#waiting for it to be quiet outside before you ever even toed the line | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hansensgirl · 4 years ago

Text

here, kitty kitty.

summary | Your sugar daddy wants his wildest dreams to come to life. You, on the other hand, aren’t really into it.

warnings | Dubcon, dark themes, pet play, Dark!Sebastian Stan, Sugar Daddy/Sugar Baby relationship, degrading, praise, humiliation, spanking, overstimulation, use of a leash, spanking via a paddle, butt plugs, no this isn’t beastiality; pet play is a kink, she’s not a furry, public sex? (the reader takes her panties off in the car), tail plug, dildos, vibrators, kneeling, cat ears (headband), smut, rough sex, anal play, dacryphilia?, use of a vibrating butt plug, double vaginal, finger sucking, crawling, + more!! this is a dark fic!! if you aren’t comfortable with reading any of these things, then don’t read this fic!! i am not responsible for your media consumption. +18!!!

pairings | Dark!Sugar Daddy!Sebastian Stan x Shy!Reader.

authors note | this is a birthday drabble for the lovely @peachyteabuck. happy birthday bb! i hope your day is amazing, wonderful, special and full of love and happiness!! you’re such an amazing person and friend, and even though i don’t know much about you, i can tell you’re an even more amazing person in real life. happy birthday, ily! also, this is a dark!sebastian stan fic. i am not implying that sebastian would do this, it’s basically an au. it’s fiction, and fiction isn’t real! any hate comments will be deleted and you’ll be kindly blocked, even if you’re a mutual <3 also i am not trying to wipe the existence of alejandra, once again, it’s fiction! it ain’t real. gif credit to my special baby @mypoisonedvine !! ily!

Your dainty fingers flittered over price tags carelessly. Dollar signs filled your eyes, gleaming and glittering with awe and shock. You couldn’t believe yourself. Once upon a time you used to stare at clearance tags over and over, wondering how gravely it would affect your financial situation. Trips to the bank grew frequently and so did the pile of job applications on the wonky kitchen table you owned. You grimaced at the painful memory, there was no way you’d ever be able to go back to that living nightmare. You sighed as you couldn’t find anything you liked in the store. Associates decked down in all black stood in the back of the store, per your sugar daddy’s request. Sebastian Stan, one of the highest paid actors and a complete heartthrob. You remembered how you both had met, you were his waitress at some expensive French restaurant. You were getting an earful from one of his team members and he had swooped in and saved the day. Soon after that came lavish dates and gifts, and eventually the ultimate proposition that changed your life in the blink of an eye.

He made quick work of moving you out of your cardboard box of an apartment and into his regal condo that laid in the Upper Eastside of New York. Your wardrobe was wiped clean with name brands that made your heart flutter. Decadent jewelry was donned as he liked it -- simple, yet elegant. Pearls laid on your clavicle, not too tight yet not too loose. He dressed you himself that day, as he did everyday. He took care of you like a little pet, one that he was very proud of. He stood right behind you, eyes trailing up and down your body as he admired you. You felt shy under his stoic gaze, ducking your head down. “Babydoll, did you see anything you liked?” He asked, placed his hand on the small of your back. You hesitatingly relaxed into it, nervous yet comforted at the same time. He always kept you on your toes. One minute, his hands would be constantly roaming your body, and the next, they’d be gone.

He had done a marvellous job at keeping your relationship private. You knew how paparazzi would camp outside his many residentials, vying for a simple snap of the actor. But he was smart, always one step ahead. “No, Daddy…” You trailed off, your voice no more than a quiet whisper. You were always shy towards him, especially in public. Quite frankly, you were intimidated. And he loved that about you. You always worried that the other workers in the store would judge you, envy you, sneer at you, or even take pictures of you and him. They were paid hush money, a crisp Benjamin would be slipped into their hands discreetly and sometimes along with a ticket to his latest movie or an autograph. An Italian suit framed his body perfectly, slicked back hair and a strong jawline that made your mouth water. It was grey, almost like the muted tones his eyes held in the midst of cerulean. “Poor baby, you want Daddy to choose something for you?” He asked, the name making you whimper.

You nodded timidly, the heat of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks as shame crawled up your body. His large hand came up and rubbed your bottom lip gently, loving the way it had a slight pout to it. “Go to the dressing room, baby.” He decreed, making you nod and walk over to the room that was closed off with velvet curtains. As soon as he heard your footsteps recede farther, his voice boomed around the store. He had heard the workers talking about you, saying degrading things that would undoubtedly make you cry. He was protective, and he wasn’t going to let some measly, ill-mannered people dishearten you. Maybe you did hear their words, that’s why you couldn’t find anything. “I swear to god, I’ll make sure none of you get a proper job for the rest of your lives! You’ll live in your families’ basements and you’ll neve be happy for the rest of your lives. I’ll ruin you all.” He yelled, revelling in the way they all had tears in their eyes. He dismissed them calling the owner to make sure they got fired.

Veins popped out and his face turned red as he desperately tried to calm down. He searched the store for something for his baby, but prevailed with nothing. He stormed to a mirror and smoothed his hair down, checking his suit for wrinkles and swallowed thickly. He walked through the velvet curtains and spotted you sitting on one of the leather ottomans, one leg bouncing with anxiety and your lip between your teeth. You were lost in the deep sea that was your thoughts, not even noticing that your sugar daddy came for you. Strong hands weighed down on your droopy shoulders, squeezing them slightly to disrupt your far too long thought train. “Did you hear anything, baby?” He asked, leaning closer to you. His warm breath fanned against the back of your neck, lips soft against your ear. You furrowed your brows and turned to look at him.

Worry, fury and dominance etched his features. “Hear what?” You asked, pure naivety lacing your tone. Worry morphed into relief, and his frown turned into a small smile. “Nothing, we’re gonna go now. This store is quite -- how must I put it? -- lackluster.” He smiled, ushering you to get up. You followed him like a little puppy, latching onto the bottom sleeve of his suit. The clicking of your heels on the floor were almost in rhythm with your breathing. Long strides managed to keep you up and deep breaths calmed your nerves. You knew anyone could be watching, phones out as they readied to expose you. You could never brace yourself from the sharp teeth of the internet, as they were always ready to tear you both apart. You ducked your head down and cowered behind him as he led you away from the preposterous mall.

He turned around and looked down at you, sternly telling you something. But you don’t pay attention. Instead you chose to ignore him and marvel at the small dog in a stroller. Sure, it was flamboyant in it’s own way, but how could anyone ignore the sight? The dog is a mix between a shih-tzu and something else that you couldn’t quite figure out. You watched as the stroller passed you and headed into the mall, getting lost somewhere in there. “...Are you even listening to me, kitten?” He asked dubiously, raising one of his eyebrows. “Hmm?” You hummed, turning to look at your Daddy. “Sorry, Daddy, there was just a cute dog in a stroller that I saw!” You exclaimed, pouting slightly out of habit. Sebastian took a deep breath before sighing heavily. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried his hardest to not lose his cool.

He had given you a set of rules when your relationship started. They toed at the line of strict and controlling, but after he explained every single kink and reward they were reasonable in your naive, doe-like eyes. You didn’t dare to question them or his authority, knowing that would only end with him engulfing in flames of rage and fury. He had a short temper, one that he had developed over time. Maybe it was the stress and the pressure of his privileged, well-earned life, but you’ll never know. Listening to him was one of those rules, high on the list that he always prioritized over most things. He loathed it when you didn’t listen to him. “I said, go sit and wait in the car. Oh, also, ditch the panties.” He snapped, making you whimper. In the two years of your relationship, you were never fond of his harsh tone. “Yes, Daddy.” You squeaked, walking away to the sleek Jaguar that was parked along with the other luxurious cars. You bit your tongue as you weaved your way through millions of dollars that were on wheels.

You carefully opened the passenger door and sat in the leather seat that had a pink, fluffy blanket covering it. You closed the door and set your small, round, pink Chanel handbag under your seat. Hesitatingly, you reached up your dress and your fingers blindly found your panties. You hooked your thumbs around the lace fabric that was a bit too expensive for your taste. You lifted your lower body up and slowly pulled the fabric down, falling into a jumble at your feet. You struggled to untangle them from your heels, before finally triumphing with a small grunt. You shoved the panties into your purse and bit your lip. Embarrassment gnawed at you as you saw people walking by. But they couldn’t see you at all. The darkly tinted glass was like flimsy armour for you in your eyes. Nobody saw through them, but it still made you feel like you were being watched. Leisurely, you began to get lost in that deep sea of thoughts again.

What would he do? Was he going to take you to another mall? You picked at the ends of your Kate Spade dress. It was fancy, dainty, something a princess would wear once and throw away. It made you look classy and tasteful. Underneath it, though, was a different story. Numerous hickeys, bruises and bite marks littered your skin. The marks made you feel small, submissive and owned. Possessed like a play thing, like his pet. Sebastian loved to see you all marked up, it was like you were his work of art and he was the artist. You shyly spread your legs and felt a sweat beginning to form on your back. Your palms began to sweat too, out of pure nervousness of course. You gripped the seats and sighed, before wiping your hands on the blanket. You looked up and saw Sebastian walking out with two bags in his hands. He clutched the silky handles of the bags and walked in long, harsh strides. A small scowl was on his face, seemingly displeased with the day so far.

He weaved his way through the cars as did you. He harshly opened the door for the driver’s seat as if it wouldn’t cost a fortune to repair. He sat down and sighed, shoving the Tiffany & Co. bag in the backseat. You pouted, feeling the anger radiating off of him like heat. The other bag remained in his hands, but you couldn’t recognize the store name. “Daddy got you a few gifts, okay kitten?” He handed the bag over to you as he spoke. You nodded but didn’t dare to open the bag as he hadn’t given you permission. “Thank you, Daddy!” You giggled, your voice holding innocence He smirked at you and crept his hand up your thigh, slowly but surely. Ring-donned knuckles grazed against your wet folds, bumping up against your swollen, sensitive clit. You let out a whimper at the feeling and slick drooled out of you from his touch.

“Daddy…” You whined, looking down at your lap. “Yeah baby?” He asked, playing dumb to the fact that he was toying with your sensitive pussy. You bit your tongue before you could beg and plead for more. You knew he didn’t like it when you were greedy for more. He pulled his hand away from your pussy and you both admired the way his fingers glistened with your arousal. He shoved the same fingers into your mouth, making you gag and drool. You sucked on them as if you were starved, the sweet yet slightly bitter taste of your slick filling your mouth. He pulled his fingers out with a sounding ‘pop’ that made you giggle. “Good kitten, guess you’re not so dumb after all.” He husked, the mix of praise and degradation making you wetter. He revved the engine of his car and began to pull out of the parking lot, driving ensuite to his Upper Eastside home.

The rumble and vibrations of his car went straight to your pussy, reminding you of the time where he sat you stark-naked on the hood of his car and revved the engine just to tease you. Later that night, he chided and punished you for being a messy little kitten. The vivid, lewd memory made you clench your thighs as you were desperate for some sort of friction. Sebastain’s right hand danced all over your body as his left hand gripped the steering wheel tightly. You both got lucky that afternoon, as rush hour traffic had yet to start. Smoothly, he parked in the private garage that housed some of his other cars. They were all worth more than anything, probably hundreds of thousands of dollars. He led you out of the garage and into the elevator, a sweet jazz tune playing at a low hum that was almost missable. You still held onto the bag that he gifted you and you even dared to try and take a peek inside.

The sparkly tissue hid the gift well from your intrusive, detective eyes. You bounced on your feet as you wondered what it could possibly be. It was slightly heavy, but you partially blamed your weak muscles for that. Sebastian never let you lift a finger when it came to hard work. You barely paid attention to the ding of the elevator as you had reached the floor of his penthouse. Sebastian gently dragged you out, your short steps barely keeping up with his long strides. The click of your heels no longer made a sound as the carpet of the hallways muted them gently. “Now when we get inside, I want you to strip everything and kneel on the floor.” He ordered, voice at a low baritone that made you even wetter. Your noticed that your inner thighs were slightly damp with arousal, your pussy leaking with want.

“Yes, Daddy.” You smiled, easily obeying him. You could already feel the ache in your knees that would come with kneeling on the floor. He opened the door and you swiftly made your way to the bedroom. You swung the door open and was met with the room that you spent most of your time in. Grey hues illuminated under the brightness of the chandelier. You gently kicked your shoes into a corner and quickly shed all your clothes off, gently laying them onto the white divan that was at the feet of your bed. You bit your lip as you wondered whether or not you should take a peak in the bag. But you reminded yourself of the consequences your curiosity always brought you. He knew, he always knew when you let your hands and eyes wandered like tourists in Venice. You hesitatingly set the bag onto the dresser, before clumsily unclasping your pearl necklace. You were out of breath at that point, chest heaving like you had just ran a marathon. You hugged your naked body as you moved back to the divan, kneeling in front of it. On the floor, the fluffy carpet dug into your knees slightly, making you wince.

You looked down at the ground and clasped your hands behind your back. The cool air made goosebumps rise like the dead rising from their graves. Your cunt throbbed with anticipation and neediness, you just couldn’t wait for him. Your heart clamoured wildly as you heard him walk closer to the bedroom, opening the door to be pleased by the sight of you on your knees. “Such a good little kitten.” He praised, loosening the expensive tie around his neck. The blazer of the Armani suit was strewn somewhere in the kitchen and all Sebastian was left with was his dress pants and dress shirt. He rolled his sleeves up as he walked around you, making the hairs on the back of your neck raise. You were undoubtedly nervous for what was about to come. You heard the rustling of the bag from the dresser, the sound reverberating throughout the room. “You’d let Daddy do anything to you, right?” He asked, pulling out the bottle of lube from the bag.

“Of course, Daddy!” You exclaimed, knowing it was another one of his rules. Let daddy do whatever he wants to you. He smirked as he pulled the glittery box out of the bag, carefully setting it down next to the bottle of lube. He grabbed everything else from the bag, leaving only the tissue paper. “Close your eyes, kitten.” He demanded, and you listened easily. You slowled your erratic breaths down and furrowed your eyebrows at a foreign feeling. A headband laid on your head and was tucked behind your ears. Then you felt his hands ghosting around your neck, followed by the feeling of cool leather. Sebastian fastened the collar together and tightened it just enough to have you slightly gasping for air. His hands left your neck and his fingers played with the little bell on the front of the collar.

The sound made you even more confused and lost. But you didn’t dare to open your mouth. “Such a cute little kitten.” He cooed, walking back to the dresser. He hastily opened the box with a loud rip and marvelled at its contents. Headbands, tails, buttplugs, paddles, handcuffs, ball gags, dildo gags, dildos, vibrators, leashes, and nipple clamps of all kinds were at his disposal, all for his little kitten - you. He grabbed the pink leash and unwrapped, it carefully, opening its clasp to attach to your collar. “Now open your eyes, kitten.” He instructed, gripping the leash tightly. You opened your eyes and gasped, panic taking over your body. “Sebastian, what’s this?” You nervously questioned, your bottom lip quivering. The smile on his lips quickly turned into a scowl, as you had broken a rule. Never, ever call him Sebastian. He tugged on the leash harshly, pulling you up. “What the fuck did you just call me?” He growled, clearly in no mood for you to act out.

“S- Sorry, Daddy.” You quickly apologized, terrified of his hell-sent wrath. You hesitatingly reached up to touch the headband. Your eyes went wide as you felt ears that would resemble cat ears. Cat ears, the leash and the collar… You added it all up and gasped as it dawned on you, he was into pet play. “Now listen, kitten. You gotta listen to the rules, and if you don’t listen then I could punish you by ending this little relationship, okay? I know you can’t survive without me, and you should remember that.” He spat, making your throat tighten up with an impending sob. You swallowed it down and nodded, deciding to listen to him. “Good kitten.” He praised, smiling once again. He pushed you down and pulled your ass up into the air, and you let him manhandle you. Your dripping pussy was exposed to him and shame bit you like a snake.

He let go of the leash and walked to the dresser, and for a split second you thought you could have ran away. But as soon as he turned back around, those thoughts went away. The coolness of the lub made you flinch as he poured some onto your ass hole. He carefully spread it around but didn’t bother to warm you up. You shouted when you felt the tip of the tail plug push into your puckered hole. It stretched your ass out painfully and you couldn’t bear the pain. It shot up your spine and made you feel dizzy. You thought you were going to pass out as the large part of the plug forced its way into you. Finally, the excruciating pain stopped increasing. Into died down to a low thrumming and throbbing and soon dwindled into an aching pleasure. You felt full yet empty, which only made you whine pathetically.

“Poor kitten, so desperate for your Daddy, hm?” He snickered, making you shy away from him. Your wetness coated your inner thighs and began to drip from your cunt, the sweet scent of it making him moan. “Before I fuck that tight little pussy of yours, I believe I have to punish you.” He spoke, shrugging his shirt off. You watched from the corner of your eyes as he stripped down to his birthday suit that was always a delectable sight for your eyes only. Your mouth salivated as you saw his large, hard cock in his boxers. You couldn't fight the urge to rub your thighs together at all. The slight friction was euphoric, but it just wasn’t enough. Sebastian picked up the paddle that had the word ‘mine’ engraved on it. He walked back to your bent over form and soothingly rubbed your ass before speaking.

“Count them, and don’t forget to thank me.” He implored, smacking the paddle harshly on your right ass cheek. “One, thank you Daddy.” You squeaked out. He took turns on each cheek, hitting you with the same amount of agonizing strength. Tears streamed down your face as you sobbed after each spank. Your ass was bruised, the word ‘mine’ indented all over it. “Twenty, thank you Daddy!” You whimpered. “You like this, don’t you? Such a good little kitten, all slutty and dripping for your Daddy.” He gently barked, making you nod. His words only added gasoline to the fire that was your shame and arousal. You felt a harsh tug from the leash and suddenly you were on your hands and knees, just like a kitten. Your mascara was leaking, smeared on your face like in those angsty-heartbreak movies.

Sebastian wiped the tears and ruined mascara away, but he only made you l;ook more pathetic than before. He’d love to fuck your beautiful face until you passed out, or to slap your little cheeks until you begged for more. He wanted to break you, to turn you into his little kitten. You gulped down your fear as you waited for what he’d gladly give you next. Your eyes fell to his hard cock, still stuck in its confinement that was his Hugo Boss boxers. They hung right where his intriguing v-line was, the same path that would lead you to your treasure -- his cock. You looked up at him, watching as he sucked his bottom lip between his pearly whites. “Beg for it.” He growled. You knew how much he loved to hear you beg. It made him feel superior, it fed his ego but it made you feel submissive and desperate. But oh, the rewarding praise it would come with was so addictive, like ecstasy.

“Please daddy? I’ll be a good little kitten! I need your big cock daddy, please?” You begged, your voice slightly strained from the screaming and yelling. You looked up at him and unintentionally gave him those puppy eyes that always made him weak in the knees. Glazed over orbs that were slightly sad, begging in their own language that was silence. Sebastian let go of the leash and stalked away from you, keeping his predatory eyes trained on you. You admired the scratches that were stained on his back that your well manicured nails left behind. Just like a kitten. He sits on the bed and crosses his arms, large muscles bulging and the sight makes you whimper -- loudly. You loved the way your small hands would struggle to grip his large biceps as you’d scramble for purchase whilst he’d rail into you.

The phantom feeling of his cock driving in and out of you sparks something inside of you, pushing you into a light, floaty headspace. The loud snap of his fingers made you jump with fear. He pointed at the floor next to him and you furrowed your eyebrows with mystification. You knew he wasn’t going to help you out then, no. You were all on your own. Sebastian raised his eyebrow as he waited for you to crawl towards him, just like how a kitten should. He wasn’t going to help you out, you needed to learn on your own. He longed for you to fully fall into the headspace that would make you all dumb and stupid. He loved to break you, to see you depend on him for everything. “D- Daddy?” You called out, waiting for him to tell you to do something. But he remained as silent as a stone. “Here, kitty, kitty...” The snapping, the pointing, and the waiting… He wanted you to crawl, didn’t he?

You gulped and winced as you put one knee before the other, one hand before the other. You soon met Sebastian's bouncing feet, before looking up at him. All your arousal leaked all over you, and as much as you hated to admit it, the whole thing turned you on even more. The dominance, the degrading, the feeling of needing him, it all made the passionate fire in your abdomen continue to burn. Sebastian turned to face you and ran his thumb across your lips, smearing your saliva around. He pushed his thumb in your mouth and you eagerly sucked on it as if it were his cock. He abruptly pulled it out, making you put. “Nuh uh, none of that.” He chided, feeling his cock stirring in his pants. “Such a good, dumb little kitten. Take daddy’s cock out.” He jeered, and you nearly sobbed. Finally, finally. You swiftly pulled his boxers down, watching as his large cock bounced up and hit his lower abdomen. Thick ropes of pre-cum leaked down the shaft of his cock and you never wanted to suck him off more in your life.

You involuntarily darted your tongue out to lap up all the pre-cum, but a harsh tug on the pink leather leash halted you. “As much as I’d love to stuff your cute, slutty little mouth with my cock, I’m in the mood to fuck you until you’re just a braindead kitten.” He belted, leaving no room for argument or begging. He leans down and captures your lips in a heated, rough kiss. You can barely keep up with the Greek God-esque man. The kiss is dominating; arduous and vehement. His teeth nipped at your wet lips and you whimper into the kiss, only adding gasoline to the fire. He forcefully pushed his tongue into your mouth and you let it explore everywhere. You sucked out it softly, rubbing your thighs together to alleviate the burning ache that just seems to only intensify. He pulled away from you all at once and you felt dizzy. Your lips were throbbing and suddenly you’re thrown onto the bed.

You felt the plug push farther into you -- further shocking you as it already was so deep. It grazed against each and every one of your sensitive spots, making you cry out. It was the kind of pleasure that was also painful, but the kind of pain that made you want to be hurt more and more. You wondered if you were a masochist, if Sebastian had turned you into a masochist. But at that time, that was the least of your worries. From the corner of your eyes, you saw the glint from the glittery box that Sebastian had purchased. He flipped you onto your stomach and slowly pulled the tail out, stroking it every now and then. “Ngh.” You moaned out it was pulled out all the way. Sebastian stared at your gaping hole, wishing he could just stick his cock in you and fuck you into oblivion. He could, but he shouldn’t; not yet at least.

You gripped the sheets tightly, silk slightly slipping from your sweaty hands. A gasp flew past your lips as Sebastian puckered his lips and spat on your puckered hole, before rubbing it in. You fought the need to push your hips back against his thumb, slowly pushing into you. The stretch was just as painful as the plug, your poor ass burning. He pulled his thumb back out before grabbing another plug, one that had a pink tail. He swiftly pushed it in and your eyes rolled back into your skull at the feeling. It wasn’t as painful as before, it was actually pleasurable. You swore you lost your vision for a brief second, and even your breath as well as your morals. Well, you lost your morals a long time ago, to be frank.

You felt him stroke the fluffy part of the tail again, almost trying to soothe you. He fiddled with the base of the plug, trying to find the little nub that was supposed to be there. His fingers flipped it and suddenly the plug began to vibrate. Muted, strong vibrations radiated throughout your ass and up your spine, even reaching to your poor little pussy. You moaned pornographically, bucking your hip involuntarily, humping the air. “Aw, poor little kitten is so needy.” He taunted, even though it was the same case for him. He was harder than anything and it was almost painful. Pre-cum leaked from his aching, silky and dripped down to his swollen balls.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled your hips back towards his and grinded his cock against your dripping pussy. You were so wet that you could smell the slightly bitter scent of your arousal in the air. It was muted, faint, but anybody would have noticed. Sebastian grabbed the base of his cock and bumped the silky, bulbous head of his cock against your clit. You cried out, “Please daddy!” But he only turned up the vibrations and continued to rub the tip against your pearl of nerves. His cock teased your drooling hole, and you just couldn’t take it anymore. “Please fuck me, daddy!” You pleaded. Sebastian sheathed his cock into your wet pussy, impaling you. You wheezed as he slowly bottomed out, his cock slightly grazing your cervix.

You didn’t mind it, though. He stayed still, his cock throbbing inside your core. He reached for the pink hitachi wand and turned it on, pressing it onto your poor little clit. You shrieked at the abrupt amount of pleasure, your hand darting down to where the wand was. You held it in place even though your hands were shaking. Your body held a slight tremor and Sebastian began to pound into your pussy. The sound of skin slapping, both of your moans and the obscene squelching from your pussy filled the room. “Oh fuck!” You yelled, feeling your orgasm building up already. “Fuck, so tight.” Sebastian groaned, thrusting into you even harder. His cock kept nudging against your g-spot, each time making you dizzier.

“D- Daddy… Can I cum? Please?!” You squealed, your voice louder than the banging that came from the bed headboard against the wall. “Fuck- No, hold it.” He growled, before moaning loudly, You clenched around his cock, the pleasure pushing you closer and closer to your release. Sebastian watched as your juices coated his cock, glistening with your arousal. “Please daddy?” You begged, knowing all too well that you might pass out if you don’t cum — at least that’s what it felt like. Your pussy squeezed him with all it’s mine, wetness dripping all over the sheets and you struggled to stop screaming. “Oh!” You gasp as he pushed the plug into you deeper. “Yeah, take in deep in your slutty, tight little pussy. You gonna cum, kitten? Such a good little pet!” He shouted, and you wailed. “Cum, cum all over my cock.” He commanded. The dam inside you broke as you came all over his cock, milking him. “Thank you, Daddy!” You mewled, bucking against his cock.

You babbled dumbly as you soon became overstimulated. Sebastian tugged on your leash and the bell on it rang non-stop. You tried to run away from him, the pleasure becoming too much. But you soon found yourself moving back against his cock, fucking yourself. “Poor kitten, can’t take my cock now even though you fuckin’ begged for it.” He spat, his thrusts growing sloppy. Your pussy spasmed as you came for the second time, your vision becoming darker than usual. You fell against the bed but you didn’t relent your grip on the wand. Your body was on fire, heart clamouring at such a rate that you couldn’t calm it down. “Oh fuck…” He groaned, pulling out of your pussy to stave off his orgasm. Your cum dripped from his cock as he flipped you onto your back and spread your legs wide.

Sebastian plummeted his cock back into your pussy and grabbed the sparkly dildo in the box. Before you could ask him what he was about to do, he slowly pushed the dildo alongside his cock. It wasn’t as big as his cock, no, but it was enough to have you screaming at him to stop. You pushed at his hard chest but he didn’t budge. Instead, he growled at you to stop. “...If you don’t listen then I could punish you by ending this little relationship, okay? I know you can’t survive without me, and you should remember that.” His words echoed in your mind like a memory that you wanted to forget but you were always reminded of it. You both moaned once he stopped pushing the dildo into your stretched out pussy. You were sure that he ruined you for anyone else.

He slowly began to thrust both his cock and the dildo in and out of you. His thrusts were slow but sharp and hard, even though they were slightly sloppy. You came for a third time, your mouth falling open as you let out a silent scream. Tears streamed down your cheeks again and you couldn’t take it anymore. “One more, kitten.” He bargained even though you knew you couldn’t object. His cock and the dildo hitting your g-spot over and over, the butt plug, and the hitachi wand were all too much for you. But they all ruined you over and over, and they all made you cum over and over. “Oh- Oh my god! ‘M gonna cum so fucking hard!” You preened, arching your back off the bed. You unintentionally pressed the hitachi wand harder against your clit, only intensifying your orgasm.

You gushed around Sebastian’s cock as thick, white, hot ropes of cum painted your walls. His cock pulsed in your pussy as he continued to fill you up. Shockwaves were sent throughout your body and you left the conscious world for a few seconds — making a quick trip to heaven. Or hell. Sebastian pulled out and watched as his cum followed both his cock and the dildo. Your sore hole gaped slightly, all fucked out and ruined. He turned the vibrators off and you curled up into a ball. You slowly descended from your powerful high, sighing heavily. You shut your eyes as you ushered Sebastian to cuddle you. But he just chuckled like a sadist. “Oh no kitten, did you think we were done?”

3K notes · View notes

fridayfirefly · 4 years ago

Text

All For The Investigation

Read All For The Investigation on AO3

Masterlist

By Tim’s calculations, there was an 87% certain that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was the Parisian former hero Ladybug. However, 87% was not 100%, so Bruce required further investigation. Damian was stuck with the job.

Except, Damian knew that stuck wasn't exactly the right word. Stuck implied that he was displeased with the situation. Damian wasn't displeased. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was the most pleasant person in all of Gotham Academy. If Damian had to choose anyone to be forced to spend time with, he would choose Marinette. Though he grumbled about being forced to spend time with plebeians (for the benefit of his brothers, who would mercilessly tease Damian if they even suspected that he had a crush), Damian was quite pleased by the assignment.

Given that Marinette was in his history class, it was quite easy to arrange a situation in which they were forced to be in each others' proximities. When their teacher announced that there would be an upcoming group project with randomly assigned partnerships, it was simple for Damian to break into her office and switch around some of the names. When the partnerships were announced and Marinette and Damian were paired together, Damian made his move.

"Dupain-Cheng, if you would like to work on the project over the weekend, we can do so at my house."

"Sounds good, Wayne, but you know, you can just call me Marinette," said Marinette with a smile.

Damian felt flustered, which was a very bad sign. He never felt anything less than perfectly composed. "Then you may call me Damian."

Marinette's smile got even bigger. There was a feeling in his chest that, had it been caused by anyone else, Damian would have suspected it to be a complication of the broken ribs from Joker's last attack. "Let me give you my number, and we can plan a meeting this weekend. Would Saturday work for you?"

Damian nodded as he handed Marinette his phone. "My schedule is free on Saturday."

"Great!" chirped Marinette. She plugged in her number, then posed for a picture, explaining that it was, "For the contact photo."

And if in the privacy of his bedroom, Damian stared at that contact photo for twenty-minutes straight, it was just for research purposes. Just to compare Marinette's facial structure to that of Ladybug. Completely normal investigative business.

The next morning, Damian found his way to the bedroom of his most tolerable brother. "Grayson. Can I confide in you without any of the information getting to anyone else?"

Richard glanced up from his laptop. "Sure thing, Baby Bird." He patted a spot on the bed next to him,

"Don't call me that. I despise nicknames," grumbled Damian. He took a seat, staring at the wall in front of him, still weighing the risk versus reward of talking to Richard. If his brother had some technique for extinguishing romantic interest it would solve Damian's problem. However, if either Drake or Todd got word of Damian's crush there was no doubt in Damian's mind that they would never let him hear the end of it.

"So what's on your mind?"

"It pertains to the girl in my who Drake suspects to be Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She has become difficult to investigate. I have found myself unable to observe her objectively."

Richard frowned. "I'm not sure I know what you mean. Is it something that she did that's bothering you?"

Damian searched for the right words to explain the situation. He was not usually so tongue-tied, but the proper words seemed to escape him at every turn. "Dupain-Cheng is not what I expected. I assumed that it would be a simple task, to observe her and determine whether she has any connection to the Parisian superhero. However, I have found it difficult to concentrate on my mission when I am around her."

