#this one with a side of jack being so goddamn good at distraction-as-relief

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Prompt: "Oh, that blood. Yeah... yeah that's mine."

Pairing: Dougley

[Thank you for both the prompt and the crew list, my dear!!]

"...Fucking tree!" is all James hears over comms before a horrific crunch and then a hard stop that rattles him from head to toe. 

"Shit," James hisses as they all scramble to their feet from crash position. Thorton and Forkner follow after him, pulling McClellend between them. His head's lolling, but James can see he's trying to help them move him. "Out!" he yells. "Out! Out!"

"But–" Nord says, swinging his free arm behind him, gesturing to Saunders. His other arm is holding up Yevich, who's curled over himself, clearly in pain.

"I've got him!" Harry hollers. "Go!"

James makes sure Nord and Yevich get moving, and then turns to Harry. and sees blood all over Saunders. For a moment, all he can hear is his own desperate breathing, but then he's moving and tucking himself on Saunders's other side, helping Harry get him out of the fort. 

Everyone else is out when they step out, and Forkner run over to grab Saunders's legs and help hurry him away from the fort. 

Harry and James set Saunders down, and James checks his pulse. Thready and weak. There's blood bubbling from his chest. He won't make it.

"Fuck," Harry mutters and drags a hand over his mouth. He leaves a blood trail. 

James glances at the others and takes a few steps away from Saunders before dropping to the ground. Yevich is slumped against Nord. Nord's got his flight suit open and a rag pressed to a wound on Yevich's torso. Thornton's got McClellend propped up, clearly talking to try and keep him awake. Forkner drops beside them and shakes McClellend's leg. McClellend says something, and James can't hear it, but he sees the relief on Thorton and Forkner's faces. 

He looks at Jack, who meets his gaze for a moment, then focuses on Harry. His face is as placid as ever, but James sees the spark in his eyes. He knows they're all reeling from the close call. Knows as well as James that Saunders isn't making it back. 

"Crosby, how the fuck do you hit the only tree in fucking East Anglia?" Jack asks, voice even, but it carries. Enough to get everyone's attention.

"Fuck you, Jack," Harry snaps because he always does if you catch him when he's rattled. "You've got eyes in your goddamn head. Could have flown around it."

"My fucking navigator told me not to," Jack fires back, and James can't help the quiet chuckle of relief that escapes him.

Ev is suddenly at James's side, hand against James's neck. "You're bleeding," he says. He's got a cut across his nose and scrapes on his cheeks, but the rest of him is all in one piece.

Harry and Jack's bickering–which is making the gunners laugh and unquestionably Jack's goal in starting it–falls into the background. James can smell Ev's sweat and aftershave and see all the small cuts on the side of his face. The rest of him is all in one piece, and his fingers against James's neck help ground him. 

"It's not mine," James says. He glances at Saunders. The bubbles have stopped. Something cold shivers through James. Knowing Saunders wasn't going to make it doesn't make it easier to sit next to him now that he's passed. He closes his eyes and gets a good grip on Ev's flight suit.

Ev pulls his fingers away. James opens his eyes and sees the wet blood. His blood. "You weren't holding him on this side," Ev says.

"Oh," James says. He reaches up and touches the same spot. There's a cut there. James doesn't remember getting cut. He pulls his fingers away and looks at the blood. "Oh, that blood." He says, feeling disconnected. "Yeah…yeah, that's mine."

"Dougie," Ev says. He reaches out and curls his fingers around James's. Hides the blood in his own hand. "Dougie, up here."

James looks up and meets Ev's gaze. Ev looks scared and determined and grateful and exhausted. James's chest hurts, and he realizes he's holding his breath. He lets it out in an explosive rush and yanks Ev to him. They overbalance and fall on the ground. James doesn't let go. Ev doesn't either. 

"Did we hit a fucking tree?" James asks, staring up at the sky. 

"We sure fucking did," Ev says. 

Harry and Jack's bickering has quieted. James lifts his head. They're sitting shoulder-to-shoulder next to Saunders. Jack's got his rosary out. Last rites, James thinks. Harry's looking at Saunders's face like he wants to memorize it. 

James drops his head back to the ground and hugs Ev as tight as he can. "Great flying, by the way," he says. "You might get good at it eventually."

Ev huffs a laugh, and he turns his head, presses his mouth to James's cheek. "One more down," he says. "One closer to home."

James is out of words. He keeps Ev close and stares at the sky they fell out of and hopes they can keep getting one more closer to home.

[wardenparker]

CONGRATS on 2.5k!! You deserve every follow! ❤️ For the co-writer (along with @absurdthirst) of the Whiskey fic that made brain go BRRRRR and got me into reading/writing our fave corndog, how about our Agent with the prompts: "Should we make it official?" and/or "Put me down!" Have fun!

Agent Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels. 2,300 words. "Put me down!"/"Should we make it official?" (Sequel to: "Wait! Please don't go!"/"There is no 'us'." ) Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack hits the door, heads turn. The sharp, confident gait of a man on a mission who will not be stopped just shimmers in the air around him. Eyes sharp and narrowed, they scan the floor, looking for someone. For you.

“Can I help you, sir?” It’s the weekend, so a greeter is stationed at the door of the upscale retail store, to help direct customers through the maze of shelves and displays. It is the middle of the city so there are plenty of different kinds who come in every day, but this is definitely the first cowboy that’s ever set foot inside the Lexington Avenue Sephora.

Jack says your name and throws the woman a charming grin. “She’s helped me before so I’m hoping to see her again.” He lies, knowing that you won’t talk to him otherwise.

"Sure! Of course." The new girl smiles warmly, blushing a little as she's easily taken in by the charm that drips off of Jack like dew drops. "She's in fragrances today. All the way at the back of the store."

“Thank you kindly.” He tips his hat like a gentleman and starts for the back of the store. The past two weeks have been miserable. He’s drank, he’s raged, he’s blamed you for expecting too much. Then, when you rejected the bouquet of flowers he had sent to your parent’s house after misusing Statesman resources to find where you were, he had come to a hard truth. He had done you wrong. He hadn’t spoken from heart, not made himself uncomfortable for the sake of growth. Holding onto the fear of losing you if he loved you had caused him to lose you. And no surprise, he had loved you, because he is miserable without your voice in his ear, your fragrance on his sheets and your love in his heart. Now, he’s here to get you back.

You're there in the last aisle, helping a young lady find a specific gift she came looking for, in the uniform dress that you hate but tolerate for the sake of your new job. It doesn't pay well enough and it doesn't distract you enough to dull the constant aching hurt inside you after having walked out of Jack's place, but that's why you had started it the second after arriving back at your parents' place. To try to forget him. It isn't working. Not at all.

"I'll be right wit—" The figure looming a few feet away was only a shadow. It's the second you look up that your mouth runs dry and you feel sick to your stomach all over again. "I'm not sure I can help you, sir," you manage, hating the way your heart wings with so much hope. Hope that he wouldn't be here unless he had come for a good goddamn reason. But you have to stay strong. "You might want to try elsewhere."

“But sugar—” Jack drawls, grinning in pure relief at seeing your pretty face again somewhere else than in his dreams or the photos that haunt his walls. “You’re the only one who can help me.”

“Then you’ll have to wait.” Jack’s appearance has thrown you off completely, but you manage to finish up with your customer and take a deep breath — even hide your shaking hands behind your back — before you look at him again. “You came to my work?” Your voice is incredulous. Quiet. “It had better because you’re out of cologne.”

“You blocked my number and your daddy— well, I didn’t think you’d want there to be a brawl on your parent’s front lawn.” He huffs, annoyed that the old man had waved a hammer at him. He knows he could disarm him, but that would make you even madder at him.

“Ginger helped you find me?” You guess with disappointment. But Ginger is his friend. You can’t blame her for being on his side. “I left Jack. And I did it on purpose. Hell, we didn’t even have enough of a relationship to call it a breakup.”

“We had a relationship.” Jack snorts. “We have one still, this ain’t over, sugar.” He promises, “Not by a long shot.”

"We can't do this here." If he wants to have it out all over again, the least he can do is pay you the courtesy of not getting you in trouble at work. This is definitely going to get you in trouble. "I'm not going to lose my job because you can't take no for an answer."

“I love you, sugar.” Jack breaths out, finally saying the words he’s needed to for a long time. The words you deserve.

If there had been anything in your hands, you would have dropped it immediately. As it is, you feel like crumbling – falling down on the spot or running to him – something utterly undignified that would definitely get you written up at minimum. Your eyes mist and your shaking hands tangle around each other, but you can't break down on the sales floor. And beyond that? As much as you want to believe him, to let the anger and the heartache drip away so you can just go home to him where you want to be? It seems completely unbelievable to you that you walking out his door was somehow the magic tonic he needed to learn those damn words.

"My manager is watching," you murmur to him, glancing past him to the petite ice queen several yard away who has zeroed in on an employee not forcing product on every single person in the store. "We can't—it's not—you have to go, Jack."

“I’m not leaving.” He frowns, tossing the overly made-up manager a single look before focusing on you. “Did you not hear what I said?” He asks. “I love you, sugar. I need you.”

"I heard you." The water pressing at the back of your eyes is proof of that, and the way your voice cracks, but you can feel your manager's eyes drilling into your face and that gaze is angry. "I heard you. And we will talk about this, but I can't afford to lose this job and that might happen if you don't go."

“You don’t need this job.” Jack reminds you. You hadn’t had it when you left, so it’s not like you’ve been here for years.

"I have bills to pay," you remind him, rolling that tick in your jaw backward a little and swallowing the bitter pill that you decided to take all on your own. The undefined thing you had going with Jack had come with a big allowance, but it wasn't a sugar situation. That would have at least been a title. "Therefore, I need to keep my job. And the girl who just got hired can get sent out the door just as easily."

“You don’t need to worry about that.” He shakes his head and reaches for your hand. “Come on, sugar.”

“Why, Jack?” You have to keep your voice down as you snatch your hand back, but it’s still a hiss. “So I can be your stay-at-home friend-with-benefits again?”

Jack has many, many faults and one of them is impatience. His jaw clenches and he knows that he needs to get you alone to talk to you, others starting to warily gaze your way. Instead of answering you, Jack drops his shoulder and scoops you up like it’s nothing.

“Oh my fucking god, Jack!” The screech it earns from you is nearly instant, knowing that you have absolutely just lost your job over his stunt and not really knowing what in the hell he plans to do now. “Put me down! Right now!” He’s stronger than you and you don’t stand a chance of wriggling free in the dress you’re wearing. It will be up over your head if you even try.

“Nope.” His gait is just as determined as he passes by your manager, her jaw on the floor. “She quits.” He tells her and continues on to the door and outside.

“JACK!” Your shit is still in your locker and that’s going to be a black mark on your resume, but right now all you can do is beat your fists on his back and shoulder in protest. “What the hell are you doing? Put me down!”

By his Bronco, Jack finally relents, bending down and setting you on your feet. “Now, we can talk.”

Huffing and puffing like you’re about to summon a personal tornado, you don’t even hear him for all the blood pounding in your ears. “What the fuck was that?! Do you know how embarrassed I’m going to be when I have to go back in there and get my purse?”

“It’ll be the last time you go in there.” He predicts and he smirks at you. “And you’ll be flustered too badly to even think about what those crusted old biddies think.”

It’s a reasonable threat, considering how good he is at flustering you. The whole reason you’ve been so upset is because you do love Jack and you wanted this to work out. But standing out there on the street pressed between him and his Bronco? You feel like you’re about to be sold a familiar looking head of cattle after your own just happened to go missing.

“So what’s the play here?” You work very hard to keep your tone skeptical. “You tell me how much you need me so that I’ll come back to you and then nothing really changes? As usual?” He did say the words, but you’re so scared to believe them. To believe him. There’s a chance he doesn’t mean it and that terrifies you.

His eyes narrow, aware that he deserves that little barb but he shakes his head. “No. That’s not what’s going to happen, baby girl.” He huffs. “You are going to go get your purse and then I’m taking you home, where you belong. And I’m going to make you scream my name before you fall asleep on my chest as we plan.”

That all sounds…ridiculously good, actually. It would be a relief to go back to him. To not have to miss him anymore and feel like your heart has been split in two. But all you do is raise one eyebrow in a show of disbelief. “Plan what, exactly?”

“You’re marrying me sugar, today, tomorrow, or the next day.” He growls, smashing his lips against yours and moaning in relief when you melt against him. Pulling away to caress your cheek. “What do you say, baby girl? Should we make it official?”

“Do you…really mean it?” Months of telling him that you wanted to know where you stood with him — wanted commitment from him — only to be sidelined or waylaid or otherwise put off for just a little while longer, they all melt away in the face of the biggest offer of commitment he could possibly make.

“Gotta ring in my pocket.” He confesses, leaning in and brushing your nose with his. “Sugar, I’ve been such a damn fool.” He murmurs. “I thought I could avoid losing you if I didn’t admit I love you. And I just hurt you, something I never wanted to do.”

“That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense cowboy.” It makes Jack Sense, which is not much at all, but still your arms twine around his waist right there on the sidewalk. “But I’m just gonna brush past how long it took you to show up at the party and embrace the fact you’re here at all. Because I didn’t want to leave. I miss the hell out of you.”

“I’m a damaged soul, sugar.” He admits softly. “But I want to be better, I want to give you everything.” He sighs and leans in to kiss you again. “Come home?”

“Everyone is damaged somehow, cowboy.” Melting measurably more with another press of his lips to yours, you lean into the solid wall of Jack’s body completely. “We just have to talk about things from now on, so we don’t get more damage along the way. Okay?”

“Whatever it takes, baby girl.” Jack promises, wrapping his arms around you and holding tight. “I’m never letting you go.”

You’ve cried so much these last few weeks, it’s almost startling to realize that the tears in your eyes now are happy ones. Ecstatic. Overjoyed at having your Jack back in your life, and for the right reasons. If you were separated by more than a few inches it would have been a lunge to kiss him again, but as it is you wrap up in him and hold on tight. “You really have that ring? Because I’m gonna flash it everywhere when I go back into that damn place to get my purse, and then you’re gonna take me home. Our home.”

“I sure do, baby girl.” He has to take one hand out from around you and it almost kills him, but he wants to prove how serious he is. Pulling a small black velvet box from his sports coat. “Tell me what you think. If you don’t like it, we can go pick out any ring you want.”

"How could I not like it?" It's from him and that's all that matters. But the second he pops the little velvet box open, the tears in your eyes spill over and your heart is in your throat. "Baby...it's...it's...I love it. I love you." It's beautiful, and it's real, and he means it.

Leaving was the hardest thing you ever had to do, but if it was the kick in the pants that you both needed to know that the love you have is real? Then it was worth a little ache.

______

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My Masterlist!

[meowdymista]

Van der Driscoll Pt 7

Part 6 - Masterlist

Part 8

This is a bit of a filler chapter, which is stupid for the ratio of original wording to in game script ratio. Next one will be more engaging, I promise. Also sorry for the long wait; I took time off from writing last week because it was my birthday, and then England swept into a second lockdown so it’s been poo trying to prepare especially in work because I process somms for small-medium businesses but whatever. No one is getting much for Christmas this year lol

****

You find, much to your relief and Arthur’s annoyance, that Sean’s chaotic charm and energy swallows everyone’s attention over the next few weeks. He’s loud, boastful and brash: The Irish Terrier as Arthur and his adopted fathers call him.

You can’t help but find his totally unapologetic nature comforting. Whilst washing shirts, you overhear him get Molly to admit she considers him no better than a chimney sweep from the local bog - and immediately crucify her for it, calling her “snotty nosed” and a “right little madam”, much to her dismay. After the weeks of dirty looks (despite little to no actual confrontation), Sean brings a breath of fresh air. With him nearby, you know exactly where you stand and whether anyone in the vicinity is plotting against you.

“Please, Y/N,” groans Arthur into his hands one evening. “Please tell me you ain’t makin’ friends with that bastard.”

“Why?” you ask, genuinely surprised. “Isn’t he like a little brother to you?”

“Yeah, but not in a good way.” He moves his hands to give you a look of despair. “What’s wrong with Lenny? Or Tilly? Or Mary Beth?”

“Karen’s fun,” you muse, earning yourself another groan.

“Always with the loud drunkards,” he grumbles.

“Mmhm, and what was it Dutch said? When you go missing he checks the saloon, and if you’re not there he checks the jail?”

“Shurrup.” He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you onto his body, grinning as you protest, laughing.

“Don’t play innocent - Hosea’s been telling me stories!”

“Ahh, don’t go listening to him. He spins stories for a living, and anyway I was a kid in most of them.”

“And the stories I’ve heard from Lenny?” you smirk, still fighting despite it proving futile with you laughing so much. He growls, peppering your exposed skin with kisses as you wrestle playfully.

You cry out when a flailing limb makes contact with one of your swollen breasts. Arthur immediately releases you, watching you with concern as you try to rub out the punch without swearing.

“Y’alright?”

“Fine,” you huff. “Just sensitive is all.”

“I’m sorry - shouldn’t be playing so rough with you when you’re… in the way tha’ you are.”

“It’s fine, Arthur,” you repeat firmly, staring him down. “I’m fine. You didn’t knock my stomach, so we’re fine. Like I said, I’m just sensitive.”

He hums doubtfully.

Following a shootout with the Pinkertons and the law in the middle of Valentine, Dutch had ordered the camp out of Horseshoe Overlook and ushered you south east into the state of Lemoyne. On the other side of Dewberry Creek, Arthur and Charles had scouted a hideout chistened Clemens Point. Arthur hadn’t been the keenest to tell you that story, but you had weaseled it out of him.

Micah had recommended the dried out river bed, but when Charles and Arthur had arrived to scout it, there was an abandoned camp nearby, complete with a dead body. Whilst trying to assess the location’s risk to a group of outlaws should they move in, Arthur had moved some crates to find a woman with her two children.

“I guess I saw you,” he mumbled sadly, avoiding eye contact. “An’ the mess I might leave you in one day.”

You rubbed his shoulder patiently. “What happened?”

“I told ‘em to go ‘cause we needed the land.”

You were confused by the guilt still plaguing him and told him so. With a heavy sigh, he described how the girl translated her mother - that their father had been kidnapped and how it took Charles insisting otherwise to convince him to go look.

“So it’s really thanks to him we found this place,” he says gesturing at the open space bordered with woodland and lake.

If anything, you prefer this new destination to Horseshoe Overlook, and not just for the absence of bad memories. You love the sense of freedom swimming gives you: how it makes you weightless, how easy it is to tilt your head back and listen to the low rumble of the earth and water. You also enjoy that the road is more than a stone’s throw away here. A wanderer would have to purposely go out of their way to discover the camp, to hear the noise or see the light of the campfires. Clemen’s Point made you feel safe, even with the occasional canoe sailing by with a wave.

The new location lifted everyone’s spirits. So much so, Dutch dragged Arthur and Hosea out fishing. They returned hours later - singing and surprisingly sober - with deputy badges and a boat load of fish. Whilst the shiny badge continues to earn Arthur a lot of gib from you and everyone else in camp, Dutch insists the news is beyond fantastic.

“We are inaugurated in the local law!” he cries during one of his many speeches. “Hiding in plain sight!”

Still tired and snacking throughout your waking hours, you are relieved to find your morning sickness has passed its peak. Whilst you feel like your veins are popping out of your skin, Arthur insists your stomach is beginning to curve. You accuse him of an overzealous imagination until you try (and fail) to button the jeans from your past life as an O’Driscoll and your shirts that still fasten offer little to no breathing room.

“Think a trip to town is in order.” You jut out your bottom lip, demonstrating the distance between the buttons and their corresponding holes as your lover looks on laughing.

“I think you might be right.” You don’t resist as his fingertips tilt your chin up to plant a kiss on your lips. “Let me go see if Pearson’s got a list and we’ll head out. Think they’ll do another couple hours?”

“Don’t really have a choice,” you grumble, stealing Arthur’s worn blue shirt from under the cot. You can hear Sadie and Pearson bickering even from the edge of camp, so it doesn’t surprise you when Arthur’s tone cuts through the noise.

“-ain’t cooking work?”

Looking over, you see Arthur has taken the expostulating Mrs Adler aside. You look away quickly - there’s no reason to ruin an acceptable day by agitating her enough to start shouting at you too. Her and Pearson have been at each other’s necks since she’s pulled herself out of the worst of her depression, almost as though he has become the target of her grief.

You focus your attention on preparing the cart. A trip to town means a trip for supplies, and with so many mouths to feed, horseback wasn’t a viable option.

"How are you, Miss?"

You turn around, surprised at being addressed directly by someone other than Arthur. Seeing Kieran’s familiar pastiness relaxes you a little. As an ex-O’Driscoll himself, you trusted him the most not to stab you after Arthur and the little boy, Jack.

"Fine," you reply flatly, brushing out the tangles of the shire’s mane.

"We ain't really had much time to talk since we was in Tall Trees a few months back, have we?" You hum in response, trying not to flash any amount of flesh by moving too much. The poor boy was skittish enough. He immediately begins to help you, being the horse fan he is.

"I never even suspected a thing, Miss,” he gushes. “So I bet you anything Ol' Colm won't have neither."

"So you two were close, huh?" You barely contain the sarcasm.

He shrugs off the question awkwardly. "Which feller was you again?"

"Well I must’ve been good if you have to ask." You feed the shire a carrot, avoiding eye contact. "I was Thomas," you admit quietly. The following silence is prolonged. Doubtful.

“Thomas Donoghue?” You shrug your shoulders. “So you were friends with Paeder then?”

“Peter?” You respond coolly. “Never knew him.”

He opens his mouth as if to argue, but Arthur is marching across camp, shouting back over his shoulder to Mrs Adler. Spooked, Kieran bolts to a safe distance, doing nothing but look on as Arthur helps you up onto the back of the cart.

Acknowledging you with a sneer, the other woman takes her place on the bench up front. “So I’ve graduated from choppin’ vegetables to shopping?”

“Shut your goddamn mouth…” grumbles Arthur, reins in hand as the cart moves off. You give Kieran a small, apologetic wave farewell, but it’s difficult to contain the relief of your companions’ timing. Paeder was a private matter, and one which you had no desire to discuss out loud. You’re sure the shaky man meant no harm, but some things were better buried.

“You cooled down then, yet?” Arthur asks the widow, distracting you from your thoughts.

“I guess,” she grumbles. “And I ain’t no scullion! And I sure as hell ain’t takin’ orders from that sweating halfwit!”

You can almost hear his eyes roll. “Well I guess we all gotta do our share, princess.”

“Where’s that letter?”

“Oh, you reading his mail now?”

Sadie throws him a dirty look. “Robbing and killing’s ok, but letter reading’s where we draw the line?”

You stifle a smirk as Arthur pulls it from the inside of his coat, knowing he’s been had. “Here.”

“Dear Aunt Cathy-”

“You are somethin’ else…”

“I haven’t heard from you in some time, so I prayed to the Lord above that your health has not deteriorated further… bla bla bla… s’boring… Oo! Wait a sec, listen to this! Since we last corresponded, I have travelled widely, making no small name for myself.” You all laugh out loud. “Before you ask, I am still yet to take a wife, but I can assure you it is not for lack of suitors.” Arthur barks out laughing again as Sadie giggles. “He ever actually talked to a woman he ain’t paid for?” she asks in disbelief.

“Look, we’re all hiding behind something.” Whilst his tone advises the limit of fun has been reached, the smile is still audible.

“And what’s this? Return to Tacitus Kilgore?”

“Oh that? That’s Dutch’s idea. All mail to be sent to the same alias. Whenever we set up somewhere new, Strauss, he heads into town, tells them to start expecting mail from a Tacitus Kilgore or whatever they changed it to… Here, gimme that back. We got work to do.”

You all sit quietly as the cart rolls into Rhodes. The locals watch you, wary of the unfamiliar faces, but you keep your head high. Strangers smell weakness. It’s better to come off aloof and avoid trouble than to present as vulnerable and be beaten down at every turn.

“Ok, here we are.”

“So what’s the plan?” Mrs Adler points a pistol at the side of the building, squeezing one eye shut as she gauges the iron sights. “I shoot the shopkeeper, while you-?”

“No! You insane?”

“Well I thought we was outlaws…?”

“Outlaws! Not idiots!" he hisses, pushing down the gun as he looks around for any witnesses. "We rob fools that rob other people! These people- they’re just tryna get by! So you head on in there, and you buy us some food to eat. And no guns.”

“Are you sure?”

“This time.” The two of you share a look again as he helps you down. “There’ll be plenty o’ time for killin’ soon enough.”

“What are you doin’?”

“I’m gonna go check the mail, nothin’ exciting.”

Sadie shrugs and saunters off. Arthur sighs and shakes his head, touching your arm. "You gonna be alright?"

"Here's hopin'."

"Any trouble, holler. Stay outta her way best you can though, alright?"

Knowing that his concern lies with your companion's open hatred for anything remotely O'Driscoll rather than your ability to defend yourself, you nod. Blowing him a cheeky kiss, he waves back at you with a grin as you enter the general store.

"-flour, oats, salt, eggs, apples if you have them..."

"Sure, not a problem,” responds the shopkeeper as he begins to gather the goods. “Big family, have you?"

"Somethin' like that." Mrs Adler barely spares you a glance as the titter of the doorbell announces your presence. "And you sell clothes?"

So Arthur had explained to her your purpose for the journey. You're flattered, if a little bewildered at this kind gesture. From the looks she’s been giving you, you’re surprised she has buried the hatchet of your past so quickly.

"We do. Not the widest range of ladies fashion, I'm afraid."

"That's alright. I'll look at everything you got."

"Of course, Mrs…?"

"Kilgore," she smirks, turning to bat her eyelids at you. You realise then that her request is completely unrelated to you. Why wouldn’t it be? You’re not the only person that has been swept into the Van der Linde gang with little more than what you were wearing on your back. From Arthur’s story, she escaped with nothing more than her wedding ring and her nightclothes, so it’s only natural that she is also in need of a new wardrobe. "What? You don't even trust me to handle the shopping by myself?"

"You're not the only one in need of new clothes, Mrs Ad- Kilgore." You force a polite smile at the sales clerk whilst Mrs Adler browses the shelves dully. "What are the biggest sizes you have in stock? Any maternity wear by chance?"

"Ain't many women round here makin' babies," he sighs, pulling out a few options. You can feel Sadie's eyes burning past you at the pile. "You're best tryin' Saint Denis or ordering outta the catalogue. There's a tailor in Blackwater I heard is pretty good for that sorta thing, but it's quite the journey-"

"Too far for me, I fear." You flick through the pages as Mrs Adler leaves to try a few things on from the pile in front of you. Writing a quick list with estimated sizing, you purchase the largest button up shirt and skirt for sale. The trousers will have to wait for another day - you know investing twenty dollars in a pair that you'll breach the waistline of in a matter of weeks is a luxury you can't especially afford right now.

Mrs Adler on the other hand spares little expense with a sturdy pair of jeans. Finally out of the cumbersome skirts, her whole character changes and suddenly you feel the same pit of dread you did when faced with a full camp of spitting Van der Lindes all those weeks ago.

Intimidated, you step outside whilst she settles the bill. You take a short wander up the main road, taking in the familiar buildings with apathy. Who would have thought you would end up here again? Now you’re not so apprehensive about your life span, you can see how rundown this dusty crumbling town is. The few shops that are open have seen better days, and the best kept building is the bank. You feel your skin crawl as you spot the large parlour houses on the horizon. Of course this place is struggling to survive - anywhere that profited from slave labour deserved to rot. Part of you hopes it’s slow perilous march to abandonment continues: it would be disappointingly merciful to see a place be lost to one good shoot out.

“I’ve birthed foals with more strength than you!” Mrs Adler’s cursing sinks your stomach as you navigate your way back to the store where a man is helping her load the cart. “Hell, my sister’s newborn had more strength than you and he came out bright blue!”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder!”

Spotting Arthur, who is strolling back himself, fills you with relief. The shopkeeper walks back to the porch, checking the list before walking back. “I think this is everything,” he says, swinging the sack of salt on the cart.

