, “Shit. I’m so sorry! I don’t know how I missed that other one. I- that normally doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s what you say to all the girls, huh?” you reply offhand, still a bit out of breath.

It’s easy for Sam to dismiss your mocking given that he feels terribly guilty for being the cause of your injury. From where he’s standing, the cut looks deep. “Here, at least let me stitch it up for you. It’s too awkward a position for you to do it yourself,” he offers, holding out his ginormous hands to you like he’s waving a white flag.

“I think you’ve done enough damage for one day, haven’t you, big guy? At this point, I’d rather Abercrombie over there be the one behind the needle.”

“Who- what?” are the first words Dean speaks since the action has died down.

You turn to face the shorter guy, “Oh don’t look so surprised. You might as well be the model for a slightly older Ken doll. Are you up for it or not?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open as he tries to determine whether he should feel flattered or insulted.

“Uh- actually, I’m better at stitches than my brother,” Sam butts in.

“With those jumbo, fumbling hands? Yeah, sure you are, big guy,” you decline skeptically.

“It’s Sam,” he states through a clenched jaw.

“OK, Sam. Since I just saved your life, you mind making yourself useful and burning those bodies while your bro puts my arm back together? You know, as a ‘thank you’ perhaps?”

Sam is stunned for the third time that day. No one has ever belittled him (whilst gratuitously attacking his size) insofar without any apparent reason. It seems as though his very existence upsets you and the arbitrariness of your contempt has caused an anger to stir beneath him, but beyond that lies bewilderment and irritation. How had he managed to accomplish two such massive mistakes in front of you in the span of so short a time? Perturbed and bitter, Sam silently sets to work on the bodies.

Meanwhile, you’ve come to a surprising realization as Dean begins to cut the fabric of your flannel away from your damaged arm, the name ‘Sam’ and the words ‘my brother’ resounding in your head, “Wait a second- there’s no way… you’re not… the Winchesters, are you? Sam and… Dean?”

“The one and only, sweetheart.” He sends you a dazzling smile that is as perfect as you’d expect, but within his eyes is an underlying poignancy that you recognize as clear as day: an indication of a traumatic past and a lifetime spent plastering on tough veneers. You notice as well how gentle his touch is and how his stitches are practiced and prudent. Perhaps you had judged him too hastily.

Through an incredulous chuckle, you retort, “Well I can’t say I didn’t expect more from you, but at least this’ll get me a free round of drinks at the hunters’ pub tonight.”

Dean laughs with you before sobering at the thought of how his baby brother must be feeling, “Hey listen, take it easy on Sammy, alright? I don’t know what’s gotten into him today but he’s not usually like this. He’s actually the smart one, believe it or not.”

Scoffing, you can’t help but smile back at Dean and soon find an easy rhythm with the older Winchester, despite your awkward introduction.

From several yards away, however, Sam looks wistfully back to see you smiling lightheartedly at something Dean’s said, the two of you huddled in close proximity as his brother’s hands drift across your bare skin. Something akin to envy bubbles within his chest although he’s aware it makes no sense, so with a frown, Sam does his best to shake it off and get back to work.

But it’s not easy to forget you. And just as Sam is beginning to think he’s rid that awful day from his memory, you pop back into his life three months down the line.

“Well, if it isn’t the overgrown hunter extraordinaire Sammy Winchester.” The sarcasm that oozes from your otherwise beguiling voice has him gritting his teeth in no time.

“It’s Sam.”

“So you here to mess up my hunt again, Sam?”

Although he wishes he could have been the bigger man instead of surrendering to the resentment you roused within him, after a couple repeated hatchet burying attempts fall through, Sam just can’t resist the little game you’ve started.

Over the next few months, you and Dean form a fortuitously close bond and the older Winchester develops a habit of calling you up when faced with a troublesome hunt, and vice versa. Despite Sam’s fabricated displeasure, a show he puts on mostly for Dean (since any other emotion would seem illogical given the way you treat him), Sam is peculiarly and begrudgingly excited to see you every time. But the match never ends. In fact, Sam lets it intensify each time you work together, always astounded by how you manage to get him so worked up.

“I’m telling you, it’s a rugaru!”

“Right, because the last time we listened to you, things worked out so well,” you remark sardonically.

“The lore says-“

“Ooh, quoting the lore again now are we, Mr. Know It All?”

At this point, Sam is about as huffy and puffy as the big bad wolf and if he were a cartoon character, there’d surely be steam erupting from his ears. “Look, Y/N, this isn’t about who knows more or who’s right; this is about saving those people’s lives!”

“You think I don’t know that? Was I not the one who saved your life the first time we met?”

“OK, alright, just shut up you two!” Dean finally shouts above you, “Would it kill you to just get along for two seconds?”

“No,” Sam admits.

“Probably,” you say at the same time, causing Sam to shoot you his overly perfected bitch face.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s booming voice echoes throughout the bunker and moments later you and Sam come flying into the kitchen to answer his call, guns at the ready.

“What? What is it?” you ask while Sam scans the room.

A whimper is the only the way to describe the sound of Dean’s reply, as he points toward an unseen object on the floor. Edging toward him, you lower your gun in the direction of his finger until you discover the source of Dean’s distress.

With a sigh, you look toward Sam who is also exhaling in relief at the sight of the entity in question. The two of you share a moment of wordless conversation before simultaneously dropping your guns with a conclusive nod.

“Why does this feel like déjà vu?” Dean’s tone is still timid and appalled, and you nearly laugh at the idea of a grown-ass man looking so aghast because of a used condom.

“Because it kinda is…” you supply unhelpfully, earning yourself a small glare from the man beside you.

“Dean,” Sam begins with a deep breath, “There’s something we have to tell you… Y/N and I are together.”

The snort that escapes Dean is full-bodied and borderline psychotic, “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa!”

You wait till his snickering subsides, “No, it- it’s true.” Your voice is hesitant yet hopeful, “We’re not joking. We’ve kinda become… a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, well you know, I don’t wanna have to put a label on it or-“

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” Sam declares with conviction as he reaches out to curl his long fingers around your waist and lasso you towards him.

“-Buuuut, that is the one I’d use if anyone asks,” you quickly affirm with a stiff pat to your boyfriend’s abdomen, wincing at the unversed attempt of PDA and missing the dimpled grin that crosses Sam’s amused features.

“Well, I don’t buy it. I don’t believe either of you.” Dean’s sturgeon face comes on strong as he shakes his head and points a challenging finger at you, “Kiss him, right now,” he dares with perked brows.

The eye roll you respond with is so dramatic your entire head moves with it. But then, without a moment of pause, you turn your body into Sam’s, reach up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a searing kiss. Now this is something you’re well-versed in. The reunion of your lips starts off relatively slow, but it doesn’t take long to escalate into something more fiery that involves tongue, the eager push and pull movements of your bodies, and Sam’s enormous hands cradling your head.

After a moment of shock, Dean objects, “Alright, alright, I get it! That’s enough of that!”

Unwilling to recede just yet, you linger in the kiss for a little longer, delaying your separation by nibbling down on Sam’s lower lip and tugging gently, only releasing it as you pull away torturously slow. When the two of you finally open your languid eyes, it’s to stare into each other’s dilated pupils and ponder the moment for an indiscernible minute.

“What th- I said, I get it! Now could please stop ogling each other before my lunch comes back out the wrong way?!”

But the way Sam’s smiling at you is addictive and you can’t bring yourself to look away until he forces a break by leaning in to plant a tender kiss upon your forehead before tucking you into his side as he faces his brother again.

Dean’s face is covered by his hand, “I’m gonna need a minute. I just-“ His features leap through a range of expressions as he tries to find the right words, “When the hell did this start anyway? I thought you two couldn’t stand each other?”

“Yeahhh, that was mostly an act. Although we bought it at first too,” you explain with a shrug.

“We weren’t pretending the whole time. It just kind of happened and we didn’t really know how else to act around each other by then,” Sam adds.

“Right, basically it turns out there’s a fine line between love and hate... and that line is hardcore yearning.” Your words bring a chuckle to Sam’s lips but his brother still looks out of sorts.

Shaking his head with closed eyes, Dean sighs, “Alright, can someone just explain to me exactly how this happened, because I’m still not computing here. But spare me the details and try to keep it PG-13,” he emphasizes with adamant hand gestures.

“How do you know it’s not PG-13?” you inquire with a held-back laugh.

“Ha. With the way you two were playing tonsil hockey just now, I can tell you’ve been around the bend way more than I wanna know. My little brother doesn’t kiss like that on the first date.”

It’s impossible to hold back a giggle at the memory of your ‘first date’ and the way Sam had kissed you, “OK well, that would be hard, considering the story involves a lot of sex... You wanna give it a go, big guy?” you pass the ball over to Sam with a quirked brow and lowered voice, to which he responds with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, a little warning glance that you’re well aware means ‘save it for the bedroom’ but you simply smirk up at him.  

‘Big guy’ used to be a term you called Sam in contempt, but when the feelings between you evolved and a sexual relationship developed, it became an innuendo, such that calling him ‘big guy’ in front of Dean or in public almost always results in glorious sex. In fact, sometimes you believe the nickname has held a slightly obscene connotation for you since the beginning.

Afterall, your carnal longing for him has been present from day one, although at the time you had believed it to be purely physical. Sure, you had dreams about having him in various positions in your bed, but you figured those were merely betrayals of your subconscious mind. That was until one day, a heated argument in a rare moment alone had ended up in a violent make out session, after which the two of you had just barely gotten the last of your clothes back on before Dean walked in. One look at your worked up and frenetic states alongside the disordered condition of your surroundings, and he immediately assumed you’d been fighting again (which wasn’t terribly far from the truth), chortling as he asked if you would have killed each other had he returned a bit later.

With a clearing of his throat, Sam begins to recount the tale, “Uh, well it started in that motel in South Carolina, while you were out getting food…”

“Look, all I’m saying is there is no way he’s using the hospital as a dump site! It’s just not feasible!”

With complete disregard for the peace and quiet of the other residents within this thin-walled motel, you and Sam once again find yourselves in a shouting match.

“Oh right, I forgot! You’re Sam Winchester! How could you POSSIBLY be wrong?! Mister ‘look at me, my IQ and LSAT score match my fucking height! Oh and I also happen to have the physique of an Adonis without even owning a gym membership!’” you roar bitterly, gesticulating with your hands to help better communicate your pent-up indignation.

“Right and you’re Y/N Y/L/N, so how could YOU possibly be wrong? Miss ‘look at me, I never went to college but I’m a genius AND I can kick ass! Oh and I also happen to look effortlessly stunning through it all!’” Sam suddenly seems bigger than ever as he towers over you, that panty-soaking deep voice emanating from his diaphragm and infusing itself throughout the entire room until all you can see, hear, and breathe is Sam.

The fury takes over and you don’t notice your feet taking you closer to him, “Oh yeah because you don’t make EVERYTHING you do look so unnecessarily hot and make me wanna rip your clothes off all the damn time!”

“Fuck! And you don’t always drive me crazy when we have these stupid arguments and your chest starts heaving and you look so insanely delectable I just wanna pick you up and fuck you against the closest surface!” By now, the distance between you is essentially nonexistent and your brain is no longer run by reason.

“So why don’t you then?” are your famous last words, prompting Sam to grab you wildly by the back of a thigh, lifting slightly and driving you to climb up him like a spider monkey fleeing from a grounded predator, while his other hand pushes your hair aside to gain better access to your face. Your mouths clash in a fierce battle and before you know it, Sam’s huge hands are cupping your ass as your legs wrap around his waist and you rut into him, hands flying from his shoulders to his hair. Those divine chestnut locks that you’ve always dreamed of running your fingers through. They’re somehow even softer than you imagined and the revelation, in conjunction with the way Sam’s tongue is becoming increasingly aggressive causes a fresh surge of libidinous energy to rocket through you. As a result, you give his silky strands an irresistible tug and drink in the moan he makes, the sinful sound reverberating straight down to your core as you clench around nothing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam groans as he grudgingly forces himself to pull back as much as he can, “Are you sure? Is this what you want? Cause I can’t- Y/N I won’t be able to stop myself if we keep going.” His eyes squeeze shut as if the notion of stopping or the act of keeping his lips away from yours is causing him genuine pain, and the entire gesture moves you.

“Fuck, you really are the opposite of everything I thought you would be,” you make a quick mental note to apologize later for your initially presumptuous behavior although you can’t find it within yourself to feel any remorse right now, “Yes, please Sam, fuck me. I want you so bad… I think I have since we met and I saw those gorgeous hands of yours,” you confess, biting your lip lightly.

Sam breathes out a low incredulous laugh, “What, these?” he asks, removing one of the aforementioned hands away from your butt to bring it into your line of vision.

“Yes, fuck they’re so big and beautiful and strong and-“

“Alright, I don’t need to know about your weird hand fetish!” Dean hollers abruptly, rubbing his fingers across his eyes as if he could somehow erase the image of you and his brother together out of his retinas. “OK, but that was like… four months ago. You mean you’ve been sneaking around behind my back this whole time?”

“Well at first we didn’t want to tell you because we weren’t even sure what it was ourselves,” you divulge.

“Yeah, we didn’t want to try to explain something that we didn’t understand yet,” Sam supplements, hoping his brother will understand the motive behind your secrecy.

You nod along, “But then… it got a little harder to hide.”

The apprehension behind Dean’s emerald eyes is unmistakable as he reluctantly inquires, “That’s why this felt like déjà vu?”

It’s with a grimace that you reply, hesitantly, “Remember the time you found those panties in the backseat of the Impala?”

Dean’s eyes grow comically wide and Sam ducks his head in preparation of what’s to come.

“Yeah, there’s a story behind that…”

The click of her heels against the porcelain-tiled foyer irritates you as the three of you stride through her front door. You’re posing as detectives sent to question this overdressed young woman about her late husband, but the moment she lays her eyes on Sam, you reckon she’s forgotten her beloved’s damn name.

“Oh my… lord and savior. Well aren’t you a tall drink of water?” she beholds breathlessly with a seductive bite of her painted ruby lips.

You cough loudly and Dean sniggers, thinking you’re annoyed about Sam getting such commendation and attention during a serious case.

“I know this might be the grief talking, but I would climb you like a tree,” she purrs, sauntering up to Sam with an exaggerated sway of her hips. With her half-lidded doe eyes adorned with dark, fluttery lashes and low, sultry voice, you have to admit she’s quite attractive.

Grinding your teeth as your nails dig into your palms, you glower at the woman unreservedly. She, however, takes no notice, running her hands along Sam’s forearms before gripping at his bicep to lead him toward her living room. “Please, come have a seat, detective. You can ask me whatever you want.” The wink she appends is somehow the final nail in the coffin.

It’s with zero hesitation that you feign the reception of a notification on your phone before declaring, “Oh would you look at that, the uh… Sheriff needs us back at the station, Sam. He says it’s urgent.” You try to keep your tone even, thankful that you all maintained your real first names for these aliases, “Dean, you’re good to conduct this interview on your own, right?” Without waiting for an answer, you trample over to snatch Sam’s other arm and ignoring the horny widow’s gaping mouth, proceed to haul him away.

Dean sends you a strange look but relents, “Uh, yeah I guess, OK.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, your hand shifts down to lace your fingers with Sam’s, marching him towards the Impala with a staunch and mighty purpose. Even Sam’s elongated legs stumble to keep up.

“So uh… when did you give the Sheriff your number?” There’s an edge in his voice that normally disappears when it’s just the two of you.

“Wha- I didn’t. Sam, I just made all that up,” you tell him as you reach the car and open its back door. Pushing Sam inside, you climb in swiftly after him, wasting no time as you straddle his thighs and begin to undress him, only pausing when he looks up at you in adorable, puppy-like confusion.

“Wait, what? Then what are we doing?”

That’s when it finally dawns on you, “Hold on a sec, were you… jealous?” You can’t help but smile, finding it amusing that he’s stewing in his own envy after what you just witnessed.

“No, I just- He was kinda all over you this morning.”

“You mean like the way Mrs. My-Husband-Just-Died-But-I-Wanna-Climb-You-Like-a-Tree was in there?”

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” Sam perks up, the hint of a smug grin ghosting across his lips.

“She was practically holding your hand!”

“That’s what bothered you the most?” He dips his head to catch your eyes and those variegated irises burn into you with an intense, questioning gaze, alight with mischievous curiosity.

“They’re my hands to hold,” you contend with a pout, subconsciously clenching your thighs around his as you seize one of his large hands with two of your much smaller ones, “Just like you’re my tree to climb.”

Sam’s head falls back in bright laughter, “I thought you said they were ‘oversized’ and ‘ungainly’?” he teases, quoting your previous slights.

“You know I only said that cause Dean was there.”

“I’m pretty sure you called them ‘fumbly’ and ‘lumbering’ the first time we met.”

Staring at his fingers as you play with them, you shiver at the memory of how they feel all over you. “That was cause I used to think all hunters with a Y chromosome were cocky, misogynistic assholes who needed to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“But I proved you wrong, right?”

“Fuck yes you did. So, so wrong. And now you’re mine, and I don’t like seeing other people touch what’s mine,” you growl before returning to your earlier task of removing his clothes, pouncing on him when your fingers finally land on bare skin. You kiss him fiercely, swallowing his surprised grunts with glee, and as his hands start travelling from your hips up to your back, holding you tight against him, your lips move down to his pulse point, sucking, licking, and nibbling, “Mine.”

“Fucking Jesus Christ on a cracker! You goddamn rabbits!” Dean squawks in protest as he begins to pace the floor, “Have you no decency?! And in my poor Baby! While I was busy doing all the work, saving lives!”

You roll your eyes at his melodramatics and can feel the tension in Sam’s abdominal muscles as he attempts to restrain his laughter. As if Dean had never taken a break during a case for a stress-relieving quickie before, or hadn’t been at least somewhat grateful to be left alone with a beautiful woman.

His next comment confirms your point, “Although, if I remember correctly that lady was a fox.” After a brief pondering pause and an introspectively appreciative smirk, Dean’s whining resumes, “But seriously! I can’t believe you two! Here I was feeling bad for forcing you to work and live together, hoping you’d eventually learn to get along when this whole time you were shacking up like animals and casually defiling my Baby just because what? Some girl touched Sam’s hand?!”

Feeling emboldened by the catharsis of this long-overdue airing of your dirty laundry, you decide to add to Dean’s exasperation, “Yeah and in the spirit of honesty, that might’ve happened more than once.” Sam tries to hold back his snort as he gives your hip a playful cautionary squeeze while Dean’s feet come to a full stop as he turns to give you a death glare. “Hey, it’s not my fault all the pretty girls like Samuel! And I’m pretty sure we wiped her down after.”

“I don’t even-“ Dean purses his lips and quirks his head with a dynamic expression of unbearable vexation, “You better be getting me pie every day of the week for what you did.“ He takes a deep breath before circling back, “Wait, OK so you’re telling me that a used condom ended up in our kitchen because- what? You two couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to find a bed? You know what, forget I asked. I don’t wanna know. Did you at least sanitize the place after?? No, of course you didn’t, you left a fucking condom on the floor… I think I’m gonna throw up.”

But you hardly hear Dean’s rambling because you and Sam are far too wrapped up in each other, smiling as you recall the events of that morning.

Your eyes slowly drift open to find the most exalting sight in all the world: Sam Winchester’s sleeping face, blissful and serene. Lifting a hand to gingerly cup his cheek, the corners of your mouth curl up when he leans into your touch. It’s moments like this that make you wish you could wake up next to him every morning.

Only after you’ve traced his every feature and planted a soft kiss where his dimple would be if he were awake and smiling, do you carefully peel yourself from his side, slipping out of his hold as you quietly climb out of bed. Sam rolls over a bit and you freeze with bated breath, watching as his big arm extends out in your direction as if trying to reach for you in his sleep, before stilling again.

Mornings like this are rare and you want him to soak up all the restful sleep he can. Once you’re sure you haven’t woken him, you scan the room for something to cover your naked figure, until your eyes land on the flannel he’d worn the night before. Picking it up, you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply to revel in the residual scent of Sam. Another glimpse at his peaceful, sleeping form has you smiling fondly. God, you are such a goner for that man. It’s becoming hard to reserve your soft looks toward him for private moments alone.