"You find it difficult to concentrate when you're around her. How so?"

Damian gritted his teeth. He didn't want to spell out his crush so obviously, but Richard seemed incapable of looking between the lines. "I have found myself preoccupied with trivial things like getting to know her personality, rather than investigating her background. She makes me feel... flustered."

Damian could see the moment that Richard made the connection. His brother's face lit up as he exclaimed, "You have a crush on her?!"

"Quiet!" snapped Damian. "This does not leave this room. I need to learn how to get rid of it, so I can get back to completing the mission."

Richard was grinning ear to ear. "That's not how crushes work. You can't just snap your fingers and have them disappear. The only thing that can get rid of a crush is time. Or sometimes if they get a haircut that kills the feeling. But mostly it just takes time."

"I cannot afford to wait for these feelings to fade. I'll look into scheduling her a haircut." Damian stood up, resolved to get rid of his crush before Marinette came over later that day to work on their project.

"No wait," Richard grabbed Damian's arm. "I doubt that your attraction to her is so shallow that a haircut would destroy the feelings you have for her. This is something that you'll have to talk to her about."

Damian frowned. "Perhaps I should give the mission to someone else. Jon could transfer to Gotham Academy for the semester. His detective skills are lacking but his judgment would be less clouded than mine. If I ignore her for long enough I'm sure that I can evade talking about my feelings."

"Why don't you just ignore the mission for a few weeks while you get to know her."

Damian fixed Richard with a death glare. "I cannot ignore this mission. Father gave it to me personally."

"How about twenty-four hours? You spend the next twenty-four hours in getting-to-know-her mode rather than background-check mode and at the end of it, we can regroup and decide what to do next. If you actually get to know her, you'll better understand the depths of your feelings. Once you have that understanding, you'll be able to see if waiting out your crush is a viable option or if you need to pass on the responsibilities to someone else."

It wasn't the perfect solution, but it was better than anything Damian had come up with. Anything that could potentially alleviate Damian's inability to focus on the investigation was worth trying. "Fine," Damian replied curtly. "Thank you for your assistance."

"No problem," said Richard. "You know, I would love to get to meet Marinette sometime."

"Don't push your luck," grumbled Damian, ignoring Richard's laughter as he stood up and left the room. There would be no way to hide the fact that Marinette was coming over to the Manor from his family. There was also no way that his family wouldn't intrude upon Damian and Marinette as they worked. However, if he explained everything beforehand and phrased everything in precisely the right way, he might be able to pass off his odd behavior towards Marinette as a part of his investigation. Damian pulled out his phone and composed a text to send to the family groupchat.

Damian: Dupain-Cheng is coming to the Manor at approximately 22:00 to work on a history project. I will be covertly conducting my investigation. From what I have gathered, she would respond better to subtle questioning, rather than a straightforward interrogation.

Tim: wait does subtle interrogation mean that you'll be flirting with her???

Jason: I need to see this

Steph: I'm willing to bet money that his flirting offends Marinette so much she storms out of the Manor before Damian can finish the mission

Dick: No way. I'll bet 20 dollars that his flirting works too well

Steph: done

Damian huffed, half tempted to call off his meeting with Marinette. His siblings were insufferable.

Damian: Please refrain from intervening. Confirming that Dupain-Cheng is Ladybug is a vital first step in determining whether the Justice League needs to interfere in the affairs of the Order of the Miraculous.

Bruce: Damian is correct. No one will bother him while he is working with Marinette.

Damian smirked as he turned his phone off. His plan wasn't foolproof, of course, but a direct order from Bruce to not interfere would force his siblings to be more subtle about spying on him and Marinette. The chance of him being interrupted was significantly decreased.

Damian got everything set up in the den, which was only ever used on family movie night. It was perfectly situated for the task at hand - a room small enough to be classed as cozy but big enough to not feel cramped. It was out of the way, surrounded by other equally unused rooms, so his siblings would have no excuse for lurking in the hallway outside. Damian brought in snacks, chargers, and a few books from the Wayne Manor library on Renaissance Art, the topic of their project.

Marinette arrived promptly at 2 in the afternoon, holding a Tupperware container full of gingerbread cookies, with a smile on her face. "Hi, Damian. I brought cookies."

None of his planning accounted for this moment, for first laying eyes on Marinette. Damian froze up, desperate to put the right words in the right order. "Welcome to Wayne Manor, Marinette. I have everything set up in the den if you'll just follow me."

"Sure." Marinette toed off her black boots and arranged them on the shoe tray next to the door. She was left in sage green cat-print socks that matched the rest of her outfit, a pine green sweater and black jeans. Damian couldn't help but wonder if she knit the sweater herself - Marinette's talent for designing was well-known throughout Gotham Academy, as it was what got her accepted into the prestigious high school in the first place.

Marinette followed Damian through the Manor, complimenting little details that Damian had never noticed before - the pattern of the curtains, the bay window in a sitting room that Damian had never bothered to enter, the family pictures that lined the wall in the hallway. Marinette made it seem so obvious to pay attention to those little details. Damian wished that he could see the Manor for the first time through her eyes and feel the same amazement that she felt as she oohed and awed over the decadence that Damian had considered banal.

Damian was so captivated by Marinette that he almost missed the fact that Drake and Brown were lurking in the study across the hall from the den. A text to his father about the gravity of his mission would be enough to get them sent away on some inconsequential but time-consuming task. Damian would have to find an inconspicuous time to pull out his phone during their work on the project to let his father know about their intrusion.

"Now I know why you call it Wayne Manor. This place is huge." Marinette shrugged off her backpack and set it down on the coffee table next to her container of cookies.

"Its size is entirely unnecessary for ordinary life," agreed Damian. "However, it makes for very challenging games of hide-and-seek."

Marinette giggled. "That sounds like fun. You'll have to invite me next time you play."

"I'll make sure of it." Damian smiled, surprised to find that his happiness wasn't forced. He rarely engaged in childish behavior, and even more rarely did he find any enjoyment in it. Yet the mental image of playing a child's game with Marinette was pleasant to him. The feelings he had for her were deeper than Damian anticipated.

The pair got to work on their project. Damian sent out the text to his father as soon as he opened his laptop, leaving Marinette under the impression that he was researching sources. A series of irritable texts in the family groupchat confirmed the fact that Drake and Brown had been removed from their hiding spot.

"Do you want to try a cookie?" asked Marinette, pushing the Tupperware towards Damian.

"Thank you." Damian took one, just to be polite. Growing up in the League of Assassins, he never really had a taste for sweets. Alfred's baking was the extent of what he would tolerate. He took a bite - small, to back up his claim that he already ate if it turned out to be inedible. Surprisingly, it was nearly as good as Alfred's gingerbread cookies, and those were tailer made to Damian's taste. The cookies were heavy on the ginger and cloves, just as Damian liked. "These are delicious," Damian professed.

Marinette blushed. "Thanks. I know they taste a little different than store-bought gingerbread. My parents make them with a lot of ginger."

"These are much superior to store-bought cookies."

"Thanks. You know, you're a lot nicer outside of school. You always seemed kind of grumpy in class."

"I'm not a fan of the state-mandated curriculum."

Marinette nodded. "I get what you mean. I barely have any room in my schedule for my design classes, with all the mandatory classes that Gotham Academy makes us take. I'm lucky that I have my internship, otherwise, I think I would go crazy, taking so many classes that I don't care about."

"Your internship is with Audrey Bourgeoise, isn't it?"

Marinette nodded. "I was friends with her daughter, back in Paris. Originally it was going to be a four-year internship in New York City, but I renegotiated some of the terms so that I could do the first two years in Paris, then the last two in Gotham, while she established the new branch of her company."

"You renegotiated the terms of a prestigious internship at the age of fourteen? Weren't you afraid of losing it if you pushed too hard?"

Marinette shrugged, nonchalant as if it were normal for an intern to make such a bold move. "I didn't want to leave Paris. My whole life was there. I wasn't ready to just pick up and move to a new country."

"What changed that you were able to come to Gotham?"

"There were a lot of reasons. Hawkmoth was the biggest one. I felt nervous about leaving my family and friends behind when he was terrorizing the city. After he was defeated I felt a lot more comfortable leaving."

That aligned with the theory that Marinette was Ladybug. "What were the other reasons?"

"My age was one. I didn't feel ready to leave home at fourteen and my parents didn't like the idea of me leaving home that young either. Another big one was the fact that I didn't have a good handle on my personal style. I was worried that designing full-time in Audrey Bourgeoise's office would cause me to lose my originality. The worst thing I could imagine was watering down my designs to appeal to the rest of the fashion industry."

"Your conviction is impressive. Most in your position would not worry about selling out to obtain such a highly coveted position."

"Audrey said the same thing, though when she said it, she spoke it with annoyance, not admiration. I've never been highly motivated by wide-spread success. I don't need to be a household name to feel content with life. I just want to design clothes that I'm proud of."

The fluttering feeling in Damian's chest returned with full force, alongside a tendril of anger at the unfairness of the situation. Here was the most perfect person Damian had ever laid his eyes on, and he was forced to pick her apart piece by piece to figure out her deepest darkest secrets. Damian didn't know much about relationships, but this didn't seem like the way they were supposed to go.

"You look upset," Marinette's observation was tinged by the worry in her voice.

"I'm not upset," he assured her. "I was just wondering how I never noticed how interesting you are."

Marinette flushed, her cheeks turning pink. "What does that mean?"

Damian shrugged. While his nonchalant attitude was all a bluff, his admiration of her accomplishments was all real. "Most of our classmates feel accomplished with the most conventional of achievements. Yet you secured an internship at the side of one of the most renowned fashion critics in the world and you still stay humble about it. You weren't blind-sighted by the incredible opportunity. You fought to maintain your values, no matter if it meant losing something priceless."

Marinette's blush deepened. "That's just who I am. It's not special, it's me."

"It is you," agreed Damian. "And it is special."

Marinette gave him a wide-eyed look, shocked by the emotion in his words. "We should get back to work," she said, self-consciously rubbing one cheek with the sleeve of her green wool sweater.

"Of course," Damian amicably agreed. He had pushed far enough for intel and had managed to get to know her a little better in the process. His flirting wasn't as blatant as it could have been, but it got the job done. Richard had said that once he knew the depths of his feelings he would know what to do. Richard was right. Damian's feelings were seemingly endless, a maze of all the things he liked about Marinette, in which every corner he turned was a new quirk that he couldn't un-notice. Yet Damian didn't want to pass on the responsibility of investigating Marinette to anyone else. He wanted a reason to spend time with her.

It wasn't the best situation. Damian wished that he could get to know her organically. However, Damian wasn't the type to dwell on the could-have-been. He had an opportunity to get to know Marinette right in front of him and he wasn't going to let it go.

Hours later, after Marinette went home, Richard stopped him in the hallway. "So what did you learn?"

"My investigation has proven inconclusive. I need to further get to know Marinette Dupain-Cheng if I want to uncover her identity. For research purposes, of course."

Richard laughed. "Of course."

#maribat #daminette #marinette x damian #maridami #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Damian Wayne #miraculous ladybug fic

294 notes · View notes

fernpost · 3 years ago

Text

Cycle 0 - Interviews

[read on ao3]

[next]

Taako Taaco. 114. Elf. Wizard; Specialization in transmutation and inventive magical applications.

Previous experience: Top of class at Tredore, Academy of Magics and Technology; recently graduated.

Criminal Record: Multiple counts of petty theft.

Davenport likes to think of himself as calm and composed. It’s hard to throw him off. He has to be in order to have gotten this far in his mission as fast as he has.

But when he turns around from shutting the door to see his interviewee with his feet kicked up on the table, twirling a wand through his fingers, he’s a little shocked. He’s been doing these interviews for two days now, and even the more relaxed and confident people have held a bit more sense for decorum.

It’s a bit rude.

It’s also a little interesting.

He sits at his desk, pulling the elf’s papers away from his boots (shiny, and though they look expensive he can see they’re worn down and well taken care of) and glances down. “Tell me, Taako Taaco, what makes you want to explore the planerverse?”

“Bored.”

If the feet on the desk threw him off for a second, that floors him entirely. “Bored?”

“I’ve got nothing else to do on this plane, why not, you know?”

“No burning desire to go further than any being has gone before?” That’s one of the normal responses, the well-planned out speeches he keeps getting in response to his opening question.

The elf crosses his feet, leaning back somehow further into the provided chair. Davenport worries for a second that he may fall as he continues on, “that’s cool too, I guess. But I figure, why wouldn’t you want the great Taaco name aboard your ship.”

Davenport picks up a pen from his table and makes a small note on the paperwork, “no offense, Mr. Taaco, but you’re rather cavalier about this interview that determines whether or not you’re accepted into a program that may redefine our understanding of the world.”

The elf shrugs and takes his feet off of Davenport’s desk, flashing him a smirk, “you’ve seen my sister’s paperwork, yeah? No way you’re not going to accept her, and we’re a package deal. Says it right there in bold at the top of my application, my man.” It does, in fact, say that at the top. Cursive words noting how he refuses to accept any position on the ship if his sister isn't there too. When reviewing who he was interviewing today, he saw similar words on Lup Taaco’s paperwork.

“You’re very confident in your sister’s abilities.” Davenport begins, pausing for a second as he notes the way the elf begins to tense up before continuing, “however, I wouldn’t sell yourself so short. You also graduated top of your class, and excelled in the art of transmutation multiple times. One of your letters of recommendation even noted how you made many spells easier to cast, somatically speaking.”

“What can I say, I’ll find any short cut I can.”

Davenport makes another note on his paper. “Now, I do need to ask about your record of petty theft.”

“Oh, natch.”

Lup Taaco. 114. Elf. Wizard; Specialization in evocation and applied magic regarding planar research.

Previous experience: Top of class at Tredore, Academy of Magics and Technology; recently graduated.

Criminal Record: Multiple counts of petty theft.

“Lup Taaco, it is nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Captain.” The woman in front of him smiles. The resemblance to her brother couldn’t be more clear, and though her demeanor is quite similar, she at least doesn’t have her feet on his desk.

Not that his desk is anything fancy, but the point stands. “I’m not technically the captain yet, you know.”

“Potato, potato.”

Davenport is fairly certain that’s not how that phrase is used. “You did research into the planes at Tredore, correct?”

“Quite a bit, yeah. I’m sure my brother told you?”

The slight tilt of her head and lit of her voice tells Davenport this is some sort of test, which is confusing and a bit disconcerting, considering he is the one conducting the interview. He checks a quick box on his papers. “He talked you up a bit, yes. But this is your own interview, and I wanted to discuss your own knowledge with you, personally.”

She smiles, a touch more warmth to it than her previous attitude. “Oh, of course. Did quite a bit of studying at Tredore. First real school we attended. Kinda boring at times, you know?”

“If you’re accepted into this program, it’s going to be four intense months of studying and teaching you the more complex workings of the ship. Plus the two months of actually being on the ship.”

“That’s the fun stuff. Not a third semester in a row of another language I already figured out most of years ago.”

“How many languages do you speak, Ms. Taaco?”

“Including common, five languages.”

“Impressive.” Davenport himself only speaks three. “Now, I would like to ask you about your criminal record, if you don’t mind?”

Her smile grew sharp as she laughs.

Honestly, he isn’t surprised. Her explanation is the same as her brothers. Grew up on the road, needed food and other items on occasion. Didn’t always run fast enough. Davenport can’t fault them, and certainly won’t hold it against them.

He glances down at her paperwork, about to ask another question about her education, when she speaks up. “I’ve got a question for you, Captain.”

“Oh?”

“The ship- we’re really going with the name ‘The Starblaster’?”

Davenport sighs. He knew this question was coming, but he was expecting it to come during a press conference from a reporter, not a potential shipmate. “Yes. To be fair, it was a communal name we put to a vote from everyone who worked on building the engine.”

Ms. Taaco smiles. “Dope.”

Barry J. Bluejeans. 37 years old. Human. Wizard; specialization in applied magic regarding bonds and planar research.

Previous experience: Current assistant professor at Duffman University of the Arcane, part-time employee at the Institute of Planer Research and Exploration.

Criminal Record: Previous altercations regarding necromancy; no crimes against the nature of life and death ever committed.

Mr. Bluejeans is an interesting man. By the look of him, you’d expect to see him fumbling his way through a PTA meeting for his two kids. Instead, Davenport is staring down the word ‘necromancy’ on his paperwork on an application regarding literal planar travel on a ship called 'the Starblaster.'

So far, the interview has been going well. He’d listened to the man explain his research into the arcane, and he’d understood planar travel as well as any of the current scientists and engineers at the Institute. He was called in often for conferences and meetings about the bond engine. He’d seen the man walking around on occasion. They’d never been in a meeting together before, but he’d seemed nice.

But he also had a history of necromancy.

Now, Davenport doesn’t like to judge people. However, being in an enclosed space with someone who needed to specify he had never technically committed “crimes against the nature of humanity” isn’t the most comforting.

But, he was a smart man. Easy to get along with, too. So far. Necromancy notwithstanding.

Best to get it over with, “so, Mr. Bluejeans. I do need to ask about your criminal record-”

“Oh! Yeah, I never killed anyone. Or un- killed anyone. Uh, resurrected, I mean. Just did lots of studying into the application of necromancy and necromantic spells. Got in trouble because I toed the line of ‘research’ and ‘bringing my cat back to life,’ but got a stern talking to. Didn’t try it again, and don’t plan on needing to deal with those types of authorities again.”

Okay, normal enough answer, far as the situation applies-

“My current research into it has stayed purely theoretical, and it won’t interfere with the mission at all.”

So the man is still into necromancy.

Davenport glances down at the man’s file, thick with it’s attached papers Bluejeans has done on planar research. He’s not even stuck up about his level of education, and that’s extremely rare for the field.

Holding back a sigh, Davenport asks, “Can you explain the paper you wrote on the outer planes interactions with the inner planes for me?”

It was a really good paper.

But the man is still into necromancy.

Lucretia. 20. Human. Chronicler; Specialization in journalism.

Previous experience: Due to multiple NDA, she is unable to give us the exact number and titles of books she has written, but she sent letters of recommendation from Duke Rensburg, Lady Norabelle, and Warren of the Seatree Clan.

Criminal Record: Acquisition and attempted use of a false ID.

“So, Ms. Lucretia, I understand you cannot provide us with most examples of your works, but from what you have provided, you seem to be very, very good.”

“I like to think so, yes.” The young woman in front of him seems polite. She’s quiet; he saw her waiting outside with a few others before her interview, and while most of them were engaged in some awkward small talk, she sat away from them. Likely partially due to her age- she is much younger than the people outside- but she also simply seems quiet.

Which wouldn’t be the worst quality in someone you would be sharing a small, enclosed space with for an extended period of time. But, if she couldn’t bond with the others sufficiently, the bond engine won’t work.

(Hell, the bond engine was already finicky, they figured out the tech only a month ago, and they only have four months to bond an entire crew to pilot it and-)

“Can you explain to me why you acquired a fake ID and tried to use it at a, uh,” Davenport glances down at the records in front of him, holding back a chuckle, “at the forbidden section of the Library of Runar?”

Lucretia looks uncomfortable for a second, and he’s sure if the lighting in the room were better he would be able to see her flush with embarrassment. She gives him a hesitant smile, “I can’t get into the explicit details, but I was working on a book for an older client whose memory was becoming patchy, and I wanted to confirm some details before I put their name to it. They wouldn’t allow me into the section without the proper documents, but my client refused to agree that I should double check his work, even though I was almost certain he was wrong, so I simply… found a way to get past their guard. I wasn’t going to steal anything and I was going to use the proper equipment to read through the documents.”

Davenport smiles, “pursuit of knowledge and truth is important to you, then?”

“I don’t think spreading lies, especially in that context, is very honorable, no.” Her hands are folded in her lap now, and she seems a bit more relaxed.

Considering the others he is planning on accepting, he may be wrong about her getting along with them. Anyone willing to break the law just to prove an old man wrong would at least get along with him. Davenport refuses to have any pushovers aboard his ship.

Magnus Burnsides. 19. Fighter; Specialization in protection fighting and mechanical engineering.

Previous experience: Current bouncer at Apex Club. Currently enrolled in Gallier’s Fighter Academy and College.

Criminal Record: One count of assault and battery, appealed for defense of another person present. One count of indecent exposure and public intoxication.

Davenport will be the first to admit it can be tricky to follow human aging patterns, but he knows he’s not mistaken in thinking the man in front of him is barely out of “child” territory. Nineteen is a very, very small amount of time to be alive. Also, a very, very small amount of time to learn important things, like how to run what is basically a ship right out of a science fiction novel- complete with breakthrough technology.

Despite this, it’s hard to not find the young man in front of him to be endearing, and mostly knowledgeable in the things they need him to be.

“Magnus. You’re very young, one of the youngest applicants we have. What makes you think you’re qualified as the head of security of the ship?”

The young man in front of him- Gods, he really is young- grins and lifts his arms to flex, a show of pride and ego almost unbefitting of an interview setting, “Have you seen my muscles? I’m very strong, and a very good fighter.”

Many of today’s interviews have been quite different than he was expecting.

“I was referring more to job experience.”

“Oh!” Magnus shifts in his seat, fingers drumming against the table as he thinks. “I worked as a bouncer for a club while I was in college and did, if I must toot my own horn, a very good job. You should have a letter of recommendation from the owner-” He leans forwards, reaching a hand out as if to look through his own files to show him the letter.

“Yes, I did read through it. She was very thorough in stating how eager you were to help.” Davenport glances down at the papers in front of him, holding back a sigh. It truly was a glowing review of this young man. While his grades from the aforementioned college weren’t the highest, especially in classes one might consider important for an institute of planar research, the two letter of recommendations he submitted from teachers of his explained how Burnsides was very persistent when he wanted to learn something he didn’t know. He also had taken quite a few classes regarding vehicles- not enough to claim the young man was an expert but enough to provide a solid basis to show him how things worked and could be repaired on the ship.

The kid’s attitude was something of a breath of fresh air in this place. However, there was one glaring concern.

“I was also a bit concerned about the criminal record we have on file for you. Assault and battery as well as the indecent exposure and public-”

“In my defense for the second one, I was drunk with some friends and maybe thought it’d be funny to streak in the lake. Who hasn’t been to a party that gets a little out of hand.” He holds his hands out as if to say “am I right?”

Off the record, Davenport is inclined to agree that he was right. On the record, he is choosing to ignore it. “And the assault and battery? The file says it was in defense of a young person.”

Burnsides grins, “that’s how I got hired as the bouncer!”

He waits a moment, expecting Magnus to continue. When it seems the young man is assuming that is enough explanation, he prompts, “by beating up a man outside the club?”

“Yeah! He was harassing someone outside, and I was walking home and passed by. I told him to step off, and he didn’t. So I decked him, and he was out right away.”

It lined up with the records he had, and honestly, seeing someone so ready to step up to the defense of a stranger was a good quality. Better than some of the older applicants who were much more… formal in their training. He wonders briefly how Burnsides would react to an altercation against someone with magic.

Glancing down at his records, he guesses he would run headfirst without thinking.

Stifling a small grin, Davenport continues, “Now, tell me. Assume we’re up in space, and something goes wrong with the bond engine. What would your course of action be, Mr. Burnsides?”

Merle Hitower Highchurch. 214. Cleric; Specialization in botany, religion, and medical treatment.

Previous experience: Current botanist at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration. Professor of botany at Narvick’s University for four years.

Criminal Record: Multiple counts of loitering.

The door is pushed all the way open before Davenport can even call out the next person.

A short dwarf slides into the room with a wide grin, “hey Dav!” A mug of tea is pressed into his hands.

“Hello, Merle. You do know this needs to be at least a little formal, yes?”

“Formal schmormal. Ask me your silly questions already, bud.” Merle Highchurch, resident botanist at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration, plops right down in the seat he’d taken to commandeering once a week, for the past three weeks.

Davenport had seen him around before, but a botanist in an institute designed for exploring other planes that had little capabilities to actually go to those places yet was rarely busy, and even more rarely called upon. He still barely knew the guy, but after the day they’d gotten stuck in the elevator for ten minutes when it broke down, the dwarf had come to his office for tea each Wednesday.

It was a bit strange, but the tea was good.

“Tell me about your work experience.”

Merle laughs heartily, “they barely have me do anything around here, ‘cept tend to the couple of plants they’ve grabbed from the ground plane.”

“It’s the Elemental Plane of Earth, and don’t sell yourself short, Merle. This is basically a job interview, you know.”

Merle slurps loudly at his own mug, “aren’t you planning on nepotism hiring me, because we’re buds?”

“That isn’t even what that word means, Merle.”

“Isn’t it?”

Davenport stares into the tea, “is this made from the Earth plant?”

“Maybe?”

Davenport. 276. Captain and navigator; Specialization in mechanical engineering and arcane components combined with contemporary technology.

Previous Experience: Crewmate on the Lady Blue for twenty years. Graduated from Grensville University. Current staff at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration.

Criminal Record: Unlawful resistance of orders from captain, raising of commotion on board ship while employed.

Davenport handed the six files over to Selune, “These are them.”

The halfling woman flips through them, eyebrows raising higher with each one she sees. “You’re sure you grabbed the right ones? A few of these I understand, but you do know we had the Issaiah Broler apply.”

He folds his hand in front of him, nodding. “I also know that during the interview he made me want to pour my tea on his lap. There’s no chance of getting the bond engine going with him. These are the six I picked. They’re all qualified- and the ones that are less educated in the specifics in the field I’m sure will pick up on the important information quickly. The Taaco twins already will give the bond engine a huge boost. Ms. Lucretia will ensure we have everything chronicled, something I’m sure you can appreciate, Selune. Mr. Bluejeans previous work shows he will thrive given the opportunities awaiting us. Mr. Highchurch is an educated man, and I trust him to keep the crew healthy and provide ample information on anything botany related we encounter, and I’m certain Mr. Burnsides will provide ample help in any task we show him how to do.” He sighs, glancing out the window of her office. There were a few people lingering outside in the courtyard of the Institute. “We have been given a tremendous opportunity to explore beyond what we can imagine, Selune. The last thing I want is to be bogged down by people stuck in their ways, who have been working in this field long enough to have their preconceived notions about what to expect and who will react badly when they’re proven wrong. I trust my own judgement in picking a crew, and I hope you trust my abilities to get these people ready to set sail in four months.”

What he doesn’t say is that he doesn’t want a bunch of stuffy jackasses on his ship. He’s not even sure picking all the over-qualified people would pass through the higher-ups' inspection of the crew. The people he picked were qualified enough to get a quick sign-off, but not too much. Anyone “overqualified” would probably get rejected. The ship had been built in basically six months. It’d get them off the ground, sure. It wasn’t going to explode on them once they got up there, but it wasn’t safe. There was a reason Davenport was the captain at all.

The six candidates in those files didn’t have a name for themselves as “important” to any stuffy scientific group or noble family. These people he picked were just that- people. A group of people who he believed deserved this opportunity. If anyone was getting the chance to make a name for themselves- to have the chance to redefine everything they know about the planar systems, he wanted to make sure they deserved the chance. A dangerous chance, sure. But what was science if not a little risky.

She sighs, opening the file on top. Her hand reaches for her pen, “Davenport, I got the final say on the name of the ship, I suppose the least I can do is give you final say on the crew.” She begins to write ‘approved’ at the top of the file, flipping through each one before giving him a pointed look. “But when I get angry calls about how you approved a bunch of nobodies and two people not even old enough to drink, I’m transferring them straight to your crystal.”

“And I will not be answering a single one.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Captain.”

#davenport #taako #lup #magnus burnsides #lucretia #barry bluejeans #merle highchurch #taz balance #the stolen century #my works

83 notes · View notes

marjansmarwani · 3 years ago

Text

there ain’t a language for the things I feel

4.8k || ao3

In the wake of a tragedy, the firehouse family tries to move on and pick up the pieces while holding onto hope that seems to slip further and further away.

But nothing's over until it's over and they're going to pick up all the pieces and put them back together, just in case. ----- Day 9 of @911lonestarangstweek: Free Choice

Me getting this done and up just at the end of angst week? More likely than you’d think.

Several people read parts of this as I was working, but @moviegeek03 needs a special thanks for helping me with some of the specifics 💜

--------------

The house at the end of the street looked like all the others.

Its blue siding blended in perfectly with its companions on the quiet residential street and as Judd pulled into the familiar driveway, nothing looked amiss. From the outside, it looked like nothing had happened. From where they stood, everything was fine and this was just a normal day and an average visit. Right now they could be heading to game night or dinner. They could be stopping by to say hello, popping by unannounced as they so often did. But the minute they opened the door that illusion would shatter and they’d have to face the grim reality waiting for them, so they all hovered at the edge of the front walk by some unspoken agreement as they allowed themselves to avoid this for just a few moments longer.

But ignorance couldn’t last forever so eventually, they moved forward.

It was Paul that made the first move, pulling out his keys and selecting the correct one as he approached the door. He slid the key into the lock without a word, all eyes on him as he turned it, pushing open the door to reveal the scene beyond it. There was another moment of collective hesitation on the threshold before Judd stepped forward, grabbing the yellow crime scene tape and pulling it down so they could enter their friends’ living room - or at least, what was left of it.

The once familiar space was unrecognizable as the furniture lay in shambles; splinters of each piece scattered across the room. If they hadn’t known where they were they never would have recognized the space. Nancy toed at the remains of a chair, shifting aside the debris with her foot only to reveal the dark red stain on the floor underneath. She turned away and let the pieces fall back into it.

They had just left the hospital, they had all seen the end result of this destruction. They had already known how bad it could be. Seeing it in this familiar context though? It drove it all home in the most unapologetic way. Nancy in particular was no stranger to the sight of blood, but seeing it in your friends’ home, knowing it belonged to one of them? That was something else entirely and no amount of professional detachment could make this okay. She turned away from the stain - ignoring the sound of glass crunching under her shoe from the shattered picture frames strewn across the floor - beside her to find Paul fingering an indent in the wall with a grim expression. When he felt her looking he met her gaze.

“Knife mark,” he said by way of explanation, his eyes roaming the rest of the walls. “Several of them, by the looks of it.”

Somehow the silence in the room seemed to grow even heavier in the wake of Paul’s words as they all took in the destruction and the damage and the fact that their friends had nearly died in their own home; that they still might, even now.

The silence was finally broken by Judd, his typical drawl much harsher than usual as it sliced through the quiet and dismay that filled the room.

“What the fuck happened here?” he demanded to the room at large, but he got no response. It was the same question they all had and as of yet, there were no answers. Only fear, pain, and a desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, this was as bad as it got. That maybe by some miracle their friends would pull through this, would survive this senseless act of violence.

That somehow TK and Carlos would be okay, because the alternative was too awful to consider.

---------

Marjan had been wrapping up practice when she got the call. It was Mateo on the other line, his shaking voice informing her that he was driving Captain Strand to St. David’s because he had been in the kitchen with the older man and Buttercup when he had been informed.