“Thanks… here, take that for yourself, okay.” She flicks a silver coin and he catches it out of the air, scowling.

“Thanks,” he spits.

“Well, give it back then! Jesus! I didn’t ask for his goddamn help..." She pushes the sack on more securely to stop it rolling off when the cart moves. “OK, get on. I’m about done here.”

“Why don’t you drive?” suggests Arthur coolly after making sure you’re sat safely amongst the supplies. “C’mon lady, get a move on.”

She scowls as she takes the reins. “I like Sadie, not lady.”

“I know. So you get everything?”

“I think so.”

“And some… new clothes, I see?”

“Don’t start,” she sighs, the heat returning to her voice. “I can wear what I damn well want. Like I told you, my husband and I shared all the work. I wasn’t some little wife with a flower in her hair baking cherry pies all day.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that. You sure look the part now. Won’t be long before you’re smoking cigars and playin’ the harmonica.”

“I’ll have you know I used to love playing the harmonica before… well… my house and everything I owned got burned to the ground.”

“I know... I’m real sorry. About what you… you know. Maybe I’ll keep my eye out for another one.”

“I don’t want no pity,” she snaps. “Just… treat me equal and know… nobody’s taking nothing from me ever again.”

Arthur hums in comradery. “Just don’t kill the camp cook…”

A horse gallops up alongside you. “Hey there! What are you folks up to?”

“Just heading home,” says Arthur casually, adding a quiet “keep it cool, Sadie”.

“You’re in Lemoyne Raider country. You need to pay a toll to pass through here.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” The hairs on the back of your neck prickle at the anticipation of conflict. You realise with a sinking stomach that you’re completely unarmed. “How about you pull over right now?”

“Pull over?” he repeats incredulously. Your eyes scan the bags and boxes around you. There has to be something here that can double as a weapon of some kind.

“That’s what I said.”

“Hey!” calls Sadie coolly. “How’s about this?”

A pistol cracks and the Lemoyne Raider cries out in pain. She ushers the horses on with a Go, go, go! as Arthur stands up, drawing his revolvers and firing. You duck down as bullets fly over your head, your hands scrambling for anything that could be of use.

“What the hell was that?” cries Arthur furiously.

“They was gonna rob us!”

“A new pair of pants and you think you’re Landon Ricketts!” He curses loudly as more men run out in the road ahead.

“I’m gonna run this son of a bitch down!” she shouts, pulling the wagon over one raider and off the road.

“Well you wanted to see some action, lady, now you got your wish!” Arthur slings his longarm from his back and shoves it in your direction as he continues to fire. You can see more men coming out from between the trees and you take aim, knocking them down one by one as Arthur clips off any extras over your head.

“You alright there, Sadie?” you shout over the gunfire. Arthur is still firing behind you, but she’s out of your line of sight from where you’re crouched behind sacks of grain.

“Of course! You think I can’t handle these fools?” You don’t retaliate and you can almost hear her voice aim at Arthur. “Told you I could shoot a gun, didn’t I?”

“I don’t remember asking you to prove it,” he grunts, tossing you extra ammo just in case. The last bastard is fleeing south down the dirt track. You take aim, but he’s out of range.

“Yeah you run, you goddamn coward!” screams Sadie before taking a steadying breath. “I think we’re good here. Nice shooting. I’ll drive us back-”

“No! Pass those reins here!”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve caused enough trouble already.”

She doesn’t find grounds to argue, instead looking back at you, her face straight and unreadable. “We showed those bastards, huh?”

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Arthur scowls.

“They was clearly plannin’ to bushwhack us!” she argues, facing forward again.

“You did good, but that’s a lotta mess to make near camp. Hope it don’t bring anyone sniffin’ around.”

“Are you gonna tell Dutch?” she asks mockingly.

“Maybe… if he asks. But, maybe not.”

“So who did they say they were? Lemoyne Raiders?”

“Yeah, somethin’ like that. Who knows… Anyway, don’t you go ribbing Pearson about that letter.”

“How dare you? I wouldn’t dream of it!”

“Riiight, you wouldn’t…”

“I have travelled widely, making no small name of myself…”

Arthur laughs. “I won’t be giving you no mail to post any time soon, that’s for sure.”

She chuckles too. “I just wanna peak in that journal of yours. The mind boggles.”

“Not a chance…”

“You didn’t get yourself killed then, Miss Adler?” calls Pearson, strolling over smugly as Arthur pulls up near the horse station.

“Not quite,” she responds truthfully.

“Well, I’d like to say I missed your refined conversations, but I’d be lying.”

She accepts the box shoved into her chest without complaint. “I… I enjoyed myself out there.”

“Yes, we err… Mrs Adler did ok!” He holds up his arms and lifts you down gently by your waist.

“At shopping?”

“Yes, at shoppin’...”

The double meaning doesn’t go unrecognised by Sadie who thanks him with genuine gratitude.

“Don’t mention it. I would ride with you again, Mrs Adler, if you will ride with me.”

“Maybe,” she laughs. “If you prove you can handle yourself.”

“Well, they say I lack finesse, but I ain’t afraid of gun smoke.”

“We got this, Arthur. You’ve already done me a big favour today.” Turning to you with a smile, Arthur accepts the repeater you proffer. It’s best to remain unarmed for now - there’s no need to risk one of your lesser fans finding an excuse to regard you as a threat. “Okay, Miss High and Mighty. And… nice pants by the way.”

“You okay there, Y/N?” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in close to his side. “You manage to find something too?”

“Just about,” you admit. “Had to put in an order. How long do you think we’ll be around here for?”

“Until we can’t most likely. Everything alright? They didn’t catch you or nothin’, did they?”

“Of course not, Arthur.” Your weak smile is genuine and heartfelt at his concern. “I’m not above shouting when I’m shot.”

“‘Course not.” He rubs your back, leading you back to your shared tent. “You gonna try them on, or what?”

“Nah, I figure I might as well make the most of still being able to fit in this stuff, even if it’s only for a few more days.”

He laughs, pulling you into a big hug. “Fair enough.”

From under his arm, you spot the rousing attention of Herr Strauss nearby. You nudge him in warning, but it’s too late.

“Ah, Herr Morgan! How are you enjoying yourself out here?”

“Well enough, I guess,” he replies gruffly. “And you?”

“Well, it turns out the pursuit of freedom is not a cheap business. Not for us, and not for some of the locals.”

“Sharking, already?”

“I prefer to call it banking.”

“You ain’t the one handing out the beatings,” snarls Arthur.

“No, but I am the one feeding the women and children in the camp,” he retorts. “What choice do we have, Mr Morgan?”

Arthur sighs. “Ah, I don’t know. Well, come on then! Tell me who…”

You stop listening as Strauss reads off a list of names, and only tune back in to hear Arthur ask how many he expects to be able to pay.

“With enough encouragement, both of them!” he chuckles, his black eyes twinkling from behind the round spectacles.

Sighing, Arthur returns to where you’re sat on the camp bed. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I’d best be gettin’ on.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You stand up to kiss him. “The gang comes first.”

He grimaces at that, but doesn’t dispute it. You give him another kiss for good luck and wave him out camp before dropping the flaps, not missing the glare of bitterness from Sadie across camp.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Prayer In A Bottle

Cas. 

Castiel jerks to attention, as a familiar voice nimbly enters his thoughts - almost as if it’s brushing the curtains away to see if he’s there, and he is, and he lets it in. That’s not how prayers are supposed to work, but the Winchesters have a way of doing things their own way. 

Cas? 

It’s a tired, heavy voice; just not the one he’d thought. This was Sam. 

Voices tend to get mangled when they reach you as prayer - something about allowing for anonymous benefactoring of kindness, but probably more about impartiality. But Cas can tell. He knows the brothers too well, has heard their voices too many times - this has to be Sam. 

However, Sam isn’t supposed to get intoxicated and pray to him. That’s so much more Dean. Sam’s not supposed to sound this broken, or unsure, or wistful in his prayers. Sam isn’t supposed to be sad. 

I think you can hear me. But I wish there was some way I could tell. 

Cas pauses. He sighs - well, he’s wished so more than once, before. Now, he’s an angel who can’t fly, but can hear prayers. It’s a cruel paradox. 

Nonetheless, his surroundings melt away, just like the disregarded plate, for he listens hard. Even if it’s all he can do. 

Okay, you know what? I’m just going to believe that you can hear me. Belief’s supposed to do the trick, isn’t it? Just like I believe you’ve read my texts. And listened to the mails. 

He hasn’t. He’d had no clue. Almost instinctively, Cas reaches into his coat for his phone, but when he clicks the button, the screen doesn’t blare to life. He scowls at it, for he needs to check these messages that have Sam so upset with him - or so he sounds. He’s trying to will it to come to life, clicking the button repeatedly, when it strikes him. Of course, it must be completely discharged. Not on purpose - he just never remembered. There have been many other things to think about. 

Back at the bunker, most times, one of the boys would plug his cellphone in, when theirs were done. It was mostly Sam. He should’ve known this would happen. 

And I’m just going to get this clear. It’s alright if you don’t it respond. I get it. 

Cas pauses. 

I got Dean to tell me everything. And I get it. 

*

Except for the occasional rambling, and the rare distracted lull in his voice - he wouldn’t even have been able to tell that Sam was drunk. But he had to be. 

Because these weren’t things Sam Winchester would say to him, otherwise. 

I miss Jack, Cas. I miss him, and his voice, and his pencils and everything. I miss having him around so much that it’s crazy, and what’s crazier is that I don’t even think of not having Mom around those times. I know Dean doesn’t feel the same way. He thinks about her all the time. 

Cas clenches his fists. He knows Dean thinks about her. He knows that’s what’s made it worse. But he’d never thought of Sam not thinking about her like that. 

He almost sounds guilty, and that’s a feeling that this man should never have to experience, but Cas can’t do a thing about it. 

He hangs onto every word Sam’s offering him, finally letting it out. Everything he says, punctuated by endearing rambles and random questions about Cas’s general  well-being, makes his head reel. 

I never apologized to you for that day. For the coffin. For Jack. You kept saying you’re sorry, Cas, and that’s all I could hear. I was lost, and it was such a horrific thing to do. It was Jack, our Jack, and we almost locked him away for eternity - there’s things Dean says to try and forget I ever did, but I will never forgive myself for that. 

And then, I couldn’t think past God - you walked out, you were brave enough, and I didn’t follow. If I had, today could’ve been different, so much better - but I didn’t, and every day, I think about why I couldn’t do it. I still can’t tell, but I suppose it’s because I still believed in God. 

Cas is almost dizzy, at this point. He can’t think, or move. He can only let every word Sam utters, wash over him - and he does. 

Sam doesn’t stop speaking. He goes on, about god, and confides in Cas how he’s never felt so alone. He tells him how he wishes he could believe in a superior Good, though it’s exactly Him they’re battling. He almost chokes telling Cas about Rowena. Those last few moments in the crypt. 

Castiel cries with him, at that, but Sam doesn’t know it. 

Belphegor was a goddamn jackass, and there were none of us who didn’t know it. Cas, what happened between you two in hell, I don’t know - we never talked after that, but I know what happened in that crypt.. Rowena - she chose that path, she kept telling me that - and I didn’t believe her then, but I’m trying to now. Please, Cas, believe it too. 

On that day, I made the same decision you did. You chose to save the world, over the last bit of Jack you had left, and I chose to save the world over her. They were tough decisions, but if Dean can tell me it was justified, then so was yours. 

A tear slips down Cas’s cheek. He’d had no idea that he’d needed to hear this so much. It’s strange for him to cry, seated alone in a diner - thankfully facing away from people, since he’s completely tuned out of the setting. All he can think about is Sam. 

He’s never wanted to answer a prayer more. 

Know what, Cas? Sam’s tone had grown harder. Or was it softer? I’d promised myself I wasn’t going to say this, because I’ve already said it in those calls you didn’t pick up - but you left, Cas. We lost so many friends, that day. Ketch, he’s gone. We lost Rowena, Cas, and then you were gone, too. 

Cas shakes his head, denying the true allegations to the wall. Sam sounds drained, as he says it. It’s like he’s suddenly more tired. 

I cannot believe you chose to leave us then, Cas. 

Sam breathes it out, quiet - and if Cas had been a few feet from him, he wouldn’t have been able to hear it. But, because he’s miles away - and Sam’s still praying, he does hear it, and something shatters inside of him. 

How had he been so heartless as to abandon Sam that night, needless of whether he’d needed him there or not. It didn’t matter that Dean was enough for him, and Sam was enough for Dean - it didn’t matter that Dean was still furious with him, that he was never going to be forgiven, that he didn’t feel like he could breathe in the bunker anymore - how could Cas have decided to desert Sam Winchester, that day?

Suddenly, he didn’t care about how much it would’ve ached to stay another day. The disdain in Dean’s rare glances his side, the apathy which made him ache seemed inconsequential, all at once. Sam had lost a friend that day. Castiel had compelled him to lose two. 

Sam had been quiet for a long time. 

Cas wonders if Sam’s stopped praying - it’s always been mysterious to him, how dialogue stops being a prayer once the attachment is gone, though it’s within the same revolution of the clockhands and the same two persons. Maybe Sam doesn’t want to speak to him anymore. 

He doesn’t blame him. 

Castiel doesn’t deserve his kind words. The forgiveness, the acceptance, and the redemption that he’s starved for. He doesn’t deserve anything from Sam. 

But here’s the ridiculous part. I can’t believe you’re gone, but I can believe it too. We’ve been awful. Dean doesn’t know what he’s like, when he’s like this. I - I’ve been there. He thought I was the reason Charlie got killed. I’ve never known him to hate me more, and there might have been a lot going on then, but I’ve never worried more that he’d not look at me the same again. 

So there. I know why you felt like you had to go away. I just can’t believe that you did. 

Cas swallows. He’s never thought about it like this. Sam sounds like he’s given this some thought - his words touch Castiel’s heart, and wrench his gut at the same time. He waits for more. 

You know this, Cas. Dean’s Dean. He can be angry, he can be mean, and he can be terrible, but he’s Dean, so it doesn’t matter. He’s always going to come around, because he loves us, and misplaced rage can only last so long. He needs us, and we need him - all we’ve got to do is wait, and not walk out while he’s being ridiculous like this. Try to knock some sense back into him, prove our intentions, and -

Sam chuckles, suddenly. Cas’s ears perk at the sound, it’s breathy and beautiful, and a little sigh of relief overtakes him at the short huff of laughter. Sam’s okay. 

He sounds like a villain, when I say that. No, Dean’s anything but that. He’s my brother, Cas, and I’m sorry on his behalf. I know that doesn’t make up for all he said, but tell me that you’ll let it go sometime, please. That someday, you’ll not hate us anymore. Because this is Dean, and you know him too, and - you get it, don’t you?

Cas purses his lips. Yes, he does. But this is different - Dean’s the one who won’t let it go, and they’re the ones who don’t need -

Cas had forgotten Sam can’t hear him. So Sam continued, after a deep inhale. 

You’re kind of the only person who does. 

*

Sam trails off of Dean, just as sudden as he’d come upon it. Now, he’s recounting days from before. Suddenly, he’s telling Cas about his discussions with Jack about cereal, and Cas is listening so awfully keen, that Sam’s voice might as well be that of the angel radio which pierces through the barriers of his mind - except he’s welcoming this. 

Of course, Cas isn’t eating anymore, so the waitress comes to ask him if she should fetch his check - but Cas couldn’t possibly move. He’s pinned to his spot, just as his ears are pinned to Sam. So he orders a coffee, black - hoping the bitterness makes it past his senses. And then he keeps listening 

Sam keeps talking. Cas doesn’t remember when he last had a conversation like this with someone. If ever, at all. And, he doesn’t think Sam’s had one of these conversations recently either - and he feels a dreadful kind of happy, to get to listen in to one of those rare times Sam Winchester truly shines through the cracks in his armor. 

Sam occasionally drifts off, settles into a sadder tone and confesses things that make Cas’s heart heavy. But he always finds his way back, almost to a conversational tone, and continues to talk. 

It’s so good to hear from him, Cas realizes, when a couple hours have passed. He hadn’t realized how much he’s missed the younger Winchester, either. It’s been oddly satisfying to hear his voice. 

And further so, that Sam talks to him now. It’s surreal, and he’s never thought about how much he’s wanted this, over the years. 

It’s different, from Dean. 

How, he wouldn’t be able to explain. 

But it’s very different. 

Sam’s voice is soft, growing drowsier as the minutes fly by - he pauses occasionally, too, praying not in a monologue, but as if Cas might be speaking at the other end. 

Cas wishes, surprising himself only minutely at the thought, to be able to pray back to him. Sam Winchester’s far more deserving of being prayed to, than he is - and that way, he could tell him his side. Thank him. Apologize profusely, and then thank him again. Do all of it, and maybe feel a little less contrite in regardance to how terrible a friend he’s been to a man who’s been good to him, since they first made each other’s acquaintance, all those years back. 

*

Anyways, Cas. 

Cas frowns at the tone. He knows it’s been very long, he knows Sam should sleep now - but he can’t help but wish this went on some more. He wants Sam to keep speaking to him. 

I guess this is where I say goodbye. 

Cas expects him to go on, actually say the words, hoping it’ll have him linger for a little longer. He sulks, when Sam goes silent. 

Cas hadn’t realized how lonely he’s been, before this. Sam’s familiar, comfortably used-to voice has managed to do wonders to his anxious state of mind. He doesn’t want him to leave, not at all, but the pause is too long, and he begins to wonder if Sam left with just that bit of preamble. 

He misses him already. 

But Sam comes back, words newly accentuated with an inebriated slur. 

You never even said goodbye to me, you know that, right?

Cas freezes.

I mean, you just - you never did. You’re moving on, aren’t you? Couldn’t even bother to see me before you move on. Maybe I matter too little, maybe you couldn’t stand the thought of being with us any longer - but I deserved that goodbye, alright? I’m sorry, but after all this time, I fucking did. 

Cas screws his eyes shut. The guilt comes thundering back. Sam sounds awful, too. 

You didn’t say goodbye, Cas. Sam repeats, and sounds devastated, and that’s what pushes Cas over the edge. His voice trembles like it might crack, and Cas swears to himself that if it did, he’d break down too. 

There’s another long, long pause. 

Again, Cas dreads that Sam is gone - that Sam will never pray to him again, and has left already to enhance his point - because Castiel still doesn’t deserve any of it, he doesn’t deserve to be Sam’s friend, and maybe Sam finally realized it. But he’s still stuck there, waiting for Sam, because his heart refuses to believe it. 

And Sam’s not gone. 

You know, he’s back, it’s a small voice, and he’s drank some more. If you’re going to come back, Cas, this would be the perfect moment to do so. Show up - right here in front of me, come back, Cas - and tell me that you didn’t say it because you were never really gone - and I’ll believe you, if you show up. 

Sam, completely drunk now, seems to have forgotten that Cas cannot show up at places anymore. He’s lost his wings. Oh, how he wishes he could, though - for he’d have complied immediately. There’s no other place he wants to be right now. 

But for that matter, anything Sam asks him to do, within his abilities of doing; in that voice, sounding like he needed Cas, begging him to show up, desperate and pleading - was as good as done. 

Alright. 

Cas feels oppressed by the two syllables. Sam must hate him that much more. 

So, that’s not happening. 

Cas holds his breath. 

Of course, it isn’t. I’d say, worth a try, but it’s idiotic to think you’d just be here like that. For me. Dean’s the one who should’ve been calling you. S’always worked in the past. 

Cas shakes his head, emphatically, desperately, with tears in his eyes. “It’s not that.” He says out loud, not even capable of feeling foolish for it. “I can’t come back. I cannot -”

Nevermind. 

“You’re wrong! I want to be there.” Cas argues. “You think you’re right, I can hear it, but you’re not. Sam, I want to be there for you.” 

Sam can’t hear him. 

I get it.

“You’re getting it wrong.” Cas pleads. “Sam, I -”

So, that’s that. I guess. I should go. Don’t, uh, don’t be a stranger. And take care of yourself, Cas.

Cas hates how prayers work. He detests the entire institution of praying. He’s never been so repulsed by the mechanisms of heaven, and he’s rebelled plenty. 

Just so you know, I’ll stop with the calls now, uh, I know why you want to stay away. And I’m going to respect that. 

Cas doesn’t want him to stop. He’s going to call him tomorrow, when he’s got his stupid phone’s battery back. He doesn’t want to stay away, anymore. He doesn’t think he even can. 

And hey, last thing. 

Cas waits, anxious. 

We’ve talked about this, all those years back - and I know you only care about Dean, but just remember - try to remember that he’s not the only one who cares about you. Alright? 

And all goes silent then, snapping the link and rendering Cas speechless. He wants to yell at the wall that that’s not true, that he loves Sam, that he needs him - he wants to beg him to pray again, to not hate him for saying goodbye, to plead him to keep talking about Jack - but he can’t do any of it. He can’t do anything at all. 

Sam’s stopped praying. 

*

And back at the bunker, the younger Winchester doesn’t even get to dwell on his words, repeat his prayers to himself and think about Cas - because he passes out too soon, crashing into the mattress, bottle at the bedside; it’s been a long day. He dreams of being killed by Dean again; this time, Sam’s one of the bodies he’s slashing up in hell, and he wakes up panting and cannot look Dean in the eye through breakfast. 

Moreover, he doesn’t recall a single speck of his prayers from last night. 

**

Taggy the list says: @ctrl-alt-destiel @emmii4 @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @styggtroll @adventurous-blob @petrichoravellichor @all-or-nothing-baby @moderatelypanickedbiromantic @elvenlicht @legendary-destiel @noemithenephilim @galaxy-charm @trenchcoatsandfreckles @naitia @ladywaywarddsc @zoerayne2426 @thekidsmaybealright @hellfire37 @screamatthescreen @guesstimating-life @3dg310rdsupreme @impulsivedandelion @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect

[artificialqueens]

Flower Files, Part 3 (Rajalaskam, Witney) - Albatross

AN: The third installment of Flower Files featuring Rajalaskam and Witney

Chapter 5 - Rajalaskam

Step. Step. Squish.

Perfect, Willam thought to herself, Just. Fucking. Perfect.

Even before looking down, Willam knew exactly what had just happened. She had just stepped into a very mushy, very rancid pumpkin. She could feel the gooey, decomposing rind brushing against her bare toes. Gross! 

“Ugh,” she groaned out in disgust as she pulled out her foot from the mess. It was all over her beautiful heels!

“What happened?” came the distracted reply from Alaska, squatting down just a few feet away and examining yet another pumpkin.

It was her fault Willam was in this mess. Alaska had wanted to pick out pumpkins for the autumn display outside their house. Some would be carved, others merely decorative, but she needed at least one other person to help her carry them, she explained to her girlfriends earlier that week. Raja was quick to point out that she had to work that Saturday morning. It was very calm, very mild the way she said it but that slight curling of her lips, as well as the teasing glint in her eyes as she turned Willam’s way, let her know she was anything but sorry to miss this little adventure. So all that was left was Willam, who made sure never to work on weekends, especially in the early morning.

Goddamn it.

She tried to talk Alaska out of it, offering to buy her “one of those pumpkin spice crappuccinos or whatever” instead but Alaska was not having it.

“As tempting as that sounds,” she noted with a hint of sarcasm, “No.”

Willam had sighed, loudly and expressively. She knew she wasn’t going to win this; in the end she’d always end up giving into Alaska, but that didn’t mean she’d go down without a fight. Smiling back at her girlfriend, Alaska tried to entice her with, “C’mon, it’ll be fun. Don’t you remember picking out pumpkins when you were a kid?”

“No.”

“It won’t even take that long, promise.”

“Bullshit.”

The back and forth went on for another five minutes but as expected, Willam eventually gave in. At least, she consoled herself, it’ll just be a quick trip to the supermarket. Alaska can pick out the pumpkins while Willam stays in the nice, warm car and then she’ll help carry them after Alaska has found her favorites. Should be done in 30 minutes. 45, tops.

Or so Willam thought.

What Alaska neglected to mention was that she intended to pick out her pumpkins directly from the patch…and that of course meant walking up and down the endless rows examining Every. Fucking. Pumpkin. 

All while Willam pulled the heavy cart behind her. In heels, no less!

She had rounded on her girlfriend with an intense glare the moment they pulled into the lot and Willam realized what was going on. Of course Alaska would want to do it the old fashioned way but why for God’s sake did she have to pull Willam into this utter ridiculousness?

“Jesus Christ,” she complained, “I’m in heels for fuck’s sake!”

“You’re always in heels,” Alaska pointed out sedately as she exited the car, “And I told you to wear comfortable shoes.”

“These are comfortable!” Willam argued, following after her, “On solid ground. Not this disgusting mess…And is that fucking manure over there?”

Alaska merely shrugged as she led them over to the wagon rental. Though she tried to hide it, a devilish little smirk was curling at the edges of her lips. Willam was so going to get her back for this! And Raja. 

Lucky little bitch!

She had little doubt Raja knew exactly what Alaska meant by picking out pumpkins. Probably arranged to be working today so she’d get out of it.

Oh, Willam was definitely going to get both of them.

She complained for the first 10 minutes, non-stop, loud and annoying as only she could but Alaska was unbothered. She paid little attention to Willam’s whining. After all, it was nothing compared to her own temper tantrums. And she knew Willam would trail off sooner or later.

As the vocal complaints turned to disgruntled mumblings, Alaska felt free to enjoy herself. She loved the thought of picking out pumpkins straight from the farm; there was something quaint and wholesome about it that reminded her of childhood. And she loved that she got to experience this with one of her girlfriends. She would have preferred both but she was sure she could rope Raja into decorating the display with her later. Maybe she could even convince Willam to carve a pumpkin or two with them…

Two hours slipped by, Willam trudging along the rough path with the wagon following behind her and Alaska constantly bending over and examining each pumpkin she thought might belong in her display. There were only two more rows left to inspect and then they could call it a day. By this point Willam was dazed and resigned to her fate. She distracted herself with lazy thoughts of how to get revenge on both of her girlfriends…maybe in bed…maybe not…but when her foot sunk deep into the rotten rind of a pumpkin left a little too close to the path, she was sharply awoken from her distracted state.

A shiver had travelled up her spine as the cold, gooey insides seeped between her toes while Alaska asked her what was wrong. It was here Willam began her complaints anew but to her slight relief, they actually worked this time. Alaska had taken a look back at the wagon and the last pumpkin in her hands and decided this would be enough to at least get her started with the display piece. She might need to pick up an extra pumpkin or two from the grocery store but they could leave the fields now. Willam was being a relatively good sport earlier so it was the least Alaska could do not to force her to continue walking with all that gunk on her foot.

As they arrived back at the stall to pay for their finds, Alaska took the opportunity to pick out a few extra gourds and mini pumpkins to accentuate her display. She was quick about it, knowing Willam’s mood was gradually growing worse, but to her surprise Willam actually picked up one of the small, dark green mini pumpkins on her own. Perhaps she wasn’t as annoyed after all?

As soon as they were in the car, Willam tore off her heels and retrieved a few napkins tucked away in the glove box to properly clean them off. Before Alaska drove off, she pressed a quick kiss to Willam’s cheek and thanked her for coming along.

Though Willam would never admit it, the kiss and heartfelt ‘Thank you’ had mollified her. But she still had a reputation to uphold and continued to act irritated all the way home.

Barefoot, she helped Alaska empty out the car of their purchases and bring a few pumpkins of choice indoors for carving. While Alaska washed them off in the sink and set down newspaper over the table, Willam scurried off to change into something much more comfortable. By the time she returned, in a pair of skimpy, skin tight shorts, a well-loved T-shirt, and her hair done up in a messy bun, she found Alaska already sketching out the first Jack-O-Lantern’s face. A few smaller pumpkins had been left off to the side, misshapen or oddly textured, just the way Raja liked them. She knew Raja would not disappoint in whatever she decided to do to decorate them.

Alaska’s pumpkins, however, were kept charmingly simple. Triangle eyes and nose, scattered teeth in a wide grin, she even sketched out ear holes on the sides.