You can barely remember how it happened, but over time, you’d come to learn that Sam is nothing like you originally imagined him to be. He’s kind-hearted and open-minded, the type of soul that can find hope and beauty in even the darkest of places, a far cry from the shallow macho man silhouette you’d expected him to fill. In fact, Sam routinely defies the expectations others have enforced upon him, proving his worth time and time again as he’s persisted through some of what must be the toughest challenges to ever face a single human. Yet through it all, his spirit remains intact, never once yielding to cynicism or resentment or apathy or even the building of walls as you and Dean have resorted to. He is truly the bravest man you know and infinitely more competent than your first fluke of a hunt with him had mistakenly suggested, both in the field and in bed.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you wrap yourself in plaid and head out the door. Dean never questions your use of Sam’s shirts because ever since Sam firmly insisted on giving you his flannel after your second encounter with them resulted in Dean cutting your own top apart, you’ve grown into a habit of borrowing Sam’s clothes. You always claim they’re more comfortable than your own and Sam’s feigned annoyance over you ‘stealing’ his belongings tides Dean right over.

Half an hour passes before Sam approaches the bunker kitchen to find you with your back towards the entrance, busy prepping breakfast in nothing but his plaid. He pauses in the doorway to stare at you for a minute, licking his lips with an irrepressible smile. For some, this may seem like a stereotypical morning after, but for a couple of hunters, it feels like a dream come true.

After finally returning to the bunker last night following the completion of a series of successful hunts, you’ve got no solid obligations and very little on your to-do lists today, although Sam’s got more than a few ideas about how to pass the time, and a couple more come to mind when you stretch up on your toes to reach for something, causing the hem of his shirt to glide up until its corner reveals just slightest hint of your incredible ass. Sam can’t suppress his little grunt of approval, which catches your attention and makes you turn your head, peering back at him over your shoulder.

You smirk at the blessed view of him standing there in nothing but the pair of thin grey sweatpants you’d bought him a month ago when you discovered the viral online phenomenon, “Hey, big guy. You just gonna stand there and gawk or do you wanna make yourself useful and grab another plate from the top shelf?”

Chuckling at your false animosity, Sam stalks toward you, “Good morning to you too.” One of his vast hands falls upon your hip as he presses the maximum possible length of his body into your back side, while his other hand reaches up over your head to snatch the plate you’d asked for.

“Good morning indeed,” you concur with a silent gasp when you feel the generous bulge in his pants.

“Oh that’s not morning, baby girl,” Sam husks into your ear, “That’s all you.” His powerful arms slink around you and his lips find their way down the side of your neck, lingering in that tender spot just behind your ear whilst you tilt your head and close your eyes, contentedly surrendering yourself to the moment. “I ever tell you how good you look in my shirts?”

Wiggling your butt back to tease him a bit, you’re pleased with the hiss it elicits. “No, but you made it very clear how bad I look in Dean’s,” you counter playfully.

The man behind you scoffs, “I didn’t say you looked bad; you could never look bad. I just… don’t like seeing you wear his clothes.”

“Oh, I know,” you turn around in his arms, “I just don’t understand how Dean doesn’t know yet. I mean, I think you’ve been very obvious.”

“And you haven’t?”

“I’m not the one who leaves hickeys in very visible places all over your body!”

Sam’s eyes glaze over in lust, an idea clearly forming in his head as he glances down at you. “Dean’s a hot-blooded guy; he needs to know you’re off-limits,” he alleges before attacking your throat with his mouth.

“So why don’t we just tell him?”

Without pausing his efforts, Sam reminds you, “Because you said you thought it was kinda hot, all the sneaking around. Mmpf, and because you said you wanted to see how long it would take him to figure it out.”

You nod while running your fingers through his silken strands and leaning back to give him more purchase, “That’s true. But in my defence, we always have this conversation when we’re doing stuff like this and I can’t think straight when your hands and mouth are on me.”

“Kinda like how I can’t think straight when you’re wearing nothing but my shirt?” His kisses travel down from your neck to your collarbone and shoulder as he slides his loosely buttoned flannel off to one side, “Fuck, you’ve got me so hard.”

Without warning, Sam seizes your waist and hoists you into the air as if gravity were an absolute joke, before plopping you down on the edge of the steel counter, his thumbs digging lightly into your ribcage.

“Sam! This is where we eat!” you protest with a laugh.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m gonna devour you here.” He dives back into your neck, continuing his work on a little pink mark that’s already beginning to form.

“Oh fuck… Wait, what if Dean walks in?” It’s through a great struggle that you manage to push him back an inch.

“He’s got a date with the Impala. He’ll be in the garage all day, trust me.” Sam’s gaze sweeps over your body suggestively, “Now are you gonna let me taste what’s mine?”

With an equally lewd survey of his extensive frame, you reply, “As long as you let me impale myself on what’s mine later.”

His eyes darken and the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only person he’s ever wanted ignites a confidence within you, so in a rather swift motion, you grasp him by the shaft through his sweatpants – the delicious groan he emits at your touch is enough to turn your pussy into a slip and slide – and pull him back towards you until the clothed length of him is resting against your folds and your noses brush, while his hands settle naturally on your thighs.

Shivering, your breath stutters and for an instant you can do nothing but bask in the closeness of him. Sam seems to enjoy it too because he closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours with an elated sigh. For the second time today, you marvel at his beauty, whispering a string of gasping kisses along his lower eye socket and exquisite cheekbone, simply dying to breathe him in. All of him is so immaculate and sublime. Each time the two of you reconvene, you want to savor every fucking inch of him, but there are a lot of inches, so the task often overwhelms you. Still, you must try. Locking your ankles behind him, you use your legs to pull him even further into you and the friction makes you lose your mind.

“Fuck, baby girl, you keep that up I’ll be making a mess in my pants,” Sam grunts with his lips upon your cheek.

Your breathless laughter fills the air, thinking of the stain you've undoubtedly already left on his charming grey sweatpants. Nimble as he is, Sam takes advantage of your open mouth and plunges his tongue inside. After so much preamble, the kiss is heavy and full of need. When the pressure of his lips pushes your head back, your hands fly to his wrists for the sake of your balance.

From there, they journey upward across his vascular forearms to his bulging triceps, fondling his massive shoulders before sliding along his traps and up the gorgeous length of his perfect neck, until you finally reach the treasure trove of his impeccable locks. You tangle your fingers into the lush mane and yank, gently but zealously, making Sam growl into your mouth. His voice is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard and the sounds he makes always drive you insane.

Never breaking the kiss, Sam’s colossal moose paws roam up to your back as he slowly lays you down on the counter, his member somehow still notched at your entrance and the new angle rousing a quiet moan from you. When he ultimately pulls away, you pitch forward to chase after his lips, but Sam only grants you a devilish grin and a quick peck to the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw and neck. While one palm kneads at your breast through his shirt, the other begins pushing and pulling at fabric to uncover more of your skin for his wandering lips.

“Sam! Augh!” you cry out as your head falls back.

“I got you, baby. I’m all yours. Gonna make you feel so good.” As if to attest his words, he rolls his hips into yours and a needy whimper escapes you. With your fingers still twisted in his hair, Sam leaves no part of you untouched as his mouth travels down your body. But upon reaching your navel, he pauses, those vivid, color-changing eyes peeping up at you to check for any signs of discomfort or objection. Finding none, his thick tongue pokes out to lick a deliriously winding path from your belly button to your exposed clit. Then, pushing down tenderly on the insides of your knees to open you up to him, Sam directs you one last look that is both hungry and reverent, “I still can’t believe this is mine.”

Dean had stopped you halfway through your recollection, but it appears that was still too much for him, “What did I do to deserve this?! I feel like I need to go bathe in holy water for a week.”

You and Sam both open your mouths to respond but Dean cuts you off vehemently, “Ba-da-da-da!” His vocalized outcry is complete with animated gestures featuring an accusing index finger. “OK, before you two tell me another traumatizing story, that’s enough of the who, what, when, where, and how… I just need to know why. I mean, is this- are you- …?”

Sensing the protective wheels turning in his head, you decide to put Dean out his misery, “I’m not just with Sam because he’s an incredible lay if that’s what you’re wondering. We can skip the fatherly ‘what are your intentions’ talk. Yes, Dean, I am in love with your little brother… although ‘little’ is not exactly the word I’d use to describe him.”

“Sammy, could you please control your woman?”

“My woman?” Sam sounds mostly amused but you’re almost certain you can hear a hint of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, I admit I’m surprised I didn’t see it until now. You two are kinda oddly perfect for each other, you know, in a weird, kinky way.”

“To be honest, we’re pretty surprised too. I mean, he doesn’t look it but this guy is kind of territorial,” you quip whilst cocking a thumb in Sam’s direction.

“I don’t need to- Wait a minute, so all those bruises you told me were from hunts?” Dean’s eyebrows soar towards his hairline.

Chewing on your lip, you confirm his hypothesis with a miniscule nod.

“Yeah well that time you saw my back,” Sam chimes in vengefully, casting you a handsome grin full of mischief as he reveals, “that wasn’t a werewolf, that was Y/N.”

With eyes as round as dinner plates, Dean frantically shuts you both down, “OK, that’s it. Torture Dean time is over. I don’t wanna hear any more about your depraved sex lives! Look, I guess I’m happy for you guys, although mostly cause I don’t have to play referee anymore, but I’m gonna need you to follow some ground rules around here. Like rule number one! No sex in public places!” he starts counting with his fingers, “Always put a sock on it when you’re busy! And most importantly, no sex in Baby!”

Your laughter follows Dean as he wearily saunters out of the kitchen, an exhausted expression on his face. Turning to your newly outed boyfriend, you petition excitedly, “Does this mean we can have shower sex now?”

“Not while I’m around!” comes Dean’s snappy answer.

In contrast, Sam gives you the same look he did on that dreamy morning, “Oh trust me baby girl, I’m gonna get you wet somehow.”

“Still within hearing distance! I think I liked it better when you guys were at each other’s throats.”

As you’re giggling, Sam leans down to whisper in your ear, “For the record, I’m in love with you too.” And just like that, you’re tempted to re-enact your previous kitchen escapades.

TEAM IDJITS: @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @carryonmywaywardbucky​ @swiftlymoniquesblog​ @moosewinchester​ @sams-sass​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @jotink78​ @winifrede​ @writingforthelonelysoul​ @turtletaylor98​ @lyarr24​ @deanwanddamons​ @peridottea91​ @tvdspngirl314​

TEAM MOOSE: @paulaern​

if you’d like to be added (or removed) please let me know!

[whumpy-writings]

Hatred

Febuwhump 2022 Masterlist / Of Vampires and Men Masterlist

Febuwhump 2022 Day 1- Head Wound

CW: Vampires, slavery, captivity, pows, beating, blood, alcohol mention

Two guards entered the cell. “Come with us, Byrnes,” one of them said, his eyes bored. Micah swallowed nervously. None of them had left the cell since they had arrived three weeks ago. He got to his feet and followed the guards out into the hall. He lost track of how many turns they made until suddenly they stopped at a dark wooden door. One of the guards knocked before opening the door and leading Micah inside.

“Leave,” Weisman said with a wave of his hand. The guards left, the door closing ominously behind them. Weisman was sitting in an overstuffed leather chair, a glass of wine dangling in his hand.

“Kneel,” he said. Micah got to his knees, all the while keeping eye contact with the bastard.

“Sir-”

“No talking, Lieutenant. I want to enjoy my beverage,” Weisman said, taking a casual sip. It took ten minutes for the captain to finish his drink. Micah’s knees were starting to ache from the hard wooden floor and his heart was pounding. Finally the vampire set his glass down and made his way over to Micah. Micah held his gaze, though he had to crane his neck since Weisman was now standing directly in front of him. The slap came without warning, a flash of bright red pain on his cheek. Micah gasped.

“I hate you Torins,” Weisman growled, grabbing Micah by the collar and pulling him to his feet. “Do you know why?” Micah didn’t respond, he didn’t know if he should. If Weisman wanted him to. Another slap. “Answer me when I talk to you, Byrnes. Do you know why I hate Torins?”

“N-no sir,” Micah said shakily.

“I hate them because they’re weak. Pathetic. Arrogant. You act like you’re better than us because you treat your humans more ethically.” The sarcasm was thick on that last word. “Like the blood bags know the difference. And when we try to get more humans to feed our people what do you do? You attack us. You never learned to share. Think of that, Lieutenant. All of the lives wasted because of Torin greed.”

Micah was silent, even though he bristled at the implication that the Torins had been the ones to start the war. Clearly, the Lucians were the aggressors. He didn’t want to respond though, to risk antagonizing the captain.

“What do you have to say?” Weisman spat out.

Micah licked his lips, stalling for time. “We would have given you humans if you had just asked,” Micah said finally. The first punch drove the air out of Micah’s lungs. The second one hit his jaw and he felt his fangs rip through his bottom lip. Micah tried to pull away but the weeks of inadequate blood had weakened him.

“I’m going to make you suffer, Torin,” Weisman growled in his ear. “I’m going to make you mine.” And with that Weisman slammed his head into a table and Micah’s world went black.

…

Travis’ eyes went wide when Micah was dumped back into the cell. Bruises littered his face. Dark red blood, almost black, ran down the side of his head and his chin. Aleksander had rushed forward and was cradling Micah’s head in his lap.

“Human!” Aleksander called, his voice tinged with fear. Travis had no choice but to approach. Close up Micah looked even worse and Travis felt a stab of worry. Micah was a blood-sucking leech, yes, but he was also kind. He didn’t deserve to be beaten like this.

“The human is right here, Micah. Can you feed?” Aleksander asked gently. Micah groaned and his eyes fluttered open, not quite focused.

“Yeah,” he said.

Aleksander pulled Travis close so he was leaning against him and then held his wrist out to Micah. Travis didn’t resist. He would have just a week ago, when he was still scared and angry. But now he knew that these vampires were just as much prisoners as he was. And as much as he hated to admit it, he was starting to care about them. Micah lifted a shaky hand and gripped Travis’ wrist gently. He brought it to his mouth and bit down. The venom hit Travis’ system and his muscles went limp. Aleksander supported him as Micah fed. He watched the vampire feed, entranced by the way he could see it happening, could see Micah’s throat moving as he swallowed, but couldn’t feel a thing. Fucking wild.

Travis started to close his eyes, the venom’s fatigue pulling him towards sleep.

“Thank you,” Micah said. Travis blinked his eyes open. He hadn’t realized that Micah had finished feeding.

“Didn’t want you to fuckin’ bleed all over the cell,” Travis said, the venom lowering his inhibitions. Micah shot him a wry smile.

“I appreciate that.” He paused. “You know, you still haven’t told us your name. I really don’t want to just call you “human” all the time.”

Travis sighed. There was no point keeping it secret, since he clearly was going to be stuck with these vampires for the foreseeable future.

“My name’s Travis,” he said, “Can I go to sleep now?”

Micah chuckled softly. “Sure, Travis. Sweet dreams.”

Tag list: @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whump-cravings @thecyrulik @neverthelass @michelleswhumpyreblogs @whumpsy-daisy @the-monarch-whumperfly @aswallowimprisoned @secretwhumplair @whumpzone @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @nicolepascaline @susiequaz12 @princessofonwardsworld @puffball-lover554 @itsleighlove @pumpkin-spice-whump @wiwinia @sunflower1000 @whump-blog @that-sapphic-person @melancholy-in-the-morning @pizzasthengym @suspicious-whumping-egg

[nerdzzone]

Only For A Moment: July

Summary: A series of shorter one shots from Chris and Whitney’s life together throughout the pandemic. Some happy times, some harder times, some fluff and some things a little more sexy - they work through it all as they try to get settled in their new and blossoming relationship.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series

Only For A Moment: June

-----

July 2020

Chris was stressed.

It was understandable as he'd just launched his new endeavour - A Starting Point - but it was worrying me how anxious and overwhelmed he seemed to be. The feedback so far had been good, but he was still concerned about how it was going to be received and whether or not people would actually find it useful. He had several long, full days of interviews scheduled to promote it and explain what they hoped to achieve and, after the first week, he was exhausted which made him moody and withdrawn.

It didn't help that Grayson had quickly adjusted to having our undivided attention and was growing increasingly frustrated with his dad's busy schedule. The Friday after the launch, Chris promised him that he'd be done by bedtime so he could tuck him in, but technical difficulties got in the way and he was once again stuck in front of his laptop until well into the evening.

And that was where I found him, at almost nine o'clock, when I went to see if he'd be finished anytime soon. I'd poked my head around the door and saw him sat at his desk with his head in his hands and the sight made my heart ache.  Sneaking up behind him, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

"Hey," I greeted him softly. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," he assured me, but the sigh that followed told me otherwise. "Just tired. It's been a busy week."

"It has. We've missed you."

My words weren't meant to add guilt to his stress, but I realized my mistake when he winced.

"Sorry," he mumbled, placing a kiss on my arm where it rested across his chest. "I did try to finish early today - I suggested we push the last interview until tomorrow when we hit the connection issues, but they weren't having it. Was Grayson mad that I missed bedtime again?"

"Not mad," I shrugged. "Just a bit disappointed."

Chris' head fell forward and his shoulders stiffened.

"That's worse."

"No, it's not," I insisted, squeezing him tightly. "He was just a little sad, but he got over it. I promised him that you'd do something fun with him when you weren't so busy and he accepted that."

"I was actually thinking of taking him to the museum to see the dinosaur exhibit," Chris admitted. "They just reopened, but he'd have to wear a mask."

"He'd love that," I smiled, knowing how much both of them loved their father and son days. We'd made an effort to give him more one on one time, but it was limiting when we hadn't been able to leave the house much until recently. "And I think he'd be okay with a mask. We can order one and get him to wear it at home for a bit to get used to it."

"Good idea," Chris nodded. "I can do that tomorrow"

"Or I can," I suggested, kissing the side of his head. "You're busy enough at the moment. And you're stressed, I can feel the tension in your shoulders."

Chris sighed again and I felt a pang of sympathy for him.

"I know. This project just means a lot to me. I want it to do well."

"And it is," I reminded him as an idea hit me. "C'mon, I know what you need to help you relax."

"Oh, yeah?" Chris smirked and I rolled my eyes as his mind had clearly gone straight to something dirty. "What would that be?"

"Probably not whatever you're thinking of," I informed him. "But there's some pizza left in the kitchen. Go have a slice of that and then meet me in the bedroom."

"Alright, I like the sound of this."

His smirk had grown and I swatted the back of his head as I slid my arms off of his shoulders.

"Don't be such a perv!"

He laughed and stood up from his chair as I shook my head and he pulled me in for a quick kiss before we headed downstairs and went our separate ways.

-

If there was one thing I knew how to do, it was run the perfect bath for relaxation. It had been my tradition every evening after I'd dropped Gray off at Chris' house - I would pour myself a glass of wine and take a bath, enjoying the opportunity for a long soak without the risk of Grayson interrupting. The bathtub in Chris' en suite made that indulgence even better due to it's size and depth and I'd taken advantage of it several times during our stay with Chris. Which meant that I had quite the assortment of bath salts and bubble bath to create the perfect bath for Chris.

The tub had just finished filling up when he walked in and I heard him chuckle at the sight.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little disappointed."

"Oh, shush," I teased, turning around to face him once I'd turned off the taps. "This will be much more effective than whatever you were imagining."

Chris scoffed at that claim, a smirk firmly on his face.

"I disagree."

"I'm sure you do, but that's too bad. Now, strip."

"Ooh, I like it when you're bossy."

His comment earned another roll of my eyes as I crossed my arms and waited for him to do as I'd instructed.

As he did, I couldn't help, but stare. He seemed to be toning up even more during our quarantine and the sight of his perfectly sculpted body took my breath away every time I had the luxury of seeing it. He caught my gaze and colour flooded my cheeks as I knew that he'd seen me gawking at him, but despite the smug look on his face, he made no comment as he climbed into the tub.

Once he was settled with his head resting back on the edge of the tub, I sat down on the closed lid of the toilet and picked my phone up from where it was sitting on the counter. I unlocked the screen with the intention of replying to my mother who had messaged me while I was getting the bath ready, but a giggle slipped from my lips when I saw what was already open on my phone from earlier that day. Chris raised a questioning eyebrow and I debated whether or not to tell him about it. It had the potential to send his stress levels sky rocketing again, but if he thought I was hiding something from him, it would probably irritate him and ruin his mood anyway so I came clean.

"Hannah sent me a link to an Instagram account today that posts lots of gossip stuff," I informed him. "Most of it seems to be just random submissions, but they've been right a few times, I guess, so people seem to believe whatever they say now."

"And why did she send you a link to it?"

"Because apparently you're engaged."

I was smiling as I broke the news to him because obviously I knew it wasn't true, but Chris let out a groan of annoyance.

"Engaged to who?! To you?"

"No, to a mysterious blonde. Apparently, the person who sent in the message has a friend who spotted you picking up some takeout with this woman. Her ring was clearly on display and you were openly affectionate with her while you waited for your food."