It was what he had said next that had sent her crashing back down onto the bench, skates in hand and concerned expressions trained on her as she tried her best to not absolutely shatter at the edge of the roller rink.

Nancy was at her sister’s, rolling her eyes at the antics of her nephews as she stirred the sauce on the stove and her sister gossiped about their Aunt Susan and her much younger boyfriend when her phone rang. Then she was out the door, the spoon abandoned on the counter with a shouted apology to her sister as she grabbed her coat and keys and tried to hide how much her hands were shaking as she reached for the doorknob and stepped out into the chilly Austin night. At least, she reasoned as she hurried to her car, if anyone did notice the way she trembled they would assume it was the cold — they didn’t have to know it was because it felt like her world was fraying at the seams.

Paul had been on a date and he felt bad for leaving her at the restaurant, he really did, but there was no other option. He knew his mother would string him up if she ever heard he had done something so rude to any of his dates, but he also had a feeling that in this case even Cynthia Stickland would allow him this one. Maybe he should have taken her home first but she had assured him it was fine and he knew that he couldn’t have handled the wait. He knew that every moment he was driving in the opposite direction of the hospital would weigh on him, that he would crack under the strain and that was not second date territory. So he returned to the table after he ended his call, voice tight as he made his hurried apologies and she assured him that no, it was fine, that she hoped everything turned out okay.

He had somehow managed a smile as he turned away and he thanked her for her sentiments, even if he didn’t share just how desperately he wished they came true.

Judd had been getting their daughter ready for her evening bath when Grace had appeared in the doorway with his phone in her hand and eyes full of fear. He had taken the phone from her and sat heavily on the edge of the tub as Mateo quietly explained what had happened, and where they would be. Grace had already scooped up little Charlotte and merely shook her head when he looked at her.

“You need to go, Judd,” she said softly, squeezing their little girl close as she spoke, “go be with them, and keep me posted. Tell them I’ll be praying.”

And there was so much Judd wanted to say to that, so many thoughts in his head and so many feelings fighting for dominance that in the end, he said nothing. He simply stood on shaking legs and leaned forward to press a kiss to each of his girls, pausing for another moment to hold them both close before he stepped around them, grabbing his coat and heading out into the night.

As he climbed into his truck he tried to tell himself that it would all be okay, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it.

----------

“I talked to Mitchell before we left,” Marjan finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence filling the room. “She said that APD is done processing, so we can do whatever we want with...what’s left.”

Paul looked up, pulling his gaze from where it had settled on a dark stain on the throw rug. “Did she say if they have any leads? Or even an idea of what happened?”

She shook her head sadly, “No. There’s not much they can go on. None of the neighbors saw anything and all the blood...well, it won’t help to find their attackers, apparently. As for what happened, apparently they have some theories, but we won’t really know anything until one of them wakes up.”

“If they wake up,” Nancy added, voice harsh and quiet as she looked at the destruction around them. She didn’t want to be a pessimist, but the others didn’t know. They knew it was bad, but they hadn’t gotten the rundown from one of the trauma nurses on duty. They didn’t have the medical training to know that what they had been through; that the injuries they had weren’t the kind you always recovered from.

That they could just as easily be fatal, given the chance.

Nobody chastised her for being pessimistic. They simply moved on, nobody willing to dwell on the questions they didn’t have answers to and the fears that they did.

“We should still get this cleaned up,” Mateo said eventually, “so when they get home it looks like nothing happened.”

His words were full of a certainty Nancy wished she felt, but no one countered him either. They all wanted him to be right, Nancy knew and she understood. She wanted him to be right too; she wanted that more than anything.

So she took off her jacket and laid it across the ledge by the front door before pushing up her sleeves heading towards the kitchen.

“I’ll grab some garbage bags,” she called over her shoulder. “Once we’ve cleaned up all the stuff we can’t save we’ll have a better idea of what we’re working with.”

Noises of agreement followed her out of the room and as she pulled open the cupboard under the sink where she knew they stashed the cleaning supplies she allowed herself a moment to embrace Mateo’s unshakable optimism. They would get their home cleaned up so they had somewhere to come home to. They would get it back to normal so it looked like their home and not the nightmare they had walked into.

They would put everything back together so maybe, just maybe, someday when she closed her eyes she would see how it had been before, and not the scene of destruction they had walked into today.

------------

“What happened?” Marjan demanded as she stepped into the waiting room, softening when she saw the faces before her all full of the same fear and panic she was feeling.

“We don’t know,” Captain Strand said eventually with a small, helpless shrug. “Nobody knows. One of their neighbors was walking their dog when she saw the door open. She said something didn’t feel right so she went to check, and she found them.”

He didn’t provide any other details, didn’t specify how they were found and that more than anything filled her with dread.

“Gabriel is trying to get answers,” another voice shared, this one soft and thick. Marjan looked over to see Carlos’s mother in the seat beside the captain, her face pale and eyes full of worry, “I think maybe he thinks it’ll be easier to process if we know. Or maybe he just needs something else to focus on. Either way, he doesn’t seem to be having much luck.”

Marjan followed the older woman’s nod to a figure in the corner, speaking into his phone as he turned his hat over and over in his free hand as his foot tapped against the floor. Even from here his distress was palpable; the fear and worry etched clearly into every inch of his face. It made her wonder once again what had happened. She may have only known Gabriel Reyes for a short period of time and not very well at all, but she knew him well enough to know that whatever had happened was bad. Gabriel Reyes loved his son, she didn’t doubt that. But the man was a Texas Ranger; he had spent a lifetime seeing unthinkable things. Yet here he was, clearly shaken to his very core. For something to have affected him this much...the very idea left a cold feeling of dread seeping through her core.

“Do we at least know how they are?” she questioned again, voice quieter in the face of all the hurt and fear encompassing them.

It was Tommy who spoke this time, the paramedic captain’s voice tight with barely concealed pain and worry, “They’re alive, and that’s something.”

The way she said it made Marjan wonder what she knew and what she wasn’t saying. She wanted to push, she wanted to demand answers. She wanted to know what had happened to her friends; to two of the people that had become family to her.

But it was clear they were all in the same boat, that none of these people knew any more than she did and that they all cared just as much. So she swallowed her questions and sank into the empty seat beside Mateo, glancing around at the others as she did. In some ways this was horrifyingly familiar but in others, it felt so different. Every other time they had at least known what had brought them here and what they were facing. This unknown entity; the uncertainty hung heavy in the air around them and it made her queasy. The questions mixed with her fear, leaving an unpleasant taste in her mouth. But there were no answers to be had and, even if there were, they wouldn’t help.

She sighed and leaned back in the uncomfortable chair as she accepted the inevitable: there was nothing she could do but wait, and hope for the best.

---------

People had always asked Paul why he wasn’t a cop, given his propensity to solve puzzles and spot patterns. There were the obvious answers, of course: that the police force was less than tolerant generally speaking, that the very institution wasn’t something Paul thought he could really take a part in.

Then there was the less obvious but just as true reason: Paul wanted to help people, but he didn’t want to watch them suffer. He wanted to help people to escape the worst moments of their lives, not pick up the pieces after. Firefighters got to do that, cops didn’t.

In that regard, he had a lot of respect for Carlos. How he could do that and still maintain a modicum of sanity and compassion was beyond Paul, but he truly admired him for it. Which, somehow, made this even worse.

Paul already knew that he didn’t have crime scene investigation in him, that hadn’t been a question. But he couldn’t stop himself from trying to put together the pieces as he stood amongst the destruction of his friends’ living room. He couldn’t stop himself from seeing the patterns, from hypothesizing how each bit of damage was caused; on how each bit of blood was spilled. It filled his head with unwanted images the moments as it happened; of what they must have been through.

He had never hated his skills more than he did at this moment. He didn’t want to see this, to imagine what might have happened. He didn’t want to move aside some of the debris to find some blood and wonder whose it was. He didn’t want to dwell on the idea of two of his closest friends suffering; being brutally attacked in their own home. A place that had felt safe, that had almost been a second home to Paul. But that illusion of safety had been shattered and now it just felt like an awful reminder, and he would give anything to be able to look at it objectively.

A part of him wanted to keep going, to keep trying to solve the puzzle before him. It would help, a voice in his mind said, it could bring whoever did this to justice.

And that was tempting. He did want to see whoever had done this pay for what they did. But he also knew that it wouldn’t actually change anything. Carlos and TK would still be hurt, the rest of their family would still be suffering.

------

Home invasion.

That was the reigning theory now. It was a home invasion gone terribly, horrifically wrong. They didn’t know whether they had been home from the start or if they had interrupted it; they didn’t know if it was random or if it was something that had been planned; if they had been targeted. They didn’t know anything, and Paul hated not knowing things.

This was one of those things, someone had said. One of those random acts of violence with no real motive or explanation. Realistically, Paul knew they happened. He just couldn’t understand how it had happened to his friends. He had never put too much stock in the idea of fate - he firmly believed that everyone made their own choices in life - but he couldn’t help but wonder why them. Why did TK and Carlos - two people who had given so much of themselves to help others each and every day - deserve to have so much suffering?

Eventually, they did find the culprit, or culprits, as they soon discovered when one of them tried to use TK’s credit card to pay at a gas station only a few miles from their house, but having the answers didn’t make it make any more sense.

Paul had already known that catching their attacker wouldn’t make everything magically better, but he hadn’t imagined it would make anything worse. But as the detective on the case explained, he found he was wrong. Apparently, according to the one who would talk, he and his buddies had broken into an empty home. It was early evening and the lights were off so they had figured it was a good enough target. But they had been interrupted, he said, when two men had entered the house and caught them in the act. They had all been high, he admitted, so the details were fuzzy, but he knew that one of their group tended to have a particularly violent streak and that that night, he couldn’t be reasoned with.

It was him who had used the knife, their informer clarified, but another had helped. He had thought the two men who had come in were dead by the time he had gotten his buddies to stop, he had admitted quietly, so he had pulled them out of the house as fast as he could and had never looked back.

The room was so silent when the detective finished speaking that you could have heard a pin drop. The sound of Nancy’s chair scraping against the floor as she stood and rushed out of the room cut through the space like a gunshot and it was all Paul could do to simply breathe. Slowly the others reacted too, as Judd started swearing up and down and Marjan rose to follow Nancy, her own eyes moist but her back straight as she strode out of the room. He heard his Captain and Ranger Reyes asking questions but for once, Paul managed to shut that part of himself off.

There was no making sense of this, he decided, so the best thing he could do was focus on helping them move forward instead; assuming that they got that chance.

-----------

Mateo was pretty sure he had developed a stress response to the sight of Ikea furniture.

It always seemed to appear in the aftermath of a tragedy, and he had seen it too many times in the past few years. After the condo fire, after his house blew up, and now as they set about replacing some of the furniture that had once stood in TK and Carlos’s living room.

Maybe it should be a good thing, he reasoned. The furniture came with the rebuilding, after all.

It had come when TK and Carlos had first bought this place and needed a couple of staple pieces quickly. They would buy real furniture soon, Carlos vowed, but until they could get around to it, some cheap and easy pieces would do. Mateo wondered if they had ever gotten around to it. He kind of hoped they hadn’t.

“Man I hope they appreciate this,” Paul said as he flipped through the convoluted instructions for the bookshelf.

“Of course they will.” Nancy countered from the other side of the room. “If they know what’s good for them.”

The light and optimistic banter was a change from the days before. The others seemed more hopeful now, readier to believe the best of the situation. Mateo supposed he had himself to thank for it, he was the one that had insisted from the start that they would be okay, after all.

But the thing is, he’s not so sure he even believes it anymore.

As the others’ optimism grows, his own seems to fade. It’s been too long, a voice whispered in his mind. If they aren’t okay by now, they never will be again.

It’s a thought that keeps returning and as many times as he shoves it aside, as he pushes it back; it just keeps coming and coming and coming. Mateo has always been the optimist. He has always been the one to think the best of everyone except himself. He had always believed that everything would work out.

But he’s tired. There have been so many times and so many nights spent hoping when everyone else was doubting. There have been so many times when the worst should have happened but didn’t, by some miracle. And Mateo was okay with the idea of miracles - he had been raised Catholic, after all. But he couldn’t help but think they were running out, and that was something he wasn’t ready to face.

So he shoved it back again and plastered on a smile as he sorted through the packaging to find the piece Paul was describing. Mateo Chavez was an optimist, he reminded himself. And optimists didn’t give up on their friends.

No matter how bad things might look.

----------

From the moment Grace had handed him his phone time had seemed to slow.

It was the waiting, Judd thought, that made it drag on. All the hours sitting in the waiting room; the sleepless nights spent dreading a phone call to say that the worst had happened. They moved forward and they moved on because they had to, but every moment seemed to stretch as they grew further and further from a time when everything was fine and closer to the moment that could change everything.

Hope seemed to ebb and flow as time marched on and optimism came in spikes. But it wears on them all and Judd wished time could just go back to normal, that this could all be over.

But then he thinks of what “over” might mean, and he backtracks.

For a while it seemed that maybe one of them had better odds than the other. That while one of them might pull through, the other might not. No one really talked about it; what that might mean for the one. They all loved them both and to have either of them with them would be a blessing, Judd didn’t doubt that for a moment. It was what they all wanted more than anything.

But he was also in love, and he knew that those two had the same kind of love that he and Gracie did: all consuming, bright, deep love that wrapped you to another for the rest of time. To truly be one half of a whole. And - it was a thought he kept to himself, of course - he couldn’t help but think that the only thing crueler than losing them both was for one of them to lose the other. He couldn’t imagine facing that and he didn’t want to see anyone else have to go through it either. He knew people did - hell, Tommy was proof enough of that - but if he could he would do anything to spare them the pain of that.

So he prays, more than he has in years. If there were ever a time to test the strength of his healing faith, it was now.

And then, by some miracle, the news finally comes.

He and the others are standing in their living room, taking in the newly repaired space. There isn’t a trace of the destruction they had found when they had first arrived and stepped past the crime scene tape to see the horror within what had been their friends’ home. It now looks almost as it did before: a warm, safe space they had all spent many nights in. A welcoming place that felt a bit like home.

The walls had been repaired and repainted, the floors had been cleaned, the furniture had been repaired or replaced. The pictures had been rehung in new, undamaged frames and all their various knick-knacks and tchotchkes were sitting in their usual spots. The only thing missing now was TK and Carlos.

It was Nancy’s phone that rang, her voice that cut through the room as she asked Tommy what had happened. It was the sight of her collapsing into one of the chairs that drew their attention and stole all their breath. And when she looked up at them, it was her smile and tear-filled eyes that let them know they could breathe again as she said the words they had all been waiting to hear: “They’re going to be okay.”

And then time picked up again and as the others let out sounds of celebration and Paul picked up Marjan to spin her around, Judd simply smiled.

They’re okay, a voice in his head repeated, everything will be fine now.

And for once, Judd actually believed it.

----------

It’s all TK can do not to roll his eyes as his dad insists on helping him out of the back seat of Andrea’s car.

“Dad,” he said evenly, “I can walk, you know.”

“Humor me,” his dad retorted in an unimpressed tone.

TK opened his mouth to argue again but a soft laugh from beside him stole his attention instead.

“Don’t even bother,” Carlos told him, “believe me, I’ve tried.”

Somewhere between Carlos’s words and the warmth in his eyes TK found he couldn’t argue so he nodded and Owen shook his head, mystified.

“I will never understand how you do that. If it were anyone else we would still be having this argument into next week.”

Carlos simply shrugged modestly but TK spoke up as they headed up the walkway to their front door, “It’s just one of his many talents.”

Owen looked beside him to Garbiel with an exaggerated roll of his eyes as Andrea let out a light laugh from behind them. Carlos gave TK a pointed look but it was only met with a grin, and his attention was so devoted to his boyfriend that he almost didn’t notice the small crowd in their living room until they were already there. From there he was forced to do a double-take. His memories of that night were hazy, at best. It was a jumble of pain and fear and worry for Carlos as he watched him being attacked through heavy eyes. His recollection may be less than clear, but he is certain their home had been left in shambles.

Yet here they were, standing in a living room that might just be cleaner than they had left before heading to dinner all those nights ago; before they had come home to find strangers ransacking their home and TK couldn’t understand it.

He looked back to Carlos who looked just as confused as he was before glancing over at the group in the center of the room; his team, their family.

The question must have been clear on his face because Nancy scoffed.

“What?” she demanded, “Did you really think we were just going to let you come home to that mess? It’s like you don’t even know us.”

And TK didn’t have the words to respond to that. Instead, he simply glanced back at Carlos to see the love and gratitude he was feeling reflected in his warm brown eyes before he looked back at the others. He gave them a smile and when Judd moved forward to pull him into a hug, he went willingly, savoring the comfort and love that was emanating from every inch of this space filled by these people.

Someday, when the shock wore off and they were a little stronger, they would find the words to tell them how much it meant. But for now he hugged them all a little tighter and a little longer, and let his whispered thank-yous suffice. They had a long road ahead of them and being okay would take time. But he knew now with more certainty than he ever had before that as long as they had these people, they would always be okay.

#911 lone star #911lsfic #my writing #paul strickland #marjan marwani #nancy gillian #mateo chavez #judd ryder #userkimmy #userjilly #userac #userbones #tuserjamie #tuserpaige #reyesstrand #reyeslonestartag #jazzyjess #buckybarnesalways

48 notes · View notes

uwua3 · 4 years ago

Note

hmmm can i request masumi moving on from the director to the assistant director (reader)? like how he would transition and realize that he doesn’t actually love the director and is falling in love with the reader instead? thank you so much. i love your headcanons. theyre super lengthy, and they capture the emotions of the characters perfectly!! keep up the good work, love! :)

thank you so much!!! i’m so glad that i can portray the emotions of a character somewhat well 🥺 i often have a hard time pinpointing exact feelings so i’m so happy it doesn’t hold back my writings! i will keep doing my best to bring you the coolest pieces ever, mark my words!!! but this prompt is so ??? interesting that i’ve been thinking about it outside of tumblr, you know! i’ve held this off until i had a solid idea so here i am! ready to bring this to justice, wish me well!!! ♡

summary: masumi’s love language is making playlists, apparently

warnings: absent parents, one (1) argument, unrequited love

author’s note: please understand masumi was a hopeless romantic teen who grew up without love so his crush on izumi is definitely unhealthy, but it makes sense for his background TT i hope he overcomes a character arc where he “falls out of love” and loves himself more :D

word count: 3,666

music: breakfast in the park – scotty sire

one playlist, one song.

🌸💌 usui masumi

everything masumi did was for izumi

he acted on stage flawlessly by the script just to hear her approval from backstage. he put his acting career before his studies to have her praise the next day when he memorized his lines. he woke up for izumi, and fell asleep to see her sooner. eat, sleep, and breathe for izumi. masumi was in love

it didn’t matter if she loved him back, it was the feeling he wanted

growing up, no one loved him. so this unrequited love wasn’t painful, maybe it’s what he deserved for being so hard to love. if only he was better, did everything to improve, used every waking hour of his time to become the person izumi wanted him to be, then maybe he’d be deserving

masumi loved izumi, at least, so he thought

(but was this true love? why did the people he love always reject him? what was wrong, what did he have to do to be loved?)

it was another day, masumi opened his eyes and his first immediate thought was to greet izumi “good morning” and make sure she had her breakfast the way she liked it. he would pull a chair out for her, sit across the table after preparing her favorite coffee perfectly, and spend every second in between with her until they had dinner together

it was a cycle, a pattern misumi couldn’t find himself not doing. he lived for it, it’s what he was born to do

when masumi hurried to the kitchen to remain on schedule, he stopped by the entrance. someone else was in izumi’s place, a mug in your hand with a packet of papers open on the counter. you didn’t notice the teen by the door as you read through the stack

huh... you weren’t izumi

you looked up from the fine text and saw a boy staring at you with an apprehensive expression, as if he was wishing to will you away with the sheer force of his glare. in fact, he even appeared frustrated, his eyes narrowed and arms crossed over his chest

(of course he was angry! you were in izumi’s place, you interrupted his entire plan of the day! this was taking time out of his “loving izumi” schedule)

before you could say anything, the director walked into the room and you knew what was going on. the teen’s eyes practically became hearts, you could hear the pulse of his heartbeat from where you were, he instantly smiled and his whole face changed

it didn’t take any skills whatsoever to know izumi had a (not so) secret admirer in the dorms

“masumi!” izumi said, smiling back at him and missing the way he immediately melted at the way she pronounced his name. masumi suddenly wanted to hear it again and again. if he had a tail, it’d be wagging everywhere from how overwhelmed he was with emotion

he trailed after her like a puppy, seeking her attention and touch as he mindlessly followed with wide sparkling eyes and a permanent blush

as he tried to continue their day as normal, izumi led him to you with a big grin as she placed him in front of you. he didn’t bother turning to look at you, his entire focus was on izumi like he was stuck in a daydream

it wasn’t until izumi said those words that changed the rest of his life that he snapped his eyes towards you

“—meet our new assistant director! they’re going to be your acting coach!”

and ever since then, masumi’s hated you

it didn’t take long before the spring troupe members confessed izumi used to be masumi’s daily acting coach after practice. now that you took over her position, you basically stole him away from her (meaning less time for masumi to try to win over his true love)

(truthfully, izumi was grateful you replaced her. it was mentally draining to have to reject every single advance from the lovesick teen without breaking his heart. she pulled you into a hug with a relieved exhale, thanking you for your service as you wondered what she meant by that. you found out very quickly afterwards)

masumi couldn’t have ditched extra practice or else he’d let izumi down. so, he stayed against his will, using every chance to silently express his complaints about spending his limited time with you instead of izumi

of course, you didn’t react. you wanted to make a good impression for your first official job as the mankai assistant director (thank god your high school had a connection to offer apprentinceships), knowing this was an opportunity of a lifetime to even be inside the theatre business

(yet, you were questioning if masumi was a test or not. was this a test to prove you were patient, respectful, and willing to adapt to different types of actors? there was no way this kid was this in love with a grown woman, he couldn’t have possibly been this infatuated with izumi to the point of desperation)

(he was)

a week or two into extended practice and you were already stretched thin. masumi never took off his goddamn headphones, his volume on max with rock music damaging his eardrums as he barely paid attention to you. just nodded whenever you attempted to reprimand him, he didn’t care at all as he treated you with no respect

you were tempted to snatch his headset off and make him actually do something. you stood across from him in the practice room, his slouched posture completely not fitting the character he was portraying and his mumbled words the exact oppoosite of his performance whenever izumi was around

as he skimmed over his part and boredly stated the line in a monotonous attitude, you took a deep breath in and out with a forced smile

“masumi, perhaps you should emote more, with feeling.” you advised, your cheeks hurting from how strained your facial expressions were. masumi hummed, rolling his eyes as he turned the volume up higher (how was that even possible?)

“masumi, please pay attention.” you warned, an edge to your voice as masumi didn’t even acknowledge you. he glanced towards the door, as if hoping izumi would come through, then at the clock with a very disappointed sigh

“masumi.” you said, clutching the script in your fist as you tried to not cross your arms. your patience was on thin ice, how long would his bratty and arrogant attitude hold? you exhaled sharply, trying to maintain your composure for the sake of your internship

he didn’t respond. he yawned and stretched, as if he had just woken up. was masumi spaced out this entire time? you went to open your mouth and ask about his well–being (perhaps, you were being too critical of him. you were also a high school student, he must’ve been pressured in class), but before you could speak, he turned away with a curse

“shut up already, you’re so fake.” masumi mumbled, about to push his headphones over his ears completely but you threw the script onto the floor, startling him as it was your turn to glare at him

“usui masumi!” you shouted with disappointment, not believing your ears. why were his first words to you an insult? you wanted to go back to the stage of your relationship where he didn’t speak at all

masumi stared at you with an impatient look, as if he was waiting for you to get it over with already

“you want the truth, then? well, here it is!”

before you could stop yourself, you released all the anger you bottled up ever since you worked with him in a singular sentence

“izumi doesn’t love you, she never did and she never will, so give up already.”

this was the first time masumi even reacted to your words. his eyes widened, his hands frozen hovering above his headphones and his breath hitched in his throat. you instantly knew what you said was out of line, and when you tried to apologize, masumi sprinted out of the practice room rubbing at his eyes

the door slammed close, echoing in the corridor as you released a breath you weren’t aware you were holding. what could you do now? practice was over early, apparently

you were waiting for it to come, you knew you were being fired. you anxiously paced the floor, checking your phone multiple times to see if a notification with your resignation was arriving. it never did, even throughout the night, as you arrived to the mankai dorms with the weight of your outburst on your shoulders

as usual, you greeted the other troupes with respect despite being around the same age as them. in terms of their careers, they were leaps and bounds and years ahead of you and you made sure they knew that. they responded back friendly enough, offering sympathy most times whenever it was time to work with masumi

this time, the dorms were awkwardly quiet. it looked as if everyone was wary, looking out for something, on edge as they quietly moved around and tip–toed outside a certain door. members shushed each other with a hiss whenever a cabinet door slammed shut, or a bowl clattered against the table surface too long. it was an organized plan to not die, apparently

“what’s—” you started but were immediately silenced by a few pushing their pointer fingers to their lips with a warning expression. you bowed slightly as an apology and lowered your voice, glancing around you for the threat

“what’s wrong?” you whispered and everyone didn’t hesitate to point to masumi’s dorm room door. you learned that, to your surprise, masumi refused to leave his dorm and didn’t even let izumi in (you also found out he didn’t tell anyone what had happened between you two and your lack of professionalism)

you guessed this was going to be your apology then for not making you lose your job on the first day

when you straightened your back and confidently made your way to masumi’s door, the hushed warnings and pleas not to perish right then and there faded when you rapidly knocked on the surface with a stubborn intent to your actions

“masumi, it’s time for practice.” you called through the door, able to pick up on the vibrations of the music he was blasting through a speaker. no response, as expected of the drama queen (he was a teenager, after all)

“masumi, come outside or i’m making you.” you demanded, knowing he heard you when the volume was lowered a bar. it was instantly increased to the max, making most of the boys wince and cover their ears as the floor beneath them shook. you knew what this was: a challenge

scrolling through your albums, you found it and pressed play

without warning, masumi whipped his head towards his door as he heard something other than his own music

were you... were you playing the latest single of his favorite band?

you pressed your phone speaker below the door frame, letting it pass through the crack as he slowly turned down his own volume, staring at where the sound was coming from

after more than half the song, you breathed a sigh of relief when his door finally opened. masumi stood in front of you, his headphones pushed down to his neck, as he observed you (it was like he was really seeing you for the first time)

“you...” masumi paused, unsure how to continue. the song was winding down and fading out, coming to an end as he blankly stared at you. you fidgeted under his stare gazing through your soul, wondering if you had gone too far before—

“you know my favorite band?”

you blinked in surprise, as if you were expecting literally any other accusation but that. you nervously laughed, rubbing the back of your neck as you looked anywhere but at him. was it weird to admit that?

“y–yeah, of course. you play them all the time, so i assumed. i took a listen, they’re not bad.” you rambled, about to continue before masumi bent down to grab your smartphone. he held it out to you, which you took as he glanced at you up and down. was that, an impressed look to his face?

“of course they’re ‘not bad’. i listen to them.” masumi said, taking his script and leaving in the direction of the practice room without another word. you scrambled after him, attempting to keep up (you were usually the one dragging him to go)

masumi tried not to think about it too hard, but he did anyways

izumi didn’t even know what type of music he liked, but you did

it was during that fateful practice where masumi actually made an effort to try, and it’s like the fight from yesterday didn’t even happen

mankai couldn’t believe it—you actually managed to coax masumi out of his toxic mood swings. even izumi had a hard time processing it, confirming her gut feeling that she hired you for a reason

your hours with him increased, coincidentally enough

ever since then, you began learning more and more about who masumi truly was. any other person would’ve dismissed him as problematic for his borderline–creepy attraction to izumi, but past that, you realized there was a deepy rooted traumatic reason why masumi sought love from a select few

masumi was more than his love at first sight crush on izumi. you learned through his short, slightly rude responses, that his parents were absent from his life. when you put two and two together, it was obvious his guardians abroad didn’t give him the approval he needed as a child

(you made an effort to praise him more, genuinely complimenting his talents and encouraging him to do even better. you never noticed, but masumi’s face burned from being appreciated for once)

yet, you weren’t afraid to discipline him. you knew uninvolved parents meant a lack of authority in his life, resulting in his indifferent approach to everything. in a way, your ability to keep a level head but still reprimand him when necessary kept practice productive and functional (you learned being honest didn’t hurt his feelings one bit)

your relationship with masumi bloomed to be more than two aspiring actors. if you were lucky enough, you would even consider him a friend

he liked checking out new physical music releases in the form of cds and had a huge collection of post/progressive rock organized on his desk. when you gave him a mixtape of your favorites to share your music taste, you noticed it was closest to his player

(one time, izumi was worried about him. it had been quite some time since the last time masumi tried flirting with her. she was about to walk into his room before izumi noticed it was left open a crack. she looked in and saw masumi was lying in bed, staring at nothing with a small smile on his face as he listened to an unfamiliar song. it was your cd on repeat)

after school, you and masumi often rode the train back home if the mood called for it. he always leaned against the doors, staring out of the blurry windows with his headphones on and seemingly thinking of everything at once (probably izumi, considering how many times he subconsciously smiled to himself)

you sat beside him, focused on your apprentinceship work and staying on top of all your tasks. it was pretty much a quiet ride home, your friendship with masumi didn’t require talking to fill the silence. the comfortable gap between you two was expected, just two people co–existing with one another

except this time, it was different

you opened your laptop, about to start working before you glanced at masumi and stopped. he didn’t have his classic white headphones on, he always had them

before you could offer your own, masumi turned towards you, holding out one earbud with the other in his left ear

when you took it and placed it on your own ear, masumi slid over to sit closer and the casual distance suddenly closed. he shuffled through some playlist, he liked making them even if he did it rarely

masumi turned his head to look at you, and he seemed to be quietly asking what your opinion was on the track

(how much time had you spent with him that you had familiarized yourself with his complex body language?)

you closed your laptop and put it back in your bag. scooting closer, your legs were touching as you leaned over to read the title, humming a sound of agreement

“this is one of my favorites.” you confirmed, moving back only to realize how close your faces were. one wrong move and—

“me too.” masumi said, and he smiled

you wondered where you had seen that smile for and remembered: it was the smile he had given izumi every time he saw her in the morning

could it be?

you two listened to the music for the rest of the train ride, feeling as if you were trapped in a timeless space as no rules applied here. it was like your own little world, with masumi by your side and the background soundtrack of all your favorites

(misumi remembered your favorites, too. at the departure, you noticed he had messaged you a link. it was to the playlist he played earlier and a comment: thanks for the mixtape)

you two headed to the dorms, hands brushing and no words exchanged, like always. you weren’t aware how close you had become with the boy in love until now, especially with a singular cord keeping you two together

yet, it was as if nothing changed. when masumi saw izumi, he became the character everyone thought he was: a lovesick teenager in an unrequited relationship. he left you and sought izumi’s nonstop approval, his earbud pulled out of your ear as you watched

why was he such a different person around her? which version was his true self? and why did you want to know so bad?