Willam watched her for a few moments as she completely absorbed herself in creating the perfect cutesy faces for each pumpkin. Then Willam let her attention drift back to the singular pumpkin she had picked out. She knew exactly what she wanted to do with it and after the morning she had, felt it was a deserving purpose for the little gourd.

She made quick work of washing the miniature pumpkin and lightly marking where she wanted to cut. She was unusually careful not to cut too deep, Alaska noticed. Her gaze kept drifting back to her girlfriend out of both curiosity and slight concern. Willam was always a chaotic force whenever crafting was involved, and then throwing in a knife as well? Alaska’s heart never raced harder than when she saw Willam haphazardly cutting into something while ignoring all safety precautions or gentle warnings from her girlfriends.

Alaska was just about to begin carving her second pumpkin by the time Willam had removed a section off the top of hers and cleaned out the innards. She carelessly licked the pumpkin guts off the knife, making Alaska’s stomach queasy in process. But before she looked away for her own sanity, she noticed Willam’s face contorting in the cutest expression of mild disgust. Alaska couldn’t stop her lips from curling as she refocused on her own crafting. 

Her attention was soon divided again by Willam running back to the kitchen and rummaging through the drawers, then off to the bathroom and strangely towards the bedroom as well. She came back with the oddest collection of items; a cheap metal flour sifter from the dollar store, a screwdriver she picked up somewhere, one of Raja’s clogs that Willam regularly made fun of, some kind of plastic tubes, and-

Wait.

Now Alaska realized what she was doing.

She’d seen Raja demonstrate this so many times (though her efforts were always a bit more organized than this).

Willam was making a bong out of her mini pumpkin. Alaska had to laugh, because of course she would. How had she missed the gears spinning in Willam’s head as she picked out the pumpkin from the stall?

“Gonna share that when you’re done, right?” Alaska asked, amusement in her voice, as Willam tried to hammer the screwdriver into the pumpkin with Raja’s clog.

“Maybe,” Willam replied distractedly. 

Read as ‘of course,’ Alaska noted with a grin.

They continued their projects for the next hour in relative silence. The dining room table was a mess of soiled newspaper, pumpkin guts and random disassembled household products Willam had collected for her home-made bong. She was still experimenting with getting it just right when Raja arrived back home. She had immediately made her way towards the kitchen, following the sounds of clatter and clanging to find her partners each engaged in their own tasks at the table. Willam was the most focused and didn’t notice her right away until she felt Raja pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. She didn’t say anything but the hint of a grin as she worked told Raja more than enough. Though she had to wonder why one of her clogs was left laying on the table. Moving on to Alaska, she pressed a kiss to her cheek as well, wiping off some of the dried pumpkin guts Alaska had missed earlier when she tried to clean her face.

“You ladies have fun today?” she asked, arms wrapped around Alaska’s waist as they both watched Willam pouring a half-empty bottle of water into the little pumpkin.

“No,” Willam complained briefly before taking her first hit.

“I did,” Alaska countered. “Wish you were there though.”

“Yeah, you could’ve pulled the fucking wagon,” Willam muttered.

Raja chuckled lightly as she moved over to sit next to Willam and relieve her of the pumpkin. “Next time,” she promised, taking an experimental hit off Willam’s questionable-looking bong.

“Not bad,” she commented as her lips broke free. Willam made a noise of agreement as well as a few mental notes of what to do better next time. But it came out surprisingly effective for a spur of the moment decision.

The pair passed the pumpkin back and forth for another round as Alaska finished the last of her rudimentary cleaning. She laid out a fresh spread of newspaper for whenever Raja started her own carving. She motioned over to the collection of odd and unusual pumpkins before relieving Willam of her bong and taking a few well-earned hits. 

While the two continued to share the homemade bong, Raja’s gaze travelled to the other end of the table to inspect her pumpkins and begin brainstorming for ideas. A few thoughts were brewing but she’d definitely sketch them out on paper first before marking up any of the pumpkins. One thing she did notice right away brought a smile to her lips.

“They’re perfect by the way,” she complimented Alaska. “You know how much I like the weird ones.”

She glanced over to Willam, now taking another hit, and nudged her lightly in the side. Willam stared blankly for a moment, wheels turning in her head, as Alaska struggled not to outright laugh. Then, after 2 or 3 seconds, Willam’s mind caught up with what Raja had said and she immediately stuck her tongue out. “Fuck off,” she laughed out in a huff. “I hate both of you.”

“Yes, and we hate you, too,” Raja murmured, pressing a brief kiss to Willam’s grinning lips.

Chapter 6 - Witney

“Dandelions are kinda pretty, don'tcha think?” Courtney blurted out as she and Willam trekked through the park. Her gaze had been wandering around the huge open space that surrounded them. It seemed like everything was in bloom right now, whether it was the flowers on the trees or the wildflowers off in the distance, but especially noticeable was dandelions scattered in amongst the grass.

Irritably shifting their overpacked cooler from one hand to another, Willam remarked, “I think it’s a weed.”

“Still pretty,” Courtney countered, picking up one just off the dirt trail they were using and holding it out for Willam to see.

Despite Courtney’s usually infectious smile, Willam just looked at the object derisively for a moment, shifted the cooler yet again, and commented, “Still a weed…but not the useful kind.”

Laughing lightly as she bent down to pick up another long stemmed dandelion, Courtney pointed out, “Dandelions are plenty useful. Bees love them.”

“Bees love any kind of flower,” Willam muttered, trying to keep from huffing as she continued to struggle with the cooler. Maybe if she tried carrying it with both hands?

“They’re nutritious too,” Courtney chirped away, plucking up another flower, “…can even be used for medicine.”

It was here Willam stopped in her tracks for a hot second to give Courtney a look of concern. “Please tell me you don’t actually eat them,” she groaned in mild disgust.

Courtney’s laughter echoed through the park as she veered off the path again and replied, “No, but it’s still good information to know.”

“Right,” Willam grumbled sarcastically. Looking up ahead, she was relieved to find the picnic table was finally within sight. Just a few more feet.

Bending down to pick up another few dandelions growing clustered together, Courtney added in, “And it helps that they’re so easy to grow.“

“Again; because it’s a weed!” Willam shouted back as she rushed on towards the table. She dropped the cooler as soon as she was close enough and not a moment too soon; her fingers felt like they were about to break off! 

She shook her hands trying to regain some of the feeling back in her fingers before sitting down and unpacking their weighty lunch. Courtney was still off the path, about 10 or so yards away, picking the blooming dandelions with the longest stems. When she finally had a nice little bundle in her hand, she rejoined Willam at the picnic table. Renewing their conversation, one Willam had hoped was finally done, Courtney stated proudly, “They can even grow through the cracks in concrete. That’s perseverance.”

“That sounds stolen from a motivational poster,” Willam countered with an eye roll. Despite her firm stance that dandelions were just a weed, she could feel a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, especially once Courtney corrected her with a lazy, drawn out, “Maybe borrowed.”

For the next minute or two, Willam focused her energy on setting out their lunches while Courtney fiddled with all the flowers she collected. Willam didn’t pay much attention to her, instead she was sorting through what food was definitely hers so she could finally eat. She hadn’t realized just how starving she was until she could finally see the food laid out in front of her. 

She was nearly finished with her task when Courtney mused out loud once more, “And it’s fun to blow all the little seeds off and watch them float away.”

“If you say so,” Willam replied distractedly. Just about…Done!

“I do say so,” Courtney teased. When Willam looked back at her, ready to announce that they could start eating, she found herself having to pause. Those stupid little dandelions were gone and Courtney’s hands were currently behind her back. Willam eyed her up suspiciously as Courtney maneuvered her way out of her seat and circled the table until she was sitting right next to Willam. She could barely contain her grin, an act that did nothing to ease Willam’s concerns that she was up to something. Then, very carefully, Courtney withdrew her hands from behind her back and announced, “And…they’re the best flower to make a crown out of.”

No sooner had she said it than Willam found a small crown of poorly tied dandelions resting on her head. Immediately, she gave Courtney a withering look, imagining whatever little bugs that hitched a ride on those flowers now crawling in amongst hair, but Courtney just beamed back at her. She looked so pleased with herself, it was a struggle for Willam not to crack even just a little smile.

Sighing softly in defeat, Willam shook her head and shifted around to remove her phone from her pocket. As she unlocked it, she could hear Courtney giggling next to her, saying, “Alright, you can take it off.”

But to Courtney’s surprise, instead of immediately snatching the handmade crown from her head, Willam simply held up her phone, angled just so, and snapped a series of selfies. With her own cocky, satisfied little grin, Willam informed her, “After lunch I will.”

Squealing in delight, Courtney pulled her in for a brief kiss. Just a small way to thank Willam for humoring her, even begrudgingly. Forgetting the food for now, Willam suggested taking just a few more pictures together. “For Instagram,” she reasoned. But by the end of the day both of their profiles had been loaded with multiple stories of them enjoying their time in the park and in a few carefully angled shots, Willam’s flower crown could still be seen resting on her head well into the late afternoon.

[honeypiehotchner]

Beautiful Stranger (Chris Evans x OFC) -- part six

Hello! Now I know Chris doesn’t actually have Instagram, so I’m bending reality a little here. I wish he had Instagram though. Can you imagine the content?

Warnings: none!

Once I leave Chris’s apartment, I make it to the elevator before I’m calling Camile. She calls me back after listening to my voicemail where I told her I met Chris and we need to talk. Like now.

“How’d it go?” She blurts before even saying hello.

“Good, I think,” I reply through a breath, staring up at the ceiling as the elevator takes me down to the lobby. “I’m going back for dinner later tonight.”

“Ooh, dinner,” Camile teases. “Where are you guys going?”

“His place,” I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Cam, listen, I really need to talk to you about this in person, so…”

“I can be at The Nines in ten?”

“Perfect, me too,” I sigh in relief. The elevator dings as it reaches the lobby.

“Is it okay if Jack tags along?”

I think it over before deciding. “No, please, if that’s okay.” I don’t mind Jack at all, seriously. But I need to tell her first. And I know Jack will freak out and possibly scream the news without meaning to, and judging by what Chris told me, I need that to not happen right now.

“It’s okay,” she says, no an ounce of malice in her tone, but I can tell she’s confused -- and worried. “But you’re kinda scaring me now.”

“Trust me, once I tell you who Chris is, you’ll understand.”

“Okay, fine,” Camile replies. “I’ll be there in five, then.”

“I’m already walking,” I tease, pushing the doors open. “I’ll grab a table.”

“See you in a sec.”

“See you.”

+++

My leg bounces underneath the table while I wait impatiently for Camile to get here. I’ve got Google images pulled up on my phone with pictures of Chris (yes, I might have gotten distracted scrolling through them all). I found one of him on what looks like a movie set, so I’m assuming it’s Captain America, and that’s all I need.

The Nines is essentially a diner, and anyone who calls it a restaurant is always politely corrected. It’s away from the main city streets and small enough that it doesn’t attract many tourists, which means it’s nice and quiet.

Which is exactly what I need right now, especially for what I’m about to tell my best friend.

Speaking of her, Camile comes through the door looking like she ran in from her car (and she might have), though she calms herself to a walk when she sees me in our usual booth. The queen of not drawing any unnecessary attention to herself, ladies and gentlemen and everyone in between.

“Okay,” Cam throws her purse into the booth before sliding in. “You need to tell me right now what’s going on before I lose my mind from anticipation.”

All I do is turn my phone over, revealing the picture of Chris. I slide it toward her without even glancing down.

“Why are you showing me a picture of Steve Rogers?”

I shake my head, looking down to swipe to the side until I come to a picture of Chris at an interview.

“Okay, why are you showing me a picture of Chris Evans?”

“Because Chris…” I keep my voice as quiet as possible. “Is who I’m meeting for dinner.”

It takes a moment to sink in, but I know the second it does because her eyes widen and her hand slaps over her mouth -- I’m sure to stop herself from screaming. 

I just nod, a small grin creeping onto my face at the thought of it. Not really at the thought of my soulmate being Chris Evans, though. Just...that I have a soulmate. And so far he doesn’t seem to hate me. And that I can finally, finally after so many years of hiding myself away, I can finally have this conversation with my best friend. The one she had with me when she told me she met Jack for the first time and showed me pictures from his Instagram.

Wait.

“Does Chris have Instagram?”

“What do you mean does Chris have Instagram?” She almost yells. “He’s Chris Evans, of course he has Instagram!”

“Keep your voice down!” I scold, pulling my phone back toward me to open up the app. “I just got curious.” I find his page easily -- it’s the only verified one with his name, and he has a picture of Dodger posted from four days ago -- but then I pause. “Is it weird if I follow him?”

“Of course not!”

“But all we’ve had is one awkward conversation. And we played with his dog.”

“You got to play with Dodger?!”

“Shh!”

“There’s literally no one else in here.”

“Still,” I glance around, seeing she’s right. “He said his publicist has him on house arrest or something. I don’t want anything to get anywhere.”

“House arrest? What the hell did he do?”

“I don’t know,” I shrug.

“Well, check the news.”

“What?”

“He’s famous, Bluebird. If you wanna know why his publicist told him to keep his ass inside, then it’s probably because he needs to avoid paparazzi as much as possible, which means something else already caught fire.”

“How do you know this?”

“Because I had to tell my boss the same thing.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “You didn’t tell me you were a publicist.”

“I’m not, but I might as well be. Anywho, you need to follow him,” she points to my phone. “And while you look through his Instagram like I know you’re dying to do, I’ll see what trouble he got himself into.”

“This feels weird,” I blurt. “I shouldn’t be snooping around like this. Those things probably aren’t even true.”

“Fine, I’ll snoop, and I won’t tell you.”

“I guess.”

She tucks her phone away, sensing my indifference. “I’ll snoop later, then.” She nods to my phone. “Any cute pictures?”

I glare at her. “Yes.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” she waves her hands in front of her face, settling back down. “God, how does it feel?”

“Really...weird,” I admit. “I mean, I already told him about my parents.”

Her eyebrows raise. “That didn’t take long.”

“Exactly, that’s my point,” I breathe. “It didn’t take long for me to feel comfortable enough to say that stuff. It’s weird. You know I don’t run around telling people that.”

“He’s your soulmate,” Camile leans forward, giving me a look. “It’s different-- He’s different. It’s going to feel different. That’s just how it works.”

“It’s weird,” I say firmly.

“Well, you better get over yourself quickly. You’re having dinner with him.”

“Don’t remind me,” I smack my forehead with my hand. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“No, no, no, don’t start,” Cam shakes her head. “You weren’t having any regrets before this. Don’t start overthinking.”

But I do anyway, completely ignoring Camile’s warning. “I mean, come on, his publicist has him on house arrest. Figuratively or not, I don’t know what that’s like -- or how to handle it. He probably wants-- He probably wanted his soulmate to be someone, like an actress, you know? Someone who gets it. I don’t get it--”

“You don’t ‘get it,’ and yet you’re going to have dinner at his place because he can’t go out right now.”

“Because he offered,” I protest.

“But you agreed,” Cam fires back, raising an eyebrow. “You understood. It doesn’t matter if you don’t totally get it or relate to it. He doesn’t expect you to get it because you’re not a famous actress.”

“No, I’m just a secretary for an asshole of a boss,” I roll my eyes, absolutely dreading the fact that I have to work tomorrow.

“At least that asshole gave you some days off,” Camile groans, but she’s not defending him. She’s offered a few times to give me a job where she works, but it would be a little difficult considering she works at an attorney’s office and all I have is a degree in English.

Then, I see Camile get a wild idea and I know because her eyebrows raise, her eyes twinkle, and her smile strains as she tries to fight it.

“What.” I deadpan. “I know that look. What?”

“Chris could come to your office,” she starts, continuing despite my protest. “Pick you up for lunch and everything. Make your boss jealous.”

“No!” I point an accusing finger at her. “Absolutely not. You’ve lost your goddamn mind.”

“Come on!” She yells back. “It’s perfect.”

“It’s ridiculous,” I correct her. “And I don’t have anything to prove to my boss.”

“I never said that,” she says. “I’m just saying, maybe he’ll realize he has no chance and he’ll leave you alone.”

“Doubtful.”

My boss -- whose actual name is Mr. Johnson, though I never refer to him by name out in public because he’s, well, a bit of a big name around here and not in a necessarily positive light -- has been pursuing me from the day I started. If I didn’t need this job so bad, and if it wasn’t as hard as it is to find another one with the pay I’m making, then I would leave. And maybe one day I will. I’ve come close a few times, but then Mr. Johnson will go off on a business trip and I’ll stay. He always goes on trips and sometimes goes through periods where he isn’t as annoying, but regardless, as of late, he has been a particular pain in my ass.

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea, maybe as you and Chris get closer,” Camile suggests. “That is, if you don’t quit and come work with me.”

“I told you I can’t.”

“And I told you we have a position open and my bosses know your situation, and they’d be willing to match your pay,” she replies, adding the pitch she’s had perfected for the last six months. “Janae is about to go on maternity leave, too. Like next month.”

I give her a look. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

But this is enough to make Camile cheer. “That’s not a yes and it’s not a no, so I’ll take it.” She suddenly looks very serious as she leans forward on the table on her elbows. “Alright, what are you wearing tonight?”

I raise an eyebrow. “What I’m wearing now?”

“No--”

“It’s not a date.”

“It’s dinner!”

“Not a dinner-date. Just dinner.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” I reply firmly. “Just dinner.”

“I heard you the first time,” she chuckles. “You trying to convince yourself there?”

“Shut up,” I glare, looking around. “I should actually eat something.”

We get the attention of our favorite waiter, Kevin, who comes over with a strange look on his face.

“You looked too far into a heated conversation,” he explains. “I didn’t wanna be in the middle of that shit.”

“Good idea,” Camile nods, sharing a wink with me before ordering.

+++

Chris had gotten away with not answering any of the guys when they texted about going out tonight, but sending Scarlett to voicemail just isn’t an option. He knows better than to do that.

“Hello?”

“Finally,” she laughs. “We’ve been trying to get ahold of you.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Chris says, opening the fridge to see if he needs to go to the store (he hopes not). “Been busy.”

“Okay…” Scarlett pauses. “So. Are you up for going out?”

“I can’t, I’ve got plans.”

“Chris has plans,” she teases. “With who?”

“Uh…” He sighs. “My soulmate.”

“Holy shit!” Scarlett yells. “You’re serious?!”

“Yep,” Chris can’t stop himself from grinning despite the lack of anything to really make dinner with. “We met last night in the elevator, but I didn’t know it was her. I went to check on her today and found out then.” He pauses, shutting the door. “She came to my door and Dodger was at her feet and she just started laughing-- Wow.”

“Okay, don’t make me sick,” Scarlett stops him. “Well, have fun tonight. I won’t tell the guys.”

“Thanks,” Chris replies sincerely. “I’ll tell them later.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” she tells him. “Do I need to bring you groceries?”

“What?”

“I know you, and I know you don’t have a damn thing in your fridge.”

Sometimes Chris hates the fact that he’s known Scarlett for so long. Because she does this, using her “big sister” tone despite Chris being three years older. She sees right through him all the time in the best and worst of ways. 

“Uh, yeah,” Chris kicks himself for the fact that she caught him. “Can I text you a list?”

“Sure,” she chuckles. “I’ll text you when I get it.”

“Thank you,” he breathes. “I’ll pay you back.”

“You better.”

Chris ends the call and begins texting Scarlett a list of what he needs to cook dinner for his soulmate.

[calumthoodposts]

Broken Home | Part 2

Warnings: Abused mind

Take care of yourself<3

The backs of her exposed thighs coming in contact with the freezing metal chair made the hairs on her arms stand on edge. Reyna attributed her chills to that instead of the fact that she was sat in an interrogation room with a woman that she had never met before staring at her empathetically. The concrete walls didn't contribute warmth or comfort, neither did the stereotypical one-way mirror that took up the expanse of the wall straight across from her. 

The police officer was a woman named Lori. Her brown hair was in tight curls and she had the kindest eyes that Reyna had ever seen on a person. Even with those silvery-blue irises pleading with her, to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, she couldn't do it. She couldn't bring herself to just come out and admit that the man that she had loved since she was seventeen had been emotionally and physically abusing her for nearly half of that time. It was obvious, but it felt impossible for her to say that Aaron simply acted how he always did.

She didn't seek some false sense of justice because that was how things played out for her. In her eyes, she had swung twice and missed both times. The first swing was her dropping out of university as Aaron wanted to be the one who provided. In her eyes, she could always go back to school, but she could never find another Aaron. It was an ultimatum that seemed simple.

He needed to feel like a man, and if her not having a career was what would make him happy, it was a sacrifice that she was more than willing to make. That same sacrifice made her father and mother's disgruntlement grow until they eventually stopped checking in altogether. She never blamed them for it. They worked relentlessly to provide her with a future that she traded in for a man they didn't believe was worthy of her love. Never would she blame them for having higher hopes for her than domesticity.

The second swing was trying to make him a better man, the man she loved before he became who he was now. It was easy for her to see that through all of her efforts, she still didn't do enough. When the bills were tight, which they always were, her nights were spent across the hall babysitting the neighbor’s kid for money. It wasn't difficult to slip out of his arms at night, his drunken snores never faltered as she shut their bedroom door and crossed the hall. Reyna would hide the bills that they didn't have money for and pay them in secret, him never remembering when things were due made it easy. It was easy for her to lie to herself and say she preferred it like that.

Keeping him distracted was how she tried to combat his stress, but that never worked as he would just get frustrated with her and reach for the Jack on the counter instead of the soft skin on her waist. Reyna tried her best to get him into counseling, but she was never convincing enough to make him actually go. In the beginning, she felt hope in his promise to seek help. She could see it in his eyes that he saw what he was becoming. The drugs reminded him of his father in a way that scared him at first until he eventually found comfort in that familiarity. The two misses made her accept the defeat and take accountability. 

In the back of her mind as she recounted those thoughts she was aware of Lori staring at her with the empathetic eyes of a woman who just wanted the truth. The question Reyna had to answer was simple: Who started the fight and why? 

That question was met with her silence, her eyes glossed over as she stared at her hands and thought about how she never wanted to end up here. No matter how violent and irrational Aaron got, she would never have gone to the authorities. It made her feel sick seeing him shoved into the back of a police cab with chains around his wrists. 

"Honey, I know it's hard to talk about situations like this. We just want to make sure that we have the facts straight. Nothing bad is going to happen to you." Reyna let her brown eyes snap to Lori's. She was sure that they must have been swimming with satirical amusement. Bad things had already happened to her, she wasn't scared for herself. There was only apprehension for Aaron in her mind. "Can I see him?" 

The officer let out a breath that was exasperated and melancholic but was perceived by the brown-eyed girl as thoughtful. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. Mr. Deming is still very intoxicated and we're having trouble getting him to cooperate." 

"I can make him calm down," Reyna spoke quickly and looked into her eyes, pleadingly. "Please just let me see him. Let me talk to him first and I'll give you my statement." 

The woman looked at her with a sad resolution, one that made the younger girl's stomach churn in an almost guilty way, before she said that she would speak to some people and see what she could do. Reyna knew her hands were tied. It was an investigation of aggravated assault that everyone knew– they'd have to be daft not to– who was guilty of initiating it.

She had ridden to the station in the back of the last cop car at the scene. They had only left to the station after an ambulance had come to take care of the boy who had helped her and was nearly beaten to a pulp as a consequence. The only battle scars Aaron adorned were the light scratches on his cheek from being pushed against the brick wall.

Lori came back with a small smile on her face, one that she knew was for her benefit. The older woman didn't bother to sit down and she only walked to the table and leaned against it lightly. "They said that you can see him when they finish questioning him a little." Reyna locked her gaze with her and breathed a breath of relief. "Thank you so much."

She needed to see him. It felt like a monster was digging its nails into her heart and squeezing it tighter with every minute that passed. She needed to talk to him because it didn't make her feel good knowing that he was angry and in pain without her. "In the meantime, the other boy arrived only a few minutes ago and finished his statement. He's a lot more cooperative than your frie-."

"He's my boyfriend." Reyna's lips spat out before she could think and she gave Lori an apologetic look immediately after, to which she just smiled halfheartedly, the sad look still in her eyes. "Would you like to speak with Mr. Hood while we wait? It'll be a little while." 

Reyna thought about her question. At first, she nearly scoffed at the mention of the boy who was the reason for them being here in the first place. Her wanting to talk with him felt asinine to her, she was too emotionally high strung that she felt almost irritated at the thought of him. The logical part of her took a little too long to kick in, but when it did, she acquiesced. She wanted to ask him why.

The hallways that she was led through matched the cold concrete theme of the room she was just in. The bright lights above that reflected off the gray floor and into her eyes, marking her head throb slightly. It was like every jail in every movie ever, living up to every stereotype. Even a box of doughnuts laid next to the coffee and snacks in the breakroom they passed by. 

The room that Hood, it dawned on her that she didn't know his first name yet, didn't surprise her when it was identical to hers. Even the frigid cold that hit her when she stepped inside of it was the same, making her hair stand on end. The boy was sat in the metal chair and had his head leaned back, his eyes were closed, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. When the door opened he looked at her with an unreadable expression and, upon seeing his face in the light, she let out a breath and her jaw fell open.

It was adorned with butterfly bandages over a particularly deep cut on his brow bone, not deep enough to need stitches, but too deep to just leave it be. The white bandages contrasted the dark purple and maroon red bruising that formed across his cheeks and his left eye. Seeing him made the feeling of sickness come back up again. She was absolutely speechless, drinking him in. "I'll come and check on you two in five minutes."

It was a kind sentiment, but both of the people left in the room knew there would be people listening on the other side of the two-way mirror. The door shut and the silence that followed was deafening. Neither of them spoke as they just stared at each other. Her eyes swam with shock and worry while he held a curiosity that she hadn't ever seen before.

"I'm sorry." Finally tearing her eyes away from his face and forcing them to look at the ground, she walked to the chair opposite of him and sat down. When her eyes met him again, he had his eyebrows furrowed. "What do you have to be sorry for?"

He had an accent that she hadn't noticed before and it intrigued her as to why a boy all the way from Australia was at the Clubs. She didn't ask though and replied quietly. "For everything. For getting you stuck in jail at 2 in the morning and for your–well…"

"My face that looks like tenderized steak?" He joked, but it failed to bring any humor out of her as she continued to gawk at his injuries with guilt. "Trust me. Out of everyone, you're the last one who needs to be apologizing."

A look of incredulity spread across her tired face. "Have you seen yourself? None of this would have happened if it wasn't for me and I'm so goddamn sorry." 

"You didn't start any of what happened. I wish I could give you credit for this number babe, but that goes to your boyfriend." He had a playful smirk on his face as he tried to make light of the situation. His valiant effort was admirable, but it was wasted on her. "Don't call me babe." 

"What else am I supposed to call you?" He questioned softly. The tone in his voice took her by surprise with its comforting inflection. He didn't want to fight with her, and that attempt to not escalate and aggravate her any further wasn't something she was used to. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

Her apology formed a frown that etched itself between his eyebrows and he leaned forward in his chair with his fingers laced together on the table in front of him. "You don't have to apologize, I understand that you're going through something right now. I'm Calum." He spoke so easily that it could put her mind at ease if she let it. Of course, she wouldn't. 

"Reyna." She held her hand out to him and the small smile was brought back to his face as he shook it, holding her gaze warmly. They lingered for a moment, her pulling away first and clearing her throat awkwardly and looking back at her chipped nail polish from the 99 cent store. "Reyna, why were you at the club? You didn't seem like you wanted to be there."

The way his voice spoke her name made a warmth run through her body. "We go there every weekend so he can unwind." She answered easily. "Why did you follow us into the alleyway?"

It was a question she had been asking herself since it happened and it had her head reeling. "I saw you earlier in the night and you looked... uncomfortable. I looked over when his hand– and you pushed him off and left the table. The look in his eyes when he watched you leave and how he ran after you would've made any person worried."

It embarrassed her that he saw their entire exchange. A stranger watching her boyfriend force his hand up her skirt made her cheeks turn pink in mortification, even though she knew that wasn't the largest take-away from his explanation. "Any person wouldn't have followed us outside, though. Why did you involve yourself in something that didn't concern you?"