"That's just a straight up lie," Chris huffed. "I don't know why people waste their time making this shit up and I really don't know why you bother reading it."

"It's not like I seek it out, but Hannah finds it entertaining to see what people are saying about us," I shrugged. "You have to admit that it's kinda funny. It sends everyone into such a frenzy."

Chris shot me a look.

"Funny isn't the word I'd use."

"C'mon, it's a little amusing!" I smiled, scrolling down to the comments. "Like, look, they're discussing whether or not I fit the description in case I just dyed my hair blonde. But then someone else says they saw me in L.A. two weeks ago, around the time you were with the blonde woman, so it couldn't possibly be me. They're like little detectives."

Chris rolled his eyes, but there was a reluctant smile on his face.

"Detectives aren't allowed to just make things up," he pointed out. "Unless you took a secret trip a few weeks ago that I didn't know about."

"No, I didn't," I laughed. "You have some very creative fans."

"I don't think it's my fans who write that stuff. It's probably other people trying to antagonize them."

"Well, it works like a charm. They go nuts trying to decide if it's true. I just wish they wouldn't get so mean about it sometimes," I admitted. "Like, some of them were saying how glad they were that you'd moved on from me finally because of how cruel it is that I ruined your life by trapping you with a baby."

The scowl on Chris' face instantly returned with that additional information and I scolded myself for saying it.

"I should have let Downey sue them all like he wanted to when it first leaked that you were pregnant," Chris huffed. "Then maybe by now these gossip pages would know better than to post shit about us."

"It would have just made things worse," I insisted as a smirk slid onto my face. "Besides, it doesn't really bother me. I'm the one sitting next to you while you lounge completely naked in a bubble bath while they spiral into a jealous pit of despair."

That comment earned me a laugh before he sat up a bit higher in the tub.

"Why are you sitting over there anyway?" He asked. "Get in here with me."

I smiled at his demand, but shook my head.

"This isn't supposed to be a sexy bath. You're supposed to be relaxing."

"And what better way to relax than to share a bath with the woman I love?"

A statement like that was hard to resist, especially as he grinned up at me from the tub with that amazing smile of his. I relented with surprisingly little resistance and rose from where I was sitting.

"I suppose that's fair..."

Putting my phone back on the counter, I turned so my back was to Chris. I could feel his eyes burning into me as he stared and I bit back a smirk. I quickly undid the button on the shorts I was wearing and slid them down my legs, bending at the waist as I stepped out of them. A noise of approval came from behind me as I stood up again and I shot him what I hoped was a sexy look over my shoulder before I pulled my shirt over my head. After slipping out of my bra and quickly pulling off my panties, I left them with my shorts and turned around with one hand over my chest to keep it covered until I was settled in the tub under all the bubbles.

"Wow," Chris grinned. "You're so fuckin' hot."

I giggled at his compliment, feeling a wave of self-confidence from my little strip tease.

For the past few weeks I'd been spending more time in Chris' home gym and I was feeling the positive side effects - more than just in my slowly developing muscle tone. We'd had a fight one night not long after our first pool day when I made some self-deprecating comments that rubbed Chris the wrong way. He scolded me rather harshly for always talking badly about my body and, while at first his exasperated reaction made me shut down, it eventually led to a very open conversation.

I explained that I wasn't just fishing for compliments all the time. I had some serious insecurities and - as analyzed by Hannah who was a very well trained psychologist - I tended to put myself down first before someone else could do it. I informed him that it wasn't just the body changes that come from pregnancy that bothered me, but the fact that I hadn't had much time to go to the gym since Gray was born - when he was with me, I was busy with him and when he was with Chris, I was busy with work.

He understood where I was coming from and reminded me that his home gym was available for my use any time I wanted, but insisted that I make sure I was doing it for the right reasons. He didn't want me killing myself to change how I looked when I didn't really need to, but I assured him that my motivations weren't all vanity related. Sure, I wanted to look good, but I missed feeling strong and healthy.

After our conversation, I’d started taking some time every day to get some exercise and the difference it was making to my confidence even after a few short weeks was huge. So, hearing Chris' praise now made me feel wonderful because I was actually starting to believe it.

"Thanks," I smiled in response to his compliment as I got settled in the bath tub. We were facing each other, my legs draped over his thighs so my feet were resting by his hips and my bum was between his shins. He grabbed my hand and laced our fingers together as he watched me with what could only be described as an adoring look. "It's amazing what a few weeks at the gym can do."

"Helps that you were pretty hot to start with too," he teased. "But I'm glad you're feeling more confident."

"Me too." I leaned forward to press a soft kiss on his lips. "So, are you feeling more relaxed?"

"I am," Chris nodded before letting out a sigh. "I'm sorry I've been so stressed out lately. I just want this whole thing to go well."

"And it is," I repeated my earlier assurance. "So far you've had a great reaction."

"For now," he frowned. "I just want people to actually use it and get involved."

"They will," I assured him, leaning in for another kiss. "Have I told you how proud I am of you? You're doing such a great thing, using your influence to try and make a difference. It's very inspiring."

"Well, I think you're too kind," he told me, trying to be humble despite the proud grin on his face. "Really, it's the least I can do."

"Nope, the least you could do is nothing," I pointed out. "But you're trying to help people and I'm so proud of you for that. I'm grateful that Grayson has a dad like you to look up to."

It appeared - for a brief moment - that Chris' eyes grew a little bit glassy, but he blinked a few times and they were clear once again.

"Thanks, Winnie." He paused to clear his throat. "That really means a lot and I'm sorry I've been so busy this week. I have one more podcast interview to do tomorrow morning and then I have a few days off."

"I'm glad you'll get a break, but you don't need to be sorry," I assured him. "Even though it has been kinda weird. It's crazy that a few months ago, we only ever saw each other in passing, but now I miss you when you're busy for even a few hours."

It was true. I had missed him the last few days and it did seem ridiculous when we used to go weeks without seeing each other and even then it was just briefly at a pick up or drop off. I'd been spoiled the last few months, having so much of his time. Now, seeing him every day wasn't even enough if I didn't have much of his undivided attention.

A brief flash of dread tore through me as I shared that thought with Chris because I knew this would all come to an end some day. We couldn't stay locked away in his house forever, eventually we would both have to go back to work and I knew it would make things harder. Some people found that the intense quality time was testing their relationship, but I was worried that we'd start to crumble as soon as we weren't together almost twenty-four hours a day. Once the world of Hollywood got it's claws back in Chris, I couldn't help but wonder where that would leave me.

But as always when those thoughts filled my mind, I did my best to push them away. It was likely still months before anything would change so there was no point in stressing about it now and Chris chuckled, bringing me back to the moment.

"Awe, you’ve missed me?"

His words were accompanied by a cocky smirk and I smiled despite my rolling eyes.

"Shut up."

"It's sweet. I never thought you'd be a clingy kinda girlfriend."

I wrinkled my nose in displeasure at that thought and shook my head.

"I'm not clingy!"

"Kinda sounds like you are," he pointed out. "Can't even get through a work day without pining for me."

"I wasn't pining!" I huffed, but he continued insisting that it seemed like I was. "Well, I was just about to suggest we get out of this bath, but now I think maybe you don't deserve what I was thinking of doing next."

"Get out? You just got in," Chris pointed out with a raised eyebrow. "What else have you got planned?"

Now it was my turn to smirk as I rested my hands on the side of the tub before pushing up until I was standing in front of him.

"A little extra relaxation," I told him, deliberately keeping it vague. "But I guess now, you'll never know."

I stepped out of the tub and grabbed my towel. With one last glance back at Chris who was still sitting in the bath, looking a mix of surprised and intrigued, I wrapped the towel around myself and left the bathroom - making sure to sway my hips a little more than usual on my way out.

I heard the water slosh as Chris leapt up to follow me and he appeared in the bedroom - towel around his waist and water dripping to the floor - moments later.

"Chris!" I laughed. "You're getting the floor all wet!"

"So are you," he pointed out. "But I don't care."

I hardly had time to take in his words before he strode swiftly across the room and pulled me against his chest. His hands gripped my hips so tightly that it undid my towel and he moved just briefly enough for it to fall to the floor. Once that was out of the way, he captured my lips in a kiss so fierce it made my breath catch in my chest.

I indulged for a moment, enjoying the feel of his hands roaming by body as his lips worked against mine, but then I remembered who this evening was supposed to be about. I pulled back slightly, just enough to trail my lips across his jaw and locked them onto a spot just below his ear as my hands moved to the towel around his waist. I could feel a slight bulge pressing against me - he wasn't hard yet, but it was clear that the anticipation was having an effect on him - and I untucked the towel and let it fall down with mine to give me easier access.

I heard Chris take in a shaky breath and felt him tighten his grip on me as I took him in my hand. Smiling against his skin and enjoying his little reactions, I stroked him until he was thick and full from my touch.

"Get on the bed."

Chris' tone was demanding and there was definitely a part of me that wanted to follow his instructions, but I resisted and moved my face away from where it was buried in his neck, shaking my head.

"No, this is all about you," I reminded him. "You need to relax."

He voiced a few protests as I kissed my way down his chest, but he fell silent as I dropped to my knees in front of him. His hands were clenched in fists by his side while I continued to gently stroke him, placing soft kisses on the top of his thigh, but when my kisses moved closer until my lips landed on his cock, his hands shot to grip in my hair. He wasn't forcing anything or trying to control my movements, but the sense of control that action gave him was something I knew he enjoyed and I smiled before getting down to business.

I licked him slowly from base to tip, making him shudder as I took him into my mouth. His hips twitched, pushing farther in and I did my best to accommodate him. Letting him slide slowly over my tongue, I stretched my jaw to get my mouth around his thick shaft. He always felt big - he was big - but this action made it even more apparent and I took as much of him as I could before sliding back up his cock.

Pausing for a moment to suck at the tip, I used my hand to stroke him as I lifted my eyes to look up at his face. His hand gripped my hair tighter as he threw his head back briefly, then returned his gaze to me and met my eyes. I smiled around his cock before letting my lips move farther down, taking him back in my mouth. Not feeling completely confident in my ability to deep throat someone of his size, I used my hand to cover the base and began to bob my head with renewed enthusiasm, spurred on by all the sighs and groans that were falling from his lips.

I could feel myself growing wet. His reactions, the position we were in, the slight tug of my hair - it was all overwhelming me and increasing the temptation to let him fall from my mouth, push him onto the bed and ride him until we both couldn't take it anymore, but I tried to stay focused as I worked his cock.

After a few minutes, I could tell he was getting close as his grip on my head began leading me more and more, a sign his self control was waning. That only spurred me on, but as his breathing shifted until he was practically panting and I could feel his thigh muscles tensing where my hand was resting, I heard a sound that would kill any mood.

"Mama!"

Grayson's voice floated down the stairs. It was distant and quiet, but enough to make my blood run cold as I instantly pulled my mouth off Chris.

"Fuck," Chris groaned, a pained look on his face as I shot up from where I was kneeling. "Fuck, that kid has bad timing."

Gray called for me again, sounding slightly closer than he had before and I threw on one of Chris' shirts that was crumpled up on the bed. Luckily, it fit me like a dress and covered everything that needed to be covered.

"I'm so sorry, babe," I flashed him an apologetic look. "I'll take care of him and you can take care of that."

I gestured to his still very hard and throbbing cock and the poor man looked like he wanted to cry as I hurried out of the room.

Turns out, Grayson was just thirsty so after a quick drink of water, I tucked him back into bed. By the time I returned to our bedroom, Chris was fast asleep as he lay sprawled out, still naked on top of the duvet. It looked as if he had just collapsed onto the bed and even though he was asleep, his face still showed his exhaustion. I felt a flash of sympathy as I pulled the blanket off the back of the chair in the corner of the room and covered him up with it, placing a soft kiss on his forehead before climbing in to my side of the bed.

-

August

Tags:  @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker @mytbel0st @chvntelle-99

[goodlucktai]

Hi! I love your works! 71 + 72 for Luffy and Jinbei?

PROMPTS LIST

71. “I’m going to protect you.”

smile again

x

As a watchdog journalist, Jinbei's work takes him everywhere. He isn't always in the best position to receive phone calls. Sometimes, depending on what story his group decides to chase after and what far-flung corner of the world it leads them to, Jinbei goes weeks without internet access.

By the time he gets news of the accident, Luffy has been out of the hospital for a month and Ace has been dead just as long.

Jinbei has to go home.

His colleagues-- a group of solid, hard-working people he's known for going on twenty years, has worked with on the field and off, in smoke and fire and claustrophobic office spaces-- are entirely understanding.

Tiger drives him to a small airport, the truck bouncing along a bumpy gravel road. There's a single, hastily-packed duffel in the bed of the pickup. Jinbei isn't even sure what he shoved in there, having only made one mindless pass through his room. He would have left without his passport if Hatchan hadn't shoved it into his hands on his way out the door.

"It may be time for me to retire," Jinbei says aloud. His mind is ebbing and rising like a tide, a vast ocean of grief. Thoughts go bobbing away like loose buoys before he can get a grasp on them.

All he can think of is the last video-call he made home, over a month ago now. Ace and Luffy, pressed cheek-to-cheek so they'd both fit in-frame, competitive in all things and unwilling to take turns, even as Jinbei laughingly promised he had plenty of time to talk.

They made him promise to call again soon. He meant to.

"Don't worry about us over here," Tiger says. His eyes are on the road, hands tight around the steering wheel. He carries Jinbei's grief like it's his own. "Just worry about your boy."

His boy, Jinbei thinks. Not by blood or by law, certainly, but by something less quantifiable than that. Those scrappy kids that spilled into his yard one muggy summer evening, hiding in the hedges from their well-antagonized CPS caseworker and somehow claiming a piece of Jinbei's heart from the moment he first laid eyes on them.

Ace was so angry back then, and Luffy was so easily frightened, and they clung to each other in a practiced way, as if they were so used to the world trying to claw them apart that they didn't expect anything else, even from a perfect stranger. They didn't seem to know what to do with kindness. Ace watched Jinbei like a hawk for weeks, long after Luffy warmed up to him. His trust, when he finally gave it, felt like a prize.

Jinbei was working long, unpredictable hours, and knew it wouldn't be fair to drag two children into his household if he couldn't afford them the time and care they deserved-- but after school? Weekends? Holidays? Those he gave up freely.

His days gained some semblance of routine again, for the fist time since he finished college. His kitchenware came down from the cupboard, the pockmarked kitchen table was often set for three. He made dinner at home, more than he ate in the office with his colleagues.

Hell, his colleagues ate dinner with him at home more often, too. Within an hour of meeting the boys, each of Jinbei's friends, to a man, would have taken a bullet for either of them, no questions asked.

The sense of structure did wonders for the brothers. With a safe place to return to when they needed it, and someone to fall back on, Ace stopped looking at every potential foster home as if it was a threat. Luffy came out of his shell, bolder with each new day. He made a friend in the village, a boy with vivid green eyes, and they hardly spent a moment apart.

They were finally placed with a couple who lived nearby. Shanks was wry and good-natured, and Benn had the patience of a saint. After a few weeks, when Jinbei asked how they were settling in, his worries were soothed: Luffy clearly adored them, and even Ace grudgingly admitted they weren't so bad.

And when the time came, and Ace applied for emancipation as well as custody of his brother, he had a small army in his corner. A patchwork family collected in little bits and pieces, ready to support him through anything.

"I will always be here for you both," Jinbei had promised him, countless times. "You'll never be alone as long as I'm alive."

"Thank you," Ace said, a little bashful. But he was so pleased, and so full of hope for the future, and he said, "I'll feel better, knowing someone's around to look after Luffy if I can't."

He immediately got shouted down by his entire strange extended pseudo-family for daring to suggest they'd ever let anything happen to him, and it made him laugh so brightly, and now the memory sticks like needles in Jinbei's throat.

Tiger hugs him hard before Jinbei boards the plane. In the back of his mind, where there is a tiny corner free from drowning, Jinbei can't help but wonder when he'll see his friend again.

He keeps thinking of that last video call. He can't remember everything they talked about. He doesn't think he said enough. He almost certainly didn't tell Ace everything he deserved to hear. Foolishly, he assumed there would be another time.

He's learned from this. He won't take it for granted any more.

"Call me when you land," Tiger says. "Give the monkey our love."

"I will," Jinbei replies. His heart is so heavy he doesn't know how he manages the steps onto the plane. He doesn't know how the pilot manages to lift them up from the tarmac. It's a wonder they aren't sinking, straight through the earth.

Nami and Usopp are waiting for him at the airport, wide-awake even though it's well past two o'clock in the morning. They're familiar to Jinbei from the stories Luffy has told him, from the numerous video calls they've bullied their way into over the years, and the handful of birthdays and holidays Jinbei was able to make it home for.

"Luffy wanted to come with us to pick you up, but he fell asleep," Usopp says, apropos of nothing, as they're waiting for their Uber. "Sanji said it was a small miracle, and Zoro looked like he was going to hunt us for sport if we even thought about waking him up, so--"

"He hasn't been sleeping, then?" Jinbei asks quietly.

"After he came home, he was on some pretty heavy meds, and he slept a lot," Nami says. Her arms are folded tight against her chest in the nighttime chill, her eyes trained somewhere far away. "But he had bad dreams and he would wake up disoriented. Now he fights sleep tooth and nail."

"We've all sort of become the insomnia squad," Usopp pipes up. "Thank god I'm not taking any classes this summer."

"Sanji's gotten really good at making lattes," Nami adds with a small smile. "Wait till you see his shiny new espresso machine."

"I'm like eight-five percent sure he stole it from the Baratie."

Jinbei listens to their chatter, feeling at once anchored by them and adrift at sea. It makes sense that they would be ahead of him. They've been here all this time, practically from the moment of the accident, facing it with all the bravery and endurance of sailors in a typhoon. Jinbei, meanwhile, had been living in an unchanged world.

For the last month, Ace has been dead. How many times had Jinbei thought about him? Mentioned him to a friend? How many times had Jinbei wrongly said his name in the present-tense?

The house is warmly-lit when they arrive, but quiet. An old blue Irish wolfhound greets them at the door, wagging his tail. Robin looks up from the papers she has spread out on the coffee table and smiles. Chopper is fast asleep beside her, his head on her shoulder. Behind them, Jinbei can see Sanji at work in the kitchen, shaping dough. Something is baking that smells of cinnamon and apples.

They weren't kidding about their sleep schedules being a mess.

"Hello, Jinbei. It's good to see you," Robin says. Her voice is soft, in deference to the sleeping teenager. "Luffy is asleep, but you can see him if you like."

"Please," Jinbei replies hoarsely.

"I'll take him," Nami says. "Usopp, would you bring his bag to the guest bedroom?"

"'Course," Usopp replies, but he makes a detour into the kitchen first.

Nami takes Jinbei's hand and leads him toward the stairs. "I feel really stupid about this, but I was so angry at you," she admits as they make their way up. "It's hardly the first time we haven't been able to contact you, and I know why that is. But-- I don't know, I think I was going crazy. I wanted Luffy to have everything he wanted. I wanted everyone who loved him to be here every time he woke up. So I-- so there might be some angry emails waiting for you, but please don't hate me for it."

"I won't even read them," Jinbei promises gravely, his heart cleaved clean in two. "I can't imagine how-- how hard it must have been. I-- if I had gotten the messages sooner-- "

"I know," Nami assures him, pausing outside a closed bedroom door. "Franky spoke to you like six hours ago, and you're already here. You dropped everything to be here. We know the kind of person you are."

She stands up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, and Jinbei bends to accommodate her, the same way he does for Koala. Then Nami reaches out and pushes open the door.

Zoro is awake, sitting against the headboard with his phone in hand and earphones in, and his eyes are as bright and sharp now as they were when he was a child. He looks up when the door opens, and seems to relax when he sees Jinbei stepping in behind Nami.

"Go to sleep," Nami whispers, pointing at the second bed across the spacious room.

"Don't tell me what to do," Zoro replies, just as quiet, but he pulls his earphones out and extracts himself from the bed with all the exacting precision of a bomb disposal technician. Nami takes him by the arm, helping him get up so carefully that the mattress hardly moves. It's such a well-practiced maneuver that Jinbei thinks he honestly might cry.

"If one of you would stay for a bit, I'll grab a shower," Zoro says.

"Sure, stinky," Nami says, nudging him toward the door. "Jinbei?"

He nods, unsure of what he's agreeing to. Now that he's finally next to Luffy, nothing else seems to exist. He sinks into the chair beside the bed, only half-aware of Nami and Zoro leaving. Their murmured conversation is cut off by the closing door. The room is silent, save for the gentle, unobtrusive sound of Luffy's steady breathing.