(maybe, you wanted to be the one who knew masumi inside and out)

after that, you asked to ride the train home more. it was one of the only times you had him for yourself

sharing music became a way of communication over talking. you could predict masumi’s mood based on what he was listening to, and you always knew what to do when it came down to it. if masumi had something to express without his usual bitterness, he’d send a song and wait for you to listen it in full just to be understood. sometimes, his playlists even spelled out sentences

your relationship with masumi was mutual, and that was a first for him. he didn’t feel like he had to spend every second with you to confirm your friendship. he sometimes saw you irregularly throughout the day, but enjoyed it regardless

what was different was you made an effort to see him, you showed up to practice early with new song suggestions and plans to attend more music concerts. you included him, didn’t let him off easy, and had high expectations without being like his parents

no one wanted him around like you did, he had never felt this before. was this what it was like? being loved?

as you guys kept walking home with his earbuds connected, masumi was fully aware of how he wanted to hold your hand

“what is it?” masumi began, pushing his hand in his pant pocket to keep his voice steady. “love?”

you stopped, causing him to pause with you as he felt the tug of the cord. masumi turned towards you, the lyrics still played in the background as the instruments continued. a verse passed before you answered slowly, as if you were unsure and contemplative yourself

“love... love is what you feel. it isn’t defined, but it’s what you have for something that makes you happy, that motivates you to do your best.”

masumi didn’t seem to understand, so you explained further

“like, doesn’t music make you happy?”

masumi nodded

“then you love music!”

masumi seemed to understand as you two kept walking. but, masumi was even more confused, because didn’t that mean he loved you? you made him happy, you were his source of motivation

“then do you love me?”

you didn’t stop this time, but walked faster as you fell out of step with masumi. a new song was playing, but you couldn’t hear it over your own heartbeat

“don’t ask things like that, especially when you love izumi.” you laughed, but there was no humor whatsoever. masumi didn’t say anything else and the silence returned, it wasn’t as comfortable anymore

when you two walked through the front door, masumi hesitated. wasn’t this the point where he quickly latched onto izumi’s side? why did he want to stay with you? masumi glanced at you and before he could say anything, you gave him back your earbud and left to do your job

izumi waved at him, and masumi followed. for some reason, he questioned if izumi had ever heard his music before

(he realized, he never made a playlist for her)

it was nearing the end of your shift, you had blocked out your thoughts with the masumi method: maxing out your headphone volume as you revised masumi’s lines and corrections for next practice

your phone pinged, making you flinch at the sudden sound as you pushed the papers to the side. you sat with your chin on your knees, leaning against the practice room mirror as you lazily grabbed your phone, unlocking it to see a new text from masumi

it was another playlist titled “you make me happy, you motivate me”

you opened it and was about to press play before you noticed there was only one song

“i love you”

#usui masumi #masumi usui #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! headcanons #act! addict! actors! headcanons #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! x reader #a3 x reader #masumi x reader #a3! masumi #a3 masumi

682 notes · View notes

kickingitwithkirk · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Not Clean

Paring: Alpha!Sam Winchester x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 1948

Warnings: A/B/O, angst, verbal fighting, cursing, cheating, oral sex, p/v sex

A/N: for @jawritter #jensmakemecrychallange

A/N II: Set between mid season six-starts after Death puts Sam’s soul back-ending before the last Trial in season eight. Told from Sam’s POV alternating between present and past memories/ events. Some altering of events to fit story line. Prompt in Bold.

*no beta, all mistakes are mine.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I chant this mantra over and over to myself.

I was drunk before leaving, roaring out of the garage in Baby, leaving the stench of burning rubber and exhaust in my wake.

We’ve had some hell raising fights over the years. This one tonight the vilest we have ever had, saying the most unforgiving things to each other because you broke our agreement.

What we said...our knowledge of each other’s weakest points to abuse, verbally cutting into each other in the deepest manner, inflicting as much carnage as possible.

The only other person in the universe who knows how to hit me that hard is my brother. Man, how we’ve done that dance too, over and over yet somehow always finding our way back to each other.

My brother tried to intervene, to stop us from saying the things we can never take back or forgive. It felt as if he was taking your side, I went after him as well.

I feel the need to punish myself for all the pain I have caused. I am always creating pain, torching those I love.

I found her at the dive bar, a few days out from her heat.

She is my punishment.

We go to a nearby dump. I close the door and she's already on her knees, my jeans zippers down, pulling me out and starts licking up the underside of my cock, making gagging noises trying to deepthroat me. My head thunks against the door and all I can think is that she’s not you.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I remember like it was yesterday. We ended up at Bobby’s after cleaning out a vamp nest two states over.

Grabbing our duffels we didn’t rock, paper, scissors over who got the spare bed, my brother just face plants on the couch, unconscious before I’m even at the foot of the staircase.

I wearily make my way upstairs not bothering to shower in spite of how bad I smell, too exhausted to care. I toed off my boots and socks, throwing my blood encrusted shirt and jeans in the corner, collapsing face down on the bed, landing on top of something under the covers.

Why am I staring at the ceiling?

My brother barrel's in, woken by the sound of my body hitting the floor, stopping in the doorway with his gun drawn looking for what attacked me...this confused look crossed his face as the scent of fear flooded the room.

I sit up gazing over the bed as you huddle in the corner looking scared to death. My brother puts his gun back in his waistband, hands up with his on display to show he’s no threat.

I slowly got to my feet and came around the bed towards you. You shrink even further in the corner, pulling into yourself as tight as you can, hiding behind your arms and drawn up knees.

I stop and sit down trying to not appear threatening and speak softly to you.

“I’m sorry I scared you, we’re friends of Bobby’s. He didn’t tell us you were here. We’re not going to hurt you.”

You're so still, all I can see is your beautiful eyes moving between us, the only movement you are able to do.

My brother gives a small smile before going back downstairs to the couch, giving you space to calm down. I stay on the floor, my back propped against the bed talking.

It’s a one sided conversation but that’s ok.

Bobby’s back just after daybreak found us still in the same positions on the floor asleep.

“Balls!”

You spring from the corner and bury yourself in his arms. Seeing that Bobby has you I grab my stuff and head for a shower. My brothers just came out from taking his. I strip and climb in turning on the water.

Fucker used all the hot water.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I don’t want to be touching her now, or her touching me, my self loathing rising like the bile in my throat but my body has a mind of its own tonight as my brain turns off given into my Alpha.

I grab her hair, yanking her off my dick with an audible pop, saliva and precome running down her chin, adding another stain to the discolored rug. I pull her up, tossing her onto the bed before dragging her back to the edge, the barely there skirt rides up out of the way as I lave my tongue up her uncovered thighs, swirling it through her dripping folds. Roughly inserting several fingers into her tight cunt I start sucking on her clit as she grabs my hair soaking my face with her slick as she cums.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

The smell of coffee calls to my still fuzzy brain as I staggered downstairs to the kitchen. My brother and Bobby are at the table talking. As I pour a cup you walk in from the porch.

I turn towards you, finally able to scent you without the terror that clouded the room last night.

Are you a classic beauty? No, but you beguile me.

I’m enamored with your beautiful eyes, recalling the way they never left mine last night. You’re taller than I expected, curvaceous, not delicate like others I have been with.

As you hold my gaze I remember the verbal platitudes, reading the drivel, even watched some of the bathetic romance movies but they could never fully articulate this feeling. It de-queues through me, permeates my soul.

My brother relentlessly teases that I am having a chick-flick moment.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

She wobbly moves onto her hands and knees, I climb on the bed behind her and ram my engorged cock into her sodden cunt as far as she can take me mindlessly pounding. I wrap my hand around her throat, squeezing enough to stop the incoherent noises escaping from her mouth that grate against me.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

We ended up staying at Bobby’s for a couple of weeks, it was quiet and I wasn’t in any hurry to leave you.

Bobby explained to us how you ended up here over a bottle of whiskey late one night.

Jo found you bruised and bleeding, huddled in the door jam out back of Harvelle's Roadhouse. You had been injured by your pack for defying them. Ellen of course took you in.

The pack came looking for you, trailing your scent to the bar. Ellen’s shotgun and don’t fuck with me attitude convinced them you had left but she knew it wasn’t safe for you to stay, your pack would be watching.

Smuggling you out of the bar proved harder than anyone thought. There were multiple hand offs among hunters traveling along the way, finally delivering you to Bobby Singer's home days later.

For the first time in your life, you were safe.

We took our time getting to know each other, I had to work harder than I ever have with anyone before to gain your trust.

After my brother and I caught a case, I would call you every day and matter the time, you answered. We would talk for hours, share what we had been doing that day, finding our mutual interests in a variety of subjects coming to light.

My brother would yell for me to get off the damn phone, I was keeping him awake, even though I’m sitting outside the motel room.

Then things got out of control.

Castiel broke the wall and died. Leviathans were anyone and everywhere, finally imitating us.

We became America’s Most Wanted. Bobby sent us to a man named Frank who owned him a big favor and made us disappear.

We found Bobby’s burned down house and almost got killed ourselves.

Then Bobby showed up at the hospital to break us out, informing me you were safe, hidden at a long forgotten hunters cabin.

We managed to stay in contact, I needed that, to know you were staying safe before being able to sleep at night.

The first fight happened in the hospital, blaming us for losing Bobby.

Then Dick and Purgatory.

And a lost year.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I pulled out of her relieved my knot had finally deflated enough to release me. Collapsing onto my back I fling my arm over my eyes disgusted with myself as she’s curling into my side literally purring.

I’ve repeatedly used her...in this bed of sin I created...I’ve lost control...not the first time.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

It’s never quiet for long in our lives. Castiel mysteriously returns and Kevin Tran sort of deciphers the demon tablet, how through three trials we can close the Gates of Hell and seal away so much evil if we survive the First Trial- kill a Hell hound.

While on another case we met our grandfather Henry Winchester of The Men of Letters and inherit the key to the Bunker. We have a home of sorts and I finally have a safe place for you, for us to be together. A few months after moving in, before the Second Trial-rescuing a innocent from Hell, and your heat, I made a decision that saddened both of us but with our lives was necessary and allowed me finally to make you mine forever.

Right before finding out about the Third Trial I found the test hidden in a drawer and my diminishing mind bounces between being petrified and elated. I sat there downing a bottle of whiskey from my brother's copious stash waiting for your return and upon seeing you all the alcohol in my degenerating body gave me permission to release my pent up fury and paranoia, ending in that cheap room with her.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I made my way back to the Bunker to find my brother sitting in the War Room waiting on me. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of her all over me but said nothing as I handed over the car keys pocketing them. His eyes shifted to a chair and I apprehensively sat down awaiting the bombardment he would unleash. He remains quiet as he turns the open laptop towards me. I blink a few times to focus on the screen, reading the online article from a national news agency about the contraceptive failure. I’m in disbelief when he slides your phone in front of me and plays the voicemail from your doctor.

I get up swaying from a nonexistent breeze slowly walking the halls till I’m standing outside our bedroom door. I can scent your sadness from outside the closed door causing me to freeze holding the knob, unable to summon up the courage to turn it when it disappears from my hand finding you instead. You move allowing me to enter, shutting the door as I sit on the edge of the bed before crossing over, moving to stand directly in front of me. I don’t know how you can do that with the smell of every wrong I’ve done clinging to my skin polluting us.

I feel your hands cradling my face softly telling me Grown men don't cry as your fingers track the tears coursing uninhibitedly down my cheeks.

I completely collapse wrapping my arms around your waist resting my forehead against the special place where our pup is, undeserving of your love that’s purifying me in ways the trials never will.

tagging: SPN @donnaintx

Sam/Jared @idreamofplaid

#jensmakemecrychallange #alpha!sam Winchester x omega!reader #alpha!sam winchester #Sam Winchester #SPN Supernatural #SUPERNATURAL AU #supernatural a/b/o #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #angst

120 notes · View notes

collecting-stories · 4 years ago

Text

Illicit Affairs - Rick Grimes

Request: Hi! Can I request number 113 with Rick Grimes, please?

A/N: Sorry this took so long!

The Walking Dead Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You sat in the guard tower, watching as Lori stood in the field talking with Carol. It was later in the morning, everyone else was already up and moving around, trying to clear out the rest of the prison or at least the places they thought they would need as time progressed. Rick was up early; you’d seen him in the hall on your way to switch shifts with Glenn. He’d walked you to the door of the tower and kissed your cheek while no one was around, promising he would find you later. You didn’t hold much hope for later, especially with the mood that Lori seemed to be in today. But a kiss on the cheek was certainly less than you expected to get.

“How’s it look from up there?” Carol called, blocking her eyes from the sun as she looked up at you.

You squinted, looking out one last time and finding that familiar silhouette coming out of the woods, the slow gait that always had you dropping into a trance, “it’s alright.”

Sometimes you thought Lori knew. There was a certain way she looked at you, as if she had figured out that you were who her husband was sneaking off to everyday. That your willingness to volunteer an extra hand was only because the two of you had taken to meeting in the abandoned parts of the jail to be alone together. Sometimes, when she looked at you and you thought she knew you were happy. Let her know that you were sleeping with her husband, that the man she left behind for Shane wasn’t hers anymore. But then you saw Carl and you hoped to god no one found out. Carl couldn’t know. Maybe somewhere down the line, you would be able to tell him, but for now he could never know. Because as much as you hated Lori, you loved her son. He was the spitting image of his dad in personality, in looks, in mannerisms.

The door behind you creaked open, heavy iron scrapping the floor as Daryl came into view. “I got watch.”

“Thank god, I need a nap.” You stretched before switching places with him, heading for the door rather eagerly.

“Ya ain’t sly ya know,” he pointed out, arguably the most perceptive of the group it had taken Daryl no time at all to figure out that you had feelings for Rick. He was the only one you told when Rick kissed you that first time at Hershel’s farm.

“It’s hard.” You admitted, pausing in the doorway. You loved Rick and you hoped that he loved you but he was still trying to keep things together with Lori and he seemed less willing than ever to consider a someday when they would no longer be together. “I get antsy, waiting.”

“He won’t do anything while she’s pregnant.” Daryl was arguably the only one not willing to pass judgement either. No one else knew that you and Rick were seeing each other in private but Carol and Glenn both had told you to ignore your feelings for him, he was happy with his wife, so they claimed. But when he had kissed you, when you had been with him that first time in the woods near the creek, it was something different. It didn’t feel like he was thinking of Lori even if he’d been losing his mind over her before that.

“She’s with Shane.” He had confessed, out of the blue, as the two of you walked through the woods. “She’s been with him since this all started…screwing my best friend the second she thinks I might be dead. What kind of…”

“I think we’re all just trying to cope.” As Rick’s wife and Shane’s…something…you’d never been fond of Lori but as a person, as a mother, you knew she was just doing the best she could. It wasn’t some twisted grudge against her that had you aching for her husband. Sometimes you wished he wasn’t her husband. It would make all this pining after him easier.

“I just…how can she ask me to make all these decisions when she’s been sleeping with Shane this whole time? I’m the bad guy?” He shook his head, “I don’t…I can’t even look at her.”

“Maybe you just need to blow off some steam. Shoot something?”

“I wouldn’t mind shooting Shane.”

You grabbed his arm, you would remember the feeling forever, you grabbed his arm and stopped him from walking, standing in front of him in the near dusk, watching the way he relaxed his shoulders as his eyes met yours.

The kiss was soft and somewhat hesitant at first and afterward he apologized for kissing you when his head was so mixed up but you promised that you didn’t mind. He could kiss you whenever he wanted to, an idea that seemed to spark an action in him as he kissed you again, more fervently, and pushed you against the nearest tree.

“I wouldn’t either,” you promised Daryl. You wouldn’t do anything to hurt Lori while she was pregnant. Whether the baby was Rick’s or not, it was an innocent baby, brought into an unforgiving world, and you’d do anything for them. “I’m just afraid he won’t do anything at all.” You confessed.

“Wouldn’t know what to tell ya about that.”

You shrugged, pressing your lips together in some kind of half defeat, “either way, I’ll see ya later.”

“Go take that nap ya wanted.” He said as you closed the door behind you.

The trip from the tower into your cell block was one you’d grown accustomed to but not one you were thrilled to make when you were exhausted. You’d been restless last night and mostly unable to sleep. You, like everyone else in the cell block, had heard Lori and Rick fighting with each other and when Carl came into your cell because of the arguing you had taken him outside to the bridge for a little while. Long enough that by the time he finally exhausted himself, everyone was asleep. Lori was in his cell, asleep on the bottom bunk, while Rick was nowhere to be found.

You had deposited the boy to his cell and left to go to bed, waking up not long after for watch. You liked routines, they helped you focus, but this routine that you had fallen into was far different from the one you had before the world ended. Now you kept watch in a guard tower, went for runs once a week, lived in an abandoned prison, all of it felt chaotic, even in its routine and sometimes it wore on you a little too much.

You pushed the curtain aside on your cell, surprised to find that while you were talking to Daryl, Rick had made his way back into the prison and was sitting in your cell, back against the wall on the bottom bunk of your bed.

“Hey,” you stepped inside, pulling the curtain shut and tying it so no one could look in. “What are you doing here?”

“Just need a minute without all that.” Rick replied. You knew what all that meant. He’d complained once to you about Lori and, while you wanted to be a confidant for him whenever he needed it, you didn’t want him to only come to you about Lori. You had said as much and now he danced around the subject whenever he’d had a hard time with her. “Just feel like things are getting worse.”

“I think everyone is just stressed.” You said, trying to offer some kind of solace to him. You stepped between his legs, letting him rest his head against your stomach. He pressed his nose into the fabric of your gray t-shirt as you ran your fingers through his growing curls.

He said something and you frowned, looking down at him.

“What?” You asked, “I didn’t hear you?”

“I said,” He tilted his head back to look at you, hands on your hips, “I thought of you when I came last night.”

Your lips pursed, trying not to smile, “here I am, trying to be nice and you’ve only got one thing on your mind.”

“Can you blame me?” He replied, “feels like it’s been weeks since we got a moment alone.”

You moved out of his hold, sitting next to him on the bed and grabbing his hand in yours. Leaning against his shoulder, you sighed, “I know, it’s been busy around here but...things’ll quiet soon. Baby’s almost here, according to Hershel.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” He sighed.

“Which part of this are you referring to?” You asked, cautiously. You always considered that there was a chance Rick would someday decide that this wasn’t enough for him and he would go back to Lori. Or just be with her altogether and end this one foot in, one foot out.

“I don’t wanna sneak around anymore, I feel like we’re in high school or something. I have to tell Lori, I don’t want to do this to you.” He replied, vague as to what he actually intended to do.

You heard the door to the cell block open and shut, the sound of Carl’s footsteps followed by his voice, calling for his dad. You kissed Rick’s shoulder over his jacket, “Guess we’ll be sneaking around for a little bit longer.” You teased as Rick stood up, reluctantly letting go of your hand.

“After I make sure Carl’s in bed tonight, do rounds with me tonight?” He asked, lingering near the curtain.

“Of course.” You replied, knowing that whatever Rick’s final decision might be you were in this for the long run. He slipped out of the cell and you heard him greeting Carl as you toed off your boots.

#rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes x you #rick grimes fanfic #rick grimes fic #rick grimes x y/n #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fic #the walking dead imagine #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #twd fic #twd imagine #collecting stories imagine

361 notes · View notes

kirishibi · 5 years ago

Text

Kindred Spirits | Bubaigawara Jin (Twice)

My contribution to the BNHArem flowers collab!

Flower: White Chrysanthemum, meaning loyalty and devoted love

Summary: you were born with a quirk that allows you to temporarily take other peoples’ emotions, though it makes it nearly impossible to create your own. every day, you sit out on city sidewalks hoping for people to let you borrow their unwanted emotions. Used to only feeling things like guilt, shame, and disappointment, you find yourself pleasantly surprised when a kind stranger comes along and donates happiness

Pairing: Bubaigawara Jin (Twice) x Reader

Warnings: No manga spoilers! jin smoking a cigarette, light cursing, pining, brief angst (hurt/comfort), sickeningly sweet fluff

Word Count: 4.1k

a/n: this is officially the longest single piece i’ve ever written and my back is feeling it. i’m so excited to have been able to participate in this collab, especially since I got to write one of my all time favorite characters! thank you so much @jojosmilktea for making the masterlist - you did a great job!

You sat against the brick wall of a quaint boutique in one of the busiest areas of the city, a frayed cardboard sign in your hands and rusted tin can beside your feet. The neat, permanent marker words on your sign read, ‘will take unwanted emotions for $’.

Your practice wasn’t entirely legal since you didn’t have a license, but with villain activity rising rapidly in the area, you were the least of the local authorities’ worries. Your tin only held enough change for a protein bar from the corner store and your muscles ached, stiff from sitting in the same spot all day, yet you told yourself to wait a little longer. Maybe you’d get lucky.

A bus rolled by, on its side an advertisement for some hero school at the edge of town, the tagline: ‘You, too, are destined for greatness!’ plastered in bold letters beside a photo of comically fake, smiling heroes. You couldn’t help but scoff as you watched the bus round a corner and disappear from sight, remembering the vain hope you held as a child seeing similar advertisements on T.V. Back then, you truly believed you would become a hero once you got your quirk - in fact, most kids your age did, excitedly awaiting the day they’d discover their unique “super power”.

On your fourth birthday, your quirk came in and tore away any hope you had for the life of a hero. That day, you discovered that you could steal whatever emotion someone was feeling with the touch of your fingertips, taking it for yourself and leaving them without until your quirk wore off. The catch, however, was that it became incredibly difficult for you to feel any emotion without stealing it from someone else.

Your quirk had a habit of activating involuntarily, so at a young age you began to wear gloves. It wasn’t long before rumors spread around your school that you were secretly a witch, or cursed, and you were bullied relentlessly from afar for the majority of your early life.

The treatment only worsened as you grew to adulthood.

In your world where heroes and super powers were commonplace, if your quirk was problematic or - god forbid - nonexistent, you were nothing but a stain on society, a weed in need of pulling. As a kid, you were reluctant to learn this fact, so life beat it into you. You learned a harsh reality very quickly - emotions became addicting once you were unable to feel them by yourself, and in desperate times, even the bad ones were better than nothing. Anything was better than nothing. Hardships hit you in waves until you had nowhere else to go, finding solace in a ramshackle apartment in the middle of the city, begging for unwanted feelings with a side of cash during the day, spending all night searching for a job on the web.

Without a useful quirk, wealthy upbringing, or a desire to turn to villainy, this was your place in society.

After around half an hour, you stood from your spot on the pavement with a disappointed huff, stretching your aching muscles for a moment before crouching to collect your things. “Excuse me!” A gruff voice called out from behind you, the words “Hey, bitch!” following closely after, without pause for you to respond. You thought you heard the person whisper a quiet ‘sorry’ before you whipped around, startled.

You found a tall, blonde man standing at the edge of the sidewalk, his hands shoved in patched jean pockets and his broad shoulders hunched sheepishly, as if he wanted to occupy as little space as possible. The man shifted nervously while you looked him up and down. A large, vertical scar ran up the center of his forehead to just shy of his hairline, and dark blond stubble dotted his sharp jaw. The faint frown lines bordering his lips and creasing the space between his brows told you he’d likely endured a life similar to yours. Most people who spent their time on these streets had, and after a while the signs became easy to spot.

You cocked your head slightly to the side, raising a brow. “Can I help you?” You responded curtly. Living in such an unpredictable area had certainly not made you any kinder.

“You have an emotion quirk, right? I, uh, saw the sign. ‘was wondering if I could donate.” His gaze evaded yours even as he spoke, the man instead opting to watch as his frayed sneakers anxiously toed the ground.

You bent down, grabbing your change-filled tin from the sidewalk and jangling the coins within, wordlessly telling him your service wasn’t free. He stepped closer, huddling at the inner edge of the sidewalk with you, hugging the wall so as not to block the path of those trying to pass by. He pulled a crumpled two thousand yen bill from his pocket and handed it over with a timid smile. To any of the businessmen who walked by, the cash would have been no more than pocket change, but to you, it was a fortune.

Your expression must have shown just how much his payment meant to you, as the man's smile grew wider, stretching to crease the corners of his eyes. He didn’t say anything, only watched as you stuffed the bill into your pocket for safekeeping, slipped off one of your tattered, cotton gloves and held out a bare palm. “Can I see your hand? It only works through touch.” As he slid a hand out of his pocket, you recited the same speech you gave to all of your customers: “Bring forth whichever emotion you’d like me to take from you - really make yourself feel it. I don’t get to choose what I take, so whatever’s at the forefront of your mind is what will be transferred. Effects can last anywhere between three to four hours. Oh, and no refunds. Any questions?”

He reached for your hand, but hesitated, his fingers hovering just shy of yours as he timidly asked. “Is any emotion okay, good or bad?”

You sighed, “Yeah, I don’t judge. Whatever it is, it’s better than nothing.”

He nodded and laid a heavy, calloused palm atop your own. You braced yourself for what you had grown used to - feelings of disappointment, shame, anger, hopelessness; the most common feelings of the dejected businessmen who worked in the area and passed your spot regularly.

As your quirk took effect, however, you didn’t experience any of those things. You felt the corners of your lips pulling into a grin entirely on their own, a joyous giggle bubbling in your throat and spilling from you before you could halt it. Your hands flew to your face, feeling your cheeks as they flushed pink from excitement. “Wh-what?” Was all you could manage in your surprised, giddy state. It had been months- no- years since you’d felt this way.

The man’s kind smile remained, though it no longer spread to his eyes. Like you, he seemed used to faking it. “I knew a kid with an emotion quirk growin’ up. He was a total loser. Uh- it made it harder for him to feel stuff on his own, so I wanted to...” He paused for a moment before timidly continuing, his next word hanging in his mouth as if unfamiliar to his lips “help. Just in case it was the same for you, ya ugly hoe.” With his joy depleted, embarrassment quickly took its place. The man’s teeth found his bottom lip as if to keep himself from saying more, and you thought you could see a faint blush spread along his cheekbones as he turned to leave.

You were startled by the way his tone shifted so quickly, yet his actions had been kind. You couldn’t help but think, maybe his quirk knocked a few screws loose in his head, too. Much to your surprise, you found yourself wanting to talk to him more, or at least pay him back in some way, but the man had donated joy, not courage.

“Thank you, sir!” was all you could manage as he made his way deeper into the city, the distance between you growing with each step.

He waved in acknowledgement before pocketing his hand once again and turning off into a darkened alley.

---

For the first time in as long as you could remember, you awoke the next day feeling refreshed. You felt a slight bounce in your step as you made your way to your typical spot, treating yourself to a cold drink from the cafe along the way. Thanks to the kind stranger from the night before, you could finally afford a refreshing beverage to fend off the ever intensifying heat outside.

You didn’t quite know why, but the sun seemed to shine a little brighter as it rose along the horizon, the colors that sunrise painted across the skyline more vibrant than previous mornings.

Your day went by fast, and soon enough dusk began to fall. The street lights surrounding you kicked on, signaling that it was once again time for you to pack up and return home. You stood, gathered your things, and turned to begin your journey back to your apartment when a vaguely familiar voice caught your attention, “Hey, wait up- get outta here!”

It was him.

You turned on your heel toward the sound of his voice, almost as surprised as when he showed up the night before. “You’re back?”

“Yeah, is that okay? Got a problem with me or somethin’?!” You watched him wince as the second set of words passed his lips. He gritted his teeth, shoulders tensing. Like before, he preferred to watch the ground between you rather than meet your gaze.

“It’s fine.” He glanced back up at the sound of your voice, and you flashed him a reassuring smile. The tension in his shoulders seemed to fade if only for a moment. “My regulars just tend to be angry white-collar businessmen, not, ya know...” You let your words trail off, unsure how to finish.

“Not people like you?” He filled in the blanks with ease, and you nodded in agreement.

A comfortable silence spread between you for a moment before he cleared his throat, pulling another creased bill from his pocket. You realized your hands were too full to take the cash and moved to set your things down on the pavement, but the man reached out a tentative palm, “I can hold your sign for ya. I don’t wanna. I won’t take it. I will. I- I just don't want it gettin’ all dirtied up if it’s your only one.”

You hesitated, “You don’t have to be so nice. I’ve lived here long enough to handle myself.”

“I believe you. Doubt it! But what kinda guy would I be if I didn’t try ta help out a sweet lady like you?”

His genuine kindness was entirely unexpected, but you saw no reason to be distrustful. After all, what use could he have for old, water damaged cardboard. You looked him over once more before handing him the already filthy sign and taking his payment with a newly emptied hand. You stuffed it in your pocket, slid off your glove, and held out an open palm like before. “Need me to debrief you again?”

“Yes, please!” His words betrayed him as he shook his head ‘no’. “I got it, thanks.”

Suddenly, you were grateful that you had figured out which of his voices to listen to, and which to ignore. He rested a large palm against your own. A second later, you felt sparks of joy ignite a fire within your chest. The blond’s touch suddenly felt pleasantly electric on your skin, and you allowed your hand to linger in his, reluctant to pull away.

Glancing back up, you realized that he had been watching you. The tender warmth in his gaze never left as he slowly, hesitantly slipped his fingers from yours. He reached into his jeans’ back pocket, revealed a half empty pack of cigarettes, “Got time for a smoke?”

You began to refuse on instinct, but the words caught at the tip of your tongue. Again, you found that you didn’t want to part with him quite yet. Something about him caught your interest, generous donations aside. A finger tapped your chin as you pretended to ponder your decision, then shrugged, “Yeah, I think I’ve got some time.”

Shoulder to shoulder, you propped yourselves against the boutique’s wall. He offered a cigarette, to which you declined with a slight shake of your head. When you reached to take your sign back so that he could focus on lighting up, he simply swatted your hand away and tucked it under his arm. “Aye, let me be a gentleman. It’s mine!”

Your chest felt fuzzy, heart fluttering. There was something beneath your good mood, something heavy and intoxicating that you’d never felt before, but you didn’t dislike it. Quite the opposite, in fact. “You’re weird” you teased.

“You’re weird” he responded without skipping a beat. There was another brief pause as he lit his cigarette, then spoke again “So, what’s your name, weirdo?”

You giggled, playfully jabbing an elbow to his side at the title, and he laughed with you. It had a deep, melodic timbre to it, hearty, disarming, and beautiful. You wondered how sweet the sound would be under normal circumstances, without your quirk draining him. “(Y/n). What’s yours?”

“None o’ ya business!” He rolled his eyes at himself, frustrated, then took a long drag from his cigarette. “Bubaigawara. You can call me Jin, though.”

“Jin Bubaigawara” You repeated his full name slowly, savoring the way it felt on your tongue, and grateful to finally be able to call him something other than ‘sir’.