Calum inhaled deeply through his busted lips and straightened his back before replying easily. "I have a sister and a mother. The thought of a man treating them the way your boyfriend was treating you makes me feel sick to my stomach. You looked so scared, and no one could have stopped me from following you out that door to at least see if you were alright. And you weren't."

His admittance and his reasoning left her in awe. She swallowed thickly and looked at her lap, fiddling with the ring on her index finger. Her heart was beating a thousand beats per minute in her throat as she processed what he had said. This complete stranger cared about her wellbeing because he cared about people and that brought a feeling into her heart that she couldn't explain. It also brought tears to her eyes. "Fucking hell." 

She covered her face with her hands as more tears grew in her eyes. In one word, the feeling she felt was overwhelmed. Exhaustion and worry made her mind chatter with 'what ifs' and she just desperately wanted everything to stop. She wanted to breathe, and Calum's admittance that her relationship was obviously toxic just by a few glances from across a dance floor made her tears fall harder. Not knowing why she always looked the other way when he would throw words like daggers at her, Reyna wanted him to change. The love she had for Aaron left her so vulnerable that standing up for herself against him wasn't an option. She wanted to stand with him, and if that meant against herself, then so be it.

The hand that was suddenly placed comfortingly on her shoulder startled her and she pried her eyes open to see the curly-haired boy standing over her. "Come here," he whispered softly and tugged her hand so she was standing before he wrapped his arms around her. Her muscles hardened under the foreign feeling of someone who wasn't her boyfriend embracing her, although it would have been foreign if it had been Aaron too. 

It took what seemed like minutes for her to melt slightly under Calum's hold. He was relentless and his embrace that stayed around her until she accepted it made her heart wrench even more. It wasn't demanding in any way, only an affection that let her know that she could be vulnerable in front of him. Affection was something that she hadn't had in over a year. She had forgotten what it felt like to just be held, comforted in the way she desperately needed. 

Her arms wound around his muscular back and she sobbed loudly into his chest. The tears that stained his shirt celebrated in waves that wracked her body. She never allowed herself to cry over the things that happened to her and Calum was forced to bear witness to the flood that finally broke free onto his dress shirt. 

"I'm sorry." She sobbed again and her arms wrapped around him tighter. "I know you don't want me to apologize, but I have to because he won't. He's gotten violent before, but never that bad. Never to someone we didn't know."

His hands rubbed up and down her back rhythmically in an attempt to soothe her. It worked as she felt the goosebumps deflate under his warm fingers. "It's okay, Reyna. You're safe and you're going to get the justice you deserve."

Like a bucket of cold water was poured over her, his words instantly made her tense and she pulled away from him. The cold that hung in the air wrapped itself around her again as she looked up at him with wide eyes. "You can't press charges."

"What do you mean?" He was looking at her quizzically as if he genuinely couldn't comprehend what she had said. She knew it was confusing because it confused her. There was a part of her that wanted to get Aaron out of her life, but a much stronger part of her felt like she couldn't live without him. "You can't do that. Please. I need him, Calum."

"Listen, I know it's hard to be in a situation like this, but he can't just walk away from thi-" He didn't understand and he never would. That was okay with her because he didn't have to. He didn't need to try and make sense of the absurdity of it all, nor did he need to be some knight in shining armor that would pull her out of her mess. "You don't understand. I don't have a job and I can't get one quick enough to pay the bills. He's literally all I have, Calum. No one else."

Saying it out loud sounded insane to her. It wasn't lost on her that Aaron put her into this position. He constructed walls around her in the form of a cage that only he had a key to. He had her exactly where he wanted her, and she soon learned to find comfort in it. Over-dependency always irked her when she was younger and she found it ridiculous that people could be comfortable in entirely relying on their significant other. Aaron held a flame in his hand and she was scared of fire. He easily backed her into that corner and, before she could even realize it, her independence was stripped away. The thought of having it back terrified her. "Reyna…"

"No, Calum. I appreciate what you did for me and you'll never have any idea how grateful I am for it. I just need you– I'm begging you– to let this go." Salty tears rolled down her face and he peered down at her with the softest eyes she had ever seen. He wasn't pitying her and she could see that as he breathed out a sigh and bit his lower lip.

With his lower lip tucked in between his teeth, he looked away from her and ran his hand through his tangled black curls. She watched his back wearily, gauging his reaction as the muscles tensed against the fabric of his shirt. He paced back and forth, torturing her as she anticipated his reply. "I can't." 

"What?" She breathed. When he turned to her the answer to her question was clear by the remorse in his chiseled and bruised features. He neared her and placed his arms on her shoulders. "I can't do that. I know that where he has you feels permanent, but he doesn't just get to walk away from what he did. I'm not just talking about what he did to me, mostly to you."

"He hasn't done anything to me!" She lied in denial. The disbelief that danced across Calum's face let her know that he saw right through the lie and that he didn't believe a word of it. "It's just the way he is. He gets angry sometimes and I just have to wait until he calms down."

"Reyna, him being that way just because he has always been is bullshit and you know that. I don't know you very well– at all actually– but when I saw you tonight in the bar I saw a girl who knew she deserved better." Her teary brown eyes looked into his that were filled with frustration and a fit of anger that, for the first time in years, she wasn't afraid of because it didn't feel directed at her. "That's why you didn't let him touch you the way he wanted."

It was true and even she, blind as can be, could see that. Aaron didn't give her the life he promised her when she was nineteen and stupid enough to believe that blindly following the boy she was certain was her soulmate was the only option that ended with her being happy. Happiness had once been Aaron. Any future with him in it was the one she wanted, but never did she account for what would happen if the Aaron she loved didn't exist anymore. He was a shell of a broken man, too far gone for her to help. She knew that in the back of her mind, somewhere hidden in the attic behind dusty boxes filled with her forgotten aspirations, memories with him that were good. They were good at one point.

That point was long gone, though. Any trace of the life she had envisioned with him was gone, but she couldn't accept it. Somewhere beneath all the rubble was the man she loved and she wanted to find him and pull him out, only failing to account for the fact that she only loved an idea and not an actual man. "Why didn't you fight back?"

The boy with curly hair, a cracked lip, a face coated in bruises, and a white shirt, that surprisingly had no blood on it, looked at her with comforting dark brown eyes. It overwhelmed her, how much light she saw in them. His hands that planted on her shoulders softly were warming and soothing. "I'm not a violent person to begin with and I wasn't going to do that in front of you."

He bit his lip and winced slightly as it stung his cut. The white light that washed over him made him look pale and she could see the bags under his eyes. It must have been nearing 4 in the morning by then and it was showing on his tired face. She was certain it was even more apparent in hers. His words made her heart pound in her chest with a sense of adoration that she ignored.

The metal door opened and scratched the floor loudly as Lori stepped through with the soft smile that never seemed to leave her face. Reyna watched her take in her and Calum, the space that situated itself between them was only slight and Calum's large hands were still situated on her small shoulders. "Mr. Deming has given his statement and you can see him now." Reyna nodded vigorously and sniffled, pressing the backs of her hands into her eyes to wipe the tears that had yet to fall. Looking at Calum, she smiled at him softly. "I'm sorry again, Calum. I really am."

-----

His hands sat on splayed on the cool metal table with cuffs still around his wrists. The skin that poked out from beneath the metal was red and rubbed raw from his relentless drunken struggling, the alcohol undoubtedly numbing him from the pain. The sunken green eyes that stared at her were a stranger's, but the face was still Aaron's and that gave her comfort. "Have you given your statement yet?"

The iciness that laced his voice chilled her heart and the erratic twitching he exhibited made her anxious. "Not yet. I'm set to give mine after Calum's."

"Calum?" He scoffed and looked away from her to glare at the wall. His eyes leaving her nervous frame allowed her to take a deep breath from the break of his cold gaze. "Is that the little pussy's name?"

She winced at his insult and stayed silent. Reyna knew that any reply she gave would be sadly insufficient to him. "What, are you guys best friends now? Are you gonna make him miserable too?"

His head turned to look at her and she looked at her hands before he could meet her gaze. Aaron's words stung her, but she knew what she was walking into when the metal door opened. Of course, he was going to be angry and would need to get it out. "You know I wouldn't-"

"Do I? From your behavior last night, it seems that I don't know you that well at all, doesn't it."

"I'm on your side, Aaron," Reyna spoke softly. She watched his jaw clench and unclench along with his fist before he released a sigh and flattened his palms on the table. His gaze softened like clockwork. "I know, baby. I'm just tired, and after you tell them that he started it we can go home."

He seemed sincere and genuine like he was capable of apologizing without actually uttering 'I'm sorry'. It seemed as though he hadn't thought it out though, as all of the evidence pointed toward him. Reyna would've believed him and she desperately wanted to, but she knew him. She knew that his tone softening and the use of the pet name that made her cringe was because of the police officers standing outside of the room and watching from the transparent side of the glass. "Aaron…"

When her voice trailed off softly he sighed and stood up. It surprised her when he came to her side of the table and fell to his knees in front of her, taking her face gently in his hands and looking deeply into her eyes. "I'll love you until the day I die, remember?"

It had been months since he touched her so tenderly and it had her heart pounding in her chest. His confession had her speechless and she stared at him, mulling his words over in her mind. His fingers were rough against her cheeks and she wanted to pull back, but she stayed where she was and stared at him. His gaze was soft but held a warning in them that she didn't miss. As he pulled her head down and placed his lips to her forehead, she gripped his wrist and closed her eyes as tears stung them. "I remember. I love you too. So fucking much."

Reyna's voice was but a whimper and when she opened her eyes and looked at him once again, he only held a look of victory. The initial softness was gone as if he couldn't be bothered to keep up the act. He always said that he would love her until the day he died and she believed him. Every fiber of her being believed him because of how much she loved him. She was anything but dishonest. Reyna wasn't dumb either. Only sadly in love with the shell of the boy in front of her, she knew that the Aaron she loved was already dead. That much was clear by the look in his eyes and the smirk on his face, the one that was so foreign she wouldn't have been able to recognize it out of a line-up

[angelicthor]

the nineties

decades dance: part 5

pairing: steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes

summary:  unrequited love was painful. To have to endure it from two people was something else. Loving two super soldiers that didn’t return your feelings was agony but what if they did? Events unfold when Tony plans to throw a party for every decade Bucky and Steve missed out on.

warnings/genre: +18 only, explicit smut, attempted sexual assault

masterlist | decades dance masterlist

Your plan to throw the other’s off your track worked, after the last party it was assumed that when Steve and Bucky disappeared, it was with the girls they were seen with and Nat’s ruthless questioning had somewhat eased. The three of you were able to breathe a sigh of relief at this, your relationship remaining a secret between you for just a while longer.

You did, however, need to somewhat hide just how worried you were when Steve and Bucky had to go on a mission. This was the first time since you’d began your relationship that the boys had been away from you; you kept reminding yourself that it was only a week, that they had more experience under their belts than the rest of the Avengers combined and they would never let anything happen to each other, but it did little to diminish the nagging fear that was eating away at you.

Sensing your nerves with the boys being away, Tony decided that the Saturday they returned would be the next party, giving you the chance to relax with everyone once they came back. You enthusiastically agreed to the plan and in your next video call to the boys, you told them about the party: they promised to be back by Saturday but told you they may be a little late, and that they would have to come in their uniforms, not having time to find costumes.

The idea of Steve and Bucky in their respective uniforms had your thighs clenching together and a part of you believed they were doing this on purpose somehow, knowing the effect that the black leather of Bucky’s vest with all those goddamn straps had and what the sight of Steve’s stealth suit did to you. The slight smirk they both wore as they told you the news gave you a good enough idea of their intentions.

Saturday came and the boys had sent you a message that morning letting you know they were on their way back to which a sense of relief and glee filled you. You spent the rest of the day with Nat and Wanda, chatting and laughing between you, your excitement at the thought of your boys being back mistaken for your anticipation of the party later.

A few hours before the party, you found yourself once again getting ready with Nat and Wanda, practically buzzing with eagerness at seeing your boys again. The time you had spent apart had been filled with worry for their wellbeing, the only reprieve you got from your anxiety was when they called you, as soon as the call ended though it returned ten-fold. You just couldn’t wait for them to back with you where they belonged – if their mission away did anything, it made you release just how much they meant to you, how much you missed being next to them every day and it got you questioning whether you were ready to bring your relationship into the open.

You figured that it was something you could discuss when they got back, for now you focussed on getting ready. Your costumes for this party were far more out there then they had been for the others, but you blamed that on the fact that it was the 90’s. Looking over your reflection in the mirror, you adjusted the shirt that was tied in a bow under your breasts, the bright bra you wore peeking through the open buttons. Your skirt resting on the tops of your thighs, barely covering the plump cheeks of your ass, knee-high socks and heeled pumps completing the look. You tied your hair into pigtails, the fluffy pink ties completing your look, if you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought that you had just walked out of Britney Spears’ ‘…Baby One More Time’ music video.

You turned to Wanda and Nat, admiring their outfits in turn; Wanda was wearing Belle’s iconic golden dress, her hair in the half-up bun that helped bring her look together and part of you wondered if Vision would be dressed as the Beast. You were going to need to see that. You had no idea where Nat was coming up with these ideas but you loved each one more than the last, the Black Widow herself was in front of you dressed as Ginger Spice in what has to be one of the more memorable moments of the 90’s. The tiny Union Jack dress didn’t even cover her crotch, the navy panties peeking out from under the material of her dress that you were pretty sure was actually a vest whilst red platform boots adorned her feet.

You giggled at the complete difference in their outfit choices, Nat revealing so much skin whilst Wanda looked the carbon copy of the iconic Disney princess. Nat arched a brow at you, eyes wandering over your revealing outfit as a smirk played at her lips, “Wow Y/N, who are you trying to impress?”

You blushed at her words, mind racing with thoughts about your soldiers and how they would react; how their eyes would dilate, their jaws clench, how every muscle in their body would tense as they were forced to watch you strut around all night in such attire. You had to blink away the images that conjured of what they would do when you were finally alone, realising that Nat and Wanda were staring at you expectantly.

“I’m not trying to impress anyone: w-who would I be trying to impress?” You stuttered out, trying to hide your evident nerves with a laugh, cheeks burning as a knowing smirk crossed Nat’s lips and Wanda shot you a smile that let you know she knew more than you thought she did.

Hurrying to change the subject, you linked both your arms with theirs and headed out the door, heading towards the elevator and towards the party the floor below. The doors opened and the sound of TLC immediately met your ears and as you entered the room you noticed the numerous inflatable chairs scattered around, glow-in-the-dark stars stuck on every space of wall available. It was as trashy 90’s as you could get.

There were posters of Pulp Fiction, Goodfellas, Forrest Gump and other renowned films of the decade whilst TV stations around the room showed news clips of Bill Clinton’s presidency and Princess Diana’s death. The three of you made your rounds around the room, finding the others quickly and admiring their outfits: Tony was dressed as Austin Powers, Sam was channelling some strong Fresh Prince vibes, Vision was in fact dressed as the Beast to match Wanda (something you found adorable) and Clint was wearing Neo’s iconic black ensemble from The Matrix. All in all, everyone looked amazing but you couldn’t help notice the absence of your boys.

Seeing how your eyes roamed the room for any signs of Steve and Bucky, Tony leaned towards you, murmuring in your ear that they were only twenty minutes out when he last checked and that they had promised to come straight here when they landed. You couldn’t prevent the relieved smile that spread across your lips at the news, at this point you just wanted them back with you, everything else be damned.

Trying to occupy the time until they arrived you asked Wanda and Nat if they wanted to dance to which they hastily agreed. The dancefloor was rather full this time around, unlike the previous parties, and you could only assume that it was because the music was more familiar to those dancing on it. After a few songs, you lost Nat and Wanda in the sea of people – every now and then you’d see a flash of Nat’s read hair or the golden skirt of Wanda’s dress but you didn’t feel like pushing yourself through the mass of people and so you left the dancefloor to stand on the side, watching with a smile as everyone danced the night away.

Leaning against the wall as you watched everyone dance, your eyes kept flittering to the door, waiting for the moment Steve and Bucky would walk in and finally be home. In your distracted state, you never noticed the body creep along to your side until you felt their breath on your neck; jumping in shock, you spun around to face the intruder of your personal space and recognised him as the man you flirted with at the last party in order to make Steve and Bucky jealous. Boy oh boy did that work.

Giving him an awkward smile, you took a small step away from him to try and regain some of your boundaries and you couldn’t help but grimace when he followed your step away, pressing his body into yours.

“Hey there sexy, I lost you at the last part – glad I found you again,” His tone was smug and his smirk dripped with indecency. There was something about him that just made you feel dirty in all the wrong ways and you wanted to wash yourself of him as soon as you could.

What was his name again? Chuck? Chad? No, no -  Brad! That was it!

Before you could open your mouth to kindly reject his advances, he was already speaking: “Want to dance? Pretty sure we have some unfinished business from last time.”

Ew, not in this life or the next buddy.

“No thanks, I’m actually waiting for my friends – they’ll be here any minute so-”

“Oh come on, they aren’t going begrudge me a dance – plus it’s kinda obvious what you’re after dressed like that.”

Your attempts at keeping this civil went out the window with his words, your brows raising in indignation as your eyes narrowed at the man in front of you. “Excuse me?” You spat out at him.

His hand circled your wrist with a strong grip, harshly pulling you towards the dancefloor but you managed to pull yourself out of his grasp which only served to infuriate him further, “It’s just a dance sexy, why are you being so difficult about it?”

“Because I don’t want to dance with you, now leave me alone.”

A dark look crossed his face at your rejection and a chill ran down your spine, as an Avenger you were used to being attacked by all sorts of creatures but you had a feeling what was about to happen was a whole other kind of attack from a whole other kind of monster.

Your back hit the wall as he roughly shoved you against it, his hand pinning your wrists above your head as shock flooded your system, tears pricking at your eyes as you struggled to free yourself from his iron grip. “Such a fucking slut, teasing me at the party just to fucking vanish and now, now you’re here parading yourself in this fucking get-up and saying no? No sweetheart I know what you really want and I’m going to be nice and oblige,” He snarled in your face, spit flying from his mouth as his hand creeped under your skirt, edging their way closer and closer to your panties as you squirmed under him.

Panic completely took over you, your knee coming up hard between his legs and he released your wrists with a groan. “I said let go!” You yelled at his bent over form, tears streaming down your face and the attention of the party firmly on you and Brad.

Out of the corner of your eyes you saw two figures rushing towards you whilst the red of Nat’s hair could be seen pushing her way through the people who stood frozen on the dancefloor. Your eyes, however, remained focus on the man in front of you, too afraid to let yourself let your guard down and turn away from him.

Just as he stood up, absolute rage painting his face as he took a step towards you, two very familiar bodies jumped in front of you and you had never been happier to see them. Nat was at your side a moment later, leading you away from your attacker and out of the party, you weren’t even aware you were shaking until you entered the elevator, your legs giving out as you collapsed to the ground.

Nat was beside you instantly, pulling you into her embrace as your cried into the skin of her neck, as you rubbed her hand up and down your back in a soothing manner, trying to bring you back to the present and away from the dark thoughts filling your mind of what very nearly happened to you. You felt numb as Nat hoisted you from the floor, leading you to your room and sitting you on the bed, wrapping you in her arms as she whispered comforting words to you.

You barely registered the sound of your door opening and the heavy footfalls of Steve and Bucky, only recognising their presence when they were both kneeling before you, concern swimming in their blue eyes as they locked their gaze on you. Bucky’s hand rested reassuringly on your thigh as Steve wiped away the tears that were cascading down your cheeks, you were so focused on your soldiers crotched in front of you that you never noticed Nat sneak out of the room.

“Doll,” Bucky’s voice croaked out timidly, as if he was afraid he’d startle you, “Are you ok?”

You numbly nodded your head, offering them both a watery smile as you tried to reassure them that you were ok: “I’m fine Bucky, I promise. It’s stupid, I don’t know why I’m so shaken by him.”

“It’s not stupid sweetheart,” Steve cut you off, taking on his Captain voice to try to get you to listen to him, “It’s only natural to be upset by this; he’s a fucking monster for what he tried to do to you, I’m just sorry we weren’t there to stop him but you handled it pretty well on your own – nice hit by the way beautiful.”

Steve tried to lighten the mood but you could still see the anger in his eyes at the thought of what Brad was planning on doing. You saw a similar glint in Bucky’s eyes, knowing that he was in a very dark place in his head and slid down from the bed, nestling yourself between their bodies, head buried where the shoulders were pressed against each other and wrapping your arms tightly around them, bringing them in closer to you. They immediately circled your waist with their arms, pulling you into their solid chests as you burrowed your face further into their shoulders.

You felt them press a kiss to either side of your temple, Bucky’s hand rubbing up and down your spine in an attempt to ground you whilst Steve tugged your hair free of their ties, twirling the loose strands around his fingers, knowing how much having your hair played with soothed you. You melted further into them at their actions, your breathing starting to regulate as your thoughts of Brad were overpowered with Steve and Bucky; the feeling of their strong bodies against you, their familiar scents, their relaxing touches - the fact that they were finally home with you.

You pulled away from them, kneeling in front of them, a small smile growing on your face as your gaze flittered between the two sets of gorgeous blue eyes locked on you, filled with concern and undeniable love, and you felt an overwhelming need to just be with them; to forget every single thing that was outside of your bedroom door and focus on nothing but the three of you. Now that your thoughts were no longer on the harrowing events of the party, you were overcome with relief that they were both home, safe and sound with you and you wanted nothing more than to bask in the comfort of your soldiers’ touch.

Your hand cupped at Steve’s face as you entwined your fingers with Bucky’s. “You’re home,” You voice was barely louder than a whisper, raw and vulnerable as your forgotten anxiety for them was remembered. They both seemed to understand what you meant, realising how worried you’d been for them, how terrified that they may have not come home because Bucky brought your hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of it as Steve let out a breathless chuckle, lips curving in a gentle smile.

“We’ll always come home to you Y/N, you know that – nothing could ever keep us away from you,” Steve murmured, pulling you into his chest as his lips softly kissed the crown of your head.

“We’d cross heaven and hell for you darlin’.” The conviction in Bucky’s voice warmed your heart, providing a strange sense of reassurance that not only would they both do the impossible in order to make it home to you, but also provided comfort that the relationship between the three of you would endure whatever it was tested against.

Maybe it really was time to tell the others…

You peered up at Bucky from the corner of your eye, still buried in Steve’s chest, and the adoration in his eyes cause a blush to burn your cheeks. Leaning forward, you captured Bucky’s lips with yours in a languid kiss, completely unrushed as your tongue caressed his, burying your hand in the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck as you did.

Pulling away, Bucky rested his forehead against yours, eyes searching your own for what it is you wanted. There was a different energy between the three of you – this wasn’t like your normal trysts in the bedroom, it was lacking the burning lust that normally fuelled your every move, instead the air between you was heavy with adoration, a different kind of need filling you.

Sex with Bucky and Steve normally left you bruised, thoroughly fucked-out and completely satisfied as you would lay panting and motionless on the bed, unable to move a single muscle. It wasn’t that it was purely physical, you knew they loved you, you could feel it in their gentle caresses as they brought you back down from the euphoria they had propelled you to but the way they were both staring at you now, as if you had the andromeda galaxy captured in your sparkle of your eyes, had you knowing that something different was about to take place between the three of you.

You wanted gentle touches, soft kisses, sweet murmurs whispered in your ear as you called out their names – not their ranks – into the otherwise silent room. You wanted to feel every tender embrace, to bask in the beauty of them and only them. You wanted them to make love to you and for you to make love to them.

“I-,” You cut yourself off, voice raw as if it hadn’t been used in days, trying to figure out how exactly to tell them what you wanted, “I need you: justyou.”

Your gaze flickered between Bucky and Steve, relief flooding you as their confusion melted into understanding, a warm yearning visible in their relaxed expressions and you knew you didn’t need to try and find the words that would never truly compare to what you felt, you could simply show them instead.

Moving forward, you cupped Steve’s jaw in your hand, thumb tracing over his cheek as you delicately moulded your lips against his, Steve’s own hands gliding into your hair as you hummed into it his mouth, feeling Bucky move to kneel behind you, littering kisses along the exposed column of your neck as his hands started to roam over your body, content at simply feeling you under his sturdy hands.

You broke the kiss with Steve, head lolling back to rest on Bucky’s shoulder with a blissful sigh at the feeling of his hands reverently wandering your body; fingertips grazing the exposed skin of your thighs, lightly trailing up to your waist, the flimsy material of your skirt trapped under his hands as they travelled north only to cup your breasts through your shirt.

Breathy moans escaped your parted lips as Steve joined Bucky in his delicate assault on your neck, one hand weaving through Steve’s short blond hair as your other buried itself in Bucky’s thick chestnut locks, pressing yourself against his unwavering chest for the support you oh-so-desperately needed to stay upright.

You were hoisted from the ground by Steve, strong arms surrounding you and laying you on the bed, both of them immediately surrounding you. Two sets of hands started to tug at your clothing: Bucky slowing pulling your skirt down your legs, throwing it to the side as Steve pulled each button free on your shirt, gradually revealing your skin to their appreciative gaze. You were soon completely bare beneath them and a flash of vulnerability struck you, arms coming to cross against your chest in attempt to block their view – not that they hadn’t seen you in such a state of undress a thousand times before but the overwhelming sense of love the three of you made this far more intimate then any time before you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious.

Bucky’s hands gingerly wrapped around your wrists, prying your arms away from your chest, his eyes not once leaving yours: “You’re so beautiful babygirl,” he mumbled under his breath, lips curling in a small smile as he spotted the blush that painted your cheeks at his words.

“We’re so lucky to have you doll; never doubt that,” Steve said, voice sincere and his eyes locked on yours, not giving you any room to argue with him.

You bit your bottom lip to try and fight the cheek-splitting smile threatening to take over, sitting up on the bed as your hands started to pull at the combat suits still adorning their bodies; stripping Steve of his navy stealth suit and unbuckling the black leather that stretched across Bucky’s chest until they were both as undressed as you.

They sandwiched you between them, Steve pressed against your back as Bucky was against your front, hands roaming over your bare body as you slung one arm over Steve’s shoulder, pulling him flush against you as you writhed at the feeling of their calloused hands over your skin. Your lips once again found Bucky’s in a passionate kiss, tongues tangling as your free hand tangled itself in his hair, moaning into the embrace as Steve’s hands started to massage your breasts, fingers tugging on your already hardened nipples as his lips peppered kisses on the skin of your neck.

The feeling of their cocks hardening against your thigh sent a surge of need through you, wanting to show them both how much you loved them and to satisfy the desire that was beginning to pool in your core, wetness making itself known between your thighs. Manoeuvring out of the walls of muscle you were currently trapped between and breaking the kiss with Bucky, you kissed down his body to where his hard cock was arching against his stomach, you pumped it in your fist before you licked him from base to tip, revelling in the sharp hiss that escaped him when your tongue twirled around his head, lapping up the precum gathered there.

Not wanting to leave Steve out, your other hand came up to cup his balls, moving up to work your hand up and down his pulsing length, using the precum pooling at his tip as lube and smiling around Bucky’s cock as you heard Steve’s muttered praises nearly being drowned out by the heavy pants and low groans spilling from Bucky’s lips.

Feeling the vein on the underside of Bucky’s cock throbbing as your tongue traced it - a sign he was nearing his end - you released him with a lewd pop, moving to work Steve with your mouth, taking him deep into your throat as you bobbed your head along his aching cock. Steve’s hand cupped your jaw, thumb tracing over your cheek and feeling his heavy cock through the skin as you continued to slowly pump Bucky’s cock, his hips thrusting into your spit-slicked fist.

You pulled away panting when Steve tugged you off of him, a string of saliva and precum connecting you both as you did, Steve letting out a mangled groan as your soft lips left his sensitive cock and Bucky practically whined when your hand released him. Steve pulled you into a hungry kiss, not minding the taste of both him and Bucky that lingered on your lips before he gently pushed you back on the bed, your legs falling apart and your glistening pussy on show to their eager eyes.