He's lost weight since Jinbei saw him last. There are shadows on his face that don't belong there. He looks both older and younger than he has any right to, even now, when his face is untroubled and slack with sleep.

"Hello, little monkey," Jinbei says. His voice is quiet, but it still breaks. He's crying, he realizes, thick tears rolling down his face with abandon. "I'm sorry it took me so long."

He thinks of two little boys, spilling into his life on accident, taking up room in his home and his heart as if they always belonged there. They weren't his, not really, but he loved them anyway. Loves them still.

"I'm here now," he whispers. His hands are shaking. "I'm going to protect you, like I promised. I'm here, Ace. Please believe me, wherever you are. I won't fail you again."

[sokkascroptop]

would you be mad if i asked you if you can write a zuko x y/n drabble abt their relationship before he was banished? 🥺🥺

here it is!!! we’ll call this, a traitor prequel. I know that my inbox is about to be bursting with Zuko x Y/N headcanons and love and I’m okay with that. You think Azula was soft for Y/N? Zuko was a fucking Y/N simp from day fucking one. 

Also, for reference, Ren is Y/N’s oldest brother. And gd, I wish I had thought of this idea when I first was writing traitor instead of dropping this in the middle of the series. It would have given Y/N a bigger (and easier) reason to leave the Fire Nation. 

“You’re weak on your left side.” It was the third time that night she’d pointed it out and Zuko’s frustrations with her were growing. 

“Shut up, Y/N!” Zuko came at her with a vengeance. A well aimed blow was blocked by her. Zuko crossed his other sword overtop his right one, trapping hers between them. 

“I’m just trying to be helpful,” Y/N boasted. She pulled her sword away and backed off, still en garde. She gave him a little smirk. He wasn’t really mad at her, he just didn’t like to be corrected. 

Zuko dropped his swords to his sides. “Why do you antagonize me?”

“Ooh, big word!”

“Yeah, do you know what it means?” Zuko mused.

Y/N scowled and let her own sword fall. “Of course I know what it means!” She waved the tip of her sword in his direction. “Come on let’s finish sparring.”

Zuko shook his head and fitted his swords together. “I’m done for tonight.”

“But neither of us won!”

“Not everything has to be a competition Y/N. Sometimes we can just have fun together.” Noticing Y/N’s frown he added. “I have to get up early for firebending training.”

She sheathed her sword and they walked side by side back to their rooms. Zuko didn’t say anything more and Y/N wondered if she was wrong and he really was mad at her. “I’m sorry if you thought I was being mean,” Y/N said.

“You sounded like Azula,” Zuko commented. 

“What?” Y/N stopped dead in her tracks. 

Zuko ducked his head and looked at her sheepishly. “Ever since Ty Lee and Mai left you spend all your time with Azula. It makes you say things she would say.”

“Azula’s my friend, Zuko.”

“Well so am I! But every time we’re together you treat me like she does.”

“What does that even mean?” Y/N’s voice intensified with each word. 

“You’re cold. The only difference is you still apologize afterwards. You’ll stop doing that too.” Zuko turned on his heel and walked away from her. His back was tense and he had fists gripped at his sides.

Y/N was left in the hallway to try and figure out why what he said bothered her so much. 

---

“I came to apologize for yesterday.” Zuko had his hands behind his back and his head bowed. He was in his formal armor, not the lighter training clothes they wore when they would spar. 

Y/N frowned and opened the door more, motioning for him to come inside. 

He shook his head. “Lets walk in the gardens.”

“Why?”

“Just come on.” Zuko rolled his eyes and started walking away without her, she had to jog to catch up. 

“You never apologize. Especially when you think you’re right.”

“Am I right?” Zuko raised an eyebrow. 

It was Y/N’s turn to roll her eyes. “About me being like Azula? I don’t know? I also don’t know how that’s a bad thing if I was.”

Zuko didn’t answer her as they walked side by side down the steps and into the garden. He parted the leaves of the lone willow tree and motioned for Y/N to walk under them. 

The willow tree was the largest tree in the garden by far, it’s expansive branches created an oasis underneath the canopy where you couldn’t see out, but more importantly, no one could see in. It had become Zuko and Y/N’s favorite spot to hide away. They both sat at the base of the trunk and leaned against the bark, bumping their shoulders together.

“My mother and I used to sit out here every day by the pond.”

Y/N turned to look at her friend. Zuko didn’t mention his mother anymore much, and when he did there was often a hint of resentment in his voice, now it was just wistful and sad. 

“I know,” Y/N tried to think of something else to say to fill the quiet. She hadn’t known Ursa for very long, but the memories, however few and far between they were, were fond ones. “She was kind,” Y/N said finally. 

Zuko didn’t reply; that didn’t matter to Y/N. They sat in a comfortable silence watching the bees flit around and pollinate the willow blooms. If Y/N ducked her head down she could see the edge of the pond under the willow leaves and the turtle ducks swimming around. But Y/N still had one question on her mind...

“Zuko, why did you bring me out here?” He didn’t answer. In fact, he didn’t even look at her, so Y/N continued. “Surely, you didn’t drag me out here to plant one on me again?”

Y/N grinned at Zuko’s reddening cheeks. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that!” he grumbled. “And I brought you here to apologize.” 

“You apologized when you came to my door. So what is this really about?”

Zuko had a nervous energy surrounding him, he began fidgeting with his hands in his lap. “I don’t like fighting with you, Y/N. We left on a bad note last night.”

Y/N sighed. “I know you and Azula don’t get along anymore. But don’t put me in a position where I feel like I need to choose between you two.” 

“I don’t want you to have to,” Zuko said earnestly. “I found out about a war meeting tonight. I’m going to try and get in, you should come with me.”

“A war meeting? No, why would I want to go to that?” Y/N had no interest in a meeting where generals like her father talked like they were Agni’s gift to the world. She had no idea why Zuko would want to either. 

Logically, Y/N knew that Zuko was to be Fire Lord, he was the heir and eventually he was going to have to partake in things like that. But, wouldn’t he want to avoid it as long as he could? Instead of jumping right in?

“Don’t you want to see what you’ll be doing one day?”

Y/N thought hard about that question. That had never occurred to her before. She never really imagined herself as a war general before, but that didn’t mean that other people didn’t see her potential to be one, and apparently even Zuko could see her doing that. Hopefully the war would be over before she ever had to make that decision, because that was not the person she wanted to end up being.

“Not particularly,” She answered softly. 

---

Y/N waited in one of the wide hallways that filled the palace for Zuko. She didn’t want to attend a war meeting, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to know what one was like. Zuko hadn’t immediately come back, so he apparently had been let inside. 

Y/N didn’t know how much time had passed, but it was enough that she had slid down the wall and leaned her head on her bent knees. Servants had given her strange looks as they passed her carrying trays of food or laundry but they didn’t say anything to her; knowing that it would probably be better to just not ask. 

Finally, when Zuko emerged from around the corner, Y/N jumped to her feet. 

“Well? How was it?” Y/N realized her voice was much too excited for how she had been speaking about the war meetings earlier and she toned it down. “Was it everything you had imagined?”

Zuko’s face was paler than usual, and he began walking away without answering her. Y/N ran to catch up and grabbed his arm, spinning him around to face her. 

“What happened, Zuko?”

He grimaced and didn’t meet her eyes, instead opting to scout out the halls, looking to see if anyone was around them. Upon not finding anyone he backed them up into a recessed doorway; his golden eyes shining in the dim light. 

“I said something at the meeting.” Zuko looked at her, shellshocked at his own actions.

Y/N grasped his arms. “What happened?!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Zuko said, but it sounded like he was speaking more to himself than he was to her. “I disrespected this general–spirits I didn’t even know his name. He said he was going to send in a troop of new recruits to fight the Earth Kingdom army. They were going to be bait, Y/N. He was going to get them all killed and I told him he couldn’t do that...” Zuko’s voice trailed off. Y/N knew there was something he wasn’t saying. 

She dug her nails into his sleeves. “Zuko, what else happened?” 

“My father. He said I have to fight in an Agni Kai for disrespecting the general,” Zuko murmured.

Y/N’s heart began to race. An Agni Kai? She stepped back letting her body sag against the wall. She shut her eyes, closing off the tears that were brimming them. She wanted to scream at Zuko for being so foolish, but her voice came out in a whisper.  “Zuko, why would you do something like that? Why couldn’t you have just kept your mouth shut.”

Apparently, Zuko was not above yelling. “I had to!” His voice echoed through the hallway. 

When Y/N cracked open an eye he was avoiding looking at her face, choosing to stare at his feet. “Why?” she rasped. In Y/N’s heart, she knew what he was going to say. They’d been friends for too long and she knew that there were few things that he would use his voice to speak out against. He was always protecting her. 

“It was the 41st division. I couldn’t–” Zuko sighed.  

“Ren.” Y/N nodded and a tear slipped down her cheek. Zuko’s face softened and he laid a hand on her shoulder but that’s not what she needed right now. She wrapped her arms around Zuko and sobbed into his shoulder. “They’re gonna kill my brother, aren’t they?”

Y/N had never feared something more in her life. Coming from a military family, she knew the risks they all took when they signed up, but it had never hit her that this could happen to her. Ren wasn’t just some faceless soldier on the front lines, this was her brother, and those generals were playing with his life like he meant nothing. 

Zuko was hesitant to hug her back, but he eventually did. “That’s why I said something. I couldn’t have you think that I was somehow in on it.”

Y/N pulled away to look at Zuko, but looking at his hopeful face made her want to cry all over again. “I would never think that. But look at what you have to do because of me now.”

Zuko furrowed his brows. “I’m going to win, Y/N.”

Y/N wished she had the same arrogant, blind optimism that Zuko had about his Agni Kai. It didn’t matter who got burned and who threw the flame that burned them because in Y/N’s eyes, neither person was going to be the winner. 

---

Y/N didn’t knock and the guards that stood outside of Zuko’s door didn’t stop her from entering. She wouldn’t have let them stop her anyways. She’d waited for a week to come and see Zuko and she was running on adrenaline and tea. The moment she had heard what happened at the Agni Kai she wanted to run to him, but no one would tell her where he was. On one hand she wished she had been there, on the other, the thought of seeing the Fire Lord burn her friend’s face turned her stomach and she was glad she hadn’t tagged along with Azula. 

He wasn’t in bed, like she expected–in fact she wasn’t even sure what she had expected anyways; Zuko lying there half-dead? 

He was sitting on the floor, cross-legged in front of the tall mirror they all had in their rooms. He looked… the same. The unmarred side of his head was facing towards her and he was just staring at himself. 

He didn’t move even though the door to his bedroom slammed shut behind her. She approached cautiously, unsure of how he was going to take her showing up without any announcement. 

She stood behind him but she had yet to look down at his face, scared for what she was going to see. Instead, she stared at her own reflection, her tearful eyes that were threatening to overflow with each blink. 

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Her voice broke halfway through the sentence. 

She glanced down involuntarily and stifled a gasp. Half of his face was wrapped in white bandages. What was behind those bandages, she wondered, sickly. Did he still have his eye? Could he still hear out of that ear?

Whoever had treated him had shaved his hair back leaving just his phoenix tail. It made him look older, meaner; or maybe that was just the hard expression on his face. Y/N had never seen it before. 

Y/N didn’t even realize she was sinking to her knees until they hit the cold marble floor. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to tell herself that he was real and still in front of her, because after so many sleepless nights she had convinced herself that Zuko was dead. Finally, after what seemed like ages of staring in the mirror; staring at him waiting for permission, Zuko met her eyes. Y/N surged forward and held him. Zuko clung to her arms and their sobs filled the air. 

What had she done? Zuko had stood up for her in that meeting and for that he had lost half of his face, his honor, and for what? 

“When do you leave?” she asked, her throat still thick with tears. 

“Two days,” Zuko sniffled. Y/N stared at his one gold eye in the mirror and Zuko stared back with just as much intensity. 

 “Promise me you’ll come back safe.” Y/N eyes were burning with more tears as she said it but she refused to look away. Zuko didn’t have to answer her because they already knew the answer. Y/N turned and pressed a kiss into his cheek that was still wet with tears. And they sat like that–for minutes or hours–Y/N didn’t know, with Y/N’s arms wrapped around Zuko and him leaning back into her chest. Y/N didn’t need his protection anymore–no, she was going to protect him.

[abarbaricyalp]

prompt idea - sam/steve/bucky

bucky and steve start calling sam by 40s pet names as a joke but sam discovers he actually likes it but doesn’t know how to tell them.

Hello! Sorry this took so long (vampire anon, that's also taking so long but it is also being so long. I haven't forgotten about it. I just love vampires)

Read on AO3 under the same title by ElisabethMonroe

An Incomplete Dream

As with all things that vexed him, Sam Wilson’s newest problem was started by Bucky Barnes.

“Stevie, don’t he look like the most perfect picture of angelface?” Bucky asked, turning away from Sam, though his metal fingers didn’t loosen around Sam’s wrists, which he was holding over Sam’s head.

Steve looked over his shoulder with a wide grin, even without having to look at Sam. “He sure does, Buck,” he agreed and finished pulling his shirt off over his head.

“Angelface?” Sam asked, just to antagonize Bucky.

Bucky shifted over Sam, ground his thigh a little closer to Sam’s groin. Never close enough to give any real friction, just the teasing promise of more to come. It was about the only time Bucky had any self control, when Steve was around to tell them not to have too much fun without him. And Steve, unfortunately, managed to have the patience of a fucking saint when it meant it got Sam and Bucky harder than sin.

“Yeah, doll,” Bucky purred, dropped his face to Sam’s neck to trail his mouth along his skin. Sam would pretend like that was what had his legs falling open. The kissing and not the words. “Means you look like somethin’ Heaven sent.”

“That’s heavy,” Steve said, reappearing from the bathroom in briefs that Sam was pretty sure he’d bought him. Or maybe they were just Sam’s. “But not wrong,” he added as he climbed into the bed and straddled Sam’s hips. Bucky shifted too, staying out of Steve’s way but continuing to hold Sam’s wrists down. Sam pouted up at him. Bucky ignored him and leaned over to kiss Steve instead.

“How ‘bout you give your angel something to work with?” Sam suggested eventually, pouting out his lower lip again. Steve leaned down to kiss it away.

“Good morning, dollface,” Bucky greeted the next morning. Steve looked up from his newspaper with a fond grin. Sam tilted his head to offer his cheek for their mandatory morning kisses. Bucky skipped his cheek and went for his neck, an arm draping over Sam’s shoulder to run his hand down Sam’s bare chest.

“You haven’t said dollface in a while,” Steve said and brought his coffee up to his lips.

“You ain’t got one no more,” Bucky said. Sam could feel him look up from his nook in Sam’s neck and Sam could only imagine the look he was throwing Steve.

“What happened to angelface?” Sam asked.

“Liked that one, huh?” Bucky said. He kissed Sam’s cheek and went off in search of breakfast.

“They’re all corny,” Sam said. It wasn’t really a lie. They were corny. He was allowed to like corny things.

Steve hooked his foot on the back of Sam’s ankle and it took all Sam had not to visibly react. It was insane that they could still have this effect on him. “Don’t be mean, dollface,” he drolled with the same easy grin he’d shot Bucky.

Sam sprawled over the breakfast bar, cheeks burning. He heard Bucky laugh.

“Steve!” Sam yelped and hurried to the stove to get a pot off the burner before all the water boiled over. “I gave you one job.”

Steve looked sheepish and he shrugged helplessly as he gestured to a bowl he was mixing some kind of cake batter in. “It was either the noodles or the cake. I know which one Bucky would prefer to get done.”

Sam rolled his eyes and bumped his hip into Steve's as he carried the pot to the sink to drain it. “He may say he wants the cake more, but we both know he puts carbs away like he’ll never eat again.”

For a second, the realization that it may very well be a survival instinct for him settled over the both of them. Then Steve shook his head and crammed himself into the corner, trying and failing very hard to be small.

“Hey, sugar, can you grab me the sugar?” he laughed.

Sam rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. “Corny, Rogers. So damn corny.” But he got the sugar and passed it over. He was not surprised when Steve caught him around the waist, spinning him in a lazy dance even though the oven and stove were both still on and he hadn’t so much as measured out his sugar.

“He's special ration,” Steve sang, twirling them around a kitchen not designed for it. “Funny, he never asks for my money. All that I give him is honey. And that he can spend any time.”

Sam looked up when the door opened, but Steve didn’t even stumble, so Sam got Bucky’s bemused expression all to himself.

“I'd make a million trips to his lips, if I were a bee. Because he's sweeter than chocolate candy to me. He's confectionery, that sugar baby of mine.”

“It’s my birthday but you’re serenading him?” Bucky asked, cutting in between them to wrap his arms around Sam’s waist, picking up on the dance like he’d started it.

“You don’t call me dollface anymore,” Steve said with a shrug. He turned back to his cake and Sam dropped his face to Bucky’s shoulder. They swayed slightly, taking small steps now and again, pasta forgotten for now.

“Yeah, Sam’s my new dollface and he gets to give me my gift first.”

“Do I, now? And you know what that gift is, I’m assuming.”

“Sure I do,” Bucky said. He reached for a red bow that had been left on the breakfast bar and smacked it onto Sam’s shoulder. Sam was just about to make a joke when Bucky peeled it off and put it on the waistband of Sam’s pants instead. “Sounds like you’ve got a little sweetness to spare, sugar,” he purred and pulled him back towards the couch.

Steve could handle pasta and cake at the same time, Sam decided. And if he couldn’t...at least they’d have dessert.

Sam turned over in bed and opened his eyes to find Bucky already looking at him, sleepy and only half awake. One of the best ways for him to be, Sam thought.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, reaching over to brush a curl back into the mop on Bucky’s head.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured back. Sam felt his stomach curl in on itself in elation. It was a little painful, but Sam was realizing most of his reactions to Bucky and Steve were adoration and pain in equal measure sometimes.

“Think Steve’s gonna be out of it all morning?” Sam asked.

Bucky’s mouth curled to the side. “He did take a robot to the side of the head,” he pointed out. “I ain’t seen him bruise like that since he was little.”

Sam grimaced in sympathy for Steve. He had been pretty banged up the night before. He really should’ve been with med, but of course he wasn’t. Of course he was in bed instead, having to sleep with his back to Sam and Bucky because he couldn’t sleep on his right side. Sam shifted over, supporting himself on his elbow, to look over his shoulder at Steve’s sleeping figure.

“The swelling’s already half down,” he said, turning back over in time for Bucky to kiss his forearm. “He better sleep until it’s almost all healed.”

“Hopefully,” Bucky agreed, kissing up his arm to his wrist. “You’re a sweetheart for worrying,” he said pointedly.

“I didn’t argue last time you said it,” Sam laughed softly. He freed his hand from where he’d tucked it under his pillow, and Bucky kissed his palm and then along his fingers.

“I just like saying it. Sweetheart. It was my favorite back in the day.”

“Back when you had game?” Sam asked.

Bucky growled playfully, leaning over to nip at Sam’s lips, sleep still making their movements and words slow and languid. “I’ve got plenty of game. I’ve got the two most beautiful men in the world in my bed every night. But, nah. I never used it on dames. Not like this. This is all yours and Steve’s.”

“Why not?” Sam asked, pushing his fingers through the hair curling around Bucky’s ear.

“‘Cause it’s what Sarah used to call me and Steve. I don’t wanna use it on anyone I don’t fully love,” Bucky said, like it was simple, obvious, not world shattering.

Sam fell into Bucky, kissing him between whispers of sweetheart.

The antiseptic of hospitals always set Sam on edge. When he was thirteen and his grandmother had gotten sick, he’d lost count of the nights he’d spent in hospital rooms and waiting areas. He still clearly remembered a doctor walking into one waiting room to talk to a family near Sam’s. He remembered the blood on the doctor’s pant leg and the sudden rush of mortality that hit him all at once.

Being in pararescue meant he spent a good chunk of his service time in and out of hospitals too. Not necessarily for himself or Riley, though that was a cause too, but just to do his job. Put people in beds, continue field triage, check in on patients who didn’t have anyone else. Even in the desert, that smell filled the air.

Tonight, it creeped beneath his skin too, even though he was half running through the halls, even though there were bandages around his head, even though he was pretty sure he had serious sinus damage under his broken nose. He knew what the hospital smelled like.

The only thing that stopped him was a thick arm around his chest, as gentle as could be given the circumstances, though it still hurt like a bitch. It didn’t stop him grasping for the door handle. “Bucky,” he gasped out, ribs and lung both protesting, fingernails scratching futilely at the arm around him.