“Sounds prettier coming from you, but yeah that’s it.”

At his words, warmth crept up your neck, dusting your cheeks a rosy pink, and tugging the edges of your lips into a shy smile.

Jin felt different from the people you grew up with. He looked at you with eyes entirely void of judgement or distrust, and even if only for a moment, he made you feel like someone understood -- like someone cared.

Hours passed as you talked about everything, yet nothing in particular. The two of you took turns just chatting, occasionally asking questions back and forth. You told one another of how you discovered your quirks, shared stories from school, spoke of your families, or lack thereof. He didn’t explain the scar on his forehead, nor his split speech, but you didn’t think to ask, either. They were a part of him, made him who he was, and you realized that night that you really liked who he was.

---

For the most part, your days passed as they always did, with little business in the mornings and a few agitated corporate underlings stopping by around lunchtime to rid themselves of the bitter frustration their coworkers gave rise to. However, during your long periods of downtime, your thoughts began to wander.

Typically, they wandered to Jin.

Often, as you got bored, you found yourself scanning passing crowds for a tall blond with tired yet kind eyes, sighing disappointedly when you couldn’t find him. As much as your quirk numbed you to most things, you weren’t entirely immune to simpler feelings, like the soft pang of missing someone or the nervous quickening of your heartbeat when you finally spotted him at the end of the day. You couldn’t deny that your draw to him only grew with each nightly rendezvous and slowly, butterflies began to appear in your chest even long after the effects of your quirk had worn off. You found yourself counting the minutes until he came to see you at the end of the day, and feeling melancholy when you parted ways late in the evening.

You had never been able to feel something without taking it from someone else first, but bit by bit that began to change.

---

One night a little over a week after you first met, Jin was ten minutes late to meet you - concerning, considering how punctual he’d always been until then.

When he did show up, he seemed agitated as he tried to make conversation, and the moment his eyes met yours, you knew something was wrong. “Jin?” You questioned. Though he’d been slowly breaking the habit as you got to know one another, his gaze once again glued itself to the ground. He gnawed on his bottom lip as he desperately tried to avoid eye contact. You moved closer and bent down slightly, forcing yourself into his line of sight though he tried to evade. Only then did you notice he’d been biting his lip so hard it had swelled, threatening to bleed. “Jin, are you okay?”

For the first time in your life, you felt genuine concern.

“Back off, bitch!” He clasped a hand over his mouth the moment the words flew past his lips, his eyes brimming with tears. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I-” His voice broke as he repeated the words over and over again. “I can't help it. Yes I can. I don’t mean it. I’ll hurt you. Gah- damn it, shut the hell up, wontcha?!” He yelled at no one in particular.

You took a cautious step back to give him space, though you had no intention of running. You knew how it felt to find yourself stuck in a losing battle against your own mind. No matter what he said, you weren’t about to leave. Not like everyone else had left both of you.

Without a second thought, you reached out, entwining gloved fingers with his and tugging him down the sidewalk. He followed without hesitation, clutching your hand so tightly you thought it may break. You pulled him into a narrow alleyway for privacy, and the moment no one else was around, he hurriedly reached into his pocket, fishing out a two-toned mask. “Shit, I- I’m splitting up! I’m fine! I’m splitting all up- I love it!” Hot tears streamed down his cheeks as his bloodshot eyes finally found yours. “I’m splitting, (Y/n), you don’t understand I’m sp-!”

You put two and two together fairly quickly and swiped the mask from his trembling grasp, roughly tugging the skin-tight material over his head and down onto most of his face. You rattled off a stream of apologies as you helped him unceremoniously slide it the rest of the way on, certain you were pulling tufts of hair along with the fabric.

The moment his mask was fully in place, Jin exhaled a sigh of relief and dropped to the ground. You pushed away the countless questions racking your brain, instead forcing yourself to focus on the man before you. You lowered to sit beside him and placed a gentle hand on his back. Your thumb lightly rubbed the space between his shoulder blades as you sat together on the damp asphalt, barely noticing as small droplets of old rain periodically dribbled onto your shoulders from an overhead windowsill.

You didn’t have to wait long before he turned his attention back to you, shifting so you were face to face and cupping your cheeks with calloused palms. “You’re an angel! Marry me!” he excitedly exclaimed. You leaned into his touch despite the confusion clouding your thoughts, and suddenly you found yourself grateful your quirk only transmitted through your fingertips.

You didn’t know exactly what you were feeling in that moment - worry, adoration, compassion, panic - the lines between them all blurred together in your head, but it didn’t matter. The feelings were there, and they were yours.

Without a second thought, you threw your arms around Jin. He gladly reciprocated, nearly knocking you off balance as he wrapped you in a tight hug. “Sorry, that musta’ been real scary for ya, huh?”

You shook your head ‘no’ against his strong shoulder, “You’re gonna have to do a lot more than that to scare me.” He chuckled weakly at your words, and you reluctantly pulled away to meet his gaze once more. “Are you okay? I mean-” you sighed, “that was a dumb question, but you know what I mean, right? Do you need anything? Water, juice?”

“Juice! Stop stressin’! I’m fine now - when the mask is on, I become whole again! Good as new, see?” He flexed a bicep theatrically. The mask obscured his smile, but the slight squint at the bottoms of his eyes told you he was grinning from ear to ear. You nodded, letting out a breath that you didn’t know you had been holding in.

Hesitantly, you asked the next question on your mind: “Does that happen often?”

The man in front of you shrugged much too nonchalantly for the situation. “Most of the time I’m wearin’ the mask, so I don’t really gotta worry.”

Your brow furrowed. “I’ve never seen you in it before.”

“Duh, I always take it off to visit ya!” You cocked a brow questioningly, and he took the hint to elaborate further. “First time was an accident. You just caught my eye when I was on a walk without it, and I wanted to help ya out a bit ‘cause of that one guy from school.” He shook his head slightly, still smiling. “You’re so pretty, though - especially when you’re happy - I just had to come back. But you’d already seen me without the mask, so I jus’ took it off when I went to see ya.”

Whether his intention or not, Jin’s words forced a smile onto your face. The butterflies in your chest buzzed to life as he locked his fingers with yours, squeezing happily when he saw the blush on your cheeks. “The mask wouldn’t have changed a thing about how you make me feel, dummy!” you confessed before you could talk yourself out of it. “You’re still you-.”

Not willing to let go of your hand, Jin dragged it along with his as he raised an index finger to halt your statement. “Did ya just say ‘feel’? You’re feeling things now? An’ you didn’t tell me?!”

“I didn’t want to interrupt what was going on with you!” You argued, giggles dampening your fake-serious tone.

“Silence, woman! That’s amazing!” He leapt to his feet, pulling you up with him and twirling you around in a circle. The happy tune of your combined laughter bounced off the brick alley walls, only serving to make you laugh harder before he halted you with an embrace. “Good job, you!”

“Good job, you!” You chimed back.

---

Your routine continued normally the next day. The street lamps flicked on at dark and, like clockwork, you spotted Jin in the distance. Unlike previous nights, though, this time he seemed to be carrying something. As he neared, crossing under the bright spotlight of a streetlight, you realized it was a flower - a white chrysanthemum, to be exact. You bounded toward him, meeting halfway down the sidewalk and practically tackling him in a delighted hug.

Jin’s free hand found yours as you separated, so that he could keep holding onto some part of you as you spoke. His other hand slipped the stem of the flower behind your ear, making sure it was secure before pulling away and taking in the view. “Ug-lee! You’re so pretty!”

You blew a playful kiss, “Thanks, to both. How did you know I love chrysanthemums?”

“I just hoped, ‘cause I love ‘em too. Do you know the meanin’ behind ‘em?”

You shook your head ‘no’.

“Devoted love, apparently. I’m pretty damn devoted to lovin’ you!”

You knew Jin was about to nervously ramble, apologizing after his second statement, so you halted him with a finger to his lips. When he fell silent, you detangled your hand from his, much to his displeasure. Working slowly so that he could stop you at any point, you hooked your thumbs under the hem of his mask. His breath caught in his throat as you carefully tugged it up, just enough to expose his mouth.

You found yourself grateful for the desolate streets that late evening provided as you stretched onto your toes and pressed your lips to his. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you flush against him as you deepened the kiss. After a few sweet moments, you pulled away just enough to whisper against his lips, “Good, because I’m pretty damn devoted to loving you, too.”

#jin bubaigawara #twice #twice bnha #twice x reader #jin x reader #jin bubaigawara x reader #twice bnha x reader #twice fluff #lov fluff #league of villains #lov x reader #league of villains x reader #kiri writes #server collabs #bubaigawara jin #bubaigawara x reader

685 notes · View notes

lupin72 · 4 years ago

Text

Pretty Damn Lucky

Anon asked for a fic where ‘Lucy is pregnant and is freaking out because no one knows that she and Tim are even dating. How would they react and how would they tell everyone at work?’ This wasn’t something I had given any thought to before but I hope it worked out okay!

Lucy stood frozen, staring at her reflection in the mirror before her. Her arms braced her weight against the sink. If it hadn’t been there to stop her fall, she wasn’t sure she would still be standing. She was alone in the precinct bathroom. Alone, that was, apart from the positive pregnancy stick in the sink.

What was she going to do?

She had only been dating Tim for four months. No one even knew about it yet. He was a sergeant at the station, and she hadn’t been fully qualified a year. They wanted to wait it out. With any luck, she could prove herself as a cop first and then everyone else could know.

The baby inside her clearly had other ideas.

Lucy had only taken the test on a whim. They had always been safe. Hadn’t they? But when she was sick this morning and with her period now two weeks late, she had thought she should. Just in case.

It wasn’t just in case anymore.

Ten minutes passed before she found it in her to make her way to roll call. Her walk was casual as she could make it, her facial expression somewhat neutral. Lucy sat at her usual seat. And then Tim walked in and any composure she had scraped together shredded into nothing. He didn’t smile at her like a normal boyfriend would have. Instead, as their eyes met, he merely nodded in pleasant hello before he sat down in his seat. Right next to hers.

As had become their custom, the one small grace they allowed themselves, Tim slouched just enough that his knees were far enough apart so that his left one bumped Lucy’s right. It rested there. It was the only point of contact they allowed themselves when on shift. Sure, they might escape for a brief conversation in passing in the corridors but with an audience, this was as much as they dared push it.

Usually, the brush gave her goosebumps. The secret relationship could be hot in its own way. Today it sent her stomach somersaulting.

They hadn’t discussed children. Hell, they hadn’t discussed anything about their relationship past keeping it a secret for now. Everything was very much for now.

How was she going to tell him?

That choice was pushed when Jackson had to drop Lucy back off at the station mid-way through their shift. She had thrown up a grand total of four times and no matter how she tried to insist she was fine; Jackson was having none of it. She knew he was right. She couldn’t work in the condition she was in.

Lucy wasn’t ready to acknowledge that pretty soon she wouldn’t be in the field at all. She was only freshly qualified and yet it was all about to blow up in her face. She knew she wanted the baby, hadn’t doubted that since she saw the test. But that didn’t mean she was ready for all the consequences.

As she stood in the bullpen, just about to turn for the locker room her phone beeped.

Tim- are you okay? Heard you were sick on shift. Come up to my office before you go?

Lucy smiled at the message. He was caring, if a little overprotective sometimes. He had always toed the line when it came to her. He had admitted, during a late night drinks at hers, that he had let his feelings control his actions when she was kidnapped. That he knew he would jump in front of any bullet meant for her and would never try to train that instinct away. He wasn’t happy when she admitted she felt the same for him.

But they were working on it. Working on his trust both in her and in the fact that this wasn’t going to go wrong. Lucy knew he feared it. Knew he was full of so much fear from his relationship with Isabel and then with Rachel. Two long term partners that had left him in the dust.

She just hoped this wouldn’t ruin their shot too. Not that she thought it would, she realized, as she finished getting changed and made her way to Tim’s office. He would make a great dad. And she thought they would make a good go of it together. It was whether that was what he wanted, whether he was 100% ready for it, that made her falter as her hand rose to knock.

She noticed the blinds were already drawn, something he usually did when she was inside. Gathering her strength, she told herself that it didn’t matter. She wanted this and she had to be honest with him.

She knocked.

Tim was at the door in a second. He pulled her in by the hand and hastily closed the door. As soon as it was, that marker of the outside world now securely gone, he cupped her head in his hand and smiled down at her.

“You okay, baby?” he asked.

The pet name almost made her threatening tears spill over. He didn’t use them often, but every now and then a babe or a baby slipped out. She loved it, a fact that he knew. But it was too much right now.

“Lucy?” She still hadn’t responded, and the worry lines grew deeper on his face.

“Maybe you should sit down?” Lucy suggested, turning from him and making her own, shaky way to his desk. She couldn’t find it in her to sit and instead gripped the back of the chair.

“Okay you’re officially freaking me out here. What’s going on?” Tim asked. He made his way round to his seat, but she noticed he didn’t sit down either.

“I um,” Lucy paused and then, summoning all the courage she had left she looked up and met his eye. “I’m pregnant.”

Tim collapsed into the seat.

Minutes passed, painfully long minutes. Tim’s hands rose to rub at his face, covering most of his reaction from view but Lucy caught a good enough glimpse to see that all color had drained from him.

Her heart plummeted.

And then he looked up, the hands came away and, was that a threat of a smile?

“I’m sorry, I just. Wow.” Tim cleared his throat and pushed himself to his feet again. He began to pace the room. “I just never expected… How far along are you?”

“A month, I think, maybe nearing two? I was late, but as you know that happens sometimes, but then I was sick this morning, so I thought I should check. Tim are you okay?”

Tim spun immediately to face her again. This time the smile was on full show. “Sorry,” he quickly apologized and in three long, fast strides he was before her, hands on her shoulders. “I’m happy Lucy. Shocked, but happy. I am on board with this one hundred percent. That is,” he paused, seeming to catch himself, “if you are?”

Lucy felt herself smiling, despite the fact her hands were still shaking. “Yes,” she breathed.

And then his lips were on hers.

They decided to wait until Lucy had been to the doctor before they told the precinct. Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long for an appointment and two weeks later they were both, this time, standing outside an office. Only this time it was Captain Grey’s. It had made sense to come clean to him first, to understand fully how the department wished to handle both Lucy’s maternity, her field work and the fact they were dating at all. Neither one of them expected Grey to have too much of a problem but there were people above him to be considered. And the rumor mill of the precinct too.

Grey called them in.

Looking up from his mountain of paperwork, he greeted them. “Sergeant Bradford oh and Officer Chen, what can I do for you?”

He looked confused, Lucy thought, but there was also something else he wasn’t fully hiding. Some other reaction to seeing them both walk into his office together.

“Sir, I just want to say that what we are about to tell you never has had, nor will ever have, any effect on how myself or Officer Chen perform our jobs. We are capable officers and I think we have both proven that.”

Grey frowned, “Out with it Bradford.”

“We’re together,” Lucy answered, “in a relationship I mean.”

It wasn’t the script they had rehearsed but the words escaped Lucy before she could hold them back.

Grey’s eyes narrowed, in a half-hearted look of anger, for all of one second before a smile broke out on his face.

“Well, I do believe I am owed at least thirty dollars.”

That wasn’t the answer they had been expecting.

“Excuse me, sir?” Tim stuttered from beside Lucy.

“You two have not been anywhere near as secretive as you thought. I didn’t think it made sense to tell you, since plausible deniability meant none of us would have deal with the consequences of this,” he gestured between them, “and I had been watching to check that it wasn’t affecting either of your performance, but I guess we will have to deal with it now. If I might ask, what changed? Why come clean now?”

Lucy swallowed, her hand rising unconsciously to her stomach. It was all the answer Grey needed.

“Ah, well,” the smile on his face impossibly grew. He rose to his feet and clapped Tim on the shoulder. “Congratulations to you both.”

Tim awkwardly cleared his throat again, but this time Lucy could see that he was positively beaming. She felt her own smile grow.

“Thank you,” she told Grey. “What happens now?”

“Well, I’ll have to let the superiors know and it might limit the work you two can do together in the future. I don’t think I have to tell you how the fact Tim was your TO might affect your career since you both had the sense to try to hide this.”

Lucy nodded, “I know, I’m ready to face it. But maybe you could let us tell some people first? West and Nolan don’t even know yet.”

“I wasn’t going to announce it at the next roll call Officer Chen,” Sergeant Grey laughed. Lucy really couldn’t be any more shocked. “It’s your news to tell. I’ll try to keep it as quiet as I can.”

Lucy parked her car outside Angela’s house. Pausing, she turned to Tim. They had a deal since they started dating that she got to drive her own car. It always felt weird seeing him the passenger side.

“Ready for this?” She asked him. They had discussed how Angela might have his head for not telling her sooner, both about them being together and the baby.

Tim nodded. Lucy could tell that he was doing his best to look grim, as though he really was daunted, but she could feel the excitement rolling off him in waves.

This was the first friend they would get to tell together. They had decided to tell Angela first, both because of Tim’s fear and because Lucy had admitted that it would be nice to get some advice before they went completely public. After all, Angela had hid her own pregnancy out of fear of the repercussions so Lucy could do with speaking to someone who understood.

Tim placed his hand on Lucy’s knee and leaned towards her.

“This isn’t going to be easy,” he whispered, “But I’ll do everything I can to make it easier for you. I know I have it easier being the man and being sergeant, but you know I’m willing to ask for a transfer if things get tough.”

Lucy smiled at him and felt her eyes water. Stupid hormones, “I know.”

With that Tim turned and opened his door, “That’s if you protect my head in there, she won’t risk throwing things at a pregnant woman. You might be my only hope of making it out alive.”

Lucy laughed and together they walked to the house.

Angela opened at their knock. She appeared in the door frame with her sleeping son Jake and a wide smile on her face.

“Tim,” she beamed at seeing him first, “And Lucy?”

Lucy smiled, “Hey Angela.”

Angela looked confused but she invited them in.

“Sorry for the mess, you wouldn’t believe what he can get into.”

Angela fluttered around trying unsuccessfully to tidy some of the debris with one hand, but Tim put a hand to her shoulder. “It’s alright, there’s no need.”

“So what brings you two here?” She asked, seeming to have given up.

“We have something to tell you,” Tim began. The excitement had faded slightly, and Lucy could tell he was getting nervous just by one glance at his clenched jaw.

Angela looked between them. “Go on.”

“We’re,” Lucy looked up at Tim and felt unable to continue.

“We’re together,” Tim announced, keeping it simple and wrapping his arm around Lucy’s waist as though to confirm it.

Angela burst out laughing.

“Seriously Bradford? You interrupt my child’s nap all so you can tell me that?”

At their obvious looks of confusion, Angela clarified, “I know. Everyone knows.”

Tim spluttered. Lucy took a step toward her, “We thought Grey was exaggerating. What do you mean everyone knows? No one’s said anything to us?”

“That’s because no one knew for sure. You think they would risk getting into trouble with a sergeant for spreading rumors? People talk, but no one was brave enough to let it get back to either of you.”

Tim sighed and Lucy felt her own wave of relief. If people knew but no one had made a deal of it, then she might just escape the stereotype and the judgement. Maybe. Then again, they were more than just hooking up.

“That’s not all we had to tell you,” Lucy continued. She had said the words twice, once to Tim and once to the doctor. It still felt unreal, but she felt herself speak them again. “I’m pregnant.”

Angela let out a whoop loud enough to wake Jake. She cursed and immediately started to rock him, gave up after ten seconds, and ran instead to pull them into a hug. “I’m so happy for you both, congratulations.”

After a few minutes of pleasantries Lucy turned to Tim. “Think you could maybe give us a minute?”

“Why don’t you take Jake out back? He’s got a thing for birds it might calm him down.” Angela suggested.

Tim looked hesitantly between them. Lucy tried to give him a reassuring smile and it must have worked for he sent his own her way and moved to pick up Jake.

The sight of them together had Lucy’s stomach fluttering, her heart pounding in her chest. Jake stopped crying as Tim cradled him and she couldn’t help but think about what a great father he would make.

“He’s going to be a great dad,” Angela said, as though reading Lucy’s mind.

“Yeah, he is,” Lucy agreed.

“You’re going to make a great mum too.”

Lucy ducked her head and resisted the urge to disagree.

“The fear is normal, it gets a bit easier. Then they are here, and it comes right back at you again,” Angela advised. “But you get through it.”

Lucy smiled, “You’ve been a great mum to Jake, I don’t know how you two did it with both your careers and everything else.”

“It hasn’t been easy, but you make it work. You don’t have much choice really. But he’s been a blessing. I remember how scared I was when I found out. It was the day after Nolan was accused. And the day I got promoted. I was so scared that I would always be seen as the pregnant detective, given the lighter case load, forever seen as the weak link. So, we hid it. And judging by the fact you’ve kept your relationship quiet this long, I’m guessing you are considering hiding it too?”

Lucy nodded, “I don’t want to be judged either. It will be hard enough when everyone finds out me and Tim are together but this-”

Angela’s smile grew, “I told you, everyone worked that out long ago. And this baby of yours could actually help matters. It shows you are serious, and the fact you are becoming a family shows that you fell in love. Tim isn’t your direct superior anymore and you got together long after he was. There’s not much they can say to that. And even if they do, you get over it. Trust me I’m dating a defense attorney, I know all about it.”

Lucy laughed at the last part, “Thank you Angela.”

“No problem, now, not that I don’t trust him, but I think we should rescue Tim. Jake can get fussy if I’m not in the room.”

They decided to tell Jackson and John next. Lucy had arranged to meet them for drinks after shift. Tim was supposed to join them, but he got a call last minute and had to work overtime. Being a sergeant on patrol had its downfalls.

So, Lucy met the boys on her own. She shouldn’t have been nervous, or awkward, after all this was how they had spent so many nights. But she found herself shuffling in her seat.

Nolan had gone to the bar just as she walked in the door, not giving her any chance to correct the drink order from her usual. At least it gave her an early way in.

“Actually,” she told him as he sat down in front of her. “I was thinking of sticking with just the pineapple juice tonight.”

Both men froze and put down their drinks. Jackson looked confused but Nolan’s eyes dropped, Lucy expected subconsciously, to her stomach.

“Yeah John,” she said, feeling a smile grow on her face at the immediate look of happiness her friend gave her.

Jackson on the other hand still looked confused.

“I’m pregnant,” she told him.

It was becoming easier to say it now. Especially since they had told her parents. Although that one had been easier since they already knew she was dating Tim, and, thankfully liked him a lot.

Both men immediately sprung to their feet to crush Lucy in a group hug, congratulating her and laughing as they did so.

“Aren’t you going to ask who the father is?” Lucy prompted when neither man had done so.

Jackson and Nolan looked at each other awkwardly as though daring the other to speak.

“Angela and Grey weren’t kidding when they said everyone knew about Tim and I were they?”

All Jackson and Nolan could do was laugh and shake their heads.

With their friends in the know, as well as their superiors, they simply stopped hiding their relationship. Surprisingly, no one had been brave enough to say much beside the odd remark, usually off shift. It hadn’t been anywhere near as bad as Lucy had expected. But when she was pulled off the street and placed on desk duty, just as she was starting to show, there was no denying the secret any longer. A handful of people had asked out front, mostly to her whilst others had asked John or Jackson. Thankfully, Angela had been right, and it hadn’t made matters worse. Instead, they received many congratulations and happy remarks.

Lucy expected some of it had to do with their history. Many officers were familiar with what had happened between Tim and Isobel, and they certainly knew about Lucy’s kidnapping. Surviving a serial killer gained her some respect and the work she had done on the streets couldn’t be denied either.

Lucy missed patrol but staying in the precinct had its perks. She no longer had to suffer Tim’s insatiable worry, or her own for that matter, and they managed to enjoy more time together. If he was in the office, they shared lunch and if he was on the streets, he brought her some between calls. They remained professional and kept a strict boundary, but they could be seen entering and leaving the building holding hands and sharing a quick kiss in goodbye if one had to leave without the other.

So, whilst Lucy was still scared at what the future would hold, her excitement far outweighed it.

She counted herself pretty damn lucky.

#the rookie #chenford #tucy #tim bradford #lucy chen

56 notes · View notes

writing-of-a-british-bitch · 4 years ago

Text

Blame Me - Chapter 5

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Specified gender: Female

Word Count: 12K

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader,

TW: Canon typical violence, canon divergence, gore, murder, mention of past child death, mention of major character death (OC), Daryl and Aaron bonding time, Daryl and y/n bonding time, major character death

Genre: Horror ig?

Series: Blame Me

Requests: CLOSED

Masterlist

A/N: Okay, this is probably my least favourite chapter, but I can’t wait to write the next chapters. Chapter 6 and 7 are gonna be painful y’all so good luck. Enjoy!

Daryl was quiet, Beth noticed. He was always quiet, but not like this. He hadn't been like this since after he'd lost his girl. Not that anyone knew that except for his asshole older brother. Beth was worried, about everyone, but right now, she was worried for Daryl most of all. Any time he did open his mouth, something sarcastic, cold or cynical came out. It wasn't like him. Maybe in the early days, but definitely not now. He couldn't stop thinking about everyone they'd lost. Not just at the prison, everyone they'd lost along the way. Even who he'd lost before. He didn't have much to lose before, but the people he had, were everything. She was everything. But she was gone. Probably dead. He was just holding out hope on another pipe dream. But even despite that, he couldn't bring himself to remove his ring. The cool metal almost burnt his skin whenever he thought about her, or anyone else he'd lost. Like a reminder of his failure. Since the prison had fallen, every day with Beth felt like a blur.

He shouldn't dwell on it, he knew that, but he couldn't help but wonder how many people died. How many people got out. If anyone other than him and Beth did. Part of him thought that it didn't matter. Hershel was dead because he didn't kill the Governor when he had the chance. He owed it to the vet to protect his daughter. And somehow, that had ended up with them in some old shed, something similar to what he and Merle would have lived in once upon a time, in the middle of the woods. Somehow, he'd ended up playing a dumb game, like some damn teenagers. At least Beth wasn't too far off. He took a sip of the moonshine as she started explaining, clearly slightly tipsy from her first-ever drink.

"So first, I say something I've never done and if you have done it, you drink, and if you haven't, I drink. Then we switch. You really don't know this game?" Beth raised her eyebrows in surprise, not deterred by his so-called "intimidating" stare. Daryl moved the hand that was in front of his face, shifting his position slightly.

"I never needed a game to get lit before."

"Wait, are we startin'?" She asked, and while her face stayed the same, Daryl picked up on the teasing lilt in her voice, eyes shining slightly.

"How do you know this game?" He questioned, using his pinky to point at her

"My friends played. I watched," She shifted slightly before lightly shaking her head "Okay, I'll start. I've never shot a crossbow. So now you drink."

Daryl reached forward to the glass of water and lifted it to his mouth, looking just as unamused as before "Ain't much of a game."

"That was a warm-up. Now you go," Beth insisted but Daryl just stared back at her for a second, shrugging.

"I don't know."

"Just say the first thing that pops into your head," She shot back with a small smile. Plenty of things popped into his head, but they were too personal to share with Beth. Too much about his girl. He didn't know if he was ready to tell her yet. Daryl knew Beth wouldn't care, not really, but just thinking about her made his brain and chest hurt. An aching he couldn't get rid of.

"I've never been out of Georgia," Was the answer he settled on. He was gonna leave Georgia, right after his hunting trip. Leave early, fly to South Carolina and surprise (Y/N) and her ma. But it never happened. Dead made sure of that. Beth's eyebrows rose slightly. He was an outdoorsy guy, a hunter. She thought he'd have been all over.

"Really? Okay, good one. I've never... been drunk and did somethin' I regretted," She stated after taking a sip of her drink. Beth knew she was starting to push the line slightly. Knew his fuse was slightly shorter after the prison. But he didn't bat an eye, just reached forward and had a drink.

"I've done a lot of things," He replied, keeping his gaze on the table. Yeah, like leave his girl behind. Didn't even go looking. What kind of husband didn't even try to find his wife when the world ended? "I never been on vacation."

"What about campin'?" Beth questioned but Daryl shook his head immediately.

"No, that was just something I had to learn to hunt," Because, his family were shitty people, and didn't even think to go looking when he went missing as a kid. Not that he added that.

"Your dad teach you?" She asked, and she knew that the line was getting toed here. She'd never asked about his dad, but from interactions she'd overheard with Daryl and Rick, sometimes Carol or even Carl, their relationship hadn't been pretty. Daryl released a hum of agreement.

"Alright... never have I ever been in love," Beth said, and she saw Daryl's eyes flicker down to the ring she still wore from when she was still with Jimmy. She didn't really expect much, but it was the only thing that came to mind. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, bristling at the implication behind her words, and he found himself spinning his own ring with his thumb, absentmindedly.

"The hell ya implyin'" He snapped, eyes narrowing slightly, and Beth looked slightly alarmed by how defensive he got and how quickly. She'd seen his explosive temper before but she'd never been at the brunt of it. But Daryl didn't back down, even as she showed him her scared eyes. The damn girl had no right prying. He'd played her stupid ass game, given her some stupid ass answers. But then, he swore he saw (Y/N) in the corner, giving him that disapproving look that made him swallow any anger he'd had right up, and he looked to the floor, taking a second to breathe.

"Ya ain't ever been in love?" It was clear Daryl was asking about Jimmy and Zach. His brain wandered to Zach, asking him every day without fail about what he did before the apocalypse; getting bitten on the way out of that store; getting crushed by the helicopter. Having to deliver the news to beth, who didn't even react.

"I loved Jimmy sure, but I wasn't in love with him. Zach neither. Meant a lot to me, both of 'em but, never loved 'em like that. I only married Jimmy because I thought we were the last ones left," Beth explained, and to anyone else, it would have sounded cold. But Daryl understood. This world did weird shit to your brain, and it didn't surprise him that she'd latched to Zach and Jimmy. While he was thinking, Beth watched his expression. She noticed the look of despair that crossed his face quickly, and how it hardened a second after. And finally, after over a year of them being in the group together, she saw his ring, as he brought his arm to rest on his knee so his other hand could twirl it. He hadn't even noticed he'd done it. He bit his lip, deep in thought, before he looked up and saw Beth's expectant eyes.

"Did you have to kill her?" If that didn't get under his skin he didn't know what would. No disapproving look from his not-there wife could stop the rage bubbling in his chest. It boiled up his neck, to his face and he just knew he'd gone slightly red. Almost immediately, he saw regret on Beth's as he stood up.

"I'm going to take a piss," Daryl snarled, picking up one of the empty jars on the table and smashing it as he made his way over to the corner of the room. He heard Beth's breath hitch in a suppressed gasp of surprise.

"You have to be quiet!" Beth hissed, and that only pissed him off more. He knew there were walkers outside, knew he was being stupid, but she'd started prying. Drunk or not, she'd gone too far and he'd had enough.

"Can't hear ya! 'M taking a piss!" He yelled back, to which Beth shot back some response about being quiet, as he unzipped and started doing his business "What, are ya ma chaperone now?"