They both collapsed next to you, nuzzling your neck and scattering the sensitive skin with a multitude of kisses as they both whispered sweet words into your ear.

“Sweetheart, we love you so much,” Bucky muttered against your skin, littering kisses along your collarbone as he lethargically made his way down your body, paying close attention to your breasts, suckling on your sensitive nipples before descending to your stomach, pressing kisses across your hips as he worshipped you, “So fucking beautiful.”

“You mean the absolute world to us, you know that right?” Steve questioned you, his brow furrowed as his eyes had a resolved determination lighting them; Steve needed you to know he meant the absolute truth, needed you to understand just how much you meant to both of them and you couldn’t help the smile that broke out at the thought.

“Yeah Stevie, I know.” You pulled him down to you in a tender kiss, only breaking it when you gasped at the feeling of Bucky plunging two fingers deep within you, seeking out your g-spot and easily locating it, watching in glee as your face contorted with pleasure, moans and pleas spilling from your lips as his fingers repeatedly worked you closer to the edge, the coil within your core tightening with every pass of his fingers over your special spot.

You barely registered Steve’s dark chuckle or the fact that he moved off the bed and towards the nightstand, far too focused on the pleasure Bucky was providing you, eyes screwed shut as you clawed the sheets beneath you, knuckles turning white with the strength of your grip. Your hips shot up of the bed, rolling in an attempt to pull Bucky’s digits deeper inside you and you nearly cried when his fingers slowed their assault on you, eyes opening to see what was stopping him and you gasped at the sight.

Steve was kneeling beside Bucky, lube in hand as he applied a generous amount to your ass and you moaned at the cold liquid hitting your heated skin. Steve massaged your tight hole before slowly pushing in one lube-coated finger, stretching you out before adding another; you lifted your hips off the bed to give them both more room and you couldn’t stop the wanton cries that escaped you as the both began to thrust their digits into you, preparing you for what was soon to come.

By the time they had deemed you ready, you were a panting mess on the bed, so so close to completion before they pulled away from you, helping you up to your knees on shaky legs and using Bucky for support, his strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you into his chest.

His fingers combed through your hair, pulling it away from your face as he smiled down at you, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips before he lifted your legs over his, your knees straddling his own as his cock pressed against your entrance. You wrapped your arms around Bucky’s shoulders, tangling your hands in his hair as you shared a deep kiss, his own hands landing on your hips to guide you as you lifted yourself up to slowly impale yourself on his cock.

You both groaned at the feeling of being so intimately connected, Bucky pressing his forehead against yours, eyes screwed shut as the feeling of your silken walls around his cock nearly made him cum then and there.

“Oh, fuck Bucky,” You breathlessly moaned out, rolling your hips against his in a dire need for more.

“I got you baby, fuck, so fucking perfect,” Bucky’s hands traveled the skin of your back like he was trying to feel every inch of you before they settled under your knees, lifting you up as if you weighed nothing and settling your legs over his arms until he was holding your full weight by the globes of your ass.

You couldn’t help but throw your head back and groan as Bucky man handled you, the new position pushing him further into you and giving you such a sense of fullness you felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Bucky’s lips caressed the skin of your neck, not kissing it but simply ghosting over it as if he was trying to memorize the feel of you, the taste, under his lips and you let out a blissful sigh at the sensual feeling.

Bucky’s hands gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks and you felt Steve’s chest press against your back, his hard cock lubed up and pressing against the ring of muscle his fingers were buried in only moments ago. Steve nibbled on your ear lobe, whispering dirty praises into it as he slowly thrust forward, “You feel so fucking good babygirl, so perfect, fucking made just for us.”

The boys gave you a moment to collect yourself, and if they were being honest, themselves too – the feeling off your tight walls surrounding their already sensitive cocks threatening to make them cum before the show even started. When you were all ready, you wrapped on arm around Bucky’s broad shoulders and the other around Steve’s back, pulling them closer to you as you rolled your hips, all three of you groaning at the feeling.

Taking your silent signal, Steve and Bucky began to gently thrust into you; Bucky’s hands keeping a firm grip on your ass as Steve’s cupped your breasts, rolling your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Bucky kept his forehead pressed against yours, blazing eyes locked on your face, his harsh puffs of breath hitting your face as Steve buried his face in your neck, eyes screwed shut at the feeling of your tight ass surrounding his cock, muttering curses into the sweat-slick skin of your shoulder.

You could feel every thrust in and out of you, every unhurried roll of their hips and every pulse of their cocks. It was completely relaxed; no bruising grips or teeth-marks, no ranks or punishments, no games or contests. It was just the three of you basking in the love you felt for each other and the intensity of it all caused tears to slip from your eyes.

You weren’t going to last long, not with Bucky hitting your g-spot so expertly with every push of his hips into yours, and you knew they weren’t going to last much longer either.

“Fuck doll, you’re killing me, feel so fucking good around my cock,” Bucky choked out, his intense blue eyes locked on yours and you could see the lust and love there enough to make you whimper.

You could feel your orgasm encroaching, your clit throbbing with need to be touched and Steve must have sensed this as his hand crept down your body and circle the engorged nub, finally triggering your release. Your hands clawed at Bucky’s back as your body shook violently, pleasure shooting through every synapse in your body as your orgasm washed over you, threatening to pull you under in the abyss.

Your cunt clamped down on Bucky’s cock and his hips stuttered into yours a few final times before his release coated your walls, cumming with a groan as you milked him of his release. The feeling of you spasming in his arms and the sound of your high-pitched cries threw Steve over the edge too, his cock twitching as he came, hips flush against your ass, muttering curses under his breathe all the while.

When the three of you finally returned from your euphoria, Bucky and Steve tried to pull out of you as delicately as they could, knowing how sore you could be after sex and Steve stumbled into the bathroom as Bucky lowered your aching legs back to the bed. However, you didn’t have long to rest before he was swooping you into his arms again, carrying your dozing form into the bathroom after Steve where the shower was already on and warming up.

The two of them held you up, cleaning you and themselves as you barely managed to stay awake, sleep so desperately trying to take you. Their soft touches and sweet words did nothing to help the matter, feeling so content and at peace that you could have sworn you could have fallen asleep standing up given the chance.

Your eyelids grew unbelievably heavy as they dried you off and your limbs became weighed down as you fought so valiantly to stay conscious. They dressed you in one of their shirts and carried you back to bed, the three of you climbing in and you couldn’t help but sigh at the feeling of the cool sheets caressing you skin, such a contrast to the warm bodies of your super-soldiers cuddling up to you.

You knew then and there what you wanted. You wanted this; Steve and Bucky and everything that a relationship with them entailed, now and forever. And you wanted everyone to know it.

a/n: i don’t have a tag list but if you want alerts please follow @angelicthorwrites and turn on notifications

[one-irrelevant-ghost]

Nines had been dying when Gavin kissed him. He wasn't dying anymore, but the kiss was all over the news.

Barely perched on the edge of the floral-patterned chair, every muscle twitching with anxious energy, Gavin almost didn't notice the TV posted on the wall directly in front of him. He was staring right at it, but his mind was occupied with being absolutely terrified by what was happening to his partner at that very moment. An android doctor--or mechanic, technician, whatever the fuck he was--had explained that Nines had stabilized the moment they jacked him in manually, but that there were still a lot of things that could go wrong. 

"Malfunction" was the exact word that the android used, and the small amount of relief that had begun to loosen the knots in his stomach was replaced by a new wave of dread. 

"What sort of 'malfunctions?'" Gavin demanded too harshly, but the doctor's expression only softened in response. 

"It's unlikely that he'll shut down now, but...the most common side effect of this level of trauma is memory bank corruption."

The detective had leapt to his feet the moment the doctor approached him, but now his legs felt too unsteady to hold him up anymore. He sank back into the chair, trying not to imagine what his life would be like if Nines couldn't remember him. If was a selfish reaction, but Gavin had never pretended to be anything other than a self-absorbed prick. Nines was his best friend. Not his only friend, sure, but Nines had seen Gavin at his most vulnerable, most volatile, had held up under the brunt of Gavin's aggression and refused to turn away. The detective was an unstoppable force, the android an immovable object; the result was a perfect balance, a sort of stability in their relationship that Gavin had never experienced before. Nines had become a permanent fixture in Gavin's life the past few months. It felt...Nines felt comfortable. Safe, even. There had never been anyone in Gavin's life who made him feel safe before.

To lose that... Gavin felt the jagged pounding of his heart shredding his chest from the inside.

"No! No, Nines you bastard," Gavin heard the low sound of his own voice, familiarly strange, and it pierced through his painful haze all at once. His gaze snapped to the TV screen, Channel 16 News replaying the events of that morning. Gavin saw himself leaning over the battered body of his partner, Nines' upper body cradled in his arms as the blood he was rapidly losing stained them both dark blue. "Nines don't you fucking dare die right now!" Gavin was surprised at how clearly the reporters had captured the scene, too cold with shock to be properly angry at the intrusion on an intimate, terror-soaked moment. 

Nines' response was robotically garbled, but it was easy for Gavin to recognize the dry chuckle that was just as clear in his own memory as on the screen. A long, pale hand covered Gavin's rougher, darker hand where it had rested over the hole that exposed Nines' thirium pump. The blue blood had already evaporated in the time he had been sitting in the waiting room, but it seemed as though Gavin could still feel the thirium dried on his palms no matter how many times he scrubbed his hands in the clinic's bathroom. "Don't worry, Gav. I'm too stubborn to die when you still owe me twenty dollars." 

Humor, even as Nines' voice cracked with static and slowed unnaturally as his processors shut themselves down one by one. An attempt to comfort Gavin, even though Nines was the one dying. The shattered parts of Gavin's heart gave a pathetic squeeze, just as it had done in the moment. His own image on the news feed leaned in, pressed his own bloodied lips to the android's blue-coated ones. The motion was too rough, desperate. Nines had clung to him anyway, trying to pull Gavin back even as the android EMTs lifted him onto a stretcher. The news cut away from the video, and Gavin tuned out Joss Douglas's pseudo-sincere voice as he described what a touching fucking scene it was. The detective felt himself turning red as the gazes of the other people in the waiting room flicked to him. Most were android, but there were at least two other humans there. It was getting harder to tell the difference not that the majority of androids had taken to changing their appearances and tearing off their LEDs. Every person in the waiting room looked more or less how Gavin felt, faces all tight with worry and fear darkening every set of eyes that the worst might happen. Every so often a doctor would pull someone aside, the conversation followed by either muscle-melting relief or heart-wrenching sobs. Gavin really wished they would let him see Nines now that the android was stable, but apparently the repairs were delicate and they didn't want to introduce human error to the operating room. Not that the doctor had used so many words in his explanation. 

Leaning back in his chair, Gavin closed his eyes and focused on all the aches and pains in his own body to distract from the image of a bullet-riddled Nines, the sight of his blue heart pounding through the hole caved into the plastic of his chest. Goddamn it, the moment Nines was repaired enough to listen, Gavin was going to tear him apart again. Not that it would matter; Gavin had told the plastic prick a thousand times that he didn't need anyone to take blows for him, and still Nines insisted on putting himself between Gavin and harm. In the not-too-distant past, before the revolution and before he had been forced into partnering with Nines, the idea of an android getting hurt on his behalf was completely un-phasing. They weren't alive and plastic couldn't feel pain, machines couldn't fear death. But deviants could. Nines could. 

And still Nines would rather risk his own life to save Gavin's. Had almost died for Gavin. Gavin wasn't worth that.

The smell of coffee right under his nose cut through his downward spiral, and Gavin opened his eyes. His heart gave a painfully hopeful lurch. Nines. Not Nines. Connor. Gavin couldn't have kept the disappointment off his face even if he had tried to--which he didn't. Connor didn't seem offended, unsurprisingly; he had proven resilient to Gavin's attempts at getting him worked up even after becoming deviant. It had offended Gavin for a while, wounded his pride that the android thought him so harmless that it wasn't worth getting riled up, but eventually he realized that that was just Connor's personality. Nines took no shit, all sharp tongued and quiet rage, but Connor simply bore it all with unnatural grace and a dogged insistence on taking the high road. 

The steaming cup of coffee smelled so good and Gavin felt so bad that he couldn't even muster up a sarcastic greeting. He just took the cup with a quiet nod and felt almost glad when Connor took the seat next to him. Gavin hadn't realized how alone he felt until that moment. Lieutenant Anderson had been standing just behind Connor, but now he offered Gavin a tight, understanding nod. 

"How's he doing?" Hank asked, gruff voice softer than how he usually spoke to Gavin. Of course, conversations between the detectives tended to stray along the line of argument more often than not, what with Hank being a crotchety old bastard with no tolerance for bullshit and Gavin intentionally being a complete and utter asshole at any given time. Still, Gavin was a long way from genuinely hating the man, and for the moment he even went so far as to appreciate the lieutenant's presence. Maybe it was just that Hank would understand what Gavin was going through even if no one else did; he was every bit as close to Connor as Gavin was to Nines, and had probably been in this same position at least once. 

"The guy said he was stable but still getting fixed up," Gavin hesitated, cupping both hands around the warm cardboard cup and appreciating the warmth after hours spent in the cold waiting room, "Also said Nines might have…I don't know, complications. Memory loss, if anything." 

Connor made a low hum at Gavin's side, something the detective had never heard from him before. "If his memory banks were to be corrupted," Connor offered, his tone gentler than Gavin could handle, "I know that he keeps a back-up drive. He gave me access to it for scenarios precisely like this, as I've given him access to mine. Simply put, detective, if his memory is damaged, I can fix it. He won't forget you."

Gavin absolutely fucking refused to cry, but at that moment his body didn't seem too keen on obeying him. His eyes stung and vision blurred, and it took him a solid few seconds of carefully blinking the tears away before he got himself under control enough to respond to that. 

"Thanks," he slightly more than whispered, glad that his voice didn't break in addition to the low, emotional tone he couldn't keep out of his words. Thanks for…the reassurance? Being trusted enough to have a back-up of Nines memories? For comforting him when Gavin had done nothing ever to deserve the kindness? The answer was all three, and although Gavin knew that Connor was there for Nines and not himself, he also couldn't help the small warmth that touched him at the android's enduring niceness, the feeling every bit as comforting as the warmth still spreading through his hands from the coffee that Connor had brought for him. Yeah, the android was too good, annoyed the hell out of Gavin, but at the end of the day… Nines had been a blessing in disguise--provide he didn't go fucking Gavin up by dying--and Connor wasn't really unbearable either. 

Gavin normally would have retched at the thought, but he was feeling lower than he had been in a while and fuck it if Connor hadn't gone and cheered him up, just enough so that he didn't feel like he was the one dying; he was going to have to be nicer to the plastic puppy. Not friendly, not actually polite, but… well, at the very least he could stop trying to get a rise out of Connor every damn day. Wasn't much, but he was pretty certain the android would understand the importance; would probably read too far into it too, but that was neither here nor there.

Hank took a seat on the other side of Connor. Gavin didn't mind; he would've hated feeling pinned in had the lieutenant sat in the other empty chair to his left. They wasn't much conversation after that, although Hank would occasionally try and make small talk. Too tired to be annoyed, Gavin would give his monotonous replies and let the situation fizzle into silence again. Connor, for his part, didn't say anything else for nearly an hour, and Gavin watched him roll a quarter through his lithe fingers out the corner of his eyes.

"So are all you guys so fucking twitchy?" He asked Connor finally, turning to eye the coin meaningfully. The question came out tinted in irritation that Gavin didn't actually feel. He was worried, above all else, despite Connor's previous reassurance. What's taking them so long? Why hasn't anyone come to tell us how Nines is doing? How much longer will it be? Not having any answers was going to drive Gavin crazy. He didn't know how to deal with anxious, and so he came across angry instead. Gavin consciously stopped drumming his fingers against the side of his leg, realizing the irony of it. "I mean," he reworded it carefully, "do all androids fidget so much, or is it just you and Nines?"

Connor paused, the coin stilling between his middle and index finger momentarily. "The need for constant stimulation seems limited to late-model RK series androids." Gavin noticed Hank nudge the android gently with his elbow, and it was Connor's turn to rephrase himself.

"I mean, yes. While I wasn't aware that Nines also did…this?" He twirled the coin through his fingers again as if in demonstration, "We are the only androids that I know of who need to keep ourselves…occupied."

"How come?" Gavin pried. He secretly ignored the smug feeling that he had known something about Nines that Connor didn't. The two could physically link their minds and memories, after all. The detective didn't know enough about android physiology to know what exactly that entailed, but he figured it left little room for secrets. 

"Cyberlife programmed us to not be…idle, I think is the best word for it. We feel compelled to always be doing something, unless we're put in stasis." There was an edge to Connor's tone that Gavin was unprepared for. He didn't think it was resentment, exactly, but closer to bitterness than he had ever heard the android get. In hindsight, it wasn't that surprising; Cyberlife was a sensitive topic for Nines as well. Nines would object to Gavin using the word "sensitive" to describe anything about him, but the detective had learned to read his micro-expressions, could recognize the pain that flashed behind his machine grey eyes and the downward twitch at the corner of his perfect mouth. Normal androids seemed to have no problem moving past their programming, as if being alive was perfectly natural to them--as natural as it could for beings that were literally all synthetic-- but Nines and Connor weren't normal androids. Prototypes, both of them, made to act more human but never truly be it; Gavin thought it was both ironic and cruel that the RKs had always been more than other androids but now seemed almost less. The programming that had made them both so special now just made it harder for them to be them. If someone had told him at the beginning that there'd be a time when he would feel sorry for Connor, he would've laughed and said it was because the android was a sorry plastic bitch anyway.

Then again, if that same someone had also told him that he'd end up being comforted by that sorry plastic bitch while he waited in an android-centric clinic, worried for news on his own plastic partner… Gavin always had a pretty explosive temper, and that someone would've found themselves fucked right up for the insinuation. For Gavin to have even entertained the idea of caring about a lifeless toy would have been unthinkable. Nines had changed that. Had changed him.

God fucking damn it, that was too much. Too sappy, too cliché. Too close to admitting the truth of exactly how much Nines meant to him.

The sound of Hank choking as he tried to repress something dragged Gavin out of his own head, a blessed distraction until Gavin realized that the aborted sound had been a surprised laugh. First the detective's gaze tracked around Connor's impassive face to the lieutenant's, and he felt his stomach sink at the barely contained amusement on the man's face. Hank looked like he had just unwrapped the first present on Christmas morning and it was exactly what he had hoped for. His eyes twinkled and his lips twitched, eager to stretch themselves into a grin that the lieutenant was clearly doing his very best to restrain. Gavin could picture the man's shit-eating grin anyway, and he flashed his gaze quickly to the TV screen, confirming his suspicion. Yep, there it was. Gavin sucking face with a half-dead Nines. 

I'll never hear the end of this, he groaned inwardly, literally biting down on his own tongue to keep from snapping. Hank was holding back out of a sense of respect or sensitivity or what-the-fuck-ever, and Gavin didn't want to risk messing that up right now. Just this once, he didn't want to incite a confrontation.

What he did want was to storm into whatever operating room or repair node Nines was in, chew him out for being  the sort of fucking idiot who nearly gets himself killed and scares his partner half to death…and then kiss him again. He didn't think he misread the way Nines pulled him back in, despite his own panic clouding his senses. But then again, maybe Nines had just…been glitching. Or afraid. Gavin would never accuse Nines of being scared to his perfect face, but the fear was there anyway. The android had access to the full range of emotion, and even though he hid it better than his predecessor, Gavin had gotten too close to him to not notice the signs. Gavin figured that if he was the one dying, he'd take whatever comfort he could get. That was all it was. The thought hurt more than Gavin cared to admit, even to himself.

"Gavin Reed?" Someone stepped out of the hallway where they had taken Nines, clipboard in hand. It wasn't the same android that had spoken to him last; this one was the same model as the receptionists that had returned to work at the department, although her hair was an unusual shade of dark red and her probably unnecessary white lab coat made it clear that she wasn't a secretary. "Mister Gavin Reed?"

"Uh…Yeah, I'm--That's me." Gavin leapt to his feet, heart in his throat, and made his was over to her. Connor and Hank were hot on his heels. "How's Nines?""He's doing fine. We're running a few final diagnostics and ensuring there are no residual complications, but so far everything seems nominal," the lady paused to let that sink in, smiling encouragingly when Gavin couldn't help melting back in relief. He was close enough now to read her nametag: Ella. "The moment he was functional enough to speak he inquired about you. He was very insistent on seeing you when we informed him that you were well and in fact waiting on him, even in the…fragile state he was in."

"'Insistent?'" Gavin questioned. The other word that stood out was fragile, but Gavin didn't need any elaboration on that one. Didn't want it, either; wasn't sure he could handle knowing exactly how close he had really gotten to losing his partner. Knowing that Nines could have died was bad enough without the exact list of everything that had been wrong.

"We had to restrain him temporarily, to prevent him further damaging himself." Ella explained, tone deceptively casual as she turned towards the hallway door, swiping her ID card against the scanner and allowing the trio to follow her in. The fact that she didn't question Connor or Hank only gave the detective pause until he remembered that Connor was the spitting-fucking-image of Nines, at least as far as someone who didn't know the pair well was concerned.

Huh. Having to be restrained while already falling apart was somehow very on-brand for Nines. Because he was worried about Gavin. What a fucking idiot. Gavin couldn't deny the heat that pressed its way through his chest and into his cheeks at the thought.

"Uh." Was all Gavin could managed out loud. His heart was pounding in his own ears, his muscles twitching, demanding he move faster. Connor struck up a conversation with Ella about Nines' condition, which Gavin tuned out instantly. They passed by several open doors and even more closed ones, taking a left turn and then a right before they finally came to the room where Nines was waiting. 

Another swipe of the keycard and the door swung open by itself. Gavin pushed past a tolerant Ella into the room, barely noticing the table full of blue blood and parts, the two other doctors, or the half-naked, half-skinned state Nines was in. The plan had been to march into the room with a smart-ass quip on his tongue and an unaffected smirk on his face. Nines would understand exactly what Gavin really wanted to say, because he always did, and would snark back with something scathing that would only flood the detective with relief. What really happened is that, the moment Gavin saw Nines perched on the edge of the metal operating table, mechanical arms folding back up into the ceiling above him, skin still missing across his chest where the plastic had just been repaired, he very clearly decided fuck it all and launched himself directly into his partner's surprised but receptive arms. The smooth white exoskeleton felt strange against Gavin's cheek where it rested on Nines' exposed shoulder, but the feeling was far from repulsive. Nines' arms wrapped immediately around the detective's back, strong and reassuring and--

"Dammit," Gavin groaned, pushing himself back just a little too reluctantly. "You're such a fucking prick, Nines."

His words lacked any heat, especially considering the way he was still standing between the android's knees with Nines' long hands flat against his back. It was at that moment that Gavin decided to become acutely aware of exactly how many people were present in the room. Three technicians, plus Connor and Hank--the latter of which was failing to repress his snickering. The moment Gavin turned red was the moment Nines' hands fell away, allowing Gavin to step hurriedly back. 

"I'm glad that you're unharmed, detective." Nines said, formality worming its way into the space Gavin had just made between them. Gavin saw it for what it was: hurt. A dash of confusion, maybe. He suddenly wondered if Nines had been bothered by the other eyes in the room; the android had never shown any signs of shyness or modesty before and there was no reason to assume he'd start now. Even though he would understand why Gavin pulled away, Nines would not have done the same.

"I'm only unharmed because you're a goddamn idiot who insists on putting himself in the way!" There, Gavin was getting back on track. Anger was easier than worry or whatever the fuck that hug had been. Sentimental wasn't a good look on Gavin, and he hated the way it hurt from the inside out. Call it unhealthy, but at least he had learned to manage his anger--mostly through physical means, namely punching the shit out of something or someone, but whatever. For now he settled for raising his voice and letting every ounce of the terror he had felt manifest as fury. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Nines. There was a "thank you" hidden behind the entire outburst. "If you ever fucking do some stupid shit like that again I will--" 

"Kiss me again?" Nines interrupted, one brow cocking up and the twitchy equivalent of a shit-eating grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. Hank barked out a laugh, quickly silenced. Gavin went redder still but ignore it. The skin reactivated over Nines' torso in that strange, wavy manner, flawless and almost as smooth as what lay below. Gavin wondered, just for an instant, if it would still be as hard to the touch as plastic, but he knew it would be soft. Velvety skin would give just a little under Gavin's fingers if he would only reach out and touch it. 

"You jackass," Gavin snarled, and then, snapping to his decision, gave an exasperated sigh. Like he was helpless to stop what happened next. He was beginning to think that maybe he was helpless, but the thought wasn't nearly as horrible as it should have been. Nines' grey eyes watched him so sharply, every hard line of his face was so intense. It was difficult to breath under the scrutiny. Between that and pounding of his own relieved heart (fuck it, fuck it, fuck it) and the dread that had pinned him down for the past hours finally flooding away all at once the moment he laid eyes on Nines… "Fuck it."

The detective had every intention of letting himself fall forwards into Nines arms again, and he didn't care who was in the room anymore because dammit he had nearly lost Nines. Let him have just this one moment to enjoy having his partner back. The android slid off the table the instant Gavin began to move, as though he had only been waiting on affirmation that Gavin did in fact want him.  And fuck, Gavin did. Nines' mouth met his halfway, those lithe fingers wrapping themselves around Gavin's waist to pull him close. The skin on Nines' stomach and chest was every bit as perfect to the touch as Gavin had guessed it would be, and he trailed his flattened palms up the android's cool torso until he could wrap his arms around his neck, twirling his too-rough fingers into soft, curly hair. Nines didn't complain. 

For a brief moment of clarity, he heard someone--Hank?--clear their throat and someone else muttered to give them space. There were footsteps, the sound of a door hissing shut, and--

Gavin couldn't think anymore. There was a faint chemical taste to Nines, not nearly as bitter as Gavin thought it should be, and he wondered absently if that was the android or the environment. Given how deeply Nines was returning every push and pull of Gavin's mouth, the detective was fairly certain he'd be able to find out for sure at a later date. The thought made his heart pound, and he realized finally that he needed to breath. Nines seemed to come to the same conclusion, or at least had felt the way Gavin prepared to pull back, because he did so first, leaning away only slightly to stare into Gavin's eyes. Which did nothing to help with the breathing. Or the pounding heart. Or--

"I'm so fucking glad you didn't die," Gavin was surprised at how hoarse and whispery his voice was. Intimate, like how he sounded when he had been thoroughly fucked-out by previous boyfriends, his mind hazy with pleasure and even sometimes genuine affection. If Nines had lowered him to that level with just a kiss…well, he didn't actually know what the android was packing, if anything at all, and now was definitely not the time. He didn't know what this was, what it was going to be, if it was even anything other than an adrenaline and fear come-down. At the moment, it really didn't matter. He just hoped that Nines would read his sudden temperature spike as embarrassment about the kiss or confession. "Nines, I'm serious. You can't do this shit to me ever again. I will lose my fucking mind if I ever have to sit in some waiting room for hours worrying about whether you're going to be alright again."

Something dark and guilty passed through Nines' breathtaking eyes and settled there, his entire face pulling just slightly downwards in tandem. He squeezed Gavin's hips tightly, urgently, but not enough to hurt. "I would do anything to protect you, Gavin."

Gavin waited, although patience was not his particular virtue, heart jumping at the sound of his name in Nines' mouth. He wanted to taste it too, feel his name against his own lips, but this was more important. Nines' LED went yellow, his lips parting in a silent, unnecessary sigh. 

"I will be more careful about how I go about it in the future. So long as you promise to avoid excessive danger."

“Hmmm," Gavin grinned, the reassurance enough to make him feel lighter than he had all day. "I'll have to think about that."

Another sharp squeeze to his hips, and Nines leaned in with renew intensity. The next time they pulled apart, Gavin panting and Nines having the good grace to look mildly flustered, the android's voice was just as low as Gavin's had been before. Equally intimate, equally afraid. "I don't want to stay here anymore."