“Hang on, Sam. Just wait a second,” Steve said, reaching for his waist instead of his chest with a muttered apology. Sam couldn’t remember reacting, giving himself away. Maybe Steve had just gotten his med eval.

“I need to see him. They wouldn’t say anything. I had him, I was holding him,” he insisted. “I didn’t drop him.”

“Sam,” Steve breathed and finally managed to turn Sam’s wild eyes from the door to his own face. “Do you have a concussion?” Probably, but Sam didn’t know for sure to say. “You were shot down. You didn’t let go of him.”

Sam blinked up at Steve and it felt like it took ten years. “No. I saw… I saw him fall…”

Steve shook his head, brought his hands up to either side of Sam’s face. When his eyes flickered over Sam’s shoulder, Sam finally clocked all of the doctors in the hall, people saying his name, someone reaching for his arm before Steve shooed them away gently.

“You both fell, Sam. You need to be in a hospital bed too. I can’t believe you’re walking, Jesus.”

“Just me,” Sam said weakly. “I hear the resemblance is uncanny.” It was Bucky’s joke and the fact that he wasn’t here to make it had terror clutching at Sam’s heart again. “Please let me see him. I can’t stand this image in my head.”

Steve’s hands were gentle on his face, but relentless. Sam couldn’t turn back to the door.

“What’s wrong with him? Why aren’t you letting me in? Why aren’t you by his side?” he whimpered, hands coming up to clutch at Steve’s wrists.

“He’s not awake,” Steve said.

“They knocked him out? How?”

Steve’s features seemed to all screw in pain. “No. He was in and out of consciousness himself. He hasn’t woken up since the last time.”

“Oh my God, is he dead?” Sam cried, then swayed on his feet with the sudden cold blood rush.

“No, no, Sam, no. He’s not dead,” Steve assured and pulled Sam into his chest to hug him as tightly as gentleness and care would allow. “He’s just unconscious.”

“Let me in. Let me see him,” Sam said again. “Even if he isn’t awake. I just need--” His face fell to Steve’s shoulder as exhaustion caught up to him.

“Can we get a bed…?” Steve asked quietly like his mouth wasn’t right next to Sam’s head. But maybe he had the right idea because there was an ensuing conversation that Sam missed entirely.

The next time he clocked in, Steve was laying him down in a hospital bed. There was a cloth divider, but Sam knew the sound of Bucky breathing. He was so close. Steve tucked Sam’s arm back under the blanket when Sam reached over.

“Hey, easy, angel. Just try to sleep, okay? They’ll get your IVs reset.”

“I had IVs?” Sam asked and hated how his voice slurred.

“Oh, yeah. You took them all out. Very well, by the way. You’re hardly bleeding.”

Sam had put enough of them into other people, he thought he should know how to get them back out. Even concussed.

“You’re just gonna have to settle for me for now,” Steve said when Sam looked over at Bucky’s side again. He settled in a chair that was too small for him and held onto the hand Sam had freed again, keeping it firmly on the bed.

“I don’t settle for you,” Sam muttered. “Just wanna see him.”

“I know, angel. Just go to sleep. You’ll see him in a few hours.”

A few hours was sixteen, as it turned out. “What the hell is this?” Sam heard as he fought against the grit behind his eyelids. “Even national icons--incredibly dangerous assassins even--can’t get their own room?”

Sam sat up, swayed, and had to put his hands on the bed to keep himself upright. At the end of the partition, Sam saw Steve see him, saw a grin pull at his tired face. “Nah, Buck. You just had a gentleman caller last night. I had to keep him in the living room for a while,” he joked. Sam didn’t get it. Well, maybe he did. But he didn’t want to fight through the pulsing stuffing in his head to figure it out.

Steve stepped over to him, helped him stand, offered a wheelchair. “I don’t need a damn wheelchair. I hit my head, not my legs,” Sam snapped, though it came out soft and whiny.

“You hit everything,” Steve said.

But it didn’t matter, because Sam could see the figure in the next bed over shoot upright too. “A gentleman caller?” Bucky said. “Was he handsome?”

“Well, I think so,” Steve said as he helped get Sam’s arm around his shoulders. “I’d take him home with me. You’re lucky I was so patient as to give you a chance to save your date.”

Bucky laughed and Sam just about collapsed at the sound. “Trust me, I could win any gentleman caller back from you.”

“Sure you could, Buck,” Steve said. Finally they started moving around the curtain partition and finally Sam got to see Bucky. They had matching head bandages and there were plenty more creeping out of the paper shirt he was in.

It was a good thing Steve was holding him up because Sam’s knees went out from under him. Steve gently deposited him on the bed and Bucky and he fell together, bandages pressed to bandages as foreheads found resting places together.

“Sammy,” Bucky breathed and brought taped fingers up to Sam’s cheek, his jaw, his lips, his chin. The metal arm was disconnected and Sam wondered if it had been damaged too. “I was so fucking scared. I saw you fall--”

“No,” Sam insisted again. “That’s what they said last night too. But I saw you--” he started.

“No, you fell first,” Bucky said. “You put yourself under me.”

Steve’s fingers rubbed at the back of Sam’s neck. “Told you. You didn’t drop him.”

“Nah,” Bucky agreed. The eye that wasn’t swollen shut was gleaming with fondness and adoration. “A perfect gentleman, you were. My gentleman caller.”

Sam let out a shaky breath and held his hand over Bucky’s chest, just to feel his heartbeat.

“Hey, doll, will you give me the controller?” Steve asked. Sam barely looked up from his phone, only adjusted his feet on the coffee table to give Bucky the room he’d need to hand over the remote.

Steve’s toes dug into Sam’s thigh and Sam lifted his leg enough to get Steve’s toes under him. But then he kept squirming until Sam finally looked up with an unheated glare. “Do you need something?” he asked.

“Yeah, the controller,” Steve said again. “Jeez, you mad at me for something, angel?” he asked.

“No? Why would I be?”

“I’ve asked you twice now for the controller and you haven’t moved.”

“You didn’t ask me. I figured Bucky was getting it.”

Steve’s face crumbled in confusion before a wry grin cut over it. “Where do you think Bucky is?”

Sam looked over at the weird egg shaped chair Bucky liked to curl up in. It was empty. So was the kitchen and the loveseat that was too short for any of them to actually lay on but Bucky liked to do it anyway.

“He left, like, an hour ago,” Steve said. “I asked you.”

“But...you said doll. You only ever call Bucky doll.”

“Do I?” Steve asked.

“Up until this moment, yeah,” Sam said, feeling a little embarrassed and heated.

Steve freed his feet so he could get his knees under him and lean over to Sam. “Well,” he said, kissing Sam’s jaw, “consider this me granting you the pet name too,” he murmured. “I like to use it when I’m undeniably happy. And you make me undeniably happy.”

“You’re full of shit,” Sam laughed, pushing Steve’s face away. “You call him doll in every argument you’ve ever had in front of me.”

Steve shrugged. “It wears him down faster than logic.”

Sam got the appeal. “Do it again.”

Steve grinned. “Make me, doll,” he breathed.

Sam leaned over to kiss him.

“Can we talk about something?” Sam asked finally. The words just fell out of his mouth. It was certainly not the ideal moment he was thinking about waiting for. Steve was reorganizing their colognes on the large chest-of-drawers, even though Bucky was just going to mess it all up again in the morning, and Bucky was doing situps on the floor in sweatpants that he kept taking out of the trash when Sam tried to throw them away.

“Sure, darlin’,” Bucky said, sounding like a sin all breathless and Brooklyn. He sat up and braced his elbow on the side of the bed. “What’s up?”

“Actually,” Sam started and rubbed at his elbow, “that’s what I wanted to talk about.” When Steve and Bucky pulled the same confused expression, Sam moved to the bed and sat down on it. His heart just about burst when both of them moved to sit by him. Steve took a hand in his and Bucky rubbed at his thigh.

“It’s stupid alright. You don’t have to worry like this,” he said and felt a little bit of the tension melt off of his partners. “It’s just...you know, when Bucky first started the whole pet name thing, it was a joke, right? You were just teasing me,” he said.

“Was I?” Bucky asked. Steve pinched his side behind Sam’s back.

“And that was fine,” Sam assured. “I liked it. I like seeing you two smile ‘cause of it. Like that you found a way to bring stuff from back then to now with you.”

“Does it...make you uncomfortable?” Steve asked. And Sam could almost see him try to figure out if there was something offensive in a name like angel.

“No, that’s not… I just… Recently it’s become...heavier, I guess? It feels like it means more.”

“Again, are we sure I was taking the piss out of you before?” Bucky repeated. Steve pinched him again.

“I just wanna know what it means, is all. Because...I really like it. I like it every time you say it. Every single one of them.”

“Angel,” Steve and Bucky said at the same time. Sam shuddered enough to jar his shoulder against Steve’s.

“Shit, you do like it,” Bucky said.

“Are you asking… Are you worried about more than just the pet names?” Steve asked. “Like...are you asking how serious we all are?”

Sam’s fingers tightened around Steve’s hand. He hoped he wasn’t hurting him because he wasn’t sure he could make his fingers unclasp at that point. “It’s this thing between the two of you. These names and stuff. I ain’t heard no one call someone doll since my friend’s great-grandparents renewed their vows when I was a kid. And don’t even get me started on darling. Not the way you two say it. You mean it.

“And I didn’t know how I fit into that. It felt like you were testing out how I fit with the two of you,” he finally admitted. He wanted the words to lift the constriction out of his chest. Instead, it just lifted it to his throat so he could barely keep on talking. “I thought maybe I liked it a lot more than the two of you did,” he said, not talking about the names anymore, not really. “And I was scared you’d give up. But then it got serious, right? And I had to try’n figure out what was going on. So...what is going on?”

“Oh, Sammy,” Bucky breathed and wrapped an arm around Sam’s middle to hug him. “It’s been dead-serious since the moment it started,” he said. “It’s not goin’ nowhere. Not the names and damn sure not me.”

“Of course it’s serious,” Steve agreed, pressing his forehead to Sam’s temple. “We haven’t ever tried to fit you into anything. You already do fit everywhere. It was something we were missing before you. Not a space we rearranged for you.”

“Fuck,” Sam breathed, tried to laugh it out but the tears were evident in it.

“And if you were gonna panic about pet names this much,” Bucky added, because he always knew how to make Sam laugh and break the tension. “You shoulda worked on not having such a perfect angelface.”

Sam did laugh.

“Lucky you got angelface,” Steve said on his other side, putting his arms around Sam’s waist too. “Apparently you can lose the dollface designation.”

Sam laughed again and clutched at the arms around him. “Alright, my loves,” he said and felt something tremor through both of the other men. This was a two way street. “You can call me anything you want as long as you kiss me right after.”

“Sure, angel,” Bucky said.

“Anything you want, doll,” Steve agreed.

He got a kiss on either cheek. And then many, many more afterwards.

[naranha]

when the days get colder

(read on AO3)

-

Billy Hargrove is dangerous.

Steve establishes this the first time he sees the guy, bare chest and beer running down his chin – sees it in the way Billy stares into his eyes, aggressive and daring, a promise for blood. He’s a louder, meaner version of the king Steve used to be, and Steve is just tired, doesn’t want the fight he’s offering. He lets him know there’s no king to dethrone anymore, although he doesn’t explain how he stopped caring about status the day a girl drowned in his pool, and doesn’t ask how he’s supposed to care about anything other than the monsters lurking in his backyard. He does tell Billy he’ll gladly hand over the title, for all he cares. It’s been nothing but a burden.

Billy smiles, vicious, and pats Steve’s cheek, a little too hard to be taken as anything but a challenge. Even through his fingerless leather gloves, his skin feels like a furnace against Steve’s face.

“And where would be the fun in that, Harrington?”

He then turns to walk back outside, followed by Tommy – who seems to have found another self-absorbed bastard to drool over. Steve hears people chanting Billy, Billy over the loud music, and the sinking feeling on his stomach has nothing to do with his fall from grace.

The next thing Steve learns about Hargrove is how determined he is to make his life miserable. He’s mean on the court, shoves Steve around and elbows him in the ribs, and talks so much shit that it’s impossible to focus on anything else. He doesn’t take no for an answer, just shoves harder when Steve ignores his antics, and laughs louder when Steve falls flat on his back. The hand he offers is mocking, and when he calls Steve a pretty boy in the showers, it feels like a dare. Steve knows Billy’s trying to see how far he can push, how solid Steve’s apathy can really be. He will keep pushing until Steve cracks and calls him an asshole, or breaks his fucking nose. Steve wonders if he’ll ever get there, with how bland and unresponsive he feels these days, or if Billy will eventually get tired of his lack of fire and just move on, find someone else to pick a fight with.

It’s at the Byers’ where Steve finally reacts, when Billy’s hostility isn’t directed at him, and then he finds out just how dangerous Billy can be when a plate is smashed against his head. There’s blood on the scribbles laid out on the floor, and the sound of fists colliding against his face makes him want to throw up. The last thing he remembers feeling before passing out is panic. He thinks his skull might give out, and then he’d just die right there, leaving the kids alone with a feral Billy Hargrove and a bunch of flesh-eating hell dogs.

He wakes up in the back of a car driven by a thirteen-year-old, but he’s never felt so relieved in his life.

Steve doesn’t expect Billy to apologize, and he doesn’t need him to, either. He’s content with having been left alone. Billy doesn’t only stop antagonizing Steve, he also actively avoids him at school, as if their fight had been enough to soothe his need for conflict. Steve catches him staring at his swollen face across the hall one day, but his expression is unreadable and he quickly averts his gaze.

His split lip is almost fully cured and the bruises on his face are yellow and fading when Billy approaches him again, one afternoon while he’s waiting for Dustin outside the arcade. He’s got a black eye, way more recent than Steve’s, and he doesn’t speak at first, just leans against the Beemer and offers a cigarette. Steve takes it, cautious, and realizes how much smaller Billy looks when he’s not trying to be seen by everyone.

“Listen,” Billy finally says, turning to look at Steve for what feels like the first time in years. “Sorry. About your face and shit.”

It is, objectively, a terrible apology, but it’s also a peace offering from none other than Billy Hargrove. Steve wonders what that means.

“You look like shit too. Guess we’re even.”

Billy huffs out a laugh, nods and says fair enough, and then they stay there, smoking in silence.

Steve does get a real apology after they become friends, which is something that slowly progresses without Steve thinking too much of it. It starts with shared cigarettes between classes, and cold nights at the quarry when everyone else is hanging at Tommy’s – I can’t be assed to put up with that bastard anymore, so I’m free if you wanna hang out. They get drunk, bond over shitty childhoods and daydream out loud about leaving Hawkins after graduation. By the time February rolls around, there’s a weird but comforting feeling of companionship between them, and the passenger seat of Billy’s Camaro feels more familiar to Steve than his own couch.

Steve never thought he’d get to know this version of Billy – the one that laughs without malice and keeps blankets on his trunk because he knows Steve gets cold easily –, but he welcomes the shift.

The proper apology comes one night while they’re driving around. Billy’s at the wheel, speeding through deserted roads, and he quickly pokes Steve’s thigh to catch his attention before he starts talking about trying to be better, you know? Steve learns just how shitty Neil Hargrove can be while Billy recalls the events of that night, and it doesn’t sound like an excuse, but a lot of things about Billy begin to make sense.

The most dangerous thing Billy does, by far, is brushing his hand against Steve’s on a July afternoon, too obviously deliberate to be an accident. It’s dangerous, because it’s been the only thing on Steve’s mind for months now, and it’s easy to forget about the world when you’re hiding from it. His touch lingers and Steve holds his breath, and it’s so dangerous that it turns into messy kisses against Steve’s door and a bed that’s no longer empty; when the days get colder, it becomes soft touches and words that feel like promises.

The light that used to reflect onto the pool and find its way into Steve’s bedroom, reminding him of death and keeping him up at night, no longer reaches him now that Billy’s there to close the curtains.

And yes, Billy Hargrove might be dangerous, but Steve has fought literal monsters, so maybe he can take the risk.

[destiniesfic]

Folktober 05 — for @jurdannet/@jurdannetrevels. In which Jude was never taken to Faerie and grew up in blissful ignorance of the fair folk—mostly—until the night they tried to steal her twin sister away.

First | Prev

The door is the first test. It is difficult not to stare at every new thing I see. There are lamps on either side of the polished wood doors, and at first I think they’re just regular lights, but of course nothing here is that simple; the light comes from two tiny glowing faeries, trapped behind glass. I am immediately filled with questions. Did they volunteer for the job? Is this a punishment for some unknown crime? Do they eat, and if so, who feeds them? Do they live forever, miserable in their prison, or do they eventually burn themselves out?

But I am meant to be glamoured and not ask questions, so I don’t, even though I want to pound my hands against the glass until they bleed and the tiny faeries are freed. I keep my eyes straight ahead and hardly even flinch when I notice the grotesque carving on the door. It looks horrible, a twisted and terrible face, the knocker piercing its nose.

Cardan acts as if this is all totally normal, because of course to him it is, because he lives here and none of this is new to him. Without any hesitation, he reaches for the door knocker. And as he does, the carving’s eyes spring open.

To keep from screaming, I bite my lip hard enough to draw a bead of blood. My entire body goes taut, a coiled spring waiting for release. I force myself to breathe in through my nose.

“My prince,” says the carving.

Cardan smiles at the door in a way I am not even sure he smiled at his friends. “My door.”

I am relieved when the next words from the door’s awful mouth are “Welcome home” and it swings open to admit us. Cardan stalks inside, and I follow.

There is a faerie servant waiting for us, wearing some kind of livery. “Prince Cardan,” they say, with a small bow. “Your brother would like to speak with you.”

“A pity for him,” Cardan replies, handing his cloak to another servant. No one offers to take the jacket I am wearing. “I would like that less.”

“I am afraid it was not a request,” the first servant says. “He wishes to speak with you and the mortal girl you have brought back with you.”

Cardan glances back at me, a frown turning down the corners of his full mouth. “Very well, although I cannot imagine why. Come, Jude.”

I bristle at the command, but I follow after him; it’s what the glamoured girl I’m supposed to be would do. I force a little smile on my lips and trot after him. “What’s going on?” I whisper through it.

“I know not.” The frown deepens. “And I like that even less. Stay close to me and face front, no matter what you see. And under no circumstances may you antagonize Balekin as you do me. Am I understood?”

I want to tell him that if he thinks my meager resistance so far has been antagonism, he doesn’t really know anything about hardship, but there’s an urgency to his voice, maybe something like nerves or fear, that makes me think he’s being serious.

“Totally,” I say, and then I fall back a little so that I trail him.

Soon I see why he warned me to stare straight ahead. As we walk through the hallway, I see another human for the first time, a young man dressed in the same palace livery. At first I want to call out to him, to scream, to tell him I’ve been taken and he has too and we should both run away from this place, but I notice the glazed look in his eyes, and, as we approach, his cracked fingers and chapped lips. He hums to himself as he polishes an old suit of armor on display, and doesn’t seem to notice as we pass.

I shudder. Cardan may have kidnapped me, true. He and his friends might have intended to do terrible things to my sister, and he may still intend to do terrible things to me. But at least I have been spared that fate, the loss of my all my faculties, of any control.

I’m not relieved for long, because Hollow Hall still has horrors in store for me. Soon we come to another set of gleaming doors, through which I can hear the sounds of chatter and the faint thrumming of music. The doors are thrown open for us by another pair of servants, and then we are in the middle of the great hall.

There is what is clearly a party happening. Well, I assume it’s a party, what parties are in fairyland. It looks like the kind of scene HBO would get in trouble for when casting a bunch of nude extras. I mean, by human standards, it would definitely be considered an orgy, but I am beginning to think that human and faerie standards are very different.

And that’s not to say all of the Folk are embracing. Some are eating golden fruit. Some are drinking wine and mead from great goblets, like the ones Cardan brought for his picnic jaunt into my world. Others seem to be falling asleep. Two might be strangling each other to the amusement of onlookers. There is a small band on the other side of the room that includes a green-skinned pixie playing a flute and a boy with goat legs playing an honest-to-god lute. And, yes, there are faeries in varying states of undress, on couches near the perimeter of the room or cushions on the floor, and some are definitely, um, occupied. They are clearly inhuman, but their bodies are human enough that I find myself blushing, out of embarrassment or mortification I don’t know.

But Cardan said I couldn’t stare, so I do my best not to. I face front and think about the places I would rather be. Which is pretty much anywhere. I imagine myself at the Starbucks downtown, sipping pumpkin spice lattes with Taryn, or bingeing She-Ra on Netflix with Vivi, like we had the last week of the summer. Then I think about how my parents will panic when they realize I’m not there in the morning—probably just a couple of hours from now—and I nearly feel sick to my stomach.