Daryl zipped himself back up but didn't bother to do his belt up, and it clanked against his button. He knew this would be a good place to drop it since she had gone silent, but she'd taken a dig at him. One way too personal. One that involved his family. One she had no business in. So he whirled around, voice much louder than it should have been.

"Oh, wait. It's my turn, right? I've never-never eaten frozen yoghurt. Never had a pet pony. Never got nothin' from Santa Claus," He slammed his hand against the cluttered table he stood next to, as the emotions that had built up over the past few days finally poured out. Beth looked scared, but there was anger dwelling behind her eyes too "Never relied on anyone for protection before. Hell, I don't think I've ever relied on anyone for anything."

Daryl had started pacing, and he narrowed in on the blonde, tone sharp and cold. He knew he was lying at that point. True, he'd never relied on anyone for protection. But he'd relied on his girl for so much that he didn't even know where that list started or ended. She just swam in his head, and she could see those disapproving eyes again. Normally they were directed at Merle, but now they were directed to him, real or not, it stung being at the end of her contempt. And that only pushed him over the edge. Beth tried to stop him with a call of his name, but now he'd begun there was little that would stop him.

"Never sung out in front of a big group out in public like everythin' was fun. Like everything was a big game. Never got to say goodbye to ma wife. Never got to know if she was alive, dead, turned, murdered. I sure as hell never cut my wrists looking for attention," Beth didn't flinch when he brought up her failed suicide attempt. But when he mentioned (Y/N), that sad look was there again, and the anger in her eyes faded.

Daryl hadn't meant to say it, but he was so furious, so sad, so frustrated, so mad at the world, that it had slipped out, in a rare moment of vulnerability. He sprung the walls back up as soon as he'd let them down.

A crashing at the door and the growling of walkers made his head snap to the door, so fast he swore it should have snapped. And he couldn't stop. The seething, burning feeling was eating him up.

"Oh, sounds like our friend out there is trying to call his buddies," He tripped over the pans and pots and various other shit on the floor, making way too much noise. If he wasn't so angry, he would be cursing himself out now. He was sure he'd do that later.

"Daryl, just shut up," Beth begged through gritted teeth, but Daryl just turned around and pointing, a sharp smile playing on his lips. If Merle were here, he'd tell him he looked just like their Daddy. And he did, as much as he hated it. If his girl were here, she would be screaming at him. by now. She would have stopped him by now. But they were both gone. Just like everyone else.

"Hey, you never shot a crossbow before? I'm gonna teach you right now. Come on," Before he'd fully processed what he was doing, Daryl had grabbed Beth's arm, dragging her to the door and kicking it open. "It's gonna be fun."

"We should stay inside! Daryl, cut it out! Daryl!" She protested, screaming out as she tried to fight out of her grip but he wouldn't let her go.

"Dumbass. Come here, dumbass," Daryl whistled and the walker stumbled over, before he put a bolt in its shoulder, pinning it to the tree behind it. "You wanna shoot?"

"Daryl, I don't know how!" She exclaimed, fighting as Daryl pulled her in front of him, holding her in place with one hand as he got ready to shoot with the other.

"Oh, it's easier. Right corner," A bolt landed in the walker's leg and Beth finally broke free, turning around to face the redneck as he stepped away slightly, so he could pull the string back into place.

"C'mon it's fun," He was being fueled by unbridled rage and adrenaline now. A tiny voice in the back of his mind, that sounded suspiciously like Rick told him he'd regret this later but he pushed it away. Instead, he pulled Beth back into the previous position and shot the walker right where it's dead, rotting heart was.

"Kill it!" Daryl let go again as he stormed ahead to the walker.

"Come here, Greene. Let's pull these out. Get a little more target practice," Beth had decided that was enough, and with an annoyed huff, she sped ahead of Daryl to plant her knife into the walker's forehead "What the hell you do that for? We was having fun."

"No! You were being a jackass! If someone found your wife-" She growled back, and Daryl's glare burned into her but it didn't deter her, even as he got right into her face.

"Don't. That ain't remotely the same," Daryl shot back, rage burning through every vein, every organ, every muscle. But Beth knew she'd gotten to him, even if it was just a little bit.

"Killin' them ain't supposed to be fun!" She said, her own eyebrows coming into a glare and Daryl stepped even closer.

"What do ya want from me, girl?"

"I want you to stop acting like you don't give a crap about anythin'! Like nothin', we went through matters. Like none of the people we lost meant anythin' to you. It's bullshit!" Beth finally yelled back, frustration making tears build behind her eyes but that only seemed to rile Daryl up more, even if it had been toned down. Didn't give a shit? She really thought he didn't care? He'd damn near died for his people. He'd killed for his people and she thought he didn't give a shit?

"Is that what you think? Huh?" The only thing he could think as he heard himself were the words he'd said to his brother years ago, that was coming back to bite him in the ass. You really are our Daddy's son.

"That's what I know," Her words were instant, and Daryl could tell from her tone that they'd been building up for a while. But his mouth moved before his brain could fully process the thought.

"You don't know nothin'," He hissed, looking away for a second, as his voice wavered slightly.

"I know you look at me and you just see another dead girl. I'm not Michonne. I'm not Carol. I'm not Maggie. I've survived and you don't get it 'cause I'm not like you or them. But I made it and you don't get to treat me like crap just because you're afraid," Hell, if that didn't make him stop. His chest heaved as she spoke, his body taking a moment to recover from the anger that had made him shake. Been a while since he'd been that pissed off. But those final words, made his eyes narrow again, just as they'd softened.

"I ain't afraid of nothin'," Daryl stated, leaning in again. Beth had a look in her eye, telling him she didn't believe him. And she was right. He was scared every damn day. Every single damn time he thinks he's the most scared he'll ever be, some new herd, some new asshole, some new loss takes its place.

"I remember. When that little girl came out of the barn after my mom. You were like me," Daryl couldn't meet her eyes. He had been like her once. When he left for a hunting trip he never came back from. Then, he got stuck with his piece of shit older brother and became that asshole again. Then his brother was gone, and he had a new family. He wasn't who he had been with (Y/N), didn't know if he ever would be like that again, but it had been a start. Until the governor took that from him too "And now God forbid you ever let anybody get too close."

Every time someone got close, they died. Or put at great risk, or went missing, or got bit.

"Too close, huh? Ya know all about that. Ya lost two boyfriends, ya can't even shed a tear. Yer whole family's gone, all ya can do is just go out lookin' for hooch like some dumb college bitch," It was a low blow, but he was so drunk, so angry, he was struggling to get his words out like they were getting stuck in his throat.

"And your wife is gone and you don't say shit! Your brother died and you closed off! At least I talk about the ones I've lost instead of pretendin' like nothin' happened or like they didn't exist!" She snapped back, and the second the words left her mouth, she looked like she wanted to take them right back. Daryl stopped right there, frozen like a deer in headlights before turning around. Beth tried to reach for him but he shrugged out of her touch.

"Y'ain't got the right," He huffed out, the last of his anger dissipating, and he felt that void opening up again. The one that haunted him anytime he thought about his wife for too long. His shoulders deflated, and his gaze fixed on the back of the shed they'd found. Beth was hovering behind him, he could feel it. "The Governor rolled right up to our gates. Maybe if I wouldn't have stopped looking. Maybe 'cause I gave up. That's on me."

"Daryl-" Beth tried again, sympathy lacing her voice but he just shook her off once more. She watched as his shoulders tensed, and she prepared for him to rip into her again but instead, they started shaking lightly. Everything was crashing down on him all at once and he couldn't shake the thought of his girl alone, trying to survive on her own. Or his girl, eyes milky white and lifeless, feet dragging and body acting like dead weight as her pale, rotting skin peeled off.

"And ma girl? Maybe I could've done somethin'. Maybe I could've helped her," His voice cracked, the emotions finally crashing over him in a wave, and this time he didn't stop Beth as she wrapped her arms around his middle, head pressed against his back. He didn't stop the tears or the sobs that escaped him.

"I get why my dad stopped drinking," Beth's voice broke the peaceful silence that had fallen between them. Crickets and the wind brustling the trees were the only sounds as Daryl looked over to her, sat on the porch in the pale moonlight.

"Ya feel sick?" He asked, twirling his knife on the wooden panels beside him, glancing over dark eyelashes.

"Nope. I wish I could feel like this all the time. That's bad," She responded. Her hands were playing with the loose threads on her jeans, and she had this happy look in her eye. Too happy, but he didn't say anything. Not this time.

"Yer lucky yer a happy drunk," Daryl felt that stab of guilt again, as he thought back to the argument earlier. The one he could've dropped, but instead he blew it out of proportion and turned into Merle. Into his daddy.

"Yeah, I'm lucky. Some people can be real jerks when they drink," Beth gave him a pointed look, eyebrows raised slightly, but there was a small smile on her face.

"Yeah, 'm a dick when 'm drunk," He stabbed his knife into the wood and he let out a small huff before reluctantly opening his mouth again "Merle had these biker friends. Real buff, stern assholes. Didn't give a shit 'bout nobody but themselves. One day, he dragged me along with 'em to this back alley bar. Real dodgy place. Was barely 10 and we were all wasted. Merle was high. There was this girl with her friend and the guys wouldn't stop runnin' their mouths. Especially Merle. Never knew when to quit. Turns out, girl had heard everythin' they'd been sayin' 'bout her and her friend. She comes stormin' over, face red, lookin' pissed as all hell and starts gettin' in this guys face. Merle decides it's a good idea to grab her ass, and she goes for him, punches him right in the eye. Gave him one hell of a shiner."

Beth let out a small giggle as she took a sip of her moonshine and Daryl's lips quirked up slightly. His fingers worked to spin his ring around again and again and she watched it with a glimmer of shock that still hadn't faded away.

"I tried gettin' between and she shoved me away. But one of Merle's buddies, he don't like that. So, he pulls out his gun and raises it over ma shoulder to her face, right here," He points to the gap between his eyebrows, watching as Beth's own eyebrows rose "And this bar goes dead silent. C'aint hear a damn thang, but she just glares back. His buddy starts threatenin' her, sayin' how he's gonna do all these things to her and she don't say anythin'. Just looks back at him. All that because she stood up for herself," Daryl couldn't help but smile at the memory, despite how much it had freaked him out at the time. Only time he didn't get pissed at someone for hitting his brother. Fool deserve it.

"How'd she get out?" Beth asked, leaning forward slightly like she was on the edge of her seat.

"Managed to get between 'em. Guy punched me in the gut. I puked. They all started laughin' and started patting her on the back. 'Balls of steel', Merle said to her. She thanked me for gettin' between them and asked how I was. Walked her and her friend back to her car. And I don't know if she was tipsy or what, but she asked ma name. Asked if we could have a new introduction 'nother day or somethin. You want to know what I was before all this? I was just drifting around with Merle... doing whatever he said we were gonna be doin' that day. I was nobody. Nothin'. Some redneck asshole and an even bigger asshole for a brother. Got better when I met her. (Y/N) made us better," Daryl's eyes flittered down to his ring this time, looking at the grime and dirt that accumulated and pulled it off to wipe it on his shirt.

"You miss him, don't you? I miss Maggie. I miss her bossing me around. I miss my big brother Shawn. He was so annoyin' and overprotective. And my dad. I thought- I hoped he'd just live the rest of his life in peace, you know? I thought Maggie and Glenn would have a baby. And he'd get to be a grandpa. And we'd have birthdays and holidays and summer picnics. And he'd get really old. And it'd happen, but it'd be quiet. It'd be okay. He'd be surrounded by people he loved. That's how unbelievably stupid I am," Tears had formed in Beth's eyes, but she laughed through them. But she couldn't shake that image of her Dad, the governor stood behind him.

"That's how it was supposed to be," He grumbled. Beth was naive, but she wasn't blind. She could tell he wasn't talking just about her dad. He was talking about the life he had with his wife, a life he could have had. The life he deserved to have. Subconsciously, she couldn't help but be slightly jealous that she never had something like that.

"I wish I could just... change," Beth responded after a pause, and Daryl's eyebrow raised, slightly confused.

"Ya did."

"Not enough. Not like you. It's like you were made for how things are now. Sounds like ya girl was too."

He didn't say anything, biting his cheek lightly as he slid his ring back on. It was his comfort, she was his comfort. Maybe she was still out there. Maybe.

Maybe she was dead in a ditch.

It still felt like a dream. He was still sure that if he gave himself a hard pinch she'd disappear right from his grasp. Everyone had dispersed thanks to Aaron and Carol's shepherding, but Daryl didn't miss the way (Y/N) watched after Carl and Judith, like she was scared something would happen. She didn't let go of him, not for another few minutes, that felt like seconds to him, and he would never complain. It didn't feel real.

There would be questions later, enough to bombard them back into hiding. He didn't care. Nothing mattered. She was here.

Eventually, Daryl managed to clear his head enough to pull her into the house his family had now evacuated out of. It felt alien, holding her again. Seeing her. Actually seeing her, not imagining her in some drunk or fear-induced frenzy. They were huddled together, in the corner Daryl had taken the night before. He couldn't let go, not now. There was something different about her. She'd changed. The apocalypse did that to you, he supposed but, this was different. There was guilt like she was hiding something from him. She'd done something, and he wanted to find out what it was.

"How the hell'd ya get here?" He asked, voice low and a grin rose on her face, which made his eyebrows furrow in confusion "What?"

"Ain't nothing. Just didn't think I'd hear your voice again," (Y/N) responded, her grin widening when he took her hand and started playing with her ring. "I was with mom when it started. Started travelling down to Georgia to find you and Merle. Met some people along the way."

She suddenly went quiet, her smile falling, and Daryl knew that look. Seen it on everyone's faces after camp; saw it on Carol, Beth, Maggie and Hershel's faces after the barn, Glenn and Maggie after the governor, Beth's after the prison; Rick, Carl and Michonne's the night with the claimers; everyone's after Terminus; Sasha and Gabriel after Bob and Tyreese. His, Maggie's and Glenn's after Beth.

"What happened?" If anyone else had walked in, they'd probably have never believed it was his voice. He didn't believe it. Merle would be giving him hell for it. Her eyes darted to his, and her grip on his hand tightened.

"There were this married couple, Andrew and Oliver, and their kid, Anna. Real sweet, curious. Never wanted to leave me and the other leader Kai alone. Some twins, Danica and Ben. Danica and Andrew were hotheads, reminded me of Merle, just less bigotted," They shared a chuckle at that. Daryl didn't need to say anything to her for her to know her brother-in-law was gone. She'd seen it on his face when she mentioned him earlier. After all this time, she could still read him like a book. "Kai was my best friend. Felt like a sibling. They were military, stopped me and mom from going into the city. We were gonna keep looking for you but Anna got sick. Really sick. For three weeks, we went out looking for medicine and she'd go through it in days."

Hell, he'd almost forgot about the disease that spread through the prison. Nearly killed Glenn. Awful as it seemed, it didn't that important anymore. Pretty much everyone that was sick died to the governor anyway. Didn't matter. Not really

"When she didn't get better, her dad's asked me to put her down. I was going to do it in the evening, in case she passed, but I decided to wait until morning. Died in her sleep. Turned quickly. We lost Andrew and Danica," Daryl squeezed her hand but she didn't respond. Her eyes were unfocused, but he saw the sadness flickering in them. The shame and guilt. That's why she was watching Carl and Judith earlier. "We were in the woods for a while. Me, mom, Andrew, Kai and Ben, lived that old Dixon lifestyle," She teased, in a poor attempt to lighten the mood. But he saw past it. She was holding something back to stop him from worrying.

"Then what?" She just shook her head, and Daryl pulled her in, tucking her head under his chin again. Not yet. He'd wait as long as she needed. They didn't need words for him to understand. (Y/N) let out a small sigh of contentment and Daryl resisted a smile. He'd lost hope in finding her. Thought he'd never get to hold her like this again. And before he knew it, he was telling her everything. But when he got to Terminus, she froze and pulled back.

"You were at Terminus?" (Y/N)'s voice was laced with concern and confusion, and it took Daryl half a second to connect the dots. His eyebrows rose into his hairline, which made (Y/N) laugh slightly."I was there for three days. Fuckers tried to kill me but I put up a fight. That freak Gareth locked me in a room so I didn't 'scare the newcomers'. An explosion and some walker's guts got me out."

"Ya gotta be shittin' me, right?" Daryl laughed, genuinely laughed, and he swore he'd never seen so much elation on his girl's face. "Carol set off that explosion, got us out."

(Y/N) leant her forehead on his shoulder, smiling at the ridiculousness of the situation. The whole time, he thought she was so far away, or that she was gone, or dead, or bitten but she was right fucking there at Terminus. If he'd paid more attention, maybe he could've found her. Fucking idiot.

"Hey, where ya goin'?" Daryl asked, catching (Y/N)'s arm as she started to climb out of the sleeping bag they'd been sharing. It'd taken a while for Daryl to convince the group to let her stay with them. They didn't trust her, and he couldn't blame them, but he wasn't going to be separated from any of his family. Neither her nor them. Eventually, Rick had nodded, despite Sasha and Abraham (mostly - Rosita and Carl hadn't exactly been happy about it either).

"Aiden and Nicholas want to take Glenn, Tara and Noah on a dry run, I gotta go with them to make sure they don't do something dumb," (Y/N) replied, pulling on her jumper but Daryl narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Careful, (L/N), that's ma family yer talkin' 'bout," He shot back, sharper than he wanted. However, she was taking a dig at his family when she barely knew shit about them. She just chuckled and rolled her eyes, coming closer to press a kiss on his forehead.

"Not your family, dummy. Nicolas and Aiden. They both hate me because I called them careless. Among other things. And they are. They don't know anything about life out there. If these walls hadn't come up when they had, those boys would have died long ago. Almost everyone here would have," She replied. He watched her carefully, giving her a look that she couldn't recognise. He was still getting used to this new version of her. Trying to get to know her again. She wasn't that different, not really, but she was slightly colder towards others and seemed to have a shorter fuse where unbreakable patience used to be. Well, unbreakable unless you were Merle. Some undying rage never left her eyes. She was still her old self, but she'd changed. It made him wonder what she'd been through. What she wouldn't tell him the day before.

"Why'd ya stay if this place ain't secure?" Daryl asked, pulling her slightly closer. Then he saw it. That look flashed across her face. It was gone almost as soon as it came, but he'd caught it. Guilt was ripping through her, despite how much she hid it. Why was she guilty? What was she hiding?

"Why'd you?" (Y/N) responded quickly, and even with this new version of her, he still knew her well enough to know she was changing the topic. And she did too, as evident from her heavy sigh. "I had a promise to keep."

There was more to it than that, Daryl could see it so clearly it was practically slapping him in the face. But he knew pushing wouldn't get them anywhere.

"People here are weak. Carol and the kid think it too. Hell, I do. Glad yer goin' with 'em," He gave her a quick kiss, running his thumb over her ring. "Keep an eye on 'em for me."

"Of course," (Y/N) smiled back, and from the surprise on Deanna's face when she walked in to check on them, not that he'd cared enough to notice at first, it wasn't something that had happened often while she was here.

"And you keep yourself safe, ya hear?" Daryl demanded, and while it was firm, (Y/N) saw the glimmer of fear in his eye. Can't lose her again. The words went unspoken but she heard them. A hard squeeze of his hand and a kiss on the cheek, and she'd wandered out the door, Glenn, Tara and Noah trailing close behind.

Time seemed to drag out while they were gone. It'd been around an hour, and he knew it shouldn't be too much longer before they returned. It was only a dry run. He'd finally showered, if only for his girl's sake than anyone else's, and he couldn't stop pacing. Carol had tried to employ his help, but he shut her down. With no news on a job from Deanna, Daryl couldn't stop himself from getting lost in his thoughts and drowning in his worries. His girl had said that the boys were careless. What if that cost her? What if him asking her to protect his friend meant she did something stupid? What if she didn't come back? What if he lost her again? For good, this time?

His worries were cut in half when the creaking and scratching of the gate broke through the air and he immediately jogged from his place on the porch to the gates, seeing the group come back in. They all looked pissed, and none of them more than (Y/N). She was walking in front of Glenn almost protectively, and he just knew something had gone wrong.

"You three need new gigs, you're not ready for runs yet," Aiden snapped from behind, making the four turn on their heels. Daryl felt himself moving forward when Aiden got close to (Y/N) and started pointing "And I'm gonna talk to my mom about getting you a new job."

"Yeah, pretty sure you got that backwards," Glenn shot back and (Y/N) gave him a grateful look. They set off again but were pulled back by Aiden grabbing both her and Glenn's arms.

"Hey, we've got a way of doing things around here," Aiden tried, making a poor attempt of establishing his authority, which deflated when she scoffed.

"Yeah, ones you don't tell me about apparently," She grumbled. There it was. That short fuse. That undying rage. Daryl slowed to a stop as more people started to gather at the noise. She looked over to him, telling him with a glance that he might have to step in if it got too far.

"You tied up walkers," Glenn shot back, and that set Aiden off. Nicolas bounced between each foot awkwardly, like he didn't know what to do with himself.

"It killed our friend!"Aiden shouted "Look, I'm not having this conversation. You obey my orders out there."

"Not when they put our people in danger," (Y/N) stepped closer, almost chest to chest with Aiden, and Daryl smirked slightly. That was his girl.

"If that's the case, we're just as screwed as your last run crew," Glenn agreed, putting a hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder to get her to back off. They shared a look, and she reluctantly took a step back. Glenn was trying to keep it peaceful, but he wasn't Aiden get away with this shit. Neither was (Y/N), except Daryl wasn't so sure about the peaceful part. Aiden shifted at Glenn's words, and Nicolas narrowed his eyes. Daryl took a step closer, shooting the latter man a warning glare.

"Say that again," Aiden stated, lightly shoving Glenn's chest. He brushed off the warning words of Noah and Tara, and both Glenn and Daryl could see that (Y/N) was barely holding her rage back. Glenn squeezed her shoulder lightly, clearly seeing it too. She was waiting for the right moment, but she was going to break any second. "C'mon tough guy."

Glenn just stared back at him, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly, and the expression pissed Aiden off even more. (Y/N) had to bite back a laugh. "No one's impressed, man. Walk away."

Someone had clearly alerted Deanna to the situation because she came running out, and (Y/N) rolled her eyes slightly at the woman. It was pretty damn clear she didn't like her. However, her expression softened slightly, and some of her anger dissipated when she saw Enid join the newly formed crowd, with Carl not far behind her.

"Aiden, what's going on?" Deanna asked, running over. Daryl saw Rick slowly making his way over with Michonne, and they were both observing too. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut and it felt stifling.

"These two have got a problem with the way we do things. Why did you let these people in? Why didn't you kick her out?" Daryl's eyes furrowed, and his glare settled. This asshole was really trying to get them thrown out? After the shit he'd just heard?

"Because we actually know what we're doing out there," Glenn immediately answered and he barely had time to dodge as Aiden swung for him, while Deanna shouted his name. However, (Y/N) immediately shot into action. The fury she'd been suppressing exploded out all at once, and she didn't hesitate to land a punch ride to Aiden's nose. She'd hit him with enough force to cause his nose to bleed, and Daryl felt a twisted sense of pride in his stomach.

"(Y/N)!" Enid yelled, and (Y/N) looked over to her in panic, scared someone had lunged for her. But while she was distracted, Nicolas had managed to get a hit in on her side, making her fall backwards slightly. Her eyes darkened and she went to attack him, but two arms latched around her waist and yanked her away from the fight. At some point, Aaron had come running towards the commotion and had snuck up behind her. He was trying to talk to her, to calm her down but she only saw red.

However, while the people had been distracted with (Y/N), apparently well-acquainted with her outbursts, no one had thought to stop Daryl. The second, Aiden lunged for Glenn, he was running at them, anger boiling inside of him, but then Nicolas dared to lay a hand on his girl and he felt like that day in the woods with Beth. When he couldn't stop his anger. It just flowed through him, and soon Nicolas had been pinned to the floor with Daryl's arm to his neck. Rick sprinted to them, shouting at him, but Daryl had tuned him out, eyes focusing on the son of a bitch below him. He felt arms yanking him away and he growled something (he couldn't even remember what he was so damn pissed) to, who he assumed was, Rick. Aiden stood up and went to walk towards (Y/N), which made her struggle slightly in Aaron's hold, until Michonne stepped in front, pushing him back.

"Back the fuck up, asshole," (Y/n) shouted, pulling in Aaron's arms, and Michonne narrowed her eyes at Aiden.

"You want to end up on your ass again?"She warned, staring him down until he backed up. After another minute, Rick finally made Daryl let up and Rick pushed him away slightly just for good measure. He was practically vibrating with anger, but he backed away, picking up his crossbow before walking to his girl. Aaron let her go hesitantly, and Daryl wrapped an arm around her waist, both to ground himself and to prevent her from going anywhere. He could feel the heat radiating over, and how pissed off she still was as she and Aiden glared at each other. Deanna stared at her for a minute, a look filled with scorn that nearly set Daryl off again. Aiden had taken the shot first, she couldn't blame his girl for shit.

"I want everyone to hear me, okay? Rick and his people are part of this community now and always as equals. Understood?"She shot a pointed look to her son, who looked away in shame as he wiped his nose, getting blood on the back of his hand. Daryl hid a smirk, despite the anger still stirring in his stomach. "Everyone turn in your weapons. Then you two come talk to me."

Deanna pulled Rick and Michonne to one side, and the pair watched for a second, as Glenn walked off with Maggie. Then, Daryl turned his girl to look at him, inspecting every inch of her to make sure she wasn't badly injured.

"Y'alrigh'?" Daryl questioned softly, placing one hand on her cheeks, which she leant into affectionately. It made his stomach do flips, and he was sure he was blushing but if he was, she didn't say anything. Made him feel like a damn teenager again. She placed her hand over his, touching his ring with a small reassuring smile.

"I'm all good, Dixon. Might have a bruise on my ribs, but I'll live," She replied and Daryl turned to look at Nicolas with a dark look. They were so caught up in themselves that they didn't notice Aaron watching them with a curious look. He was smiling softly. He hadn't been able to get much out of his friend when talking about her husband. She'd let a little slip when she, him and Eric got drunk during her first week, but she'd never told them his name, or anything deep. If she had, maybe he would've been able to reunite them sooner.

Everyone dispersed, with Aiden and Nicolas following Deanna back to her house. (Y/N) watched after them, glaring holes into the back of their heads.

"(Y/N, I know you're pissed off, but you have to quit the fighting. Deanna's going to kick you out if you aren't careful," Aaron warned, folding his arms over his chest, and Daryl's head snapped over furiously. However, (Y/N) turned to him with a face that told him she'd heard this a million times before.

"Fucker went for Glenn first. She just defended him," Daryl murmured and Aaron let out a deep sigh. Guess it wasn't just (Y/N) he had to watch out for now.

The next day, Daryl and (Y/N) had been moved into their own house, and while she was hesitant to leave Eric and Aaron, neither she nor Daryl could deny how nice it was to have their own privacy. It almost felt like life before the apocalypse. Well, besides the fact that this house was worth more than they ever could have afforded before the world went to shit. And they were missing a certain loud-mouthed idiot. Enid also technically lived there, but she was always in and out. One thing both he and his girl knew, was that he was suffocating in here. He hated not being out there. So when she suggested he go hunting, he was out of the door quicker than she could blink. He felt guilty leaving her behind, but she could manage her own, and she had her own jobs to do. Besides, Enid could keep her company. She'd be fine.

The bushes rustling made his crossbow shoot up. Daryl narrowed his eyes, trying to pick out if it was a person, walker or animal, but he quickly realised it was a human and his guard went up tenfold.

"Come out! Now!"He snarled, placing his finger on the trigger as the person began to emerge. Aaron. Son a bitch scared the shit out of him. Not that he'd admit it. He lowered his crossbow with a huff upon seeing the recruiters alarmed face. "Ain't ya supposed to be in Alexandria with Eric?"

"(Y/N)'s watching over him. You can tell the difference between walkers and humans by sound?" Daryl just grunted in response and Aaron studied him, as he checked the string of the crossbow. He wasn't as bad as he made himself out to be. He could see it in the way he acted with (Y/N) alone, and that wasn't even beginning on the rest of his family "Can you tell the difference between a good guy and a bad guy? Rick doesn't seem to be an expert at that."

"There ain't much of a difference no more," Daryl snapped back. What was with this guy? Didn't he know when to stop prying? Wasn't none of his business. Aaron didn't miss the way he squinted at him, or how his shoulders squared defensively.

"That how you feel about your people? About (Y/N)?" Aaron questioned. Daryl tensed slightly before continuing forward into the woods.

"Why ya following me?" Daryl snapped. If it had been anyone else, he probably would've been shouting by now. But Aaron was (Y/N)'s friend. He could talk about her like that. He meant no ill will. Others don't get the right. They didn't know her. They just expected the worst because he was some redneck. Expected her to be the same.

She was so much more.

"You ride horses?"Aaron asked, trying to lighten the situation. He'd really hoped he could save that horse. The kids had been asking him for weeks. At least he wasn't suffering anymore.

"I ride bikes," Daryl responded shortly. Aaron was kind, and he could see how his girl was friends with him. Why she trusted him. They'd taken care of her. Seen that pretty clearly yesterday with Aiden and Nicolas and stopping her from killing them. But everything felt too much still. He wasn't used to being somewhere like this. Even before everything. Even with his girl starting to bring him to the right path. Everything was just overwhelming. He knew Aaron was trying to help, to get to know him, but whether that was out of kindness or to stay on the good side of his girl, he still hadn't figured it out.

"I take it you don't mean 10-speeds," When Daryl didn't say anything, Aaron let out a small sigh. "I know you're feeling like an outsider. (Y/N) does too, even if she tries to deny it. It's not your fault, you know. Eric and I, we're still looked at as outsiders in a lot of ways. We've heard our fair share of well-meaning, but hilariously offensive things from some otherwise really nice men and women. And you should hear how they talk about (Y/N) sometimes. People are people. The more afraid they get, the more stupid they get. Fear shrinks the brain. They're scared of you and me for different reasons. They're less scared of me because they know me. It's less and less every day. So let them get to know you. You should go to Deanna's party tonight."

By that point, they'd both stopped. Daryl looked back at Aaron with disbelieving eyes. Like hell was he going to some dumb as shit party. People'd stare, whisper, ask questions. They did little else when he was around, normally.

" I got nothing to prove. I met a lot of bad people out here doing a lot of bad shit. They weren't afraid of nothin'," His eyes flashed back to Terminus. Glenn's terrified eyes. The rage in Rick's eyes. Carl's trembling in the storage container. His girl, who'd been so damn close that if he'd stopped for a second, he would have found her.

"Yeah, they were," Aaron replied, smiling at him slightly before walking past him.

"Yer goin'?" Daryl raised his eyebrows, and (Y/N) turned to smile at him. She didn't look herself. Actually no, she looked exactly like herself. But the old her. This wasn't the new, hardened, mildly terrifying new (Y/N). It felt alien. Almost wrong. But hell if she didn't look good, even if she was dressed up for a dumb ass party.