Gavin nodded, two sharp little motions that he hoped portrayed the words "thank fucking god because this place is creepy as shit" and allowed himself to untangle from the android with only a small amount of hesitation. He straightened his own jacket idle, taking in for the first time the full state of the android. That is, Nines was completely bare except for a pair of black briefs not unlike what he had seen the androids at Eden Club wearing. Huh. Probably Cyberlife issued. 

Which led Gavin right back to his earlier train of thought. Which led inevitably back to what are we? 

Nines turned away, rummaged through some cabinets at the far end of the room, and slipped into a pair of paper scrubs, just like at a human hospital. It unnerved Gavin for just a moment; the clinic had felt far enough removed from a hospital that he had only felt the need to focus on his one concern, Nines. Clearheaded now, he was beginning to smell the sharp chemicals that he had tasted on Nines and recognize the bone-deep dread that accompanied Gavin into any sort of medical building. 

Nines draped an arm around Gavin's shoulder, no hesitation or question. Maybe Gavin should have brushed it off, shot the android a glare, and marched out of the room and the clinic with what remained of his pride. But he didn't. Didn't want to, not even for an instant. The weight was heavy but comfortable, and the fact that they hadn't needed to talk about it--that Nines could see what Gavin really wanted, and apparently wanted the same thing--made Gavin unbelievably giddy despite the settling discomfort. It was a weird mix of feelings, but as they strolled casually out of the room, together, like that was how it was always meant to be--as he saw Hank smile so kindly at him, and Connor look so genuinely overjoyed; as he felt Nines lightly squeeze his shoulder in casual reassurance--Gavin thought that he might never have been happier. Sure, he'd have to eat a lot of his words the next day at work, but Nines… 

He tilted his head to plant a kiss on the android's cheek, relaxed and uncharacteristically sappy, and Gavin knew that Nines was worth it.

[the-everlasting-dream]

Distraction - Damien x MC (Mature)

Summary: Athena pays a visit to the detective’s office. 

A/N: Yes yes I know this particular is has been written over and over again by almost all Damien writers but idc, here’s my interpretation of it. Also havent written smut since last year so I’m out of practice ahh

Word Count: 3775

Warnings: Erotica, mature content, 30 diamond scene, 18+ - how are we tagging this again? 

Tags:  @choicessa, @meeraaverywalker , @drakewalkerwhipped , @thewolvesss ,  @mfackenthal , @srawesleyghuewrites , @topsyturvy-dream , @enmchoices , @gardeningourmet @debramcg1106 , @alesana45 , @meladoridarcy, @blackcatkita , @tmarie82 , @annekebbphotography , @lizk77 , @jayjay879 , @tornbetween2loves , @akrenich , @theroyalweisme , @likethetailofacomet , @sleepwalkingelite , @littleblossom-18 , @ooo-barff-ooo , @mrsnazariowrites  NSFW tags: @androgynousflowerqueen 

Damien Nazario sighed, running a hand over his face as he stared at the contents of the file in front of him. Stress had sunken into ever pore of his skin, his back was aching from being crouched over his desk for so long, eyes sore from staring at the screen and in the back of his head, a migraine was threatening to break out. It was late, much later than he should have been staying at the office but he couldn’t help it… he was close… so close to cracking this case that if he left it now, he might never solve it at all. Now if he went over these facts one more time, surely there was something he was missing here… 

Victim was found in the side alleyway of a street… something about a knife… wait… what knife..? 

‘Hey D! How’s it going?’

 A cheerful voice cut through his concentration and his thought process came screeching to a halt. Damien gave out an exasperated sigh, annoyed that he’d been disturbed, looking up to see his girlfriend Athena Park entering his office, her thick trench coat almost getting caught in the door as she closed it behind her. 

 ‘Wow Damien, and you tell me off for making a mess.’ 

 He followed her eyes to see the tangle of papers, Post-Its, case notes and red string he’d been using to construct his evidence board strewn across the room and on every available surface. 

 ‘Uhh.. yeah.’ 

Athena’s dark eyes landed on him, sitting amidst the chaos, fingers ink stained from where he was scribbling his suspicions down on a rag of paper. ‘Let me guess… lost track of time?’ 

 He shrugged tiredly. ‘I’m so close ‘Thena. I can feel it. Why can’t I crack this?’ 

She sauntered over to him, heels clicking on the tiled floor as she picked her way towards his desk. ‘You’ll get it D. I know you will. You just need a break.’ She planted a kiss on the top of his head, feeling the cogs of his mind still turning over every angle of this case. She ran her hands through his hair, massaging his scalp gently. ‘You need to relax. You’re so tense baby. At this rate you’ll have a full head of white hair before you’re 40.’ 

 ‘I know but I’ve almost got it.. There’s something here that I’m just not seeing,’ Damien replied absentmindedly as her hands slipped down his neck to knead his strong shoulders. He let out a gasp of relief as her hands made their way over a particularly stubborn knot.  

  ‘You’ll never get any work done if you’re so stressed,’ Athena murmured in his ear having bent down so she was within earshot. ‘Luckily for you I have the perfect distraction.’ 

Damien barely had time to react before she’d manoeuvred herself between him and the desk. His mouth fell open to ask what she was doing when he caught the mischievous glint in her eye. A low hum of satisfaction escaped her as her hands ghosted up her body, smoothening over her trench coat as she slowly unbuttoned it. His breath caught in his throat, swallowing thickly at the black lacy bra that hugged her breasts perfectly. 

 ‘Did you…’ He wet his lips, unable to speak at the sight of her, a pulse of heat coursing down his body to his cock. 

 She chuckled, parting the trench coat to reveal nothing else but a matching lace thong and a garter belt underneath, complimenting her rich skin perfectly. ‘Come all the way here only wearing this?’ 

Another surge of heat rippled through his body at the visualisation of his girlfriend’s boldness. She would have had to catch two trains to come see him, he calculated, only imagining the dozens of people she would have had to pass to get here, all unaware of her little secret under that trench coat. Damien swallowed again, finding it harder and harder to maintain his focus, so dragged up on the sight of her that he could barely focus on what he’d been doing earlier. Her dark eyes glinted, daring him to give in, to give up and take her right here and now. But the rational side of his mind still prevailed. 

 What had he been doing earlier…? Something about a case, the notes.. 

 ‘I should… I should get back to work,’ he choked out, cock begging for release inside his pants while the rational side still held out against the desire that was threatening to consume him. 

Athena’s smug expression wavered, a tiny motion undetectable to the untrained eye but Damien was trained in a hard school and the effect was not lost on him. She held his gaze for one burning moment, allowing the fire to build and build inside him until he was just about to give in when she snapped her coat shut. 

‘You’re right. Its important work. The last thing you need is a distraction,’ she mused, pushing herself off the table and walking around it. 

Now that he’d seen what was underneath, Damien couldn’t for the life of him get the visual of her ass in that lace thong out of his mind and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to calm himself down. Glancing up his eyes widened. 

 ‘W-what are you doing?’

‘Hmm?’ Athena looked at him innocently from where she was sitting in the chair on the other side of his desk. Her trench coat lay on the floor with the rest of the mess, leaving her clad in only her lingerie, perfectly aware of the way his eyes seemed to be anchored to her chest. ‘I’m helping. I’m not about to put a good outfit to waste.’ 

 ‘Uh-huh,’ Damien choked out, barely able to concentrate with his girlfriend teasing him so mercilessly. 

All thoughts of the case had been banished from his mind now that she was sitting almost naked in his office, looking every bit the cliche sexy secretary she was attempting to project and goddamn if it wasn’t working perfectly on him, alighting a particular fantasy he’d never realised he’d had. It wouldn’t have taken much, she was practically begging for it right now, for him to shove the desk out of the way and devour her until she was screaming his na- 

‘Where do these go?’ Athena’s voice pierced through his fantasy, holding up a stack of files. His cheeks reddened at her catching him lusting so openly over her. 

 ‘That cabinet,’ he replied, barely trusting himself to speak two words. Damien barely bit back a moan, breath catching in his throat when he got a view of her ass in that thong, as she got up from the chair, his cock screaming for release, as he wondered why in his right mind he was resisting. He dropped his head into his hands, willing himself to focus. 

‘Oops!’ 

His head picked up at the sound of Athena’s voice as she bent to pick up the piece of paper she had not-so-subtly dropped and when his eyes landed on her, they grew wide at the sight of a jewelled plug resting between her ass cheeks. 

Suddenly he was on his feet, spinning her around with his strong arms and she now faced him, lips inches away, breasts heaving. One of his hands held her chin, while the other returned to her ass manipulating the plug embedded there. 

‘Was this your intention all along Miss Park? For me to take you like some cliché porn secretary, bend you over my desk making you cum on my cock?" 

Athena moaned at his question, feeling the plug pushing into her ass. She slid her hand between them, down to his groin and began to rub Damien's cock through the front of his pants. ‘I’m glad you finally noticed…. sir.' 

 A low growl sounded from the back of his throat, making her grin wide as she knew she’d found his trigger. ‘Fucking tease.’ 

 Athena was about to shoot back with a snarky reply when Damien pulled roughly at the tiny strip of fabric connecting the two cups of her bra, ripping it off her body.

‘Da-‘ She protested but he didn’t let her finished, interrupting her with a searing kiss that set a fire under her skin. 

Moaning, she threaded one hand into his hair pulling him closes while the other fumbled with the buckle of his belt. Damien broke the kiss long enough to stare into her eyes with an intensity that had her creaming instantly before he reattached his mouth to her neck, biting and sucking hard enough that evener dark skin wouldn’t mask the marks left behind. He licked a fiery trail from her collarbone down to her nipple, taking it into his mouth. 

 Athena bit her lip as he worked the small bud, swirling his tongue around it while he tweaked the other. She arched into his touch, his pants were now fully open and she rubbed his hard cock through his boxer briefs. 

 ‘Damien I need… I want…' 

He removed his hands and mouth from her, leaving her gasping at the lack of contact, the breeze from the air conditioner cooling the line he’d licked into her skin, making it dimple with goosebumps. 

 ‘You think you can come into my office, disturb my work and get away with it?’ He tipped her chin with the tip of his finger so her lust filled eyes met his. ‘No baby, you’re only cumming when I say you can. Understand?’ 

She could barely nod, rubbing her thighs together, driven almost wild with desire in her desperation for him, for her release. Damien’s eyes looked almost black as they stared into hers. 

‘Answer the question Athena. Do you understand?’ 

‘Yes sir.’ 

‘Good.’ 

Without warning, Damien hooked his hands under her ass, hoisting her into his arms and she crashed her lips onto his as he began to walk them back to his desk. He cleared it with one smooth swipe and set her down on it. Damien paused to strip off his jacket and tie, grinned devilishly at the sight of her before moving back in front of her, reaching around and grabbing her ass with both hands just where it met her legs. He easily lifted her setting her on the edge of the table, lowering his mouth to hers. As he kissed her she wrapped her, now dangling legs around his waist and pulled him close. She could feel his cock rub her mound through his boxers, unable to suppress a moan.

Slowly, deliberately, at a pace that tested her patience, he began to move lower, kissing lightly biting her neck around from ear lobe to ear lobe. Now she began to rock her hips into him, holding him tight with her legs around his lower back. Athena began to moan loudly as her clit rubbed on the stiff fly of his open jeans. Damien pushed lower, through the grip of her legs entwined around him, as she looked again to the reflection in the office window, she could see her legs had pulled his shirt up slightly, as he began to lick and suck on her breasts, again lightly biting her nipples, his rough hands massaging them both as well. 

As he continued down to kiss and caress her stomach, she could now see the well-defined muscles of back as her feet continued to hold his white work shirt as he moved down the front of her body. Athena moved her legs from around him, placing her heels on the table next to her ass for support as she worked at the buttons. 

Damien lifted his arms and allowed her to roll his shirt off as he continued to kiss her midsection. Her hips pushed up into his chest now, urging him further down as she began to feel her wetness flowing down along the crevice of her ass to where the plug was nestled. She leaned back further placing one hand on his well-toned shoulder, subconsciously urging him down.

Damien paused just before his mouth reached the hem of her thong, running his fingers across her wet slit and nearly throbbing clit. Athena moaned, encouraging him forward, trying to apply some pressure on his shoulder to push him onward toward her pussy. She looked down at him as he looked up, smiling as he held her stare, hooking him thumbs on the sides of her underwear and yanking the fabric off her with one easy motion. He blew lightly on her glistening mound and Athena moaned in anticipation, silently begging him to burying his face in her folds, but instead he moved to the side next to her opening, licking slowly up along the crease between her thigh and hip 

"Uhhhh...pllleeeaaase..." Athena moaned, hanging her head backward, she lifted her hips in a vain attempt to find his tongue, as she felt further moisture make its way along her ass towards the table below. 

Damien laughed softly at her desperation deviously twisting the plug in her ass. Again he moved toward her needy core and then teasingly to the side, licking along the opposite thigh. Athena's hips rocked upward, again searching in vain. ‘Do you like me teasing you Athena?’

‘Fuck.. ahh. Damien please..’ 

‘Please what?’ 

‘Please sir.’ 

 He moved closer to her soaking lips he could see her moisture flowing from her pussy and running down between her ass now. Now finally, Damien centered his tongue at the lowest point of her glistening pussy. Athena felt his warm breath as finally his tongue met her lips. Ever so softly he ran the tip of his tongue up the full length of her tight slit, ending with a flick across the nub of her throbbing clit, eliciting a strangled gasp from her. She felt the tip of his finger apply just slight pressure to her sex just as Damien mouth went to her slit his tongue probing deep between her lips and licking from bottom to top. She moaned finally feeling the full effect of his mouth on her pussy, and the sensation from the plug in her ass. She reached down with one hand and grabbed at his dark hair to try and hold him there and provide some support for the feelings that rose in her radiating up from between her legs. He licked her expertly, knowing exactly what to do to urge her body towards her climax while all she could do was grab at her own breast massaging as she continued to moan, arching her back off the table. 

Just as she was about to near the edge, Damien suddenly pulled away… again.  

She started to protest but the dark look in his eyes warned her against it as he stood over her. 

 ‘Are you ready for me Athena?’ He asked, voice low as he dragged his eyes over her. He needed to hear her say it, for her to tell him just how much she wanted him. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, staring at him in the light of the desk lamp, the only thing that was still on the table besides her, casting a glow across his muscled form. Her core throbbed with need as she glanced down to his crotch where his cock was ready for her, straining against his boxers, the only barrier between them now. 

 She gave him a devilish grin. ‘Yes sir.’

His hands were on her hips instantaneously, spinning her around so that she was facing away from him. her chest was pressed against the cool wood of the desk. 

‘Are you ready Athena?’ He asked again, toying with her now, teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock. 

 'Yes, sir,' she responded, pushing her ass back on his hardened cock, hoping he would just put it in her already. He refused to give in, taking his time teasing her until she was at her wits end actions eased slightly as he pushed gently between her shoulder blades, bending her over the desk. She gasped slightly as her hard nipples meet and rubbed on the wooden top. He was quiet for so long that Athena looked back over his shoulder watching as he pushed his boxer briefs to the floor. She moaned and licked her lips as she saw his thick cock spring free. Damien took at half step back. He could see her pussy, lips glistening with moisture that also coated her thighs where the plug was still nestled in her firm ass. His cock hardened further as she slowly ground her hips into the desk, silently begging for him. He held himself at her entrance for a moment longer before his desire overcame him and he finally pushed himself into her.  

Both of them moaned deeply as he pushed into her tight hole. 'Mmmmmmmmmhhhhhhhhhh…yeeessss,' she exclaimed.

Damien felt the head of his cock force its way easily into the tight opening, lubricated by Athena's juices he continued to slowly push into her, half inch by half inch. Pushed to the very edge, Athena could already feel her orgasm build as soon as he entered her. This slow press into her depths kept the feeling building but only delayed any relief. It was one of the best feelings she decided, amidst the intense pleasure surging through her. No one ounce fill her as totally and completely as Damien, certainly no one she’d ever been with in the past could measure up either length or width. At this angle, he pressed hard onto the g-spot on the front wall of her pussy and still it pressed forward, exploring her depths. 

Finally, Damien's thighs hit the back of her legs and ass, his balls coming to rest against her clit. She moaned, tightening her walls further to force some movement as he waited, his cock buried inside and filling her. Damien enjoyed the feeling as she squeezed his cock tightly then he slowly flexed his ass, his thighs pressing against the softness of her, pushing just slightly further with each small slow thrust keeping his cock fully embedded between. They’d barely started and already she could feel the wave of pleasure begin to come to a crest, the relief she desired was almost here. 

'Oooooohhhhh god!' Athena exclaimed, feeling his cock pressing on her g-spot, his balls rubbing her clit, fuller than she had ever been with the plug inside her too. 'I'm so close to cumming.'   

The head of his cock just teasing her opening was keeping her so close but not letting her climax finally crest. She trying to push back against him and force his cock deeper inside but he was able to control her movement with his thighs. Hands on her hips, Damien continued to tease her. 

‘Make me cum on your cock,’ Athena burst out, unable to take it any longer. ‘Please...' 

Damien’s voice echoed from behind her. ‘Please what?' 

‘Please sir!’  

She’d barely finished yelling, when Damien stood up, slamming his cock deep inside of her gripping hard to her hips. His balls slapping against her clit, he began to truly fuck her sliding halfway out before driving his cock deep inside her again sawing across her g-spot as his fingers worked the plug in her ass. Almost instantly Athena's orgasm crashed over her. Her back arched as her stomach clenched her ass and legs shaking as she felt clenched around his cock. 

 ‘Ooohhhhhh…fuck...Damien!!' 

The dam inside her finally exploded bathing her in a wave of pleasure so intense she could barely breathe. Damien was in awe at the sigh of her, sweat forming on her back and ass, a slight quiver in her legs but he continued to thrust, determined to work her through a second orgasm. As he saw his girlfriend's breathing start to get heavy again, he knew she was ready for more and sped up his thrusts, trying to push down and focus the pressure on the front wall of her pussy and g-spot. He reached to the plug in her ass and pulled slightly adding some pressure to the silver jewel that held it in place. Athena was moving with him now, both their bodies slamming together in loud wet sounds that echoed through his office. 

The desk began to shift slightly under the force of their fucking, moving in jerking motions towards the wall opposite them. Both of them were now slick with sweat and Damien noted the tiny droplets glistened on her back and ass before his gaze dropped further to watch her take all eight and a half inches of his cock like a pro and their mixed juiced that coated his shaft forming a frothy ring at its base. Athena’s breathing began to sound laboured and he could tell the second wave was nearing its crest and began to slowly pull the plug out of her ass as he slammed his cock deep inside her pussy and if his timing was right... 

 ‘Oh Damie- Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!! !' Athena screamed, as he pulled the plug from her ass stretching her wide just the second wave of orgasm crashed. 'Oh, oh, oh, oh god, oh god, oh god.’ She moaned as wave after wave of orgasm flowed over her almost continually now. 

She grasped desperately at the desk, one hand above her head the other down next to her hip. Her head alternated from burying her face in her shoulder and looking forward gasping for air. grinding herself into the table as she legs began to shake uncontrollably. She clenched almost painfully around him and that did it for Damien. He drove drove his cock deep inside her pulsing sex a few more times before letting out a loud groan of her name. 

‘Athenaaaa FUCK!’

He slammed into her, holding her ass tight against his hips as he coated the inside of her pussy in four thick spurts of cum thrust. Athena was now almost slumped on the desk as the pleasure that had sustained her through now faded leaving a warm glow of final release in her core. Damien fell forward to his elbows, his hands caressing the outer reaches of her breasts as the last pulses of orgasm issued from his cock, unable to think straight as all his focus was on breathing right now. 

 Athena turned her head to grin tiredly at him. ‘Guess I should distract you more often then huh?’ 

Damien placed a soft kiss on her lips. ‘If it ends like this, you can distract me anytime.’

[loverontheleft]

Are You Coming?

By request: —Brendon would 100% take you in his studio, stressed out, frustrated because he can’t figure out the right melody for a song he’s working on. He’d be so pissed but so hot...damn

—Mmm just imagine b coming home from the studio all frustrated and pissed off and maybe he got in an argument with one of the guys about something and he’s kind of being short with you and then you just drop to your knees and yank his pants down and put him in your mouth so quickly and his eyes completely shift…

Brendon x reader. Warnings: language, dirty talk, praise kink, oral, arguably public sex, anxiety, and I think that’s everything.

I admittedly took some liberties with this request; I hope y’all still like it! I’m really quite pleased with it. Also, I played fast and loose with some band details, don’t come at me with theories or conspiracies; I don’t have the time or energy.

Word count: 5.2k

-||-

“Call.” “Please.” The two words come in as two separate texts, both from contact B with a black heart next to it. You’re fumbling with your phone, calling him as requested.

“Hey babe, what’s-“

He cuts you off and you can hear it in his voice - the tension boiling over into sheer panic. “Babe, Y/n, please come here. Nothing is working and I can’t get - it’s all gone to shit and I can’t - I can’t-“ he breaks off into a frustrated shout.

“Hey, hey, hey, baby, it’s gonna be okay. I’ll get in the car right now. Are you still at the studio?”

“Yes.” He sighs deeply and you can practically hear him pacing.

“I’m getting in the car. Hang tight. I’ll be there as soon as I can, I promise. I love you,” you tell him, and he repeats it back to you.

You stop at In-N-Out to get him food before you get on the 5 and swear when you see how backed up it is. You shouldn’t be surprised; it’s 6:30 on a Friday. You could be in this traffic for hours. “Fuck,” you swear under your breath and you reach for your Bluetooth earpiece he got you for driving. “Call B,” you say clearly, and the line starts ringing after a minute.

“Oh thank god, are you here?” The relief in his voice makes you want to cry.

“No baby, it’s gonna be a while. I’m stuck on the 5 and I don’t know when I’ll be moving.” Now it’s his turn to swear, and you say soothingly, “but talk to me Brendon, tell me what’s going on. Get it all off your chest.”

“I don’t - I can’t - it’s all fucking - fuck -“ and he’s panicking again and you slam your hand into the steering wheel, cursing this traffic. You just want to be with him, curled up on the floor of the studio, taking the problems away, making it all better for him- oh. Now that’s an idea.

“Bren. Baby, honey, breathe.” Your voice is soft and you wait until you hear his even breaths, a little shaky but steady. “Do you want me to distract you until I can get there?”

“Wha-what?”

“Do you want me to distract you until I can get there? I can...talk to you.” You think the connection dropped until you hear, soft and anxious, his ‘yes.’ You smile softly; he’s so sweet. He’s almost always so strong and solid for you that, while you of course don’t like that he’s having a panic attack, you like being able to take care of him for once. “Okay baby. Which side are you on?”

“The mixing and producing.”

“Okay. Are you sitting down?” When he tells you yes, you nod to yourself. “Good. What are you wearing?” He laughs a little and you can see him shaking his head at your question. “No, I’m serious. You were gone before I fully woke up this morning and I couldn’t tell when you kissed me goodbye. And it’s important for me to know. Also. Is the door locked?” The smile is audible in your voice.

“Grey t-shirt. Black jeans. It’s locked.” He sounds a little calmer.

“Good. Close your eyes baby, just relax and let me take care of you.” Traffic hasn’t moved at all and you adjust your earpiece. “As soon as I get there, I’m gonna crawl into your lap and kiss your lips and neck, running my hands down your chest. God, B, your mouth is so nice; could make out with you for hours, those lips on mine and our tongues rubbing and teasing and sliding against each other; fuck, I love your mouth, baby, get so wet just from kissing you.. and when I can’t stand it anymore, I’m gonna get that shirt off you and kiss down your chest until I’m down on my knees in front of you. You’ll look down and see me down there, looking back up at you, hands on your thighs, my eyes wide and innocent like you like, biting my lip, begging you. ‘Take your pants off, baby,’ l’ll whisper, and-“

“Should I?” He interrupts you and you smile.

“If you want to play along, yes. The door is locked after all.” You wait until you hear the sound of denim being shoved down, and you sigh happily. “Yeah baby, and you’ll get them off and I’ll press closer and palm you-“ he moans softly and you know he’s really playing along now. “Just feeling how hard you are for me. I’ll slip my hand into your underwear and wrap my hand around you, just stroking. Gonna stroke yourself for me until I can get there, baby?” He makes a soft sound that you interpret as a ‘yes,’ and keep talking. “You feel so good in my hand, baby, love your cock. Love watching you slip through my fist and brushing my tongue over the tip.” He moans a little and you smile. “Lick your hand, baby, spit, something. Get it real wet, like my mouth is gonna be.”

“Jesus Christ, baby…so sexy” he sighs but he complies and you know he’s grasping himself again when you hear his gentle “oh, fuck.”

“Gonna tease you a little bit, gonna just lick you, gonna keep stroking you, jacking you over my tongue, eyes on yours. Know you love watching me play with your dick, love seeing me get so hot for you. And when you’ve got some pre-cum for me to use, I’ll go even faster, my hand sliding over you - your cock slick for me right now, baby? Your dick nice and hard and shiny with your spit and cum, squeezed tight in your hand?”

“Fuck yes, god, baby…”

“And when my hand starts to cramp, because you know it always does,” and you both laugh softly, knowingly; “I’ll take all of you in my mouth, my lips soft and brushing over your length while my tongue rolls and teases all the way down. God, wanna hear you moan my name as I suck you off.”

“Fuck Y/n,” he gasps and you can hear a soft sound, skin on slick skin, in the background and you know he’s sunken low in the chair, his eyes are shut, lips slightly parted as he jerks himself off to your voice.

“Don’t come yet B,” you tell him, “go slower, gentler, baby. You don’t have to stop touching yourself; love when you touch yourself, but don’t come yet, okay?”

“O-okay,” he stammers a little and the background noise fades. He’s still moaning softly, but that’s nothing new. You tighten both hands around the steering wheel and press your thighs together. “Love your mouth, Y/n, fuck…” he sighs and you smile to yourself. “Wanna come in it. You close?”

“To you or…?” You let the question hang in the air.

He laughs a little. “To me. But the second one too; you acting nasty, baby, fingering yourself in your car in traffic? Sucking on your fingers, wishing it was my dick?”

“We’ve moved a little bit, maybe 3 or 4 miles,” you tell him. “And I’ve been trying to hold off on touching or teasing myself, wanna be real hot and on edge for you when I get there.”

He makes a low sound in the back of his throat. “As nice as that is, wanna hear you play too, wanna hear what your words do to you too, wanna know your mouth gets you off too. Touch yourself for me, honey.”

You never could deny him. “Okay, gimme a sec,” you tell him, thankful for your tinted windows as you wiggle your leggings down, foot firmly on the brake. You’re thankful for this traffic for once. “Oh, fuck, oh god, Bren, I’m so wet,” you whimper and he groans. “God, just thinking about being on my knees for you, your dick in my mouth, gets me so ready for you.”

“Honey,” he sighs, and you can hear his fist start to slide noisily over himself.

“No baby boy, slow down,” you beg, rocking against your fingers, head tipped back against your seat headrest. “I’ve got miles to go before I get to you, don’t rush, please baby, let me take care of you, let me do this for you.”

“Fuck, okay, yeah,” he sighs. “Love you.”

“Love you,” you repeat, a sharp cry escaping when your fingers go deeper and you imagine his tongue replacing his fingers to soothe the ache.

“You okay, baby?” He sounds concerned and you moan a little, lost in the fantasy of his face between your legs now.

“Ye-yeah, just...thinking.” He chuckles and you roll your head back, whimpering. “Thinking bout that tongue of yours, sliding deep into my pussy, fucking me good with your mouth while your thumb rubs my clit…”

“You playing with it for me, Y/n?”

“Yeah baby, I’m so wet for you that my fingers keep slipping off of my clit and deep into my pussy though...you’re so much better at this than me. Please, Brendon, can I please keep sucking your dick?”

“God, baby, begging to suck me off? Fucking love when you do that. Such a good girl, fucking love it. Go ahead Y/n, get back down on your knees and get my cock in your mouth, let me come on your tongue, let me watch you swallow my cum, dig your nails into my thighs as you push closer, taking me deeper, wanting all of me…god baby, you’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

You’ve heeded your own advice and have slowed your fingers down, but you’re so goddamn wet from his praise that you’re pretty sure you’re gonna need to get the car detailed since it’s covering your thighs and likely spreading down onto the seat. Oh well. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten you coming in your car seat.