“Jude,” Cardan hisses through his teeth. “With me.”

I don’t nod. I just follow him as we chart a path through the revelers, managing to hold it together. A naked girl with daffodil-yellow skin and pink flowers for hair laughs and calls to him, trying to coax him into joining her circle, but he ignores her. I guess being a prince makes you popular.

Our destination is on the far side of the room, unfortunately, which means I have to do a lot more repression to make it there in one piece. For example, I can’t think about how a sharp-toothed faerie seems to be using a tiny bone to pick his teeth, or how another revel guest’s lips shine red like they’re wet with blood. At least I can easily pick out where we’re going and focus on that as I keep from tripping over any outstretched limbs.

Another faerie, one who looks much like Cardan with dark hair and high cheekbones, reclines in a wooden chair carved to look much like a throne, up on a dais. He is in conversation with a very lovely woman in a blue gown, but when she sees us approaching she kisses his ring and leaves. I almost want to tell her to come back, to not leave us with the host of this debauched fete. But there’s nothing to say. I’ll have no help here.

Cardan climbs the dais seps and stops before the chair, inclining his head with deference that seems a little mocking. Without being told, I know that this is Balekin, whom Cardan said was the eldest of the princes.

Brother,” Balekin says, and even I, an outsider, can sense the danger under the familial cheer. “How was your jaunt to the mortal world?”

“Tiresome,” Cardan says, stifling a yawn as he raises his head.

“I was told you brought a companion back with you.”

“Word travels fast.”

Balekin waits for him to say something else, and frowns when he doesn’t. I, meanwhile, am thinking of how I felt like we were being watched as we rode through the forest. Maybe we were. Or maybe the goblins who’d paddled the boat were spies. Nothing here was safe.

“Well, won’t you call her hence so I may examine her?” Balekin asks at last.

“Oh, indeed,” says Cardan, who clearly isn’t happy to have been called out for this. Still, he waves for me, and I take a step forward. “This mortal girl interfered with our fun. She was unhappy that Locke wanted to play with her twin sister.”

“Twins?” Balekin sounds intrigued. He sits forward. I’m learning that twins are probably rare among faeries if Taryn and I are so consistently interesting. “Why not keep them both?”

Cardan shrugs. “It was better sport to promise the freedom of one sister and then take the other. This one was so angry when she found her twin glamoured, and now she suffers that fate.”

I’m angry still, I want to shout. I’m angry now! I want to stomp my foot. I want to haul off and punch him. But I stay where I am, trying to keep the placid smile fixed on my face. I’d thought Cardan and his friends terrifying and wrong, but now that I am face-to-face with an adult faerie, I realize that Cardan can’t be much older than me—or whatever the faerie equivalent is. Maybe he’s ninety and just looks nineteen. But Balekin is clearly grown, less lanky than Cardan, more dangerous. He is looking at me in a way I don’t like.

“Come closer, child,” he says to me, and he almost sounds kind. I try not to hesitate as I approach his chair. When I am near enough, he reaches out and takes my face in his hand. There are thorns poking out of his skin, sharp enough to prick me. I stay very, very still and try to breathe normally.

“She’s not unpretty, is she?” he asks Cardan.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cardan shift uneasily. “If mortals are your flavor.”

Balekin frowns, turning my face from one side to the other. “She has a familiar look. What is your name, girl?”

“Jude,” I say obediently.

“Your surname.”

“Smith,” I lie. It’s the first thing that comes to mind. Telling a faerie prince my actual full name seems like a really bad idea.

Balekin’s eyes narrow, but he releases me. My jaw tingles. He swirls the wine in his goblet the way sophisticated people do in movies, and then he leans back in his chair. “So, brother. Now you have a mortal girl. What will you do with her?”

“I have not yet decided,” Cardan replies, sounding thoughtful. “I would rather not put her to work in the kitchens or the hall. Mortals are so fragile, with such clumsy fingers. It amuses me to think of her carrying my schoolbooks, serving my wine, and sleeping at the foot of my bed like a faithful hound.”

“Trite amusements,” says Balekin, but I notice that he doesn’t seem displeased with his younger brother. “If you misplace this one it is of no consequence to me. Do as you will.”

Cardan inclines his head in a mock bow, then says again, “Come, Jude.”

Like the faithful hound, I follow at his heels. Unlike the faithful hound, I chafe doing so. But I can’t see another way out just now, so I will play this game until the end. Whatever that is.

---

Tag list: @lilithsaur @highqueenofelfhame @charrise @emeralddaydream13 @b00kworm @amandlas @gellavonhamster @ireallyshouldsleeprn @misskillerdarkness @nahthanks @lohep @awkward-avocado-s @alittledribbledrabble @kittkatandbooboo @harrymoncheri @gxndrya

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[ninjakasuga]

Sonally Celebration Week! Year Three, Day Six: Rescue

Sonally Celebration Week, Year Three, Day Six: Rescue

Day six, and admittedly the toughest piece to write since well, action scenes require more finesse than a domestic/slice of life story. The journey continues, and since my main focus mostly centers on Sonic and Sally’s post Robotnik/Eggman war peace time lives, I like to flex different events when the prompts give way to good inspiration. When one has to do with rescuing, well, let’s just say, if you’re dumb enough to harm someone’s children, woe comes to you in waves.

Day Six: Rescue.

It was supposed to have been a nice, pleasant day. Go to Spagonia with your big bro and his wife, enjoy flying in a fancy transport ship. While Sonic and Sally do the diplomatic thing, Sonia and Manic would watch J.C. and Kathy as they got to enjoy the city. See the sights, enjoy some ice cream and crepes from the city vendors, and just have a good old time! However, it wasn’t to last, the day was ruined when the sound of their ‘secret tail’ security guards crying out after being, well truthfully Sonia didn’t get to hear what exactly happened to their bodyguards (she hoped they were alive). All she heard was some muffled noise; some people screaming, and suddenly a van rolled up, and people in masks and jumpsuits grabbed and knocked them all out.

After coming too, she woke up to a bag over her head, only to have it torn off, and bright lights flashing in her face. A camera was aimed at them as some jerkoff using a voice-modulating helmet to obscure his identity was making some long list of demands and basically laid out they were collateral if those demands were not met. She tried to make everything out, but she was still groggy from waking up from whatever they used to knock her out. Manic was no better when she asked him if he gleaned anything she missed, sadly he was as groggy as she had been. She knew better than to ask the kids, clearly the six-year-olds were ‘terrified’ and wanted nothing more than to go home and jump into their parents arms.

Hell, the sixteen year old herself wanted to hug her parents just as badly. After that song and dance with the camera, all four were dragged to this cell of sorts, and left there with a guard detail. Whatever they wanted, they seemed to be serious, or at least wanted to come off that way. Her keen eye noticed some of their guards seemed unsettled. Like they were not keen they had kidnapped children. Maybe she, or Manic could use that? A little of the ol’ duo-charm to-.

“Auntie Sonia?” The small, childish voice snapped the older hedgehog out of her thoughts. Instantly her head snapped to the small child resting in her lap.

Forcing a calm smile, Sonia gently petted Kathleen’s soft auburn hair, which had blue tips at the end. Many thought it was dyed, but it was merely something that seemed to happen to both children, who inherited their Mother’s auburn tresses. Yet at the tips, bits of blue would form over time. No doubt the stubbornness of her big brother’s genes at work. Just hand to mingle with Sally’s.

“What’s up kiddo?” She asked her niece as she continued to stroke her head, and did her best to seem calm and collected. She and Manic were the adults here, they needed to be strong for these precious babies.

Green eyes look up, then over to the cell door, then back to Sonia’s own. “I wanna go home.” A simple request, but what child wouldn’t want to go home with this kind of situation abound? “Why do these guys wanna be mean to Mommy and Daddy?”

Another voice spoke up, the disdain high and snark on full. “Cuz they’re- and I quote.” Manic Hedgehog interjected, keeping his voice calm, and then upping the volume as he aimed his words at their guard. “A BUNCHA COWARDS WHO RESORT TO KIDNAPPING KIDS!!” He shouted with full malice at their captors, which made both children recoil, and his sister wince.

“Manic!” Hissed Sonia as she reached out and yanked at his ear. “Stop it! You’re just making it harder for J.C. and Kathy!” She growled at her brother, her eyes going to the door to their cell and sure enough their masked guard had turned to regard them. Thankfully he just turned away and went back to guarding.

“Well these bozos need to know what kind of d*ckless, wussies they are!” Retorted Manic, the green-dyed-furred hedgehog with a growl in his voice. Usually Manic was chill, and easy-going with a touch of mischief. He was running red right now, his niece, nephew and sister being put in danger can do that to someone. “Plus they’re f*cking idiots!”

“Manic, language!” Sonia chastised further as she covered his mouth with a hand. “Not that I disagree with you, but is antagonizing our captors the wisest idea?!”

Removing her hand from his mouth, Manic let out a dismissive snort. Yet his gaze softened some as he saw the kids were looking antsy again. “Maybe not, but seriously what kind of idiots kidnaps the Prince and Princess of a Kingdom? I mean, you want a war? Plus think of their parents, heroes of the war against the Big Robo and Big Eggy! I mean that’s a recipe for doom more than my Taco Tuesday Blowout Cookout.” The food wasn’t the issue, so much as the aftermath, but worth it in Manic’s eyes.

A small rumbling was heard and J.C. blushed as eyes rested on him. “...I’m hungry, and Uncle Manic makes great tacos.” He managed a smile, despite clearly still being scared.”

“Heheh, once we get out I’ll make us all some.” Manic promised as he lovingly scratched the back of his nephew’s ears. He did the same for Kathleen, not wanting her to feel left out. “Also, sorry about the yelling and language, I’m just pis-er-pointedly angry at the bad guys.”

“We’re ‘not’ the bad guys.” Their guard finally spoke, snorting loudly. The way he seemed to clutch his weapon and his covered tail (they seemed intent to make it hard to guess their species) twitch and move, hinted at his anger at such an accusation.

Despite having just chastised Manic for antagonizing their captors; Sonia found herself unable to not engage them. “Not from where we’re standing. Uncouth as my brother put it, he called it right. Nobody who kidnaps children are the good guys.”

“We’re not going to harm you, we’re just sending a message.” His steadfast tone, carried a firmness of whatever convictions he carried about their unknown ‘cause’.

“What sort of message? We’re kidnapping your kids, so we invite you to come kick our butts? Seriously, what else do you expect?” Sonia inquired, keeping her tone polite, hoping perhaps this guard might spill some kernel of information they could use. Then a thought occurred to her. “What happened to the bodyguards watching us? I heard them cry out, did you capture them too or did you kill them?”

“We shot them, but we didn’t shoot to kill.” The guard callously responded. “They should live.”

“Do you know that for a fact? Even a crippling gunshot can lead to death if they bleed out before they get help or the injury causes the right amount of trauma. I heard multiple muffled sounds… If they got shot multiple times that increases the chances they didn’t make it.” The magenta-dyed hedgehog stated with cold, medical fact. “They also had families, so nice job dipwad, you possibly widowed and orphaned two families.” It was petty, but seeing his body language shift and just slightly shake before firming back up gave Sonia a sense of satisfaction. “You could have used stun-blasters.”

The guard hissed back his reply, but she could tell he was trying to justify his words to himself. “You can’t silence stun-blasters.”

Rolling his eyes, Manic decided to chime in. “So you bozos prioritized not making noise, over making your little power grab as bloodless as possible.”

“If they die, our leaders will make it right, all of this has a purpose! It’s to make things better-!”

It wasn’t Sonia or Manic that cut the man off, but J.C.’s small but clearly angry voice. “So making Mr. Hunigan and Mrs. Fletcher dead is alright when you say so?” The boy’s fists clenched tightly. “They were nice people, and we know their kids, they’re our friends… you took their Dad n’ Mom from them you-you, j-jerk!”

“Gee, even the six year old can see it clear as day.” Sonia icily sneered at their captor, scooting closer she slid both her arms around her family and kept them close.

“Mommy, sh-she and Daddy are gonna find us.” Kathleen managed to speak up, wiping her eyes, like her brother managed the most fearsome glare she could. “They’ll find us and kick your butts! They’re heroes, they always save the day!”

Turning, the guard’s helmet, visor and cloth covering their mouth obscured whatever Mobian species they were. “Your parents are part of the problem! If not for the Acorn Kingdom’s meddling along with the other outsider nations, we wouldn’t need to do this!”

“Only meanies justify their actions by blaming others!” Humphed the young princess as she turned her head away, as if to utterly disregard her captor. Oh Sonia and Manic’s heart swelled.

“I gotta agree with Kathy here, sounds like blame-gaming here-.” Manic mused, only to be cut off by their clearly irate captor.

“If they hadn’t meddled with the trade tariffs making exporting goods harder, not to mention their invasive meddling with our affiliate cities-!”

A lightbulb went off in Sonia’s head. “Wait, wait, time out!” She put her hands together in the referee gesture to hopefully get a word in. “You guys are blaming them for the trade issues and the Acorn Kingdom’s presence in your sister cities? Um, dude, hoo boy, you are probably being played by whoever your leaders are.”

“Bite your tongue-!” “Okay you know what, screw that, and kids I’m sorry but-.” After giving her niece and nephew an apologetic look, she quickly sent her captor a fiery glare. “First off, F*CK you! Second, the Kingdom sent delegations to those cities BY REQUEST! The mayors asked for aid in looking into some oddities with exports from Spagonia going in and out because they realized something was hinky with the weird laws and micro-managing coming out of Spagonia’s Trade & Commerce Ministry. Any of your Minister’s calling the investigations meddling or preludes to occupation are trying to play the dodge game moron! Second of all, the tariff problem? I shouldn’t say this, but I love talking shop with my sis-in-law, and boy a lot of the issues stem from how they were set up, like someone ‘wanted’ the tariffs to cause issues and sow discord. It’s a big political set-up but my big-brained Sis likes big-brained chess and she’s onto some corruption from within Spagonia’s Trade & Commerce Ministry.”

She watched as the guard looked uneasy, and his compatriot to the far way seemed to be listening in as well and had lowered his weapon some. “That, that can’t be possible.”

Footsteps could be heard as another similarly dressed guard walked into view of the first one. “Ignore them comrade, they’re trying to unnerve you.” “What if it’s true our leaders are lying to us? Given who some of them are-.” “Shut your mouth before you give anything away!” The other, more burly guard hissed as he raised a gloved hand, poised to smack his comrade if he didn’t do as he said. With his associate cowed, he turned to the cell and pointed his weapon. “Shut your mouths or I might just have to shut it for you.”

Manic moved in front of his sister, nephew and niece, arms out. “Touch them buddy, and you and I are gonna tussle!”

“Uncle Manny don’t!” “D-don’t get hurt!” “Manny…” Sonia held the children close, but tried to soothe her brother. “Don’t, they’re clearly too deluded to listen.”

“You will see it is you who is delusional!” The burly captor spoke, with a zeal of a true-believer. “Once it’s clear your Queen and your treacherous nation are outed as the villains they are, things will become bet-.”

Suddenly the entire room rumbled, and the sound of muffled shouts, and fighting could be heard in the other room. All their captors turned toward the metal door just out of view of Sonia, Manic and the children. Suddenly the door flies off its hinges, slamming into the far guard who cried out in pain and terror as they are taken out. A familiar ‘rev up’ sound is heard and then a blue blur slams into the burly captor sending him flying. As the sounds of fists fly, another far off captor raises their weapon, only for the sound of jets to get clouder and a familiar southern drawl is heard shouting. “TAKE A NAP YA’ CREEP!” A blaster bolt is heard firing off screen. Soon a blue energy blast hits the captor, causing them to drop their weapon as the stun-bolt freezes their whole body. As another guard attempts to fight, the flying Rabbot zooms him and body-tackles the would-be-attacker, a loud, thick ‘crunch’ of metal hitting flesh is heard. Clearly a one-hit-KO.

The original guard readies their weapon, trying to pick a target, clearly panicking. “Ho-hold or I’ll shoot!”

*KER-SLICE!!*

Their weapon is cleaved in two, falling from their hands, and in the next half-second, the tip of the weapon responsible is held at their throat. This man finds himself looking into the very, angry blue eyes of the Queen of the Acorn Kingdom herself, Sally Acorn. Wielding an ornate sword with the crest of her family on the hilt, and ornate lines etched into the blade. For a second the guard swore the weapon’s blade glowed for a moment, but whatever the case, it was clear the Sword of Acorns (reforged and imbued with Sally’s residue Super energy) was capable of cutting quite nicely.

Her voice was ever commanding, calm and serene, yet deadly and potent. She was clearly angry, but using said anger as a laser-focused weapon instead of being consumed by it. For now.

“You will let my babies and my younger siblings out of that cell. Now, no questions. If you so much as dare do anything but I ask, you will regret it. Do not force me to spill blood before my children, because you WILL live to regret it.” She vowed.

“N’ she ain’t the only one you need ta’ worry about.” Uttered Bunnie Rabbot, as she got up from pummeling her foe into unconsciousness. She flexed both of her cybernetic arms which transformed into blaster mode on the right, and nasty energy axe on the left. “You further threaten my God-Children or Manny and Sonia’s well-being. I might just forget I’m a Southern Lady.” While plain and frank, there was a menace in her eyes mirroring Sally’s, and the hum of her weapons furthered showed she was not playing games.

A small ‘boom’ and a flash of blue from across the room, and the guard found Sonic the Hedgehog on the other side of him, arms crossed, and foot tapping rapidly. “Door, open, my kids and siblings safely in arms, now!’ He didn’t bother making threats, he didn’t need to.

The guard simply let out a pathetic sound, wet himself and passed out onto the floor.

Without a word, Sonic dug at their belt, found the key and quickly as he could unlocked the cell door, and threw it open. All anger, and intimidation left his face (as well as Sally and Bunnie who put away their weapons) as the look of a worried parent and brother overcame all else. “Are you four okay?! Did they hurt you any-?!” “DADDY, MOMMY!!” Instantly Kathleen, and J.C. dashed into the arms of their Father, with their Mother soon joining in the hug, checking them over.

“Oh my babies!” Sally clutched her family tightly, kissing the children all over their faces and tops of their heads, as she checked them for injuries. “It’s okay now, Daddy and Mommy are here, oh God I’m so sorry this happened, that we weren’t there to stop you from being taken.” She babbled, as the kept-in-check emotions burst from the dam she erected to focus on the rescue.

“We’re sorry, we’re sorry…” Sonic murmured, his heart still racing even with all his joy held firmly in his arms. Lifting his gaze, tear-stained he looked to his siblings worriedly. “How’re you two holding up? They didn’t hurt any of you did they?”

“Nah, they just… dragged us around at most.” Manic shrugged, but was clearly relieved this whole thing was over. As he stood he found his legs shaking, and leaned against his equally leg-shakey sister. “All that said, glad you guys found us so soon.” Moving closer, Bunnie shifted her arms, what was metal now, began to flash with energy and seemingly disassemble back to flesh and blood. The wonders of bio-nanite tech. Once her arms were organic again she pulled the two hedgehog siblings into a hug. “Sorry we didn’t get here sooner sugah, but we had to basically strong-arm some of the Spagonia government to give us the okay to act. Though once Sally n’ Sonic scared these bozos' supposed leaders into talkin’ they squealed like- well sumthin I can’t say within earshot of kiddos.”

Sonia let herself chuckle, relief and a sense of security flooding her being as she leaned into the hug. “So, lemme guess, the Trade Minister and his flunkies were the culprits?”

“Yeah, I mean we were gonna confront em’ with the evidence Nicole uncovered, but you all bein’ taken kinda forced our hands.” Bunnie further explained as she scratched the back of their ears soothingly. “U-Uncle Manny and Auntie Sonia, looked after us, we’re okay…” J.C. managed to speak once his throat wasn’t sore from crying (this time from happiness).

“Hmm-hmm, they’re the best as always!” Kathleen agreed, sniffling and wiping her eyes as she remained cocooned by her parents and brother.

Smiling, Sonic reached over and managed to give each of his younger siblings an affectionate arm-punch. “Somehow I knew they’d have it under control.” Well more hoped, but he didn’t want to devalue his sibling’s efforts. No if anything he wanted them to ride the pride of keeping themselves and the kids safe.

“Lucky for us, as Sonia called it, these guys were morons. Dangerous ones, but morons.” The green-furred hedgehog blew out a breath, and then he recalled something. “Um, ah, how’re Agent Fletcher and Hunigan?”