"I want to get to know your family. Besides, I need to prove a point to Deanna and her shithead sons. You sure you won't come?" She trailed over to him and admired him in the last rays of the sunset. He didn't want her to go. Didn't want her near Aiden, Nicolas or Deanna's other son, who he had the pleasure of not yet meeting. He'd only just gotten her back, and everyone wanted a piece of her. It was starting to piss him off.

Daryl just shook his head, moving some stray pieces of hair out of his eyes at the same time. "Naw. Maybe later."

(Y/N) nodded, before taking his hand, using the other to reach up and play with the ends of his hair. He squeezed her hand, a silent demand of her to stay.

"Never thought I'd see you with long hair, Dixon," She said absentmindedly and he snorted quietly. Sometimes it slipped his mind that the last time she'd seen him, he'd looked almost completely different.

"Watch yourself, (L/N)," He shot back, but there was no venom. Just a tender look in his eyes that was reserved for only her. She let out a quiet laugh and brought their joint hands up to kiss the back of his hand before letting go. Merle was right, the asshole. She did make him soft.

He watched the party from a distance, glancing through the window. Trying to get a look, trying to find the courage to go in. His girl or not, the idea of going in there made his skin crawl. Daryl wasn't a people person, it was pretty damn clear. He wished she'd stayed at home with him, but it did make his heart ache slightly knowing she was only going to try and connect with his family. She didn't get pissy about the fact he called them family, didn't judge, didn't expect them to trust her just because they were married. Just tried to connect with them

He let out a heavy sigh, cursing under his breath and turned around, beginning to head back home. Hell, he'd started calling it home now. Maybe it was being with her again, made him feel at home. Maybe he was getting used to this place. Not damn likely. As he was walking past Aaron and Eric's house, (Y/N)'s old home, the light on the porch switched on, and Aaron walked outside

"Daryl. Hey," Aaron greeted, and Daryl resisted a sigh. Sure, he was nice but it was becoming clearer and clearer that this was about him trying to get to know him for (Y/N). But thinking about it, that was exactly what his girl was doing with his family. Goddamn it.

"Thought you were going to that party over there," Daryl responded, leaning against the fence.

"Oh, I was never going to go 'cause of Eric's ankle, thank God," Aaron smiled, looking relieved and Daryl furrowed his eyebrows

"Why the hell did you tell me to go, then?"He snapped, feeling a little guilty by the outburst until he saw the amused (but oddly proud?) look the other man was giving him.

"I said try. You did. It's a thought that counts thing," How long had this guy spent with (Y/N)? Starting to sound just like her.

"All right," Daryl mumbled, pushing off from the fence to walk away until Aaron's voice stopped him again.

"Hey, come in. Have some dinner. Come on, man. It's some pretty serious spaghetti," Aaron offered. Daryl turned to face him, sure he'd see a teasing look on his face. Expecting it to be a joke. But there was a hopeful look on Aaron's face along with a small grin. Yeah, he was starting to see why (Y/N) liked him so much. He hesitated, biting his lip nervously for a second, before walking back to the house. Aaron's grin widened, but Daryl pretended like he hadn't seen anything.

Apart from a greeting from Eric, the three men mostly sat in silence, digging into the spaghetti. Daryl knew he should probably be more aware of how he was eating, he was slurping and he probably looked like a pig (if (Y/N) was there she'd be giving him hell for it), but he'd stopped caring. And while Aaron and Eric shared an occasional muffled laugh, they didn't seem too bothered. Daryl couldn't help but notice the empty two settings on the remaining chairs, and apparently, Eric had followed his gaze.

"We're still getting used to (Y/N) being gone. Enid too. She didn't live with us, but she stayed here a lot because of (Y/N). Guess we still haven't gotten out of the habit of setting their seats," Eric joked lightly, and Daryl made a grunt of acknowledgement.

"Mmm, when you're out there, if you happen to be in a store or something, Mrs Neudermyer is really looking for a pasta maker. And we're all really trying to get her to shut up about it. I mean, we have crates of dried pasta in here, but she wants to make her own or something," Eric seemed oblivious to the pointed looks Aaron was giving him, and the confused one that Daryl seemed to have etched onto his face. Eric was more bubbly than Aaron, more talkative, but still sweet. He didn't expect responses from Daryl, happy to just talk away. Maybe (Y/N)'s friends weren't too bad " I really think she just wants something to talk about, so... if you see one out on your travels, it would go a long way to..."

Finally, Eric looked over to his husband, seeing him shaking his head and his words died on his tongue. Looking awkwardly between Daryl and Aaron before settling on his pasta, a small apologetic smile on his face

"I thought it was done. You didn't ask him already?" As if she'd heard Eric's silent plea to be rescued from the mild embarrassment of the situation, the sound of the door opening made Aaron and Daryl shoot up until they heard (Y/N)'s voice following.

"Aaron? Eric? You home?" She called, sounding tired, and Aaron let out a relieved sigh, before calling her into their dining room. Daryl couldn't help but smile as she walked in. It still felt like she wasn't real. Like she'd disappear any day and he'd wake up in that barn, or on the road, starving and dehydrated. She grinned back at him, but she didn't miss the teasing wink Eric gave her. "Hey, Dixon. What're you doing here?"

"We invited him for the infamous killer spaghetti," Eric grinned at her, nudging her hip with his shoulder as she walked to stand between his seat and Daryl. Instinctively, Daryl took her hand, and she bit back a child-like grin. Aaron gave her a look, one he couldn't recognise but she clearly did as she glared back at him playfully.

"You told him yet?" She asked, turning slightly to look at Aaron properly, nodding her head towards Daryl slightly. Daryl's confusion only furthered. Why did everyone seem to know what was going on except him? Hell, he was willing to bet if Enid was here too then she'd probably know.

"Was just about to, but someone nearly let the cat out of the bag," Eric looked away guiltily, but it was obvious he was forcing back a chuckle.

"Tell me what?" Daryl finally spoke up, and he didn't miss the way her hand tightened around his. Her grin turned slightly mischievous as Aaron started leading them towards their garage. Aaron opened the door and (Y/N) squeezed Daryl's hand again (and if she saw his cheeks starting to go pink, she didn't say anything) while her friend flicked the light on.

The garage was stuffed with spare parts and something that looked suspiciously like a motorbike beneath a piece of huge sheet. (Y/N) let go of his hand, opting instead to lean in the doorway, smiling softly at the excitement that flickered in her husband's eyes, even if his face stayed stoic. It'd been so damn long since he'd seen something like this, and while it reminded him a little too much of Merle's biker buddies, this also felt like home. He felt like a kid in a candy store. Aaron and (Y/N) shared a knowing look behind Daryl's back

"When I got the place, there was that frame and some parts and equipment. Whoever lived here built them," Aaron explained, as Daryl started picking up pieces, admiring them and putting them down again.

"It's a lot of parts for one bike," Daryl stated, trying to hide how happy he was, and he could practically hear (Y/N) rolling her eyes

"Whenever I came across any parts out there, I brought them back. I didn't know what I'd need. (Y/N) tried to figure it out, but it wasn't her area of expertise," There was a teasing tone in his voice at the last sentence and Daryl heard his girl mumble something along the lines of 'shut up. "I always thought I'd learn how to do it, but I get the feeling you already know what to do with it. And the thing is, you're going to need a bike."

"Why?"Daryl pulled back the sheet and saw the skeleton of a bike, with a box of tools next to it.

"I told Deanna not to give you a job because I think I have one for you. I'd like you to be Alexandria's other recruiter. I don't want Eric risking his life anymore," Aaron replied. Daryl understood that, probably better than most people in this community. (Y/N) let out a hum of agreement, and Daryl looked over as she turned to glance back into the house. She was protective of her loved ones. Always had been, and he was really starting to realise just how much Aaron and Eric meant to her.

"You want me risking mine, right?"Daryl questioned, sounding sharper than he wanted, but Aaron could tell he meant no harm by it.

"Yeah, because you know what you're doing. You're good out there. But you don't belong out there. I know it's hard getting used to people getting used to you. And I understand right now you need to be out there sometimes. So do I. But the main reason why I want you to help me recruit is because you do know the difference between a good person and a bad person, "Hell, he really had spent too much time with his girl. Daryl bit his lip in thought, but he already knew his mind was made up. Being in here all the time was killing him. Even with his girl here, he knew he couldn't stay here for long without getting antsy.

"I got nothing else to do. Thanks. I'll get you some rabbits," Aaron let out a loud laugh at that, patting Daryl's shoulder as he stepped past him, back to his girl in the doorway. She was smiling, asking him silently how he was feeling. He just gave her a tiny smile, and clearly, that was enough for her, as she wrapped her arm around his side.

Daryl couldn't help but notice how close (Y/N) had suddenly gotten with Glenn, Rick, Tara and Maggie. He noticed the way the rest of his family seemed a little more at ease with her, not exactly trusting her yet, but clearly getting on that track. Carl still wasn't sure about her, but Daryl didn't miss how he'd come and actually started conversations with her a few times, instead of avoiding her completely. Part of him was suspicious that it had something to do with his obvious crush on Enid. And while it made his heart warm that she was starting to become integrated with his family, there was always someone whisking her away now. He just wanted to spend some damn time with his wife, but he had to go out with Aaron, and she was going on another run.

And every damn thing that could have gone wrong absolutely did. It'd been a god damn trap, and now he was trapped in a car, surrounded by fuck knows how many walkers with his wife best friend. And the walkers just kept coming, pouring out of the trucks, banging on the window. How fucking long until that glass shattered and they were made into walker meat? But despite the hell going on around him, he couldn't stop a chuckle escaping his lips. It was fucking ironic. Aaron gave him a bewildered look.

"I came out here to not feel all closed up back there. Even now, this feels more like me than back in them houses. That's pretty messed up, huh?" Daryl explained, looking over at Aaron, who still had that look, but had a small, almost sad, smile on his lips.

"You were trying," Aaron said, and Daryl shook his head lightly. Wasn't exactly a choice. There were the kids, his friends, his family. Then (Y/N) got added into the mix, and that was it.

"I had to," He shot back, eyes watching the walkers that were gnashing their teeth outside the window.

"No, you didn't. Listen, I saw you with your group out there on the road. Then you went off on your own to the barn. Storm hit and you lead your people to safety. That was it. I knew I had to bring you people back," Aaron had this gentle look, and he went quiet, thinking for a second. When he spoke again his voice was thick "You were right. We should have kept looking for that guy in the poncho. I shouldn't have given up. You didn't."

Daryl went silent, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. He'd given up. On his girl. Given up on her, lost hope started thinking she was dead. And look at what happened.

"I didn't, because I gave up before," It didn't take a genius to figure out what, or rather who he was talking about "Hadn't seen her in two years. Thought she was dead. Found 'er. Ain't givin' up this time. I'll go. I'll lead 'em out. You make a break for the fence."

God, she was going to kill him for this.

Aaron's head snapped over, the beginning of tears in his eyes quickly disappearing as he processed Daryl's words. "No, no, no. This was my fault."

"Wasn't a question. And this ain't yer decision. It ain't nobody's fault. Just let me finish my smoke first. Promise you'll look after ma girl, 'right?" Daryl brought the cigarette back to his lips, taking a draw. He ignored Aaron' stare, his leg bouncing lightly. This'd destroy her. But, she had people to look after. And people would look after her for him. His family would be there, Aaron, Eric, Enid. She'd forget about him after a while.

"No," Aaron said sternly, and Daryl was almost taken back by the tone. Never heard him talk like that. "You don't draw them away. We fight. We go for the fence. We do it together, alright? Whether we make it or not. We do it together. We have to."

Daryl fell back into that silence, biting his lip in thought. (Y/N) would probably never forgive him if he let Aaron die. But she'd never forgive Aaron if he did. Fuck. Shit.

"Alright. You ready?" Daryl took one last drag before extinguishing the cigarette and picking up his knife instead. Hell, he couldn't believe he was agreeing to this. Sorry (L/N) "We'll go on three. One, two-"

But three never came as one of the walkers outside's guts spilt on Aaron's window, making them both freeze and exchange a puzzled look. There was no gunshot. The dead didn't kill their own. His door was suddenly yanked open, making Aaron scuttle back and lean on Daryl slightly, before he saw a guy standing there, holding a badass staff. He climbed out, followed immediately by Daryl. Everything was a blur of guts, blood and aching muscles until they got back to the gate and closed it. He was pretty sure he was just running on adrenaline at this point

"Hey, Daryl?" Aaron said breathlessly and Daryl looked over to see him smiling "Take care of her your damn self."

They got back just in time to see all hell had broken loose. The sound of shouting and screaming greeted them as Spencer let them through the gate, and Aaron had gone sprinting ahead, followed soon by Daryl and Morgan. Daryl's heart was pounding, worried (Y/N) was in the middle of it. Shit, shit, shit, shit. (Y/N) and Abraham were holding Pete down as he squirmed and glared up at them. And there on the floor, Deanna was crying, begging while she pressed against the slice on Reg's neck. Alexandrian's watched in terror, and horror as he choked on his own blood, and Daryl didn't miss the look in (Y/N)'s eyes, beneath all the fear and rage. A look he knew too well. She was reliving something. He only wished he knew what. It was then Daryl noticed Michonne's bloody katana on the floor, where Michonne herself looked at it with disgust. Rick was stood beside Abraham and (Y/N), watching Deanna with pity, but waiting for her instruction as Reg ultimately stopped moving. The air was silent, still, and he could see Aaron bouncing slightly from foot to foot, desperate to check up on his husband as Morgan watched with disdain.

One bullet, and it was done, blood splattered on (Y/N) and Abraham's faces. But she didn't even flinch. Just stared blankly. When they got back to their house, Enid, who'd allegedly been told to stay in the house but snuck out (in Enid like fashion) was wrapped under (Y/N)'s arm. She looked scared still, and Daryl had tried to comfort her, even if it hadn't been much, until (Y/N) had been relieved from the situation and took over. She was like a mini carbon copy of his girl, with the addition of teen angst, but she was easy to talk to (even when she was traumatised). His girl still had that blank look, had it since Rick pulled that trigger, and somehow that scared him more. She ushered Enid to her room, and Daryl knew she would either leave within a few minutes, or she wouldn't move until morning. But Enid didn't protest, just gave (Y/N) a quick hug and rushed upstairs.

His girl was still silent, as they reached their room, as they started changing into their pyjamas, as she went off to brush her teeth and wash the blood off her face, as they climbed into bed. It wasn't until Daryl reached out to touch her and she flinched back, did he attempt to break the silence.

"(Y/N)," He mumbled, and she raised her eyebrows to show she was listening but didn't meet his eyes. His stomach was in a knot, worry, nerves and interest as he watched her. "Hey, look at me."

It took her a minute, but reluctantly, she dragged her eyes up to meet his and he saw it. Guilt, anxiety and trauma all wrapped in one.

"Talk to me," Was all he said, and that was all it took. It was spilling out of her before she could stop it, and her hand found him desperately.

"After Anna, Ben, Andrew, Kai, Mom and I were chased out. Moved camp every day. Didn't know where we were going, just kept moving. One night, we were distracted. Ben was talking about smoke or something, and Kai started sayin' how we should go towards Washington. Said it was one of the few places that might have civilisation. We let out guard down," (Y/N) hesitated again, and Daryl squeezed her hand tightly, prompting her to continue. Every word she spoke, the sadder her eyes grew. The guilt kept building and building, and Daryl felt his own pit of dread in his stomach. She was in pain and there was nothing he could do about it. "Some assholes come out of the woods, demand our supplies. I said no and they... they shot Kai. Then Ben and Andrew. Started going through our stuff, held me back as they murdered my family. Then they grabbed mom and-"

Daryl didn't hesitate in pulling her in when her voice hitched and she stopped again. He held her so tight, he was almost certain it was hurting, but she didn't voice any complaints. She just curled into him before continuing.

"Those bastards slit her throat. I had to put her down when she turned. Left me in the middle of the woods. When Reg... I just saw mom. It was like I was back there, reliving again and again on repeat. And I can't help but think that if I'd stepped forward, maybe Reg would be alive," She whispered, fingers clutching onto the sleep shirt he wore. He shook his head, placing a kiss on her hair.

"And you'd be dead. Ain't yer fault. None of it. Not yer ma and yer family. Not Reg. Weren't nothin' you coulda done. Ya cain't blame yerself for it," Daryl said, and while his tone was gentle, the words were firm but they seemed to do nothing to ease her, she just held on tighter. "I know that ain't everythin'. What happened?"

"We lost Noah. He was right there. We had him, and then he was just gone. Glenn and I, we held onto him so hard, but the walkers they- they got him. Pushed him against the glass. We had to watch-" It was then Daryl felt her pull back and she adjusted so her arms were wrapped around him, tucked under his chin again when he pulled her close.

"I'm sorry," He didn't know what else to say. Noah was gone. That kid was something else, annoying sometimes, sure, but he brought this hopeful light to the group, even when they were damn near dying on the road. He found his brain starting to ache and a weird feeling in his chest. Daryl was well acquainted with loss, everyone was now, but it never got any easier. Not when the losses kept coming, and to the people who deserved them the least. He couldn't imagine how terrifying it must have been to watch. What it was like for her. He didn't want to. The thought alone was enough to give him nightmares. So he just held her tightly, even as he felt a wet patch seeping through his sleep shirt. Even as she shook. Even as she drifted off, exhausted and hurting, and he laid awake for hours after. He couldn't make it okay, even if he wanted to. And hell he really did. He couldn't bring Noah back, couldn't wipe the memory from her or Glenn's mind.

The only thing he could do was be there for her, comfort her, help her out of that place whenever she went there. However, the only thing he could do, right at that moment, was hold her and not let go.

TAGS: OPEN

Tags (for this series): @graniairish @fuseburner @gloomystorm @bxxbxy @browneyes528 @hoemadegrace @reichelhache

51 notes · View notes

weltonreject · 4 years ago

Text

“look homeward, angel, now”

James lives and comes to find Oliver. Immediately post-canon. || Title and references from Milton’s Lycidas

I was crouched in my chair, looking for another pen, when there was a shallow knock on the front door. I paused for a moment, waiting for Meredith’s call to say she was answering. I pushed my chair back, remembering she was still out filming. I knew I had to stop relying on her for things, it was unbecoming. Felt like Dellecher all over again. Tied up between her and-- well, there was no other post to wrangle myself around. Just her. And still one end hanging lifeless in the wind.

“Coming!” I said, sliding my hand down the banister to keep myself from running. The knock sounded like it was a slow-response away from ditching.

Any other greeting I expected to say died on my tongue the moment I saw who had come-- who had found me.

“James.”

Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead

It startled me to see he was soaking wet, like he’d walked right out of the sea and straight back to me-- but how could he have heard me? I cried silently and angrily in the hidden shadows of sleep, and isolated moments when Meredith would slip from the house for days at a time. I noticed, finally, that it had begun to rain outside. The explanation felt like a lie. Not the whole truth, as usual.

He seemed to notice my staring, my long dragging glances over his clothes, over his body. He was so much leaner than I remembered, than I ever dreamed of either, but he was still James. How could I find him unfamiliar?

"I’ve been here for over an hour... Trying to see if I should knock.” James sounded unsure if he’d done right. I pushed the door farther back to tell him he had. He didn’t move. “Truth is, I don’t know what to say to you.”

“Whatever you would like.” I said.

I tried not to overwhelm him with the truth of what simply the sight of him was doing to me. The return of a sailor we all thought had been lost to sea. I wasn’t even angry that he had been alive for years without a visit or a note-- except the one Filippa sent to me-- I didn’t care about the life he had before. It didn’t really matter. His had only started now that he was with me. And I felt the relief with as much greed as I thought to.

“We aren’t friendly enough for that anymore.” He whispered and it nearly disappeared into the rain.

"James,” I sighed and held a hand out to him. He’d begun to shiver. He resisted and I sighed, catching the wind of the rain. I spoke between the falling sheets. “ For we were nurs'd upon the self-same hill, / Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill; / Together both, ere the high lawns appear'd / Under the opening eyelids of the morn.”

My verse stopped him, shivering and all: surprised but not put-off. It wasn’t Shakespeare, but then again, we were different boys than those that could converse with only another man’s words. We were lost-and-found men. It felt wrong, at such a raw and exposed reunion, to start putting up the thin veil of our old selves, our old routine.

He stepped inside and I grabbed his coat, hanging it on the doorknob. The wet bottom hem stayed on the doormat, staying with James’s wet boots, as he toed them off. I half expected him to start shimmying out of his jeans, getting ready for bed after a long rehearsal.

Oh, how I wish there had been one. Maybe I would’ve had better lines prepared.

“What happened, James?” I started for the kettle as I lead him into the kitchen. I wanted to distract myself, but also didn’t want to take my eyes off of James. How had I gone without a single real glimpse of him for years? How had I allowed myself to become so starved?

I remembered it hadn’t been me who had made the decision.

“What do you want me to say?” He was genuinely asking. Calling for a line prompt. “The guilt swallowed me, Oliver. And I thought once I hit rock bottom it would be over. But it kept swallowing me. Over and over, right over my head, like--”

Like waves.

He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the felon winds, "What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain?"

“You’re alive.” I prompted him finally.

"After the hospital,” James spoke softly, easing himself into the chair. The pain on his face told me of the time he spent, most likely cooped up and staring his guilt dead in the face, unable to utter it. Unable to heal. “I went to my family but, mostly to keep quiet. Gather myself without you knowing.”

“Me?” Anger flared in my chest suddenly, the hiss of the kettle a whimper compared to my impending growl, ferocious and unhinged after years in a cage. “Does everyone else know?”

“Meredith isn’t filming. She’s with Wren right now. I told her... I wanted to tell you myself. Alone.”

I glared at him, nostrils flaring as I tried to grapple with the sudden exposed strings tied to me. I heaved a breath, ready to scream, to rally a fight, but-- I sighed, seeing the guilt etched, again, on James’s features. They’d never return to the ones I used to study on stage; from across the room; once, right under my nose.

I couldn’t be angry at him. Between the two of us, what good was it? There was no score anymore. Just an extended intermission. Unfinished verse.

My anger caved and washed out of me and I nearly collapsed into the seat across from him.

Who would not sing for Lycidas?

“I can understand not seeing me, but you could’ve, at the very least, told me you were alive.” I said, trying to remain firm. “That’s all I cared about. Not the-- not an apology.”

“God, apology.” James became distraught again. He looked too weak to stand, but panicked enough to express another desire to disappear. “What can I even say to apologize? You wouldn’t let me-- and now there’s nothing I can say to give you back that past ten years of you life. I mean,” he choked on a long sob. “what could I possible do to give you any of that back?”

“Tell me you know why I did it.”

“What?” He ran the back of his sweater sleeve-- already soaked-- along his upper lip, composing himself.

“Tell me you know why.”

“I--” The truth was right there, held in our own held breaths. In the way our hands were both flat against the table top, finger tips too far apart to be purposeful, but trembling enough to say they were missing another half. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” James said more desperately. The words were as unrehearsed for him as they were for me.

I, again, chose words not of my own, hoping to dislodge the ten years of rust I’d let form around them. Never spoken, never practiced.

“Where, other groves and other streams along, / With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,” I blinked twice, looking down at my own hands. They weren’t as harsh red and thawing as James’s. I looked back up, knowing the rest of the verse, but changing it anyway. “And hears the expressive nuptial song, / In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love.”

"I-I don’t know Milton this well.” Fresh tears had started in his eyes. One dangled over his cheek, his trembling body threatening his composure again.

I was pleased he at least knew the poem. I wasn’t just speaking in scattered verse, not just in a foreign tongue. It was code again. A secret layer of communication we could tuck between, like a warm blanket and firm mattress.

“Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more:” Against my better judgement-- against all judgement, really-- I rose from my seat and reached to brush the tear from James’s cheek. My hand never retracted. It stayed on him, thumb gently braced on his sharp, jutting cheekbone. “Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore, / In thy large recompense, and shalt be good / To all that wander in that perilous flood.”

Weakness be damned, James himself stood again. He reached for me over the table, my shirt too simple for his grasp and going for my shoulders. He nearly folded me over across the table, bringing me to his lips. He was fully weeping by then, no sparse or embarrassed tears to be found. These tears were hot and pitiful: only I, a lost shepherd staring out over the sea, would be so foolish to be in love with him. Would forgive him with a heart so light it could so easily be handed over, passed from lips to lips.

“Don’t ever do that again.” He said, finally finding my face with both of his freezing hands. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

I wanted to make a joke-- a note that it wasn’t my decision, not really-- but I kept my mouth shut. Or, otherwise pre-occupied.

“I’m sorry.” I didn’t mean it entirely. So I went on. “I wouldn’t have ever let you trade with me, but I’m sorry it meant you had to be with the guilt--”

“All without you.” He took my sentence and tied it up, keeping it ended. “There’s no one like you.”

“James,”

“No, no,” he said, pushing my hair back and cradling my face like he’d gotten to touch a marble statue: intimately and with wonder. “fuck ordinary and nice and disposable. Oliver, there is no one on this Earth like you, and I can’t believe that I let you fall for me.”

“There’s no one else like you.” I said, stepping around the table to take him in my arms.

He was sturdier than I would have thought, but maybe that was just years of harsh reality building a shell around him. I kissed him again, ignoring his quiet whimper of disagreement to my confession. His hand laid flat against my chest, an echo of a memory never finished. His fingers pressed against my collar bone, trying to find my heartbeat. As if he needed a jumpstart to his own.

“No one else worth knowing, quite like you.” We were both breathing heavy, my words nearly lost in James’s continued shy nips at my lips. He was trying to stop me from speaking, but I could tell he was eager for absolvement. Not of sins, but of shame.

Finally, I brought him to rest against me. Fiery passion and frail relief encased us both. Our arms tightly tried to keep the other impossibly closer-- as if it would push the rest of the world away. I thought to myself, incorrectly but with a hidden smile:

But O the heavy change now art gone, Now art gone, and never must return!

#if we were villains #james farrow x oliver marks #iwwv fic #my fics #i fixed ittttt #not to be annoying but i'm really proud of this if y'all could hype her up that would be great...#i finished the book like an hour ago....

37 notes · View notes

artificiallyimplantedmemories · 4 years ago

Note

▽ Running your hand between their thighs, and splitting their legs apart.

meme: acts of affection (holy crap 3 years later)

A year was a long time to spend apart, no matter who you were. A year apart from the man that she would probably tear apart time and space for? Unthinkable. And yet, as when the end of the world was nigh, they trusted each other to do what was right, to fight for what they believe in, and to survive.

Thank every deity under the sun that he survived.

Their reunion was nothing short of ecstatic, with Bucky very nearly throwing himself into Natasha’s arms, much to their friends’ amusement. To be fair, if he hadn’t, she would have done the same to him. But when the chaos subsided, they were quiet by each other’s side, gently leaning into each other to find the solid and comforting reminder that they were alive and together once more.

The day faded, and people slowly retreated to their rooms, their homes, their individual lives. Nat found herself pulling Bucky away to their apartment, welcoming the idea of sleeping in his embrace again.

It wasn’t actually clear when it had become their apartment. It had been Nat’s third flat, a sort of go-between safe-house that had been open to Bucky’s use. Over time, things had accumulated there — at first it was equipment, spare clothes, an extra set of weapons — and then notes, in careful hand and a code only the two of them knew.

[Bandages are missing. Hope you’re okay.] [I’m fine. My dress from the last gala is pleated. What did you do to it?] [I miss you, this is taking too long. I won’t ask where you are.] [Asking you to wait for me is selfish even for me, but…] [Please come home soon.]

And so memories gathered with materials, even though time there was almost never spent together, and at some point Natasha couldn’t help but think of it as theirs instead of just hers. Certainly she’d never given anyone else leave to use that particular location, though ones nearby had been open to other friends. This was private. This was home.

Home they went, walking side by side with their hands brushing occasionally. Outside the protections of the tower, they rarely clung to each other, ready to pull a gun or scramble to an escape route at any moment. Once they were safely barricaded inside, they could finally drop their guard. The walls were custom made, and unless a bomb fell on the building or some superpowered villain broke through the bulletproof windows, little could hurt them.

“We made it,” Nat murmured, and she wasn’t just talking about them arriving. They’d been through so much, made worse by not being able to support each other except at a distance, and the upwelling of emotions in her caused her to suddenly turn and grab his face. She pulled him in for a kiss, slow and deep, and then breathed a sigh of relief.

Home. Whole. Who would have thought?

Bucky seemed to have a similar reaction, melting into her. He embraced her tightly, and they stood like that for several minutes, simply soaking each other in.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing her again, and she laughed. “I know.” “Really? Pulling a Han Solo on me?” “Hardly,” she smirked. “He didn’t follow up with this.”

She surged forward, shoving him into a wall and kissing him hard. She didn’t let him go until he was breathless, eyes blown wide. It had been a loooooong time, and holy fuck was she good at this. He was tempted to ask if she’d been keeping in practice, but suppressed it. There was a time and place for that kind of sass, and this wasn’t it.

“I love you too.” Natasha beamed at him. “Come on, let’s get you out of those clothes.”

Well he couldn’t complain there. He grinned back at her, following her to the bedroom, eyes traveling from to the curl of her hair to the curve of her waist. Along the way, he stripped out of his shirt and toed off his shoes. Nat would yell at him later to put them away, but not today. Socks followed, then belt and trousers. By the time Natasha, still wearing everything except her heels, sat on the bed, he was down to his briefs and nothing else. She grinned, enjoying the view.

“Your turn.” He knelt at the foot of the bed in front of her feet, looking up at her reverently, before working her silky socks down her feet. With those out of the way, he could pull away her skirt, leaving it puddled on the floor next to him. He glanced up again only to barely avoid being smacked in the face by her shirt. She was laughing, and the sound of it made him feel so whole that he could barely breathe.

He dropped his head again, pressing kisses to the tops of her feet, then dragging his lips up to her knees. The laughter vanished in a huff, Natasha’s hand coming down to softly run through his hair. Gently, he ran his thumbs down the seam of her inner thighs, pulling them apart as he lay kisses along the way, and Nat only pulled him away to graze another kiss to his forehead. He was so utterly loved, probably more than he ever knew. She was only too grateful that it was mutual.

She let her legs fall to each side as he moved in again, sighing in pleasure as his warm breath ghosted across her skin. The first tentative flick of the tongue against her panties made her tighten her grasp into his hair, and it took a surprising amount of self control not to simply buck into it. It has been ages, after all, and nobody knew her body as well as Bucky did. On top of that, he’d always been such an immensely generous lover that even if she’d ever entertained the idea of dragging someone into bed for a romp, it simply wouldn’t have compared. Besides, it was hard to want anyone she didn’t love anymore. Bucky was it for her, that’s all there was to it. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

Gentleness soon faded, the metal arm gripping finger-bruise tight on her thigh (she didn’t mind, had told him so a thousand times until he stopped feeling guilty about it), and Natasha quaked and quivered under the assault of his mouth. Undergarments were stripped away, and eventually Nat dragged him up onto the bed so they could entwine themselves properly, rutting and anxious and full of pent-up passion.