“Yeah, baby. God, Brendon, want all of that. You still jacking yourself off, still picturing my pretty mouth? Thinking about coming on your good girl’s tongue? She wants it, wants your cum.” Traffic has been moving again and you slipped your hand out of your wetness a few moments ago to try focus on the road and Brendon.

“Fuck yes. Hear that engine purring, are you coming, baby?”

“Yeah B, I’m so close,” and you are in both ways. You’re maybe 5 miles from your exit and once you’re off the highway, it should be easier - not fast, but easier. “I need maybe 30 more minutes and then I’ll be there, swallowing everything you have to give me,” you promise. “And I’ll come so hard.”

“Gonna fuck yourself with your fingers while you suck me off?”

“Yeah baby, gonna spread my knees so you can watch my fingers tease my pussy as you fill my mouth.”

“Fuck, baby, need you soon,” he moans and you whimper. “Can’t hold on much longer, gotta fucking - gonna fucking come so hard in your mouth.”

“So I need to go grocery shopping after this, I know we need more almond milk and eggs; do you need anything?”

“Wh-what?” He’s confused and he’s no longer stroking himself roughly; there’s silence in the background.

“You said you couldn’t hold on much longer so I’m changing the subject. Grocery shopping. So sexy, I know,” you tease. “So what do you need me to add to the list?”

He’s laughing and you can hear the appreciation in his voice. “Chocolate syrup. And whipped cream.”

“B, why do I get the feeling you have different intentions for those things than a normal person?”

He sounds indignant. “Well I would hope no one else has the same intentions for these as I do; I’d better be the only one decorating and cleaning you up.”

“You’ve managed to derail my change of subject. I think you can make anything sexual,” you comment. You can practically hear his lips curl into a smile.

“Probably. Wanna try again? Give me a tougher one.”

“No, I want to keep you distracted so you’re ready to play when I get there.”

“Fair enough. How’s traffic looking?”

“We haven’t moved an inch.”

“Fuck, Y/n, I need you.” His voice isn’t lustful or longing; there’s a tremor in it and you know the anxiety is creeping back, the panic and the dread and the racing heart.

“I know B, I know. It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna make it okay.” He’s breathing hard now but trying to stay calm. “Just keep breathing slow and steady, okay baby?”

“So fucking stupid,” he spits and you recoil a little, not sure what his target was there. “I’m so fucking stupid for being upset about this, fuck!”

“No no no, don’t say that, honey. Whatever it is, you’re allowed to feel this way. Don’t say those mean things about my man. He’s good and kind and smart and funny and loyal and loving, yes. Stupid, no. Never.”

He’s silent for a long moment and you close your eyes, praying. Please let him be okay, please let him be okay. Please let him stop taking this out on himself. Please. And then he’s breathing again, soft and slow, like he’s really making an effort and you hear the hitch in his throat. Fuck, he’s near tears. Fuck fuck fuck. You look around as you murmur soft, soothing words and realize if you take this next exit, you can take a back way to the studio and maybe get there in the next twenty minutes. Someone or something is looking out for you and the traffic surges forward, with enough of a gap on your right for you to jerk the wheel sharply and change lanes, albeit pissing off a few cars behind you if the cacophony of horns is a clue. You take the exit and tell him, “B, I just got off the 5 at 134, I’m coming in off of 7th, I’ll be there so soon, honey, so soon - just hang on, okay?”

“Okay.” His voice is even softer and your heart breaks. “Thank you, baby.”

“I love you,” you tell him, and you repeat it over and over again.

Fifteen minutes later, you have to fumble for your pass to show the guard, but she lets you in; you park roughly, grab the food and your purse, and (accidentally) slam the car door shut. You don’t think you’ve ever moved so quickly; the doors buzz open with your pass and you tell him, “I’m here, B, I’m here. What studio?”

“Third floor, third door. Pretty sure it’s got Panic! on the door.”

You glance at the elevator and shake your head. Fuck it. Stairs. “I’m really glad we have so much sex, honey,” you tell him and he laughs. “No I’m serious, it’s good cardio. I’m in the best shape of my life from fucking you.” You open the stairwell door and scan the hall, and sure enough, there’s the door. “I’m here baby, unlock the door for me.”

You can hear him scramble, both on the phone and in reality and when he flings the door open, you push into the room, throwing your arms around him. He wraps you in his and holds you tightly, breathing in your shampoo. His shoulders are shaking and his chest is heaving and he just breaks, bringing you both to the floor.

“It’s okay honey, it’s okay,” you soothe, shifting so you’re straddling him on the ground, arms around his neck, letting him cling to you and rock you both back and forth as your hands smooth over his back. “Sex or food or talking?”

He pulls back, eyes bleary, but attempting a smile. “All three. That order.” You kiss him hard and that’s when you notice his jeans are still unzipped and he’s still more hard than not. You stand shakily, holding out your hand and he rises too, making a little surprised noise when you push him back in his chair he vacated when he let you in the room. “Baby, you don’t have to-“

“Let me take care of you,” you tell him, kneeling between his legs and tugging at his jeans. He raises his hips and you yank both his jeans and boxer briefs down, covering him in your mouth.

“Fuck, yes baby, your mouth,” he sighs, and you take one hand to place both of his in your hair. He runs his fingers back through it, settling at the back of your head, massaging lightly as you move slowly, tongue twisting around him, teasing the underside of his cock as you pull off for the first time. “Baby, I won’t last long like this,” he tells you, and you shrug.

“It’s not about longevity. It’s about you getting some stress and tension out.” And with that, you wrap your hand around him and stroke him softly, just letting the head of his cock rest on your lower lip, tongue flicking out over him. You moan when you get a hint of him, warm and salty, and your hand speeds up as you meet his eyes. “Gonna come on my tongue B? Gonna let me taste you? Remember who’s your good girl, who wants everything you can give her, wants to swallow it all for you,” and your voice is all he needs before he’s coming, hard, hips jerking and hands tightening in your hair. He doesn’t need to move your head though, you’re already closing your lips around him and breathing cyclically, swallowing and sucking and stroking him through it. Your left hand slips down between your thighs, pressing through your leggings and underwear, rubbing against your clit roughly. His hips twitch again and you think he’s finishing so you swallow hard around him, rocking against your fingers hard, but the tightening sensation of your throat sets him off again - is it really again if he didn’t stop?

“Holy fuck Y/n,” he gasps, back arching a little as you press in closer, taking him halfway and no longer stroking but just squeezing, pulsing your tightening grip around him before sliding your hand down and back to cradle his balls in your palm, rolling and pressing lightly. “Tighter, baby,” he chokes out and you comply, your grip closing over him more. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hisses and you’re using all of your breathing tricks to keep swallowing without choking. He slumps back in his seat and you let him slip from your mouth, but there’s a rivulet of cum sliding from the corner of your mouth. You both notice at the same time and he leans forward. “Baby, you’ve got-“ But your tongue flicks out and collects everything before he can do anything and he groans again. “So good baby, so fucking sexy,” he whispers. You smile, rest your head on his thigh, and he strokes your hair lovingly as you gaze up at him, eyes soft and chest still heaving a little, fingers still moving but in gentle circles now. He glances down and sees, moaning. “Get up here, Y/n.” You scramble into his lap, legs spread wide across him so he can replace your fingers with two of his. “So fucking wet,” he sighs and you nod, kissing him as he touches you. “Want me to get you off through your leggings, baby? Want me to just rub your clit hard and get you coming in my lap? Or you wanna strip down for me? So good, so sweet and good for me, you can have anything you want.”

“Fuck, Brendon, do what you want,” you beg, rolling against his fingers. “Need to come though.”

“Think I wanna see you come for me fully clothed and then strip your wet leggings, your soaked panties off you and fuck you right,” he whispers in your ear and you moan, rocking hard against his fingers, still circling and pressing. “Yeah baby, just like that,” he tells you, fingers working hard to create the friction that’s gonna have you only able to say his name when you come hard. You’re panting and grinding down against his hand, the pressure perfect. He can tell you’re close. “Be my good girl and come for me,” he sighs in your ear and you do, gasping and moaning his name loud, body trembling as he keeps praising you. Finally, you slump forward, head on his shoulder. “So pretty, coming like that,” he murmurs, fingers just barely circling over you now. “Strip for me baby, stand when you can, let me see you.” Legs shaking a little, you stand and shove your leggings down, followed by the lounge top. You’re standing in the silky black panties and bra he loves, so you take your time, reaching back to unclasp the bra, letting it fall from your chest before hooking both thumbs into the waistband of your underwear and pushing down. You’re totally naked in front of him and he’s breathing hard, kicking his jeans and underwear off before tugging his shirt off over his head. “Get back here, baby,” he tells you quietly and you do so without hesitation. He runs two fingers against you and you both inhale sharply. “God, so fucking wet, so ready for me. So good baby.” You grin, rocking your hips forward to brush your wetness over the head of his cock. “Tease,” he chuckles and you give him an innocent look. “Thank god for vasectomies,” he murmurs as he takes you by both hips and pulls you forward to fill you.

“Holy fuck, Brendon,” you gasp, rolling against him as he thrusts up into you gently. “Feels so good,” you tell him and he bites your neck, telling you how good you feel too.

“Wanna take care of you the way you take care of me, baby,” he tells you, and he stands, still deep in you, and sets you down on the couch behind both of you. He slips from you then, and you moan desperately, but he’s back on top of you soon, spreading your legs again and rocking back into you. “So good,” he whispers, and you nod, back arching and hips rolling. “I know you need me behind you to come, and I promise baby, you’ll come,” he moans, and you do too.

“This feels so good B, take your time,” you laugh and he kisses you hard, tongue teasing yours and his strokes getting harder, rougher. You’re pretty sure your hips will be bruised tomorrow but you don’t care. You can’t stop the breathy moans he’s getting from you, but you don’t want to stop, because you know your sounds of satisfaction fuel him and he feels so good. He’s right, you do need to be fucked hard from behind to come with him in you, but he always makes everything feel so right that you’re not in a rush. And then he offers.

“Want me to take you the way you like it, baby?”

“Oh fuck yes,” you sigh, and he slides out of you (you can’t help but whimper at the loss) and you turn, burying your head in your arms on the couch while he pulls your hips up and back. “Yes Bren, just like that, fuck me just like that,” you beg and he whispers how good you are, how sweet, and then he’s inside you, thrusting hard, one hand clutching your hip near the front so he can slide forward and play with your clit when you ask for it (and you will), the other in your hair, tugging occasionally, just enough to elicit the sharp cries you both love. This position is for you, but he loves it too because it lets him go so much deeper, fuck you so much harder, really get you panting and begging for it. “Oh god,” you moan lowly and you both know exactly what kind of orgasm he’s fucking you towards; when your words are high and tight and breathy, it’s gonna be a mostly trembling, shaking orgasm, clenching around his cock as you buck against him. But when you’re low and moaning like this, you both know you’re going to end up changing the sheets by the time he’s done with you. “Fuck, Brendon, yes, fuck me right there.” Another low moan and his cock throbs inside you.

“Gonna come for me, baby? Gonna come all over my dick, hot and wet and slick for me? Want you to, baby, want you to come for me, come all over me, fucking ruin this couch, come for me.”

“Oh god, Brendon,” you purr, rocking back hard against him. “Clit, please.” He grins, knowing you’re moments away. Once his fingers rub you, you’re going to be a shaking mess for him. The hand on your hip slides down and presses against your clit and you’re coming, and his hand tugs your hair and you can’t help it, you come so hard for him; he’s still fucking you through it and praising you softly, telling you how wonderful you are, how sexy you are, how much he loves feeling you come on him like this, how much he loves you period. “Fuck,” you moan, climax subsiding and you feel your legs start to give out. He slips from you and turns you over again so you’re on your side and he can cradle you to his chest, both of you breathing hard, both of you slick with your climax. “Food?” You offer after a minute and he laughs, kissing your forehead, nodding.

You’re both sitting on the floor, back against the couch and he’s devouring the burger while you steal his fries; you ate dinner before he texted but they’re so tempting. “B, have you eaten today?” When he nods, you narrow your eyes and he defensively points to the burger in his hand, mouth full. “Other than this?” And he shakes his head. “B. You have to eat. Your blood sugar was probably low, no wonder you were so tense. We should have eaten first.”

“Maybe, but I really wanted to fuck you,” he says with a soft smile, and you laugh, leaning forward to kiss him. “You got me so worked up on the phone, I wouldn’t have made it if we had eaten first.” He finishes the burger and wipes his mouth, and you run a hand through his hair. He moans a little and slumps down until his head is in your lap and you’re massaging his head with both hands. “Freaked out,” he starts, looking up at you, and you run a hand down his chest soothingly. “Freaked out because I just - I couldn’t get the drum part how I wanted it and Dan and Maya got into a fight this morning, which I knew, so he was tense and I was being a dick anyway and -“ he takes a steadying breath. “And he said something, I couldn’t hear it, but Kenny did and it must have been bad because Kenny wouldn’t tell me and I started yelling and - and-“ he sighs, closing his eyes. You scratch his head gently and he moans a little, arching into your touch. “And then later I snapped over something, and it was my fault I didn’t hit the note I wanted but I just said I couldn’t focus with the drums so loud and Dan walked out and Nicole went after him and they didn’t come back and- and- fuck, everyone leaves. Everyone leaves and I push them away and I don’t know how to- I can’t-“ his eyes are still shut and you whisper soothing things, brushing a hand over his forehead. “I can handle them leaving, I would hate it, but I could get through it eventually. But you- I don’t want to push you away, but it’s only a matter of time before I go too far and say something too stupid and I don’t want you to leave, I can’t bear it if you leave.” His eyes are open now and yours are welling with tears. “Please don’t cry, baby, please.” You try to stop, sniffling. “I can’t bear to see you hurt, I can’t stand it. I love you so much. I can’t lose you too.”

“I love you,” you tell him, voice catching. “And I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, remember?” You nudge your ring with your thumb. “You’re not going to lose me. And you’re not going to lose Dan or Nicole or Kenny either; you just had a bad day. You’re not trying to be a dick about it, but this band, this music, it’s your baby now and you want to see it grow how you hoped and dreamed. You’re a defensive parent and you’re passionate and sometimes, yeah, you speak without thinking, but no one holds it against you. We know you. We love you.” He takes a soft, shaky breath and you smooth a hand over his hair again. “Just apologize. You’re such a good person B, you always apologize when you’ve hurt someone. Today was just a rough day and tomorrow will be better. Call him tonight, call all of them tonight. Hell, invite them all over, partners too, I don’t care. We can order pizza and watch a movie and stay up late and just hang out. No music talk, just friends, yeah? I think you all need it.”

He nods and sits up, turning to pull you into his lap now. “You’re so good,” he whispers, leaning his forehead against yours. “So good to me, good for me, so wonderful. I love you Y/n.”

You smile, kissing him softly. “I love you, B.” He sighs and pulls you closer, really kissing you, lips moving over yours and tongue flicking out against yours. “Damn,” you moan into his mouth. “Don’t make me retract the offer to have them over,” you warn with a smile. “We’re both still naked, I could easily distract you again, keep you here, have you fuck me on the recording side,” you whisper, kissing his neck. “Make a private EP, just for us, baby.” His eyes go wide and his fingers slide down your hips toward your inner thighs.

“Holy shit, baby, that’s a good idea. You’re not just my good girl, are you? You’re my clever, naughty girl too, aren’t you?” You nod and moan as he moves his lips across your jaw and down your neck. “Say it baby, say it for me.”

“I’m not just your good girl, Brendon, I’m your brilliant, naughty girl too.” Your voice is soft and breathy, head rolling back as his lips find your pulse point and suck lightly.

“Fuck, that’s the opening line, that right there,” he exclaims and lifts you both to your feet. “Gonna eat you out baby, gonna lick and suck and fuck that perfect pussy, gonna have you coming so hard for me, gonna get you rocking on my face, my tongue deep in you, licking your clit for you; such a good girl, letting me record you coming for me.” He kisses you hard and you moan, rocking forward, seeking. But he pulls away and heads for the panel to hit some buttons before crossing to the recording side door. He turns to look back at you and smiles, holding out his hand. “Are you coming?”

“Fuck yeah I am.”

[jackedknives]

Though the god spent most of his time off Midgard, in other realms and on other worlds he thought most of his fellow heros here could scarcely imagine, he loved his time here. There was good company, good revelry, and his friends were all so very odd and different.

Even after the tragedy that had befallen them yesterday, the scalding feeling of such scheming little enemies - like wicked little biting ants - fooling him and his fellows, they came together.

Thor had felt a sense of comradery, working to put things back together, help people find their way to medical attention. He kept his surprise of the state of the bodies to himself. His experience did not encompass what he had been told of Rogers friend.

It was being woken after this -after the work, the shame of being tricked so by such tiny villains, the quiet drinks with good friends- that surprised him. It wasn’t that he was not used to people coming to his door (the oddly nice accommodations that Stark provided, and kept always waiting for him, that felt -as oddly as it seemed, as it was never something he would have supposed all those years ago banished here- like a home away from home) it was the knock. He realized, as he trudged to the door, curing quietly to himself when he knocked over and broke yet another lamp, that he knew their knocks by sound.

The always nervous knock of Banner; the polite and firm knock of Rogers; Starks enthusiastic banging. This one was...new. It was nearly nervous, perhaps more frantic, but at the same time it was insistent and annoying. Like they knew he would open and he wasn’t doing it goddamn fast enough.

It was very, very obvious the only person who could possibly belong to that knock was the person on the other side as soon as he had flung the door open.

There was Jack, in pajamas, hair a conspicuous mess, half distracted like she was much more concerned about other things than his answering - which she knew he would and hadnt been doing goddamn fast enough. She kept looking down the halls.

“Ha! You! You’re still here. Thats great, good, good. Great. I need some help.” She started. The large man looked...very confused. This didn’t make sense, not at all. From everything he had come to believe, she wouldn’t ask for his help if she were falling into a volcano. And then she would yell that he didn’t help. Perhaps her head had been more severely injured in the previous days battle than they knew. Perhaps he should call someone, alert them to her situation, she was after all acting mighty strange--

“Can I borrow that?” Jack pointed behind him suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.

If he had time to think when he turned to look at what Jack could possibly mean, and if he had time to registered that she cold cocked him the moment he turned, he would have thought “this makes much more sense”.

----

God, he’s stupid, Jack thought, as she dragged the large unconscious god across the hall by the underarms (she had thrown a sheet over the hammer. He wouldn't leave without that, and she wasn’t going to humor being ‘worthy’, specially considering her current activities), pausing to punch in Bucky’s door code to his room and kick the door open. Of course she was loud and hit things a lot, it didnt mean she wasnt as sneaky as all hell - it was adorable how they all thought she’d need to break into their rooms and didn’t just memorize their codes.

She lugged Thor like the massive sack of potatoes he was into Buckys bed, struggling to get him in and more than once knocking his head into a wall. Ah, he was a god, he’d be fine. It took her another few minutes to get the wig she had stolen from Romanoff’s room onto him just right (she changed her code once a week, as if it mattered. Jack regularly liked the challenged of stealing Romanoffs lingerie and sending it to Wade. God knew what he wore it for, but she knew it was probably hilarious and Romanoff would hate it) and duck tape a bloody tracker to his arm. She pulled the covers right up to his nose.

Ok, not bad, but not perfect.

She grabbed Bucky’s phone she had found still on his nightstand and texted Rogers:

im sad. going 2 sleep a while

She paused in thought

text u later, pal.

Yes, that sounded lame enough to pass as normal Bucky, and buy her a few hours to drag his not-yet-aware-hes-dead ass back to the tower. It only took ten or so minutes to throw on some actual clothes, and another 15 to get down the tower, she had to use the goddamn stairs - the elevators were still either non functional, or sitting at the bottom of elevator shafts in a crushed mess. She passed Rogers on the way, who paid her no attention, but instead -to her relief- looked glum. Yes, she had time to think, glum. The man didnt look upset he looked glum. God she couldn’t stand him. But he always looked glum when he was worried about ol Buck. He’d bought it. She only prayed he gave his ol pal time to rest, after what he probably assumed was sadness over Hydra, and didnt get up to his way-to-pushy self and find a Norse god in a wig in Buckys bed.

He’d probably blame her.

Thank bloody god she always parked a few blocks away. Sure, the parking at the tower was amazing, but it got attacked by shit way to often.

She had already made one call by the time she had gotten to her bike, to a woman that could get whatever information she needed for the price of Starks best whiskey. The woman had only taken so long to call her back with the needed info because she was clearly hung over - or still drunk. And it had taken a few minutes for her to translate Jacks cussing and shouting about what info she needed and why, and what particular can of whoopass was going to be opened when she found what she was looking for.

Jacks contact, of course, was rude as all fuck and talking to her was like talking to a boxer who’d bet on themselves to take you out in the first round...she was one of Jacks favorite people in the the whole city (she had a great fashion sense. If anyone could find a buff guy in a bar, it was Jones. And if anyone could do it in five minutes, it was Jones being paid in expensive whiskey stolen from a rich asshole.

Jack knew where Bucky was by the time she put the keys in her bike.

[kazosa]

Secrets - SoA: Chapter 11

Summary: Reader has lived in a life full of secrets. When her father dies unexpectedly and sends her on a trip all over the country, she finds out just how much like her father she really is. The end of her trip brings her to Charming, CA where she finally gets some big pieces of her family puzzle put back in place and form new relationships with the people there. Chapter 11: The reader and Chibs try to have a meal ;) and that plan is foiled Warnings: language A/N: If it wasn’t clear before, this takes place after the events of the final episode, SPOILERS! Italics are for Chibs and his inner thoughts. Bold is for the reader’s inner thoughts. Word Count: 1922 Tags: @telford-ortiz-teller  @sam-samcro  @tstieff  @yourcroweater  @kacilove26  @hiddlelove  @evilsorceress  @reallynigga21  @suz-123  @between-shades-of-winchester  @caitcrook  @i-was-made-of-nutella @charlottecl  @gunsnrosesislife  @yoonjigu  @mkindoll2016  

IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IN SOME WAY. ASK BOX IS SAFEST WAY, BUT I DO TRY TO LOOK AT ALL COMMENTS AND REBLOGS. COMMENTS WELCOME!

Secrets Masterlist

“You must be out of your goddamned mind,” you scoffed. The balls on this chick.

“After the shit you pulled at RedWoody, you’re lucky I’m not pressing assault charges,” she huffed.

You did the biggest eyeroll your body would allow.

“Me?! Are you fucking joking? You were the one trespassing,” you held up your fingers, ticking off each infraction. “Should we talk about how you stopped me and Happy without cause, or how you seem to know the contents of my sealed juvenile record? Just how many favors did you call in for that Jarry? Lord knows the government doesn’t work that quickly and you sure as shit didn’t have time for a court order. And seriously, walking into a party filled with hardass bikers, what did you expect when you insult one of their old ladies?”

Judging by how pink Jarry’s neck and ears were, you guessed she was embarrassed about being called out, or pissed, probably both. She looked up and spoke to the mirror.

“Eglee, start booking,” her gaze shifted to you. “(Y|F|N) (Y|L|N), you’re under arrest for assault. You have the right to…”

You raised your hand cutting her off, “Spare me. I know my rights.” Scowling at Jarry as Eglee came in, “I want to make a call before you take me to the cells.”

“You don’t get to make a call. All outgoing calls are made at our discretion,” Jarry sounded magnanimous. “Getting a phone call only happens in the movies.”

Jarry gathered the file folder and talked out of the interrogation room. You looked at Eglee, who had a somewhat sheepish look on her face. Eglee whispered as she took your elbow and led you out for booking.

“You sure you won’t look at it? She’ll just be up your ass anyway,” she positioned you for your photo.

“Do you have any distinguishing scars or tattoos?”

“Yeah,” you said, “I have a lot of both.”

Eglee had to take you to a private room to document the scars and tattoos.

Later, as she rolled your fingers over the print scanner, she said, “I’ll let Chibs know what’s going on.”

After the somewhat lengthy booking process, Deputy Eglee took you to your cell.

“I’m gonna take a break for lunch. I’ll give Chibs a call on my own time so Jarry doesn’t know,” she gave you an apologetic look, she’d heard your stomach rumble. “You know the charges won’t stick, right?”

You knew that, but the booking record would still be there.

“Thanks, Eglee,” you said nodding that you knew, trying to mean it. “Hey… I’ll look at the file.”

Eglee raised an eyebrow.

“I know,” you resigned yourself to the task. “I’ll need a couple maps of Charming, some markers, sticky notes and a piece of string if you have any.”

Her gaze narrowed, “Did you see something from that little bit?”

“I’m not sure. It’s that Nova. It’s putting up some red flags,” you speculated.

Eglee was intrigued, “I’ll see what I can scrounge up.”

He’d been pacing the floor inside his apartment, restless for information. He knew (Y|N) was at the Sheriff’s station, but knew nothing else. Torn between getting his brothers and going down there to raise hell or trying to remain calm at his apartment, he’d only partially succeeded in both. The ugly armchair (Y|N) hated was now lying in pieces on the floor. He grabbed his kutte off the peg by the door and went down to the station where the duty sergeant had him removed from the building for being a “pain in the ass loud mouth.” He was sitting on his bike trying to cool off when Eglee stepped out of the building. He sprung up.

“OY! Eglee!” his voice boomed across the lot.

Thankfully, she recognized him and waved as she crossed the lot.

“Chibs, I was just going to call you, what are you doing out here? Why aren’t you inside?” she asked as she got close, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“The sergeant and I had a disagreement of opinion,” he admitted. “Is the lass alrigh’?”

“She’s fine, promise,” she said. “Why don’t you come with me, I can fill you in and we can get lunch.”

He liked Eglee and wished she would run for the office or be promoted to it, or however that shit worked. She’d told him what she witnessed in the interrogation room and how (Y|N) had asked for the file folder. He’d was proud of her. She was a better person than he ever would be, he would have told the sheriff just where she could put the file. Jarry had been a right gash and even bent the law, but (Y|N) was still willing to help.

Inside the station, Eglee helped him slip past Jarry without being noticed. He’d gotten (Y|N) chicken tenders and French fries. She liked to dip them in something, but he couldn’t remember what she liked so he got her one of each. The little eatery had brownies, which he gladly took, and he picked out a soda for her.

He rounded the corner and smirked at the sight of her. She had her hair twisted up and pencils sticking out of it, somehow it was holding her hair off her neck. There were two maps on the floor where she was sitting cross legged. Leaning over to look at them, she’d needed to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. He noticed she had the case files laid out behind her on the bed, seemingly in some order. As he got closer, he could see colorful dots marking the maps.

“Hullo, luv,” he said softly.

She looked up from her maps and gave him that smile he would do anything for.

“I knew you’d find me,” she said, standing up.

It was such a relief to see him, even if there were bars between you. You’d been pulled out of the laundromat rather abruptly leaving Filip to wonder what happened to you. He was carrying a bag that smelled heavenly and had a bottle of your favorite soda and he put both on the floor by the cell door. You awkwardly put your hand through the bars so you could touch him. You had to get on your tiptoes to give him a little kiss through the bars. How romantic.

“It’s good ta have a shop keep tha’ doesn’t miss much,” he conceded. He looked at the bars that separated you. Touching them with his finger, “Never thought it’d be ME on this side of the bars.”

After reading his full arrest record, you knew about all of the times he’d been in prison and jail.

“Oh, did you get a lot of visitors in Stockton?” you were trying to lighten the mood.

He looked down at the floor. Was he embarrassed? Hesitantly, he looked back to you, no deception in his eyes.

“No. There wasn’ anyone,” he said. “I brought ye lunch. Must be starvin’.”

You knew exactly what it was. The chicken and fries smell had hit you almost as soon as he walked into the cell room. Sweet boy remembered I like chicken.

“Oh my god yes, thank you!” you were starving.

Eglee appeared, loudly jingling the cell door keys.

“Sorry to interrupt. Thought you might need the door opened,” she said, her gaze passing between you and Chibs.