“Alive.” Sally replied, still nuzzling her children, still unwilling to let them go. Her own heartbeat was finally starting to calm down and the adrenaline high was crashing. “They were hurt badly, but both are tenacious and they got help just in time. They might have to retire from active duty early but we’ll be sure they’ll be looked after, their families too.”

“Oh thank goodness!” The two teens, and the younger children exclaimed, as joy at the news eased their hearts from the dread they felt prior.

Footsteps could be heard approaching, but the boot clomps’ were familiar. So no one tensed or got ready for another fight. Especially once Captain of the Royal Guard, Antoine D’Coolette emerged, wiping his sword blade clean with a cloth before sheathing it into its scabbard. “My Queen, ze fools have been disarmed, and rounded up. As you requested, we managed to take them all alive, if injured.” After a beat, he contemplated making a joke about some being ‘literally’ disarmed, but with the children there, he decided against it. “How are ze young ones?” He asked, decorum giving way to concerned God-Father, and as a fellow parent.

“Thankfully unhurt Sugah-Twan.” His wife replied, flashing a smile his way. “Where’s Tangle n’ Whisper?”

“Helping out Tails to ensure we didn’t miss anyone and secure the location.” Informed Antoine as he walked over, making sure all were fine, if to soothe his own fretful nature. They also will wish to zee’ that our rescuee’s are le’fine.”

Sniffing away the last of her tears, Kathleen looked up at her Mother. “Uncle Tails came too? I thought he was testing his new plane in the South Seas?”

“Once he heard the news, he jetted over as fast as he could and offered to help.” replied Sonic with a wide smirk of pride and relief for his ‘not-so-little’ bro. “Family sticks together, and well you guys are as much family as his own. Which by the way, I’m sure Tails will wanna set up a face-chat so Mina can see you’re all fine.”

“She is very fond of her biggest fans.” Chuckled Sally, who internally still found it ‘very’ weird, that Tails and Mina Mongoose hooked up. Their age gap wasn’t too bad, and clearly whatever happened to bring about their dating didn’t occur until Tais was eighteen/nineteen-ish. Then again he clearly had a thing for older women, at least his choices after Fiona Fox were an improved taste. As long as Mina was good to Tails, that was all she cared about, and they did seem like a good couple. Still weird but that was on her.

“Can we leave now?” J.C. asked softly looking up at both his parents hopefully.

“You got it son, we’ll juice n’ jam out of here and get you guys some food and tucked in for the night.”

“Can we have a sleepover in the hotel suite? Like all of us with blankets on the floor and pillows nests?” Asked Kathleen with big, hopefully eyes. A look her brother mirrored and nodded to her suggestion.

“Yeah, can we have a sleepover?!” Manic echoed, doing his best impersonation of the look.

“I don’t see why not, if everyone else is on board.” “Wouldn’t be hard for us all to fit in, big ol’ space, and like you could ask us to stay away after today.” Bunnie voiced her opinion with a warm smile at the children. Giving them assurance she was on board.

“Like the saying goes, the more the merrier.” Antoine stated to voice his blessing. “Plus I’m sure Bunnie and my own angels would love the idea as they too were worried about you four. As was your Nanny Miss Cream.” The coyote gently ruffled the hair of the two youngsters, his mind drifting to his children two years their senior. Yes, if they had been through this, he’d gladly acquiesce any whimsy they wanted within reason, and a sleepover to help soothe their nerves? A piece of cake.

Kathleen’s face fell as childish concern flooded her mind. “Oh no, that’s right, we were supposed to meet Jacque, Belle and Miss Cream after lunch…” “Hey they know we didn’t stand 'em’ up by choice.” Manic interjected as he flashed a smile and reached over to ruffle his niece’s cheek tufts.

“Let’s blow this pop stand, I want a hot bath, lots of bubbles and all the cheese cake…” Sonia muttered, feeling her own adrenaline rush and the weight of the whole ordeal finally sapping her energy.

“I hear that, let’s go home everyone.

[rwbyvein]

Firen Lhain: Chapter 810: Taste of Freedom:  Part II / III

"Guess what?" Taj asked, and spun away from his console. Emerald and Mercury just glared at him.

"Yes?" Cinder stated.

"Pirates." Taj excitedly said to a dead room. Taj spun back around, picking up the control. "I swear Nora would have been so excited about that."

"Don't lump us in with them." Emerald admonished.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not." Taj stated. "You couldn't hold a candle to them."

Cinder stood up and gently walked over. "What, exactly, are we facing?" she said with a sinister turn.

"About time you showed your true face." Taj sneered.

"Yes, well," Cinder stated, "it seems our time together is coming to an end."

"Thankfully." Taj replied, "Two airships, and outriders."

"Out-what?" Emerald asked,

"Oh, you're just going to enjoy Vacuo." Taj stated, "You can ask your flaming bitch about that later. Right she needs to get up top and fireball their asses if they get too close." He then looked over his shoulder at Emerald. "Feel free to join her." he then looked back at his controls.

Emerald huffed, "And what does that mean?"

"It means if you all jumped overboard it would make my life easier. Until then, we're stuck with each other."

"How can you possibly be so rude?" Emerald asked, "You don't know anything about us!"

"I know you think Faunus are beasts." Taj said, waving his hand over his shoulder. He then turned to Cinder, "You might want to keep your pet in line if you don't want me to just drop you all off right here."

"What did you call me?!" Emerald shrieked at him, and Taj held up the back of his hand to her.

"Emerald." Cinder said to her, and Emerald looked at her with tears in her eyes. "Another hour or so and we will be free. Until then, let's not antagonize him any more. Why don't you come and join me?"

Emerald took a step towards her.

"Try not to fall off." Mercury haphazardly stated.

"Don't pay him any mind." Cinder stated, "He will miss you almost as much as I would."

Emerald looked at Mercury, who quickly looked way.

* * *

Emerald nervously stood on the roof of the airship a she looked around. Ever so often looking right back at Cinder. She smiled and looked Emerald in the eyes. She reached her hands out and Emerald nervously raised her hands to let Cinder take them. "Just relax." Cinder said to her. "Look into my eyes and relax. You've never questioned my plans before, so just relax and trust me. All you have to do is not fall overboard. If they get close enough, an hallucination or two might help me. We're a step or two away from freedom we've never had before. He will drop us of in the lower Athabasca, and be on his way back to their little tower. We never have to see them again."

"Unless Salem figures out where the Fall Relic is." Emerald stated.

"I don't plan to wait around like sheep for the slaughter." Cinder stated, and Emerald developed a shine in her eyes. "We're not here to hide, my dear, we're here to build an empire." She then reached her right hand forward to cradle Emerald's face. She then pulled away, looking at the pair of airships approaching them. Rather than the shiny metal of Atlas, it was duller, the windows narrow slits. The craft itself shorter and flatter than the Atlasian one. Far less elegant, though. Emerald looked back at Cinder, and basked in her beauty. Simply being in Vacuo would help to make it more beautiful. She saw movement, and turned back to the airships. What was moving was, two per airship, what appeared like motorcycles, except with wings instead of wheels.

"What are those?" Emerald asked.

"I'm going to guess outriders." Cinder said with a disturbing look. "What they don't know is that they are facing the Fall Maiden. They are probably hick enough to not know what a maiden is. Just keep an eye on the outriders."

"We don't want them escaping." Emerald voiced.

"No." Cinder said, and Emerald worked towards her, "We have to let one escape. Everyone in these gods forsaken waste need to know to not fuck with the queen bitch of the badlands."

* * *

The two airships and three outriders listed, falling, on fire as one hurried to escape.

* * *

Neo jumped up as the heavy footfalls walked around the crates and just stared at Jaune's silhouette against the dim light leaking from the staircase. "So, for one thing, I have eyeshine, so I can see REALLY well in dim light. Much better than you can. Even if you're good at it." Neo glared at him, unsure of what to do. "Second, we need to decide where you are going to be sleeping."

Neo glared at him a moment before jumping up and pointing at him, looking at him questioningly before looking around.

"How did I find you?" he asked, and she looked at him with shock before nodding. "Hmm. My antlers act like Aura radar?" Jaune asked, and Neo just glared at him. Jaune just shrugged. "Anyways, where are you going to stay?"

Neo glared at him before looking down. She then dramatically looked at him before looking around.

"Nope." Jaune stated, and she glared at him. "I've been wanting to spend time finding out what's in these crates. If you want your own room, we can give you your own room." She glared at him and Jaune pulled something out of his pocket. She looked ready to fight until he handed her a key "One of our guest rooms on the third floor."

She looked at him curiously before looking down and staring at they key.

"Uh, yeah, enjoy."

* * *

Neo walked into the room, used the key to lock the door, and simply look around. Her own room. With more rooms. She walked up to one and it was a closet. Her closet? She shook her head and moved to the next, and it was a bathroom. Her room had her own bathroom. She could lock herself in here forever, never having to worry about the outside. Assuming they would bring her food. Which knowing them, they likely would. Unless the buck came to kidnap her again. She them stood up proudly to her full 4'10" height. At least in heels, and heels counted, right? She shook her head to clear away those thoughts. She had a castle in a castle, with idiots to protect her.

* * *

There was a knock on the door. Neo moved up to it and stared, unsure of what to do. She had never had someone knock before. Most people were either on business and trying to not draw attention to herself, or they were the unwelcome type of visitor and usually ended up stabbed. She moved towards the door and knocked.

"Neo?" Ruby called through the door, "We, um, hope you're enjoying your room, and we just wanted to tell that you we had other things. Like a Garden! Kind of. We really did plan to work on it. At least when we don't get so many unexpected, um, visitors? Oh, there's also a library! A really nice library! That you probably saw on the way up here. Anyways, like I said, we hope you enjoy your room, and we'll, um, get you when dinner is ready."

Neo unlocked and opened the door. She looked Ruby in the eyes before closing and locking the door again.

* * *

The airship dropped down into the canyon, hovering just over the ground. Taj looked back for a moment, "Is this really where you guys want to get dropped off?"

"Guys?" Emerald asked.

"Oh no! You're offended!" Taj shouted, and looked back to Cinder.

"Yes." Cinder said with a forced smiled.

"I'd love to say I'll miss you, but I won't." Taj replied, "Hit the airship a couple of times when you're all clear."

* * *

Taj sat in his chair periodically looking back. "They're really not going to do it, aren't they?" He asked, "You know what?, fuck them."

* * *

The airship floated upward, with the three no where in sight.

* * *

Taj got his bearings to make course to the nearest trading hub. Following the usual trade routes was a hell of a lot safer.

* * *

Cinder walked into a cave, followed by Emerald and then Mercury. Iti slowly listed to the left until they saw a small, Vacuan airship. The two stopped, and Cinder turned to look at them. "You should know by now I always have a plan. Before we rejoined Salem, I used our money to buy ourself a small airship and had it filled with supplies."

"And, they hid it in a cave?" Emerald asked.

"Actually standard practice in Vacuo." Cinder said with a wicked smile. "They are not fond of undue scrutiny. Or any scrutiny, really. Welcome to our new home, such as it is."

"Are we really going to live in a place like this?" Emerald asked.

"You were a street rat." Mercury said to her, "You have to have slept in worse places."

"But?" Emerald asked.

"This is our home." Cinder said as she stepped up to her, gently craddling her face. "It's just a bit of a work in progress. But, we have food, water, an airship, and no one knows where we are."

"Except Taj." Mercury stated, and Cinder looked at him.

"Who vowed to never have anything to do with us, ever again." Cinder replied, and both Mercury and Emerald recoiled with shock. "What?" Cinder asked, "I like to plan for these things."

[harrypotterandthefandomaccount]

Sucker, Part ii

Warnings: mention of death, a lil bit of sadness, maybe a curse word, fear of dying, little bit of a panic attack

Note: wow this is my only fic that has a second part lol

Ships: Remus x Reader, Severus x reader(platonic)

-

It truly had been years since you’ve last seen the Mauraders, the little group at Hogwarts that bullied you and your best friend, Severus Snape. You and Snape stayed friends all throughout school and kept in touch after, learning that he was working to become the new Potions Professor at Hogwarts in a few years.

You took another route, choosing to work in the field of Herbology and slowly make your way up to a healer. The two of you worked hand in hand most of the time, helping one another with certain tasks you had to do to get your degrees.

However, your plans halted as you and Severus heard rumors one night that the Potter’s have been attacked. You were somewhat close to Lily, staying friends with her even though James was an absolute handful. You were there for Lily when she found out she was pregnant and was also there for Severus when he heard the news. Sure, seeing Lily and James get married was tough, but seeing them start a family? No easy feat.

As the whispers grew louder one night when you and Severus were walking home, your two houses next to each other, you both gave one another knowing looks - you should go to the Potter’s. Godric’s Hallow truly wasn’t far so you both ran, hoping to find someone alive.

You shivered, shaking your head as you tried to forget that moment. You were standing around Lily and James’ caskets, watching them being lowered into their graves. Severus stood beside you, reaching for your hand which you gladly let him hold. He was trying to be strong for you, for Lily, but now she was dead and there was nothing he could do about it.

You even felt a bit bad for James. Sure, he was an asshole and bullied you and Sev, but that didn’t mean he deserved to die. Over the years, he apologized to you and Severus for his actions and told you that he saw you as a younger sister, even naming you as Harry’s Godmother.

You and Sev never saw that coming.

But now, you had no clue where Harry was. You asked Dumbledore - actually, demanded - where he was, and all he told you was that he was safe. He promised he wouldn’t be harmed in any way, shape, or form. You still didn’t feel any better. 

Letting out a shaky breath and wiping a stray tear from your face, you looked up, only to meet a solemn glance of none other than Remus Lupin. You hated to admit it, especially at the funeral of one of your closest friends, but Remus had grown attractive. You were sure Lily was laughing hysterically at you in Heaven.

You gave him a small smile, somehow communicating that you wanted to talk to him after the burial was over. He nodded, a lost smile on his face as well. Sirius stood beside him as Peter was behind the duo, looking like he wanted to leave.

As the funeral ended, you told Severus to meet you at home, that you wanted to catch up with Remus and Sirius. He looked at you with a confused look, “do you need me here? In case they get out of hand?”

You shook your head, “we’re adults now, Sev; I’m sure they’ve grown up.”

“Certainly not Sirius,” Sev mumbled, tossing a disgruntled glance towards the group. You smacked him on the shoulder, telling him to run along before you force-apparated him.

As he left, you made your way over to the remaining Mauraders, “hey. . .sorry we had to see each other under these circumstances.”

Remus was the first to greet you, his hug feeling longer than usual, “me too. Knowing Lily and James though, they’d want us to be out and about like nothing changed.”

Sirius grumbled, “yeah, well, they’re not here anymore, are they?” Angry tears looked ready to spill.

You put both hands on his cheeks, “Sirius, hey, it’ll be okay. Harry is still alive and as his godparents, we’re gonna make sure nobody is going to hurt him, you hear me?” With a nod, he pulled you into a hug as well, not lasting as long as Remus’. He pulled away with a tight smile, patting you gently on the cheek.

Remus tried not to focus on the caskets being buried, turning back to his friends, “here, let’s go for a little walk, how’s that?” Turning to the group, he heard Sirius and Peter saying goodbye and scurrying off, already looking for a way to forget the day.

You gave him a small smile, shrugging your shoulders, “we all have different ways to cope. Still want to go on that walk?”

Remus chuckled, “sounds good to me, darling.”

As the two of you walked, you looked up at Remus, “I just realized. . .we never really talked about one of the last times I ever spoke to you - in the courtyard. I’m -”

Remus shushed you, pulling your arm into his, “I know I’m not about to hear you apologize. I’m sorry for never stopping them from antagonizing you and Severus - that wasn’t right of me.”

You let a smile take over your face, “all is forgiven, Remus. Sorry that I called you despicable.”

He chuckled, “all is forgiven, Y/N.”

Remus continued, walking with your arms intertwined, “so, how long have you and Severus been seeing each other?”

You tried your best not to laugh, “Rem, we’re not together; just best friends is all.”

You noticed how red his face turned, “Oh Merlin, I-I am so sorry, I just saw you two holding hands and I just thought -”

“You’re not the first person, Remus; Dumbledore thought the same thing, “you explained, reveling in the conversation. The more you talked with Remus, the more you wanted to talk with him forever.

Remus chuckled, “glad I’m not the only one embarrassed, then.”

The two of you continued to walk until you reached a familiar street, seeing your house lit with your lights on. As you walked closer to your house, you looked up at Remus, “would you like to come inside for some tea? You’re welcome to stay and even have Sirius come over. It’s been a rough day.”

Remus walked with you up to your front door, “are you sure? I really don’t want to be intruding.”

With a smile, you unlocked the door and opened it, inviting him inside, “just get inside, Remus.”

When inside, he noticed your style had completely changed. Sure, he noticed your small tattoos on your fingertips and one on your wrist, but this was a whole new you. You had multiple bookcases and over a hundred books, some laying on the floor from there being no space. Your couch had a bit of a mess on it as you scrambled to straighten it up, the trees outside your windows not allowing you to see very well. Your lights only emitted a small radiance, the rooms being very dark.

Many plants were placed on shelves in your living room, hanging over a few pieces of small decor as pictures of you and a couple faces he didn’t recognize littered the wall. Of course, a multitude of records were hung on your wall as well. Your living room led into your kitchen which was almost the same style - but he noticed it wasn’t as dark. Sure, there were more books and plants but there was light, a few cutting boards help up against the backsplash, a tea kettle still laying on the stove, cups neatly organized on a little shelf, and cinnamon rolls - which looked freshly made - laying in a pan on the counter.

“Sorry for the mess,” you started, “hasn’t been a great couple years and the only person I’ve had over is Sev.”

Remus shook his head with a laugh, helping you balance a couple things, “it’s not a bother, dear. But what do you mean by the last couple years?”

You shrugged, “it was before I reconnected with Lily and you guys; I just got mixed up with the wrong people and did some questionable things and. . .got myself into a mess.”

He noticed you space out for a second before finishing off, “but through that, I developed a new love - academia.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, “like, dark academia?”

You smiled, “exactly! That’s Sev’s whole ‘vibe’ he gives off, but the people I met. . .they weren’t good, and they kind of, dug me into this hole that I can’t really get out of. But hey, I’m not complaining because the aesthetic is breathtaking.”

Remus stood there, silent, as he processed what you told him. You hung around a bad group of people, and they must’ve really degraded you, making you feel terrible about yourself. Why did he start to get angry?

“But that’s why I have herbology, and of course, Lily brought some of that light back into my life,” you started with a smile, “I’ve been working with some healers at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, creating some new remedies and such. And gosh, Harry is one of the brightest lights of my life. Now if only Albus told me where he is, that’d be great. “

Remus smiled, walking towards you and holding your hands in his, “I’m extremely proud of you, Y/N; your work sounds phenomenal. But you know it’s for his and yours’ safety. If You-Know-Who or any of his followers found you and him. . .”

You blushed, “thank you, Remus. . .that actually means a lot. And I know, but that boy needs someone he knows, and for all I know, he could be drifting down a river like fricken Moses.”

“Afraid I don’t get that reference, darling, but I’m sure he’s safe and sound. Was that a Muggle thing?” Remus asked, a small smile on his lips as he put his hands in his pockets.

You laughed, “yeah, it’s a Muggle story.” A comfortable silence enveloped the two of you before you sighed, “anyways, what have you been up to?”

“Well, I’ve been-” A knock at the door interrupted him.

You gave a sympathetic smile, “give me a sec.” Reaching the door, you opened it to see a nervous-looking Severus Snape, “everything okay, Sev?”

He gently pushed past you, “hold on, dove. Remus,” he started, making the mentioned man turn around, “it’s a full moon tonight.”

You raised an eyebrow, “inviting him on our late-night escapades?” Nobody laughed at your joke, making you feel uneasy, “what’s got everybody’s wand in a knot about a full moon?”

Remus let out a shaky breath, turning to you, “love, I’m so sorry but I actually have to get going. I promise I’ll make this up to you.” He walked over to you, giving your cheek a kiss before rushing out the door, past Severus, worriedly glancing at the moon.

You watched him run down the road, tempted to call out to him as your face turned red, but Sev grabbed your arm, pulling you inside and closing the door. You turned to him, “what the hell was that all about?”

Severus sat you down on your couch that laid against two walls, “he had to get out of here, Y/N. You weren’t safe with him here, especially during a full moon.”

You scoffed, “Sev, Remus was perfectly fine. What on earth are you-”

It hit you. “Oh,” you mumbled, looking at your hands in your lap.

Sev held your hands, just like Remus had a couple minutes prior, “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner, dove. As much as I hate the man, it isn’t my place.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, “no, no, it’s okay Sev. I just. . .wasn’t expecting it, is all. Is it bad that I don’t know if I feel comfortable around him?”