“No touching after I close the door,” she winked at you.

Opening the door, she stepped out of the way and went back to the cell room entrance. Filip handed you the food and you set it inside in an open space on the floor by the foot of the bed.

“You have thirty seconds,” she said with her back turned.

Filip was already reaching for you as you nearly launched yourself at him. He gathered you into a bone crushing embrace.

“I’m sorry she’s doin’ this to ya, love,” he said into your neck.

He’d pulled you up so your toes were just touching the floor. You stroked the back of his head and neck.

“It’s okay. I can actually help with this,” you told him.

He let you rest on your feet again, but didn’t let you go. His forehead was on yours, his eyes closed.

“D’ye have a lawyer? Should I call Jack?” he asked.

“Call Jack,” you nodded just a little.

His hands came up to cup your head in his big hands. He kissed you hard, like he might never get to do it again. Eglee cleared her throat and Filip released you, leaving you breathless and stunned. He stepped out of the cell so Eglee could lock you back in.

“Were you able to figure anything out?” Eglee asked.

You sat in your spot on the floor and looked over your maps. Grabbing your lunch…oh God, he got me a brownie, sweet, sweet boy… you aired your speculations while you and Chibs ate lunch

“…the throw away cars just make me think that they’re doing it to distract from the real prizes.” You picked up the file with the car that had caught your eye and handed it through the bars to Eglee. “That 1970 Chevy Nova is a SS 396. Not only is that car badass, it’s also rare. It was one of the last big engine muscle cars.”

“What is this? A picnic for criminals?” Jarry said from the cell room entrance.

“Come now, sheriff, it’s not fair to lump Eglee in wi’ all of us,” he indicated you, himself and Jarry.

“This is an unauthorized prisoner visit,” Jarry told him.

Eglee had already scrambled to her feet and was standing away from you and Chibs. You didn’t blame her, you knew she shouldn’t have allowed your visit with Filip, and distancing herself from the situation and hoping for the best was all she could do. The word “prisoner” had hit you finally. Thinking quickly, and willing yourself not to panic, you grabbed a sticky note and wrote down Jack’s phone number and handed it through the bars to Filip. He held you hand for just a brief moment before being escorted out by Jarry.

She was following him, but he didn’t slow down. It was all he could do to not kick her ass all the way across the parking lot.

“Scotty, wait…” she called, “Filip!”

He reeled around on her and she stopped abruptly at the look in his eyes. “What do ye wan’ wi’ me, Sheriff? You ended things. We both know it wasn’t going anywhere, it was just sex. Why do ye keep on wi’ this, why d’ye gotta bring in the lass?”

Jarry seemed to ignore what he said. She didn’t want anything distracting her from her mission.

“Do you even know anything about her?” she asked.

“I know enough,” he said, not really wanting to answer her, not wanting to say too much.

“So, she told you about how the guy she was dating in the military nearly killed her?” She watched Chibs for his reaction. She could see he didn’t know about that part of her life. “Once he was in prison, she had one of her felon friends beat the ex up. Did she tell you that later on, that same felon friend and she almost got married? Or that when her dad died, she inherited one of the biggest accounting firms in the state? She doesn’t have to work a day in her life.” She smirked at his reaction, she’d gotten what she wanted.

He hadn’t known, not any of it.

[dragonbagel]

Retrograde - Part 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

[while i’m working on those requests from everyone i figure i might as well post this update so here ya go. comments/feedback is appreciated!]

[possible trigger warning for this part]

Jack looked up at a sharp knock on the door. “Come in,” he said, clearing his throat and ending the call with Tim. The door creaked open and Sasha appeared, a smug look on her face and an accidental smear of purple sparkles on her cheek. “The key’s done. The paint’s drying now, but in a few hours it should be ready to go.”

“We don’t have a few hours,” Jack said harshly.

Sasha placed her hand on her hip, raising her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“Are you deaf?” Jack snapped, Rhys’ pained expression on the forefront of his mind. “We don’t have time to literally watch paint dry.”

“And here I thought we were pretending not to hate each other,” Sasha replied sourly. “You asked me to make the key and that’s what I’m doing. If I say the paint needs time to dry, the paint needs time to dry.”

“He can’t wait that long!” Jack said before realizing his slip-up. “I mean, we can’t wait that long.”

Sasha simply stared at him, studying the way his fists were clenched and his gaze was anxiously darting towards his ECHOcomm, now resting on the bed. She could also see his eyes were rimmed in red. “What’s going on, Jack? What’s wrong with Rhys?”

Jack didn’t respond for a moment, clearly wrestling with his thoughts. “Can I--can I ask you something?”

“Uh, sure?” Sasha said, confused and a bit annoyed that he hadn’t answered her question.

“What happened on Pandora? To Rhys, I mean,” he clarified.

Sasha stared at him, biting her lip. “He didn’t tell you?”

Jack shook his head, his expression slightly hurt.

“I don’t really know if it’s my place…” Sasha said, trailing off.

“Please,” Jack said quickly. “I need to know. I need to know how to help him.”

Sasha could see the desperation written all over his face, his concern clearly genuine. “Okay,” she said finally, and Jack’s relief was instantaneous. “I don’t know everything, but I’ll tell you what I do. You’re, um, probably gonna want to sit down for this.”

Jack grimaced before sinking onto Sasha’s bed, not even bothering to argue. He crossed his arms over his chest, the shield he always wore attached to his hip shifting as he fidgeted.

“I’ve known Rhys since high school back in New Haven. It was a shithole, yeah, where on Pandora wasn’t? Besides, it was relatively safer than a lot of places.” Jack nodded, listening intently. “His family didn’t have a lot of money, and that’s saying something, because New Haven is known for being dirt poor. He was smart, though. Too smart for his own good. For all the time he spent with his nose in a textbook, he couldn’t see what was happening right in front of him.”

Jack’s mask kept his expression falsely neutral, and Sasha’s stomach churned at her inability to figure out what he was thinking.

“We started dating when we were seventeen,” she continued, trying to rush through any mention of their relationship so Jack wouldn’t go off again. “Things were pretty normal back then. We went to school, spent time with friends, snuck into clubs--kid stuff, y’know?”

Jack nodded mechanically, although “kid stuff” had never been a part of his life story--his grandmother had made sure of that.

“He never talked about his family, and I never asked. I didn’t think about it. God, I wish I’d thought to ask,” Sasha said, swallowing thickly. “But by the time I found out it was too late. The... damage had already been done.”

She paused to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye; it had been a long time since she’d thought about this shit, much less talked about it. But if Jack could help Rhys deal with what had happened in a way that didn’t involve getting blackout drunk, then the least she could do was talk. Plus, maybe it’d distract him long enough for the key to finish drying.

“His parents worked for a bandit leader named Vallory. I’d heard horror stories about her, but most of us considered her to be no more than an urban myth. Yeah, most people in New Haven were sketchy-- Hell, my dad raised me and my sister to be con artists-- but the shit Vallory did was on a whole other level.

“Rhys’ family had no money, but they wanted him to get an education, to get off that god-awful planet, so they struck up a deal. I’m not sure if he even knew at first, but once he found out, he blamed himself and he... he just wasn’t the same after that.”

Jack’s blue and green eyes were still trained on Sasha’s face. “Is that when he started drinking?”

Sasha looked a bit taken aback at Jack’s forwardness. “He... told you about that?”

Jack shook his head, chuckling. “Honey, I first met Rhys drunk out of his mind at a bar. Then I met him a second time there. And a third. Kid was a goddamn sponge.”

Sasha scowled slightly at the thought of that.

“Rhys and I were still dating at the time, for almost a year actually, but it didn’t feel like it,” she said, pausing to look at Jack and wondering if she should just skip over this part of the story. When he didn’t look like he was about to burst into flames of jealousy, she cleared her throat and continued.

“He stopped spending nights at my place, wouldn’t return my texts or calls. He still worked with me and Fiona on cons sometimes, but it wasn’t the same; he was there as an obligation, not because he wanted to be. I’d try talking to him, but,” she paused, trying to reign her emotions back under control.

“But he’s a stubborn asshole when he wants to be,” Jack supplied, earning a snort of agreement from Sasha.

“I don’t know everything that went on at that time,” Sasha admitted, sitting down softly onto the bed next to Jack. “I didn’t even know how bad it was at first.”

Jack’s ears perked up at that, and a mixture of anger and worry flitted across his face before it was absolved back into a stony neutrality. “What do you mean, ‘how bad it was’?”

Sasha gulped. “Rhys’ parents, they missed a drop. They couldn’t fulfill the contract and, well, Vallory wasn’t happy. She took them as hostages and made Rhys... do things in order to get them back.”

“What sort of things?” Jack growled, his voice low.

“I-I don’t know exactly,” Sasha stammered truthfully. “It was some sick sort of deal; he had to earn her back the money they’d lost, or she’d,” she trailed off, sliding her fingers horizontally across her throat.

Jack got the message. “So he stole some crap for her, and it fucked up his head. Is that what this is all about?”

Sasha regarded him warily, quirking an eyebrow with a pitying look on her face.

“What?” Jack snapped, that ferocity back in his eyes.

“He worked for her for years, Jack. For years,” she said, shuddering at the way the words tasted in her mouth. “Like I said, he was smart. And she knew that.”

Jack’s fists were clenched at his sides again, knuckles turning white. “Sasha,” he grit out from between his teeth. “What. Did. She. Make. Him. Do?”

Sasha maneuvered around the question, knowing that no answer she could give would be satisfactory; Hell, she didn’t even know completely what had happened herself. “Rhys started disappearing for days and then coming back absolutely shit-faced. We--our friends and I--were worried about him, especially when he kept avoiding us like the freaking plague. So we went to his apartment to check on him, y’know?”

Jack nodded slowly, although he was clearly still tense.

“We didn’t know anything then, so when we went in there we were half expecting him to be studying for the college classes he was taking or doing some other weird shit like sorting his socks. I even thought he might’ve been cheating on me.”

Jack’s flinch at her last sentence had her speeding to continue, once again aware of why they were in this shitty predicament in the first place.

“But the place was empty. It looked like nobody had been there for weeks, everything covered in dust, cupboards practically bare. We knew his family had no money, but this--this was different. I went into Rhys’ room to see if he’d left a note about where he was or anything, but the place looked like a goddamn crime scene.

“There were bloodstains in the floor, and more empty liquor bottles than the rest of New Haven combined probably went through in a year. I told everyone else to go home, that there was nothing to see. His room was just... private, I guess, and I didn’t want to betray him like that.”

“You still loved him?”

Sasha looked taken aback at Jack’s sudden question, especially by the lack of malice in his voice. “Yeah, I did. I really did.”

Jack nodded slowly at her response before gesturing for her to keep speaking.

“There was this folder on his bed,” she said, her voice even more cautious. “Vallory must have given it to him, because it wasn’t his handwriting, and it sure as hell wasn’t schoolwork.”

“What was in it?” Jack said, restrained anger seeping out from every syllable.

“Files,” she said shortly, struggling to string together the words to describe the impossible. Shit, what had she gotten herself into? “Not like coding or anything. They were profiles on people, bandit leaders and the like. Corporate execs too. I couldn’t read everything-- there was blood all over the fucking place--but there was a lot of, um, personal information on them.”

Jack clenched his jaw. He thought he knew where this was going, but didn’t want to interrupt Sasha.

“Physique, salary, connections, resume, frequent hangouts--it even had their allergies listed! It also,” Sasha paused, steeling herself for Jack’s reaction to what she was about to say next. “It also described what they preferred... sexually.”

Jack let out a hiss of breath he didn’t realized he’d been holding, his jaw muscles tensing despite his effort to calm them. He’d always had his suspicions about Rhys sleeping around, especially after one night of very, very drunken confessions and a subsequent two-day hangover. But enjoying hooking up was one thing; being forced to have sex for some bandit bitch-lord’s power play was very, very different.

Had that been why he’d been so submissive to Jack’s advances? Did he think he had to be? Jack felt his stomach tighten in fear; What if Rhys saw him as just another douche to get on his back for in his climb up the corporate ladder? If what Sasha was insinuating about his essentially forced prostitution was correct, Jack wouldn’t even blame him.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Sasha said, cutting Jack off from his thoughts, which were quickly turning murderous. “And I don’t know for sure if you’re right. Like I said, Rhys was dead-set against telling me anything.”

Jack had started to fidget, wanting nothing more than to talk to Rhys and beg him to please, please tell him the truth. How much more was Rhys hiding from him?

“Jack,” Sasha said, pulling his attention back to her. “There’s more.”

He shuddered, not sure how this horror story could get any worse and definitely not wanting to find out the manner in which it did.

“Rhys called me one night. It had to’ve been 3 a.m. at least. We hadn’t talked in months at that point, and I’d basically given up on him. Given up on us. We’d mutually broken it off, although nothing official; I mean, we hadn’t been on a date in a year, what else was I supposed to think?” Sasha said, her cohesiveness starting to spiral. “But I--I answered him anyways. I was worried, to say the least. And when he talked to me… something about it wasn’t right.”

Jack was biting his lip to keep from interjecting himself into the conversation, from making a stupid comment to lighten the mood in a completely immature way if only to keep himself from feeling all these dumb… feelings.

“He was slurring his words really badly, and he kept saying he was sorry, over and over again. When he said he was at home, I told him I would meet him there. Something was up, I knew it. I made him promise not to hang up on me, but he just kept apologizing, saying it was all his fault. I don’t think I’ve ever driven that fast in my entire fucking life.”

Even though it was in the past, Jack’s heart was slamming in his chest at Sasha’s words. He’d seen Rhys scared and vulnerable, not to mention drunk as hell, but nothing like what she was describing. Did Rhys not trust him with this kind of shit? He was his boyfriend, for fuck’s sake.

“When I found him, that shit… it was straight from a nightmare,” Sasha said, either ignoring or not registering Jack’s discomfort. “He’d fallen on the floor trying to get in bed, and was waving a half-empty bottle of vodka in his hand. And his right arm, it was just gone. Vanished. Blood everywhere. It reeked, even with the bandages he’d put on it,” she paused, looking like she might throw up. “I asked him what happened, and he just said that she killed them. That was it. Then he puked all over the floor.”

Jack was feeling quite nauseous himself, especially as he thought about Rhys’ cybernetic arm. He’d told Jack that he’d had it surgically removed when he volunteered for the cybernetic program, not that someone had literally blown it off. He swallowed thickly, which was painful with his dry throat.

“I think,” Sasha began, working to quell the trembling in her voice; it was clear she was still emotional about the whole ordeal. “I think Vallory finally killed his parents, and then tried to off him too. It fucked him up, all of it. There--there were pills too, when he threw up. He was passed out so I couldn’t ask, but I think he…”

She couldn’t bring herself to finish her sentence, but Jack could easily tell what she was getting at. Rhys, his sweet, confident (albeit sometimes assholeish) boyfriend, was so desperate and distraught that he’d tried to end his life. The thought alone almost made him completely lose his composure. But heroes didn’t cry, he reminded himself sternly. Heroes didn’t cry.

“I cleaned up the floor, bathed him, got him into bed. He woke up sometimes during all that, but he wasn’t making any sense. When he finally curled up in bed, I was pretty damn exhausted myself, practically passed out the second I hit the couch. And when I woke up, he was gone. I haven’t seen him since--at least, not until last week. He must’ve come up to Helios, started a new life for himself. I was happy for him, I really was. Not so happy when I realized that he’s still… dealing with this shit.”

Jack had remained silent during the end of her tale, and stayed quiet for a few minutes after she finished. Nothing made sense, and everything, everything was falling apart.

“Can I, um, have a minute?” he asked, looking slightly desperately at Sasha.

She nodded. “I’ll be in the kitchen with Nisha if you need anything.” She looked a bit shaken up herself, but that was nothing some tea (and serious repression) couldn’t fix.

Once he heard the door close behind Sasha, he let her words sink into him again. And damn if it didn’t hurt worse than every fucking bullet he’d taken. Rhysie, he thought to himself. Rhysie, Rhysie, Rhysie.

Then, although he’d never admit it to anyone, he buried his face into a pillow and cried.

[slythergirlimagines]

I’ll Always Take Care of You- Jack Shephard x Reader

          This isn’t a fanfic from the fandom that I will most consistently write for, however, the chance to write a story for a fandom that I hold very dear was too much to resist. I don’t have any problems writing outside of the Harry Potter fandom if I have a request and am familiar enough with the universe to write a decent story. Please request and feel free to blow up my asks!! Enjoy!

          Requested- Yes, and I hope it lives up to your expectations!

I’ll Always Take Care of You

      The sun was bright in your eyes as you walked along the beach, on the island you had been stranded on for God knows how long. You had been traveling back to Los Angeles, when something had gone wrong with the plane. The crew and pilot of Oceanic Flight 815 had assured you and your fellow passengers that it was just mild turbulence. Unfortunately, it was much worse than that, and your plane had crashed, leaving only a small group of survivors. In the numerous days you had been stranded here, you had experienced the things that nightmares were made of, like an entity that appeared to be made of smoke, ripping a pilot out of the cockpit and killing him.

              Life on The Island hadn’t been all bad. You and your fellow survivors had come up with a system of living on this rock. You assigned jobs for people to do, and you all contributed in a harmonious system. You had also grown close with people who used to be strangers, and now couldn’t live without. One of those people being the doctor, Jack Shephard.

        You simply adored Jack, and in the numerous weeks you had been stranded, you had found yourself growing closer and closer. You had met Jack when you woke up in the woods, after the crash, you had helped him save several people, and stitched up a wound on his side that he couldn’t reach himself. You had accompanied him, with a few others, to the plane’s cockpit, and had experienced the pilot’s horrifying death. You had been so distraught when you had thought Jack was dead, even though you didn’t know him well, that you had thrown yourself into his arms when he emerged from the trees. Ever since then you two had been inseparable, and the thought of doing something without the other made you both uncomfortable. Unsurprisingly, you had fallen hard for him in the time you had gotten to know one another, and the thought of being without him hurt you more than you cared to admit.

     Your train of thought was interrupted by shouting.

         “I don’t give a damn why you have it, you pretentious ass, just give it to me!” You heard a woman, most likely Kate scream.

     “Tell me why you want it so goddamn much, Freckles, and it’s all yours.” Sawyer sneered.

     You kept walking, not interested in getting involved in one of their fights. Sawyer was a pain in the ass, and as much as you pitied Kate, you didn’t have time to help her out. You were on your way to see Jack before you and Sun hiked into the jungle to look for a different variety of fruit. Sun’s garden and her orchard were turning out great, and you enjoyed helping her find new fruits to cultivate, especially because it got tiring eating the same food over and over again. As much as you enjoyed helping Sun, you hated being away from Jack, even for a minute. You took every opportunity to see him that you could. You had a sneaking suspicion that even if you had all the time in the world together, that it wouldn’t be enough for you.

     You approached Jack’s tent, a smile growing on your face, as it always did when you were around him. He was leaned over this supply bag, various supplies strewn around him on the sand. You noticed the way his muscles rippled as he sifted through the bag’s contents. A blush found its way to your cheeks, and you tried to fight it with all your might.

     “Taking inventory?” You asked, startling him a little in the process. He shot you a look, and returned to his bag, as you laughed at his expression.

      “Yes. I didn’t have anything to do, and it seemed like a good idea.” He said seriously, but you could see the smile on his face, the slight lift of his cheek. He couldn’t hide simple things from you. You smiled in return.

     “That is very smart of you doctor.” You teased him, earning a mock glare.

     He stood up, and brushed the sand off of him. He glanced at you with his beautiful brown eyes, and smiled. You couldn’t help but smile back, and melt a bit. He was so attractive, so kind, and you were hopelessly in love. Your heart started to race.

     “How can I help you today, Y/N?” He asked, a twinkle in his eye.

     “Well, I was hoping I could take a few minutes of your time, before I go off with Sun, but I can see that you’re very busy, so I’ll leave you to it.” You said, messing with him. You turned to leave, but not before catching the desperate look on his face, as you turned to go.

     “Wait!” He said, catching your arm and pulling you towards him. “Don’t go yet.” He said, pulling you into an embrace.

     Your felt your face heat up, as you relaxed into his arms. “Ok.” You mumbled, quite content to stay there forever. The hug lasted forever, neither one of you speaking, both soaking up the moment. It was times like these when you wondered if maybe he felt the same, but you would never ask. You could never risk losing someone so important to you. A moment later he spoke up again.

     “Please be careful. Promise me you’ll be safe.” He said, pulling back to look at you.

      You nodded. “I promise.”

       He sighed, looking like he was having an internal battle. “Are you sure you all don’t want me to come?” He asked, for the millionth time since you told him you were going.

       “We’ll be fine.” You affirmed. He nodded, seeming to accept this answer. You pulled out of his embrace, unwillingly. “I better go, Sun is waiting for me.”

       “Please, please be careful.” He said. And then, without warning, he kissed you on the forehead. A lingering kiss, that warmed you from head to toe, and accelerated you heart, and reddened you cheeks. He broke contact, and said for one last time, “Be safe.”

       “I will.” You promised, thoughts foggy from the kiss. You stumbled out of his tent in a daze, thoughts whirling. You barely noticed the walk to the orchard, just as you also barely noticed the quizzical look Sun shot you when you arrived.

       “Where have you been?” She asked, not unkindly.

      You smiled dreamily, but unaware you were pulling such a funny expression.

“With Jack.” You said as if it was self-explanatory.

       Sun shot you a knowing look, and a smirk. “Oh, I see, everything makes sense now.”

      You were immediately brought back down to Earth. “What do you mean?” You asked, more serious and in control of yourself than you were before.

      Sun shook her head smiling. “Nothing, it’s just so painfully obvious that you’re in love with him.” She said as you all began your hike into the jungle.

      “It is not!” You protested. “I mean, it isn’t because I’m not!” You covered, aware of your mistake in word choice. Sun just continued smiling, but refrained from commenting, to your relief.

       The hike was long and exhausting, and you were relieved when you finally reached the grove of trees. You and Sun set into your routine of harvesting seeds. The work was relatively quick, and pretty quiet. You rested afterwards, and enjoyed some of the ripened fruit. You and Sun quickly shoved several ripe fruits into a bag, to share with everyone later. You began the long journey back, thoughts on a million different subjects. Most of them, admittedly about Jack. Sun was equally distracted in her thoughts, for both of you failed to noticed the approaching storm, until the first few drops of rain fell.

       It was cold and refreshing, and seeing no immediate threat, you both agreed to continue on towards camp. Soon, however, the mud path you had been following was completely washed away. You felt lost, and confused. You two had been walking for what seemed like hours, and you very well could have made some wrong turns. The panic was starting to set in, as you thought of how lost you could be. It was possible that you both could die out here. Before your anxiety could become a full blown panic attack, you remembered Jack’s story about fear, and the method he used to cope. Five seconds, you reminded yourself.

      “We should find some sort of shelter.” You yelled to Sun over the roar of the rain. She nodded her agreement, and you both scanned the area for some place that would shelter you. Finding none in that area, you resolved to travel only until you found a place. You had been hiking only a few minutes longer, when the rain picked up worse than before. The mud was running now, and was harder to get through, causing both of yours and Sun’s feet to get stuck multiple times. You felt blind as you tried in vain to squint through the dense rain. You were ahead of Sun when you slipped. You, being the unlucky person you are, managed to fall near rocks, and slice up the whole right side of your body.

     “Are you alright?” Sun asked, taking your arm into her hands. You nodded, trying to shake off the pain. It was just a scratch.

     The rain let up soon, and after a few more hours of hiking, you managed to make out a trail. You made it to camp by late afternoon, exhausted and in pain. The whole right side of your body throbbed, and tears were pricking your eyes when you finally made it to your tent. Just as you were about to go in, you heard someone yelling for you. You quickly blinked the tears out of your eyes, as Jack approached you. He pulled you in for a hug, resulting in you wincing. You tried to suppress it in hopes he hadn’t noticed, but of course he had. He was trained to notice these things.

    “Y/N? What’s wrong?” He asked, panicking.

    “Nothing! I’m fine, just a little sore from the hike is all!” You said, trying and failing to keep your voice from shaking. Jack was not buying your story.

    “You would be a terrible actress, y/n.” He said reprimanding you. “Please, tell me what’s wrong, so I can help you.” The concern on his face won you over, and you told him the whole, embarrassing story.

     To your surprise, he didn’t laugh at you, and instead picked you up, bridal style, your left side cradled to his body, in an effort to spare your right side from any more pain.

     “Jack!” You protested, embarrassed. “I can walk, you know!”

      He smiled at you, charmingly. “It hurts you to walk, and I am more than happy to help alleviate some of your pain.”

       You hid your face in the crook of his neck, hoping to hide your identity from the rest of camp. No one would take you seriously ever again, if they saw you now.

       Jack got you into his tent easily, and with little pain on your part. You had to admit that he saved you a lot of pain that would’ve come from walking. Jack was in doctor mode, as he ordered you to lift up your tank top. You blushed scarlet, but complied with shaking breath. Jack didn’t even seem phased, as he looked at you. He worked quickly, examining the wounds, and grabbed the bottle of alcohol.

       “This will sting.” He warned you as he poured it on each wound. You hissed and grabbed the nearest thing you could squeeze, which just so happened to be his shoulder.

      “This seems familiar.” You joked weakly, reminded of the day you first met. He smiled up at you, understanding the memory you were referencing.

      “You won’t need stitches, luckily none of the cuts were that deep. You just need to keep them clean to make sure they don’t get infected. Let me just bandage them and we’ll be done.” He said, serious again. He was finished bandaging in no time, and he stood up.

       Suddenly, he seemed aware of how this situation could look. A light blush spread across his cheeks, as he stepped away.

       He cleared his throat, and turned away, giving you some privacy, though it wasn’t necessary, but you appreciated the gesture. When you had pulled down your shirt, Jack made you settle down on the makeshift cot he had laying on the ground.

       “I want you to stay here tonight, just in case something happens during the night. I’ll be close enough to respond during an emergency.” He said, concern and worry etched into his face. You smiled slightly, still recovering from the awkward moment.

       “That isn’t necessary, Jack.” You said trying my hardest to keep your dignity.

       “Please, for me?” He asked, pulling the puppy eyes. He knew you couldn’t refuse him anything when he pulled that face.

        Once you had agreed, Jack started some idle conversation, that led nowhere and didn’t occupy enough time. The silence was thick,  and almost overwhelming. You were about to just get up and leave when you heard some shuffling. A second later, Jack laid down beside you on his blankets.

            He was quiet only a moment more before he said, “I could have lost you today. Do you realize that?”

     “I’m fine Jack, you wouldn’t have lost me. I’m right here.”  You said, finding his hand in the dark and squeezing it.

       “I know, but if you had been more seriously injured, there might've been nothing I could have done to save you. What would I have done then?” He said, pain in his voice. “I can’t be without you, y/n. You are way too important to me.”

     “You’re important to me too.” You said. “In fact, you’re the most important person in my life.” You admitted, inspired by his honesty. There was a moment of silence, which felt eternal. You questioned ever saying anything, when his voice cut through the silence.

             “Really?” He asked, and for the first time in your life, you thought he sounded vulnerable.

      “Yes.” You responded simply. It was barely a second before he kissed you.

       His lips were soft and warm against yours. He kissed you as if he was worshipping you, it was breathtaking. You leaned into him more, and opened your mouth, deepening the kiss. You were almost out of breath when Jack pulled away, resting his forehead on yours.

       “I’m sorry,” He panted,” I seemed to have lost control, as I always do when it comes to you.” He teased, laughing breathily at the end.

       “You lost control?” You asked, just as breathless and teasing. “I was a monster.” You laughed.

       You both laughed quietly for a few moments, until Jack spoke up.

       “You are the most important person in my life, too. I don’t know what I would ever do without you.” He said, seriousness clouding his tone. A giant smile broke out on your face as he kissed you again, softer this time. When he pulled away again, he laid back down and pulled you to him, being careful with your right side.

       “Jack, thanks for patching me up.” You said, with a yawn. You  could feel Jack’s smile, as he told you to sleep.

       “I’ll always take care of you.”