Severus shook his head, “absolutely not, dove. If you don’t want to see him again, that’s your decision. You just let me know.”

With a nod, you stood up and paced, “I think I need a little bit. He’s still Remus but gods forbid, what if you haven’t gotten here? I-I-”

Severus stood up, holding you close to his chest, “deep breaths, dove. You’re still here, you’re okay.”

“I miss them, Sev,” you started, “I miss Lily, I miss Harry, and I even miss James. . .yet I could’ve seen Lils again but I’m not ready, I’m not. Why am I?” Your breath seemed to get caught in your throat, your hands feeling clammy.

Sev held your face in his hands, “you’re alive with me, Y/N. You’re here and breathing and you’re okay. Shh, dove, you’re okay.”

You truly didn’t know how it happened - your breath quickened at the revelation that Remus was a werewolf and the fact that you could’ve died tonight. You weren’t ready to die, but here you were, panicking over something that most likely isn’t going to happen soon. Your mind soon drifted to Remus, hoping he was handling his transformation okay - you hoped he was. Merlin, were you a sucker for him. 

[fantasticstoryteller]

New Amsterdam Chapter 17

“Peter, Jamison wants you in his office.”

Peter winced and clutched the handle of his bag defensively. “I’m not late!” he said desperately.

Beth rolled her eyes at him, purple eye shadow glinting in the office lights. “It doesn’t matter,” she said firmly. “He wants you in his office now.”

Peter knew better than to argue. The whole staff of the Daily Bugle knew better than to argue. He quickly made his way through the crowded halls of the Bugle to Jamison’s office and timidly knocked to introduce himself before going in. Standing at Jamison’s desk was another man, a guy with short, pitch black hair, who looked about as happy as Jamison—i.e. not at all. “I’m here, Mr. Jamison,” said Peter nervously.

“Peter, meet Eddie. Eddie, this is Peter. What have you got for me today, Peter?” demanded Jamison’s harshly. Peter could hear the crunching noise as he savagely chewed through the candy he’d taken to eating when he’d stopped smoking.

Peter quickly reached into his bag and pulled out the pictures he’d taken before handing them to his boss. “He—hello,” he stammered towards Eddie. The man just glared at him and Peter tried to retreat further into himself.

He found himself wishing, as Jamison went through the photos, that Wade was with him. He had no doubt that Wade’s presence might just antagonize his coworkers at the Bugle more—but Peter found his presence reassuring. He felt warm and safe with Wade and none of that had anything to do with how Wade was determined to not only respect Spiderman’s identity, but defend him against what anyone else had to say about the subject. Nope. Not at all.

Jamison slammed one of the photos onto the desk and Peter jumped—and then stared, confused. It wasn’t one of his best works; the lines were blurred and it was difficult to see what was going on. Why would Jamison draw attention to t his one?

“See that, Eddie?” growled Jamison. “This is the worst of Parker’s photos. And this,” he added as he slammed down another one—showing Iron Man and Black Widow in battle with a faceless (literally) man, “This is the quality he usually brings me. You want his job? Do it better.”

Peter first glowed at the rare (exceptionally rare) praise until he realized the other man wanted his job. Why? The Bugle didn’t even pay that much, and Peter knew for a fact that they negotiated to sell the photos to other newspapers and sites. He cringed away from the sudden death glare he was getting from the other man.

“Parker, the printer’s acting up again,” growled Jamison.

Peter didn’t have to be told twice. “Yes, Sir,” he said quickly retreating from the office. Beth looked up and smirked at him. “You knew,” he whispered, feeling betrayed.

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I knew. Just as I know that he’ll be hired anyway, because Jamison loves his turn of invective phrase. And when you’re done with the printer I need help with the website.”

Peter nodded jerkily and went to get a set of the company over-alls that they used for the printing press in the basement. The thing was old, and was always jamming. It was easy enough to fix—and messy enough that only people at the bottom of the hierarchy (Peter) were sent to do it. He cleared the old blockage and closed the lid before jumping back at the sight of Eddie staring at him.

Eddie regarded him through narrowed eyes. “How do you do it?” he demanded suspiciously.

“I—uh, I take out the old paper to clear the blockage before refilling with new paper,” said Peter warily as he moved, cautiously, towards the door. He didn’t understand why he was suddenly sharing a room with Eddie—the man looked at him like he was scum and his senses were giving a low-level, irritating buzz.

“Not that,” said Eddie. His tone was casual. His body language was anything but. “I mean the pictures.”

Peter was even more confused. “The pictures? Well, the programming does most of the work—”

“The pictures you take,” growled Eddie through clenched teeth. “How do you know the best places to be?”

Oh. Oh. Peter nervously fidgeted with the safety goggles he was wearing. “I work at Stark Industries,” he said, “and they’re pretty good about assistants taking odd breaks as long as all the work gets done.”

“What does that—oh.” Eddie regarded Peter with a little bit more respect. “So you use the information you get at work to know when and where to go.”

“It’s not secret information,” Peter said quickly. He didn’t want anyone to think he was stealing secrets from Mr. Stark. “They announce it over the intercom. The only times I can’t go is when they’re expecting something to attack the Tower and lock it down with everyone inside.” The buzz wasn’t diminishing, and Peter swallowed. “I’ve got to—I’ve got to go,” he said quickly before fleeing.

He carefully hung the ink stained over-alls back up, grabbed his bag, and clocked out before leaving. He fled the building and then sighed as he trudged back home. He had some money from Jamison—but he was going to have to use it for the rest of his rent, some food, and some more medical supplies. His first aid kit was dangerously low, and he didn’t have anything to eat at home. The food he’d gotten at Oscorp was already wearing thin. Not for the first time, he cursed his quick metabolism.

“Petey-Pie!” called a familiar voice.

Peter whirled to see the familiar red and black figure coming towards him. “Wade!” he said happily right before he was squeezed in a hug.

“Oh, Petey-Pie! It’s been forever since I hugged you!”

Peter reached around the mercenary to hug him back and felt tense muscles relaxing. “You liar,” he said fondly. “It was just four o’clock this afternoon.”

“Do you know how many chapters that was Petey?” whined Wade. “I need my Peter fix!” He rubbed his masked cheek against Peter’s bare one and the stitches rasped against his face.

“Chapters?” he asked in confusion. “Are you reading a book?”

“I’d tell ya, Pete,” said Wade as he held the smaller man, “but you’d think I was crazy.”

Peter chuckled and gently squeezed in a return hug. “You are crazy,” he said fondly.

Crazy enough to believe he could change.

Crazy enough to believe Spiderman had a good reason for keeping his identity secret.

Crazy enough to get close to Peter Parker.

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” Wade said.

Peter leaned back enough to where he could look into the whites of Wade’s mask. “Who says it’s a bad thing?” he challenged. “I—”

“So this is how you get your information,” said voice, dripping with disgust. Peter broke way enough to see Eddie behind them. The raw disgust on his face was enough to make him take a step back, and the mere sight brought back that low-level warning buzz. “Fucking the freaks.”

“Hmm. Peter, who is this?” asked Deadpool as he tucked himself around Peter again.

“This is Eddie. I think he’s my coworker?” Jamison had mentioned something about Eddie wanting his job—but why? It just didn’t pay that much, and no one like to wrangle the printer.

“Oh? Hello Eddie. I’d offer to shake your hand, but I’m hugging my baby boy right now.” The arm around Peter’s waist tightened slightly, and the other crossed Peter’s torso. Peter would have relaxed into the embrace—if he hadn’t been all too aware of the fact that Deadpool had just moved his hand closer to his sword.

Eddie put both his hands in his pockets—and Peter winced. Deadpool had once sliced the arms off of a crook who did that (I swear he was reaching for a gun, and you’re not bullet-proof Spidey!) and Peter waited anxiously to see what would happen. Eddie simply left his hands there, and chuckled.

The sound was disturbingly similar to what Norman had uttered as Harry was recovering from nearly dying in the office.

“I just want to get an edge, that’s all,” Eddie said with a sly grin. Without looking at Peter he asked, “Peter, do you believe in the concept of fair play?”

“Um—yes?”

“Do you believe that in a competition to see who is truly the best, both people should be on equal footing?

“…yes?”

The grin widened. “Excellent. Hey, Deadpool. How about you give me a heads up, next time shit’s going down?”

Deadpool tucked his chin into the crook of Peter’s neck and there was a slight change—an almost relaxation that left him somewhere between Deadpool and Wade. “Hmm. That does sound fair.” Eddie smirked. “But, I won’t do it. You upset my little Petey-Pie, and the only reason you’re still breathing is because Spidey Senpai would be mad at me.” He rubbed his cheek against Peter’s again. “And just as Baby Boy believes in fair play, he also believes in honesty. Don’t you Baby Boy?”

“We—well, it’s always important to try to be truthful,” Peter said. He couldn't tell anyone he was Spiderman—but he didn’t deny it either. Actually, he was more careful that it didn’t come up. He wasn’t sure if that counted as lying or not.

Deadpool heaved an exaggerated sigh. “There you go. If Spidey asked Petey-Pie if I killed someone, Petey would tell the truth. So you live. Now live somewhere I’m not tempted.” He took his gloved hand away from Peter’s shoulder and made shooing motion with it. Eddie growled—but left. Peter let out a low, slow breath and relaxed as Wade cuddled him close again. “I don’t know how to say this, but you need a bodyguard.”

Peter really wouldn't put it past Eddie to ambush him in an alley on the way home. While he could fight off the other reporter—he couldn't do it without telling people he was Spiderman. “True,” he said. He looked up at Wade’s chin. “Want to come shopping with me? I got paid today.”

[fanfalc-616]

The Rights of A Nindroid

Chapter Twenty-Five

(Previous Chapter Here)

There’s something slightly extra angsty in Zane’s section... try and see if you can figure out what ;)

Also oh my god I hate politics this is going to suck-

Kai groans as he stares at his computer. “This is a lot harder than I thought…” he mutters to himself, closing his eyes for a moment.

But he quickly shakes his head, returning to the computer. Zane needs him! It doesn’t matter what he has to do or how exhausting it is, he needs to save him.

Politics are the absolute worst, but this was Kai’s idea, so he’s going to have to suck it up and keep going.

Right now, he’s looking into how Lloyd can start running on the ballot: there are two main political parties, and if they want to stand even a chance of getting him elected, they’re going to need to find a way to get him on one.

The current Emperor- or in this case, Empress- is called Harumi, and she’s running again on the political party Monocrean. So the other political party, Arosticarist, will-

Kai mutters a quiet curse as he reads the next line. Damn it.

Someone is already running on the ballot.

His name is… Rune Duncan, apparently. Huh. Kai’s never heard of him, but he’s never really been all that invested in politics.

But if they already have someone running, there’s no way that Lloyd could get in!

Grinding his teeth, Kai shakes his head. No, no, no! They’ve come so far!

With a huff, he gets to his feet, grabbing a jacket and heading out. His house arrest had ended the other day, so thankfully he can go to Borg Tower without breaking any laws.

It doesn’t take him long to find Sentry, who’s talking to some weird blond. But when Kai tries to get into the room…

The automatic door won’t open.

Why does technology hate him so much? What did he ever do to make technology work against him?

“So how has your paper been coming along?” The nindroid general prompts, not seeming to have noticed him.

"Pretty well, actually!” The blond chirps. “But there's still so much I want to learn here, so it may end up being twenty something pages long-"

Finally, Kai manages to get the door open. Ignoring the other guy, he goes up to Sentry. “We have a problem.”

Sentry frowns. “... well hello to you too.” He pauses a moment before adding, “What’s wrong?”

Wasting no time, he cuts to the chase. “Did I tell you about the new plan? Rescuing Zane by making Lloyd Emperor?”

He gets a head shake in response. “No, but it’s all over the news, so I kinda figur- wait, that’s why you’re doing it?”

Annoyingly enough, Kai can’t answer, because the other guy there decides to speak up. "Hey, haven't I seen you trending on Chirp? You're that, uh, Kia guy."

“The name’s Kai, actually.” He corrects. “Look, I don’t know what you do here, but I’ve got something kind of important going on, and I think you should go do something else.” He makes a gesture for him to leave, but Sentry shakes his head, looking mildly annoyed.

“Actually, no, he works here and I was talking to him.” The nindroid general argues. “He can keep working while we talk.”

The blond gives him a smug look, and Kai makes sure to shoot him a glare before continuing on with his point.

“Okay, fine, whatever.” He agrees. “We’re having Lloyd run for Emperor so that he can have the authority so get Zane out of there.”

Sentry nods. “And Cryptor, right?”

Kai feels his frustration building again. “Yeah, him too. Not the point. The issue is that there’s already someone running on both ballots. We need to find a way to get him on one.”

The blond speaks up again. “Have you asked any of them if Lloyd could join them?" He prompts.

“Wh- no.” Kai scoffs. “No, we haven’t, because...“ He stops as he realizes that that might actually be a good idea. “... well. That might work, I guess?”

Sentry shakes his head with a grimace. “No politician gets this far by being nice.” He points out. “They wouldn’t let Lloyd join unless we have a good excuse for them to consider it.”

"Well, there's loads of good reasons and excuses.” Kyle returns. “Blackmail, mainly, has been proven to be… useful."

Kai stares at him for a minute, trying to process what the hell he’s talking about. Blackmail? Seriously?

Eventually, he turns back to Sentry. “... so these are the kind of people you hire here, huh?”

The blond scowls at him, crossing his arms. "I mean, you haven't contributed much yourself. I'm just saying, this could be a possibility."

With a snort, Kai shakes his head. “Yeah, but that’s a little thing we like to call illegal.” He reminds.

“Has that really stopped you so far?” Sentry looks disapproving as he speaks. “How many laws have you broken already?”

A sputtering noise escapes him as he tries to come up with a defense. “Aggravated assault is one thing, blackmail is completely different!”

It only registers that the former is actually worse when he gets a look from the nindroid general.

His face starts to heat up as he crosses his arms, trying to find a way to play it cool. “Why are you trying to convince me to break more laws?” He argues. “Weren’t you just trying to get me to stop?”

“I’m not trying to get you to commit more, I’m trying to point out how bad the ones you’ve already committed are!” Sentry seems to be at his wits end.

As Kai’s about to respond, he notices the blond stifling a laugh of some kind. Frustration wells up inside of him again, and he turns to glare at him.

“Something funny?” He snaps.

The blond smirks. "Nothing for you to worry about."

Kai opens his mouth to snark back, but Sentry speaks up before he can.

“Okay, we’re done here.” The nindroid general pinches the bridge of his nose. “Kai, why don’t you brainstorm with your team to come up with an ethical way to convince them to let Lloyd join. Kyle, please don’t antagonize him- I know he’s annoying, but-“

“Wh-“ Kai fumbles for an argument against that. “He started it!” He snaps.

Sentry gives a tired sigh, but Kyle is soon talking. "Please, Sentry.” He gives Kai a wide, plastic smile. “We're like best friends now!"

Sucking in a deep breath, Kai resists the urge to do something that would probably get him banned from Borg Tower for life. Instead, he forces a strained smile. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” He agrees tightly. “Just stop talking.”

Groaning, Sentry shakes his head “Could you at least pretend to be polite?” He pleads.

Huffing, Kai crosses his arms again. “Like I said: he started it.”

He notices the blond- Kyle, had Sentry said?- typing something on his phone. After a moment, he stops, and Sentry sighs again, glancing at him.

“Kai.” He looks the brunet dead in the eyes. “Go back to the Bounty. I’ll try to come up with some things on my end, but you should keep working on yours.”

Flashing the blond another glare, he gives in. “Fine, I’ll leave.” After getting the words out and turning towards the exit, he pauses. He doesn’t like what he’s about to do, but Zane would probably want him to be polite, if he were still here…

Quietly, he mumbles, “... thanks for the advice, I guess.”

He can hear the smug grin in Kyle’s voice. "That? Oh, that was nothing, you're very welcome."

Sucking in a deep breath, Kai heads out, back to the Bounty.

It’s time to do some research on this Rune Duncan.

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Zane stares blankly at his handcuffs, staying silent as he walks.

As of late, Kyle and occasionally a guard will take him out of his locker and walk him around, most likely to prevent any of his joints from locking up after having been caged away for so long.

Still, the logical reasoning behind it doesn’t make the way he’s taken around by a chain on his cuffs like a dog on a leash any less humiliating.

After a while, Kyle speaks up. “How are your ankles?” He prompts. “They look fine, they didn't lock up once this time."

The words make Zane instinctively glance down at his feet. “I’m functioning normally.” His voice has a very bitter note to it as he speaks. “Nothing’s currently locking up.”

"Good.” Kyle smiles- and not even a psychopathic one. “That's awesome."

There’s silence for a long minute as they walk, but Zane doesn’t speak. He just stares downwards numbly and waits to be addressed.

There’s a part of him screaming at the injustice of it all, at the way he’s being treated and the humiliation he’s been forced to endure. But the vast majority of it simply… doesn’t care.

This is happening to him whether he resists or not, so why should he keep fighting? It never makes a difference, and he’s been fighting for so long that he just… wants a break. To be able to rest. He’s so tired of all of this, and it feels so much easier to simply give in to their whims.

After a few more moments, Kyle speaks up.

"...Kai passed by, today.” He comments. “Talked about politics." As he speaks, he seems to be studying him carefully.

Zane tiredly glances up, not enough to make eye contact. He doesn’t know whether to believe the words, but it doesn’t really matter if he does. Having an actual verbal conversation is a form of relief, and Zane will gladly take this chance.

“That’s interesting.” He comments quietly. “Did he mention me?”

There’s a low chuckle. "He did, actually! He's still trying to get both of you out, somehow.” Kyle smiles as he shakes his head. “Good to know some things don't change."

Some things never change, huh? Just like the torturous routine in this facility.

A tired sigh escapes him as he looks off to the side. “Yes, good to know,” he agrees in a dull tone.

"I'm actually surprised at how little you care about him, now.” The blond continues to walk alongside him, thankfully not randomly tugging on the chain like he had done in times past. “I mean, it was never real emotions, but it's weird not hearing you ask desperately about him like before."

Zane feels himself tense up. “They are real emotions.” He growls out under his breath.

Kyle suddenly stops, making Zane stumble at the unexpected pause. "Zeroes and ones. It's the only real thing about them." He reminds, stepping in close. "You better remember that."

Refusing to look up, it gives a weak nod. “I’ll remember…” he agrees, hating how little life is left in his voice as he speaks.

"Good.” Kyle has a satisfied smile on his face. “Let's go." He prompts, starting to walk again.

Zane dutifully follows, cursing himself for how easily he’s begun to give in. There wasn’t even a real threat this time, he had simply given in of his own accord.

His days are numbered.

At the realization, he stops in his tracks, feeling himself begin to tremble, fear taking a cold grasp over him.

Kyle stops beside him, raising an eyebrow in a way to demand answers.

He finally manages to look up, to look Kyle in the eyes. His voice is barely above a whisper as he speaks a simple haunting question.

“... what do you plan to do with me?”

There’s a brief pause before Kyle answers him. It seems that he doesn’t quite understand what Zane’s getting at.

"Break you.” He says bluntly, seeming almost confused by the question. “I thought it was obvious."

Zane manages to shake its head. “No, I know that.” He agrees. “But… after that. When you’ve won. What will become of me?”

The question sets dread seeping through him as his mind comes with worse and worse possibilities of what he may be made to do.

Kyle frowns, seeming to be pondering the question. "...We could use extra engineers for weapons no one in their right mind would agree to build." He decides.

Confusion momentarily takes place of the dark feeling inside. “... you were upset that someone had died because of me, but you would use me to create things to kill others?” He questions.

Kyle’s voice is quiet and almost threatening. "...Gavin was the only thing I cared about. Still is. Now…" He looks over at Zane, and he can see the bitter darkness in his eyes. "...Now the world can burn, for all I care."

After taking a moment to process the words, Zane gives a soft nod and looks back down. “Thank you.”

He can feel Kyle’s confusion. "For what?" The blond questions.

“Answering.” Zane says simply. “I… I do not want to build weapons, but I… I’m glad to at least know what my future will be before I…” He trails off.

Before he no longer cares.

There’s a bitter laugh from the blond. "Not like you have a choice." After a pause, he sighs. "I feel like I'm being way too nice to you again."

Zane stays quiet, unsure of what to say. He keeps his eyes cast downwards as he waits for further instruction.

There’s a dark pause for a moment before Kyle roughly yanks on the chain connected to his cuffs. "Walk." He orders.

Zane stays silent as he does what he’s told.

There are no words left for it to say.