It felt like being complete.

In the afterglow, with sweat cooling on her skin, Natasha considered getting up and taking a shower, despite how sore and wobbly she felt after so many rounds of sex. The shift in the line of tension within her body must have triggered something bone-deep in Bucky though, because he pulled her close, almost too tight.

“Stay,” he murmured, even though he knew full well she wouldn’t have gone far.

For tonight, she’d let it slide. “Okay, love,” she replied, kissing the tip of his nose. “Okay. I’m here. I’ll stay.” Forever, if you’ll have me. Until the very end of time itself, I’ll stay.

#lostsouldier #asked;#meme reply;#drabble;#nsfw;#look what you've done I've written a novel again immediately and instantly for your Bucky #gods we love you a lot #ship: these frozen hearts (buckynat);#buckynat

28 notes · View notes

freddiesaysalright · 5 years ago

Text

Just Like a Woman - Part 8

A Roger Taylor x Reader Story

Summary: You and Roger were once in love when you were young. Only, he went on to be a rock star, and you went on to be a lawyer. Now, quite against your will, you’re representing him in his divorce.

Word Count: 3.3K

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @moon-stars-soul, @im-an-adult-ish, @ixchel-9275, @jennyggggrrr, @zyanmaik, @mypassionfortrash, @a19103, @madeinheavxn, @beepbeephardy, @rrogerchxrm, @qweenly, @blisshemmings, @seasidecrowbar, @internationalkpoplova, @ellystone, @takemetoneverland420, @coffeexcigarette, @lookuptotheskiesandsee, @thatpunkmaximoff, @angelkissys, @rocknroll-stolemyass, @simonedk, @anotheronebitesrogertaylor, @peterquillzblog, @mrfahrenhcit, @joseph-mozzerella, @theprettyandthereckless, @flick-ofthe-wrist, @johndeaconshands, @rogerandhiscar, @queenmaracasandlove, @sunflower-ben, @cubetriangle, @amy-brooklyn99, @scorpiogemini, @kiainspace, @itsabenthing, @bookandband, @makemeyourwife-loveofmylife, @grazessa, @borhapqueen92, @theonsasheart, @vektorivittu, @chanti-frn, @brianssixpence, @dancingcoolcat If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Alright, I finally finished the next part! Again, sorry it took so long, it’s just been a busy time for me! Lots of fluff in this chapter before we get into some more drama coming up :)

Warning(s): None :)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Part 8 here we go!!!

The first question out of Dominique’s mouth was where the children were. Roger assured her they were safe at home. Then he asked what everyone wanted to know. What had happened to her?

She explained once the doctor and nurses were in the room. The man she was on a date with was named Nick Sully. They met at a bar, had a few drinks, and flirted. He offered to drive her home. Once they were in the car, he made a sexual advance. When she refused him, he hit her. She hit him back. Then there was an intense struggle. Dominique said that he finally slammed her head into the car door and that was the last thing she remembered.

The whole time she spoke, you watched Roger. His frown deepened as his free hand clenched into a tight fist. His knuckles were white with the pressure. You could tell he was struggling to maintain his composure. You tore your eyes from his face and looked at Dom.

“Do you want to press charges?” you asked.

“I dunno…” she began. “I don’t want to see him ever again, and going through all that will be so...I dunno…”

“Dom -” Roger began, but you cut him off.

“Think about it,” you said gently to her. “It’s entirely your decision. Just do what’s best for you right now.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” she said. “I’m so tired. Is it alright if I go back to sleep?”

“Of course,” said the doctor. “Sleep as much as you want, and call the nurse if you need anything at all.”

He and the nurse smiled, nodded, and left. Dominique looked at Roger, who was fuming.

“I’m sorry, Roger,” she said. “I should have given you some idea of who I was with or I where I’d be.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he returned shakily. “This isn’t your fault.”

The corners of her mouth turned up in an almost laugh. “Alright then. Thanks for being here.”

“Of course,” he replied.

“We’ll let you rest now,” you said.

“Perfect,” she sighed. “And, Rog? Will you do something for me?”

“Anything,” he said.

“Will you go home?” she asked. “Be with the kids? Make sure they’re alright?”

“Are you sure?” he questioned. “I can stay, Verity’s got them.”

“I know, but they need their father,” she insisted. “I’m in good hands, Rog. Please.”

“Alright,” he said begrudgingly. “But I’m coming back tonight.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

You said your goodbyes. Roger cleaned up the mess from the salad before you left, and then, he walked with you to your office. You stopped outside the door and looked at him. He was still distracted.

“Roger,” you said, and he looked at you. “She’s going to be okay. The fact that she’s awake means everything.”

“I know,” he returned, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Then what’s the matter?” you asked.

“Her hesitation to press charges,” he said. “It’s like I said before, she can’t let him get away with this.”

“You can’t force her if it’s not what she wants,” you reminded him. “Although, the longer she waits the harder it will be to make the case.”

“I just don’t want this animal out on the streets,” he sighed. “Guys like that will do it again, I know it...”

You studied his face some more as he continued to speak. It seemed he had aged five years in the last two days. There were heavy bags beneath his red and puffy eyes. He had less color in his cheeks. New lines had appeared over his brows.

“Y/N?” he said, bringing you out of your trance.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?” you asked. “I mean, really slept?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I dunno...I’ve dozed here and there at the hospital, but I haven’t gotten much rest with the staff in and out of the room.”

“Roger, go home and get proper sleep,” you said. “If you’re going to support Dominique through this, you’ll need all your strength. And your children need you too.”

He forced a smile. “You’re right. Thanks, Y/N.”

“Of course,” you returned.

He toed the ground with his shoe for a moment before meeting your gaze again.

“I know things between us are…”

“We don’t need to talk about this now,” you stopped him. “You and I are just fine, okay? There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Well, even so,” he said. “I won’t make the mistake of growing apart from you again. Come have dinner tonight at the house, yeah?”

You smiled. “Of course.”

He hugged you tightly. You watched as he hailed a cab, and waved to him as the driver pulled away. With a sigh, you went back in to work.

Roger felt heavy. His eyelids, his limbs, his heart. It was all weighing down as if he had sandbags tied to every atom. He was eager to get home and sleep. It was hitting him all at once how exhausted his body was from all the worry.

When he walked through the door, the house was quiet. He walked into the kitchen. The sound of his shoes padding against the tile sounded so loud.

“Hello?” he called out.

Verity appeared from the living room.

“Welcome back, Roger,” she said. “How’s Dom?”

“She woke up,” he told her. “So everything’s fine. Where are the kids?”

“They’re upstairs napping,” she said. “Sleeping like little kittens.”

He smiled to himself. “Right. Well, I’ll just go have a look at them.”

He headed upstairs to the nursery. The door opened with a light creak as he poked his head in. Rory was in her crib, looking peaceful, her little chest rising and falling with each breath. Roger took a moment to admire her face. Then he turned to see Felix in his bed, also sound asleep. He knelt in front of his son and looked at him as well. Felix resembled Dominique in his face. He had her forehead and nose. He had Roger’s mouth, but Dominique’s dark hair. These two babies were the most precious thing Roger had in his life, and now the woman who had given them to him was broken in a hospital bed.

He was hit with an overwhelming wave of gratitude. Yes, Dominique was hurt, but she was alive. She would see her children again. It made a lump form in his throat and his eye sting with hot tears.

Felix stirred and his eyes fluttered open. He saw his father in front of him, looking down at the floor.

“Daddy?”

Roger took a deep breath and blinked back the tears.

“Sorry, bud,” he said gently. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Daddy, awe you huwting somwhewe?”

Roger shook his head. “Not at all. These are happy tears. Mum’s getting better.”

Felix smiled. “Thank goodness.”

Roger’s own smile widened. “Yes, lovie.”

“Daddy, tiwed?”

Roger nodded. “Very tired.”

Felix scooted over and patted the little spot next to him. Roger chuckled and lifted his son out of the bed, crawled in and reclined on his back. He rested Felix against his chest. Felix snuggled down and let out a soft sigh as he drifted back to sleep. Roger followed behind. He could close his eyes at last.

When you arrived at Roger’s that night, he was already halfway through dinner. Rory was in her high chair, smashing Cheerios with her little fist. Felix was in a booster seat, drinking milk out of a sippy cup. He slammed it down excitedly when he saw you.

“Miss Y/N!” he cried.

“Hi, Felix,” you said sweetly. “How nice to see you again!”

“Gabah!” Rory interjected, squirming in her chair.

“And hello to you too, Rory,” you said to her.

Roger walked over and set a plate of macaroni down in front of Felix. Then he looked at you.

“Hello, love,” he said.

He walked around his son’s chair and gave you a quick peck on the lips. You smiled into him.

“You’ve cheered up,” you observed as he returned to the stove.

“The doctor called about an hour ago and assured me that Dominique’s going to recover,” he said. “They ran a few more tests, and there won’t be any permanent damage.”

“That’s great news!” you cried. “Oh, Roger, I’m so happy!”

“Me too,” he sighed with relief. “I’m going to go back and be with her tonight, but I can’t even begin to express how grateful I am.”

“I bet,” you said. “So is Verity coming back to stay the night?”

He nodded. “Yeah, she’s been amazing. I will definitely be giving her a raise after all this.”

“She’s earned it,” you agreed. “Now, what’s for dinner?”

He beamed and proudly told you what he had made. It was delicious, of course. You ate together with the kids, and Roger let you feed Rory. She was very sweet and laughed a lot. You noticed how like Roger she looked - little tufts of blonde hair, big blue eyes, a button nose, and a wide smile.

“Let’s clean you up, darling,” you cooed, dabbing at her face with a napkin.

She allowed it, drooling a little.

“You’re so good with them,” Roger observed. “So natural.”

“I love children,” you replied. “And I’ve found that if you don’t look at caring for them as something scary, you’ll have an easier time of it. They’re not a challenge, they’re an opportunity to show some love.”

“Wise words,” he said.

“There!” you told Rory, finishing up. “There’s a gorgeous girl!”

She beamed at you, her whole face scrunching up as she giggled. You wrinkled your nose back at her and chuckled lightly. Roger watched, feeling an ache in his heart. He found himself wishing desperately that you were the mother of his children. Life was so easy with you. How could he have ever thought he needed something else?

He was struck with this feeling throughout the evening. During bath time when you gave Felix a shampoo mohawk. Again when it was time to read them a story, and you made both the children howl with laughter at all the voices you did. And then, after he had tucked Felix in, he turned around and saw you rocking Rory in your arms and humming to her before kissing her head and laying her in her crib.

“Okay,” you sighed as you closed the nursery door. “Are you off to hospital again?”

“Yeah, there’s just one more thing I need to take care of,” he said.

“What’s that?” you wondered.

“I need to kiss the bloody life out of you.”

He took your face in his hands and kissed you deeply. Your eyes fell closed in his embrace as he backed you up against the wall. His lips pressed into yours just as his body pressed against yours. Your head felt fuzzy and light. Your body grew hot from the friction. You whimpered into his mouth.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he breathed into your neck. “God, I….”

He pulled away and looked into your eyes. A fire surged behind his that you had not seen in a long time.

“Yes?” you pressed, bringing a hand to his chest. You felt his rapid heartbeat beneath your hand.

“I love you,” he said. “I always have. And I think now I always will.”

A delighted smile spread across your lips.

“I love you too, Roger,” you said. “So much.”

He kissed you again, smiling against your mouth. You were just the same. Your heart swelled like a crescendo in a love song. This was how it was meant to be. You and Roger. Forever and ever.

But.

There was still a lot to consider.

“Rog,” you laughed as he nipped at your ear lobe. “Rog, slow down.”

He pulled back again to look at you.

“What is it, love?”

“We can’t do this tonight,” you told him. “You’ve got to go be with Dom, who you are still married to, by the way.”

He lowered his eyes, disappointed. You took his chin in your thumb and forefinger and made him face you again.

“This isn’t a rejection,” you assured him. “I want to. Believe me, I want to. But until your divorce is finalized, and things with Dominique are settled, we need to wait.”

He held your gaze.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his fingers brushing your thigh.

You shivered, doubting yourself for a split second. You shook your head and cleared your throat.

“Yes, Roger, I’m sure,” you said firmly.

“Well, it was worth a shot,” he teased, backing away from you.

You giggled. “I’ll stop by the hospital some time this week, alright?”

“Sounds good,” he agreed. “I know Dom would love to see you.”

“I’d love to see her as well,” you replied. “And we need to tell her about us.”

“Yeah, I agree,” he said. “We’ll tell her when you come.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What should we say?”

“We’ll tell her the truth,” he said. “That we’ve kissed twice and have decided to be together, but we’ll take things slow.”

“Good,” you said. “And none of this in front of her, I don’t want to rub it in her face or anything.”

“Well, you weren’t so particular about kissing her in front of me,” he teased.

You snorted. “That was different and you know it!”

You laughed together for a long moment. When you settled down, you held each other’s gaze.

“I really have missed you, Y/N,” he said, tracing your jawbone with his finger. “To have you back now of all times...it feels like fate.”

“You’ve never believed in that,” you reminded him.

“Nah,” he conceded. “You’re the one thing I really believe in.”

You smiled. “That’s very sweet, Roger. Thank you.”

As badly as you wanted to stay and give in to your desire for him, you knew you had to go. He ordered a car for you and walked you to the door. There, he kissed your forehead and said goodnight. It made you feel warm all the way down to your toes.

“Goodnight,” you returned softly.

He eased into a smile that was so reminiscent of his days as a teenager, it took your breath away.

Then, with one last embrace, you parted. You waved to him as the car pulled away, questioning yourself once again. You shook your head. This was the right decision.

A few days passed. Roger called you almost every night though, and he would update you on Dominique’s condition. Her bruises were healing, and most of her swelling had gone down. She had suffered a concussion though, so she would be monitored for a little longer.

You decided to go and visit on Thursday. You found yourself oddly nervous to tell Dominique about you and Roger. You knew that she understood, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d be hurt, at least a little. How could she not be? Now, when she needed her husband more than ever, he was in love with someone else. It made you feel guilty and a bit dirty.

“Knock, knock,” you said cheerfully as you entered her room.

“Hey, Y/N,” she said with a smile.

“You’re looking much better!” you praised.

“Thanks,” she chuckled. “I’m feeling a lot better too.”

“That’s sensational!” you cried.

“Y/N, why are you shouting?” Roger questioned.

“Sorry,” you said, clearing your throat. “Just excited.”

“You’re nervous,” he observed, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“I am not!” you insisted.

Dominique laughed. “Relax, Y/N. Roger’s already told me everything.”

“H-he has?”

“Mhm,” she said. “And really, I’m happy for you both.”

You looked at her, brow furrowed. “Are you sure?”

She giggled. “Yes, I’m sure. I may not be in love with Roger anymore, but I do care for him and I want him to be happy.”

You sighed. “That’s a relief.”

“I appreciate your concern for me,” she told you. “But you don’t need to worry. I want you to be happy too.”

You beamed at her. “Thank you, Dom.”

You took a seat beside Roger and you all chatted for a while. Dominique was desperate to know about the kids, but she didn’t want them to see her like this. She thanked you for helping Roger with them, and you assured her it was no problem. You were getting ready to leave and head back to work when Officers Colmes and Dotson appeared.

“Mrs. Beyrand?” said Colmes. “We’ve come to speak to you about your case.”

“Oh,” Dominique said. “What about it?”

“Well from the evidence on your dress and your testimony, we were able to arrest Nick Sully,” he told her. “But, we can only go forward if you’re prepared to press charges.”

You and Roger exchanged a nervous look. Up until now, Dominique had expressed a desire to let it go and move on, which infuriated Roger. You both turned eyes on her. Her mouth turned down with determination and her eyes were fierce.

“I want to press charges,” she said. “I want to get him.”

Roger released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. As Colmes began explaining to Dominique the next steps, Roger looked at you.

“You’ll represent her, won’t you?” he asked.

“Roger, I’ve already told you, I’m not a prosecutor,” you reminded him. “Bill was before he started the firm, so he might be able to help.”

“We’ll speak to him,” he said. “But, Y/N, you’re our friend.”

“I know, but that might make things even worse,” you said. “But I promise you will do everything I can to get you the best representation possible, okay?”

He frowned, but nodded.

You said quick goodbyes to them and rushed back to your office to speak to Bill. He would know the best person to take Dominique’s case, and then you could call Roger right away. You hurried through the lobby of your building and into the lift. You tapped your foot anxiously as it slowly moved up to the firm’s floor. As soon as the doors opened, you burst through them and ran up to Bill’s office.

“Bill,” you panted. “Who’s the best prosecutor you know?”

“Me, why?” he returned, looking up from the paper he was signing.

You decided not to address the narcissism of that reply.

“Then you need to take this case,” you said.

You walked up to his desk and sat in the chair across from him. You explained what had happened to Dominique and the basics of her case. He listened carefully.

“Well, it sounds like a solid case,” he said.

“You can really take it?” you wondered.

“Sure,” he said with a shrug. “They’ve got money, they can handle this however they want.”

“But isn’t there a conflict of interest with our firm representing her husband in her divorce?”

“Again, they have money, and plenty of it, so they can literally do whatever they want,” he repeated. “What aren’t you understanding?”

“Just ethics,” you said, brow furrowing.

“Y/N, don’t be daft, ethics don’t exist in the courtroom, it’s about money and power,” he said with a wave. “Thankfully, we’ve got both.”

“Okay, I’m going to ignore that terrifying logic and tell Roger you’re taking it,” you said.

“I’ll need a second chair,” he said. “You want in?”

“I don’t think I’m qualified to -”

“Y/N, I’m gonna stop you right there,” he cut across you. “I hire excellent lawyers, do I not?”

“Yes.”

“I hire lawyers with a wide range of abilities, right?”

“Right.”

“I hire lawyers that are adaptable and capable, yes?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And I also hired you?”

You nodded.

“Then don’t ever fucking say to me that you’re not qualified again.”

“Bill, I -”

He held a hand up to stop you again. “Don’t ever fucking say it again. Now, are you second chairing this or not?”

You squared your shoulders. It hit you that you wanted to be a part of this. You wanted to defend Dominique and help put away the man who had done this horrific thing to her. Bill’s faith in you - as well as Roger’s - lit a fire inside you.

“I am.”

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x you #BoRhap #Queen #queen x reader #queen x you #queen imagine #borhap imagine #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagine #just like a woman series

186 notes · View notes

little-horror-girl-love · 3 years ago

Text

WIP Excerpt

Just for shits and giggles, I thought I would post the prologue from my current WIP, Monsters. Enjoy!

* * *

“Are you going out again tonight?” Gia asked, watching as her mother paused in the middle of undressing. Her mother straightened up in slight surprise, then breathed a silent exhale before turning a gentle smile back at her darling daughter. Gia knew that smile; her mother wore it whenever she’d been caught doing something she was trying to hide. She had seen her mother flash that smile only once before, when she’d walked in to find her constructing a Guardian coat.

“What are you doing awake at this hour, little one?” her mother asked, stepping forward and fully opening the bedroom door from which Gia was peeking through. “My darling, you should be in bed. It’s late, and you need to wake up early tomorrow.” She smiled and ran her fingers through Gia’s hair. “You begin training for your role in the morning.”

“I know,” Gia said, crossing the room and climbing onto the bed. “But why are you going out?” Her mother paused again, her eyes dropping to the floor in defeat. She’d been caught again—she knew she could no longer keep this secret. “Why do you go out at night?”

Her mother glanced back up at her, briefly thinking her words over, before continuing to undress in silence. Gia understood and remained quiet; she knew better than to press. It would only lead to more silence, as well as a brief annoyed look. She simply sat quietly and watched her mother dress, patiently waiting for her to answer in her own time.

As expected, her mother dressed in masculine clothing—specifically, the assigned uniform of the Guardians: white sleeveless button-up shirt, black trousers, grey running boots, and a long black, lightweight coat. Gia had known for a long time that her mother was going out on the Guardians’ assigned nights, sneaking into the surrounding woods to join them in battling the Beasts.

She had never seen the Beasts, herself—the Guardians made sure of that. Their job was to protect the village from the Beasts, and they would venture out into the woods and battle the unseen creatures. Oftentimes, Gia would overhear the more experienced Guardians boast about how many of the creatures were slain.

From what she’d heard around the village, the Beasts were canine-like in appearance. They had the body structures and faces of wolves, but were around the size of cows, maybe even horses at the absolute largest. Their eyes glowed red in the darkness, their jagged fangs glinted in the moonlight, and their large claws were sharp enough to leave deep gashes in tree trunks. Sometimes, the Guardians would bring back the slain creatures’ pelts to be made into coats and shawls by the Seamstresses; their fur was pitch-black and coarse in texture.

Gia hoped she would go her whole life without ever encountering these monsters.

Once her mother was fully dressed, she turned back to Gia with a worried frown on her face.

“Gianna,” she started, then shook her head before kneeling down beside the bed and reaching under it. “Your father.” Gia stiffened at the mention of her father. She’d never known him, for he’d disappeared not long before she was born. All she knew about him was the descriptions her mother gave: a lean man of tall stature, a kind look in his eyes, and dark hair that’d been slowly greying, despite being quite young; a helpful person who wouldn’t hesitate to assist those in need; and a loving husband who was excited at the prospect of being a father. That was all she knew.

“What about him?” she asked, watching as her mother pulled a large wooden trunk from under the bed. She voiced a silent gasp as her mother opened its lid, looking over the weapons that laid inside. Swords, knives, a crossbow and arrows. These were the typical weapons of a Guardian. Gia held her breath in anticipation as her mother selected each weapon from the trunk and began to load up. The arrows and crossbow were slung over her shoulders, the knives were stored inside her coat, and the swords were holstered at her hips.

“Those monsters,” her mother breathed, returning to her feet before turning her soft gaze back to Gia. “They’re the cause of your father’s disappearance.” This revelation came as the kind of shock where you couldn’t react at first; it took a moment for those words to register in Gia’s head, and her eyes widened in horror once they did.

“They…killed him?” she murmured, clutching at the hem of her nightgown. Her mother’s lips were set in a straight line, and she hesitated for a moment before finally nodding.

“I was…informed of this sometime ago,” she explained, turning an angry glare toward the window. “I will avenge him.” Gia turned her own worried gaze toward the window as well, terrified of the idea that her mother was going out and fighting these creatures. She feared the idea that her mother would fall in battle, be brutally mauled by the Beasts. What would she do without her mother? She had no other family in the village.

Her mother noticed her worried expression before taking a seat on the edge of the bed, a warm smile stretching across her lips.

“Do not worry,” she reassured. “I will always come back. Especially when I have your charm on hand.” Gia’s head perked up at the mention of that, managing a little smile.

This crafting of charms was a tradition set by the village’s third Elder. From what Gia had learned in school, the third Elder received a handmade charm from her grandchild made from a stone, strings, and anything else they could find, supposedly to bring her good health and protection. The Elder was so touched by this gesture, she’d made it a tradition: once the village’s children reached the age of nine, they were to craft a charm to bring good health and protection to their parents. A way to honor the parents of the village, and what better way to honor them than with a thoughtful gift from the little loves of their lives?

“It’ll protect you,” Gia beamed, earning a more genuine smile from her mother. “You always carry it when you go out at night, right?” Her mother nodded before returning to standing.

“Yes, always. As long as I have it, I will always return home safely,” she affirmed. “Now, you must go to sleep. You have a big day tomorrow.” Gia’s smile faded to an unsure frown, and she turned a nervous glance toward the bedroom door.

“May I sleep here tonight?” Her mother chuckled and nodded, darting a slightly impatient glimpse back toward the door.

“Of course you may,” she said, motioning for Gia to get under the covers with a sweeping motion of the hand. Gia obeyed and crawled under the blankets, laying back as her mother tucked her in and planted a quick kiss on her forehead.

“I love you, my sweet Gianna,” her mother whispered, turning and heading toward the door. Before she could cross the threshold, she paused and turned back to her dear daughter. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Gia nodded, blowing a kiss to her mother as she closed the door. She listened to her mother’s receding footsteps, and the distant sound of the front door opening and closing. She will be safe, she told herself. She has my charm.

She laid frozen for a moment longer before curling up and closing her eyes, listening to the distant sounds of the night outside. The crickets chirping, the wind whistling through the leaves of the trees, and the occasional howl of the faraway Beasts. She squirmed at the sounds, the worry she’d felt earlier returning to the forefront of her mind.

The return of this worry made it difficult for her to fall asleep, something that brought a small sense of annoyance to her. She needed to fall asleep, or else she would be an exhausted mess for her training tomorrow.

She tossed and turned for what felt like hours before finally sitting up in irritation, rubbing her eyes. Perhaps a drink of water would help her; it usually did when she had problems sleeping at night. She flinched at another distant howl, then pulled the covers back and slipped out of bed. The wooden floor creaked under her weight as she tip-toed out of the room and to the front room.

The jugs of water were kept in the cupboard beside the door, and she almost reached it before something sitting on the countertop caught her attention. The little stone glittering in the moonlight made her eyes widen in horror.

Her charm.

Her mother had forgotten it.

“Did I…?” She couldn’t even finish that statement, the idea that she’d caused her mother to forget it too horrifying for her to say aloud. No, her mother couldn’t forget it—it kept her safe while she was out fighting. It would allow her mother to return home safely. If she didn’t have it, what would happen?

She didn’t allow herself to think about it any longer, as she rushed back to her bedroom and threw open her wardrobe. She dressed in her dressing gown and a pair of boots, then ran back to the front room and grabbed the charm. She would bring this to her mother, even if she was disobeying the village’s rules by doing so. No one other than the Guardians was allowed in the forest at night; it was too dangerous. But she wasn’t going to let her mother get hurt or even killed because she made her forget to take her charm.

She took a deep breath before stepping out of the house, glancing around at the village as she closed the door behind herself. She’d never seen the village at night; it was so quiet and peaceful. To think that, without the Guardians, nighttime in the village would be so different. There’d be Beasts wandering around, maybe breaking into the houses and attacking the inhabitants.

She swallowed the fearful lump in her throat as she turned back toward the woods, terrified. Her mind raced with thoughts of encountering a Beast—that was the last thing she wanted. She stayed where she was for a second, contemplating her mission, then glanced down at the charm in her hand. It was supposed to bring protection to her mother, so maybe it’d do the same for her.

With that thought in mind, she breathed deeply before trotting toward the woods.

* * *

The woods were much darker than the village; it seemed the moonlight didn’t penetrate the forest grounds. It was a full moon tonight, and yet it did nothing to illuminate Gia’s surroundings. She briefly considered going back and grabbing a lantern, but dismissed this; that’d make her easily spotted by the Beasts. If anything, perhaps the darkness was a good thing, as it kept her hidden.

She flinched at a sudden yelp coming from somewhere near her, though she managed to keep her startled gasp quiet. It sounded like a dog that had been injured—it must’ve been a Beast, perhaps hurt by a Guardian. She dry-swallowed before continuing deeper into the woods, keeping the charm clutched in her fist.

Soon enough, the sounds of battle surrounded her. Growls and snarls, howls, yelps, groans of pain, and grunts of effort came from every direction, thankfully never coming too close to her. She looked around as she ran, her eyes beginning to adjust to the darkness. Every so often, she caught a glimpse of a silhouette in the distance, the shapes of humans fighting canine-like monsters.

Please, mother, she thought, stopping beside a large tree and crouching down beside it. She wanted to remain as invisible as possible, even if she was fully hidden by the darkness. Where are you?

A brief thought crossed her mind that her mother had already fallen in battle, a thought that made her shudder and shake her head, trying to purge this image from her mind. She hoped that her mother was all right, so that she could deliver the charm to her.

She stood back up to continue her mission, then paused as her hand brushed against an odd texture on the tree. She looked it over for a moment, her eyes widening at the large scratches displayed upon it. Three large gashes, deep enough to cause concern. These animals must’ve been extremely strong to inflict gashes this deep.

A soft whimper escaped her lips as she gathered her thoughts and trotted away, glancing around as she did. Where was her mother? She had to be around somewhere. She had to be.

She froze as her eyes focused on something up ahead, and she silently crept forward and knelt down beside a large bush.

Her mother. It had to be her mother; she could tell by the long hair pulled back into a ponytail. None of the Guardians had hair this long, considering they were men; the longest they wore their hair was about shoulder-length. Yes, this had to be her mother.

Her mother was facing away from her, in a stand-off against a pair of eyes that glowed red in the darkness. A Beast. Her eyes widened in horror as they returned to her mother. She was in the middle of a fight, but they weren’t attacking each other. Were they hurt?

“Mother,” she squeaked out. Her mother flinched, and slowly turned back to face her. Her eyes were widened in shock and fear as they looked Gia up and down.

“You…” she breathed. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Mother, you forgot your charm.” Her mother shook her head, then turned a quick glance back toward the red eyes before suddenly turning back to Gia and rushing toward her.

“No!” she yelled out, the urgency in her voice causing Gia to clamp her eyes shut in fear. The Beast must’ve been charging, and she didn’t want to see more than its eyes. She was already terrified at the prospect of having come across her mother in the middle of a fight.

The sound of something tearing made her flinch, and the following sounds of her mother grunting in pain and a low growling made her heart jump into her throat. She was too afraid to open her eyes, afraid that her mother was hurt.

“G…Gia,” her mother’s soft voice rasped, and she winced before forcing her eyes open. The sight before her made her instantly regret this action, and her eyes widened in horror as her hands flew to her mouth.

Her mother was kneeling before her, a dark liquid dripping from her paling lips. Behind her, a large shape with glowing red eyes, its glinting fangs embedded in her body. The Beast, it’d clamped its jaws down on her torso. Gia whimpered at this sight, tears springing to her eyes.

“Mother…I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I…I just wanted you to be safe.” Her mother weakly nodded, placing a trembling hand to Gia’s head.

“I know,” she choked out, her hand slipping from where she’d placed it on Gia’s head before hanging limp. “Gia, I…I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” Gia asked, the tears now oozing down her cheeks. She flinched as the Beast released her mother from its jaws, allowing her to drop down to the ground. Her mother managed a fading glance back up at Gia before her breathing stilled and the life in her eyes vanished. Gia’s breath caught in her throat at this sight, of her mother dead before her.

“Mother, why?” she exclaimed. “Why are you sorry?” A brief, choked sob escaped her lips before her breathing hitched as the Beast approached her. She looked the creature over in horror, its appearance matching the descriptions she’d heard. Its red eyes looked her over intently as it leaned forward and sniffed her face. She did nothing to move; she couldn’t, as the sight before her had left her completely paralyzed. All she could do was watch as the Beast sniffed her face, ready to kill her.

But that never happened. Instead, it stepped back before turning and running deeper into the forest. She watched it vanish into the shadows before returning her tear-filled gaze to her mother’s body.

“Mother…” she squeaked out, glancing down at the charm in her hand. This was her fault. She caused her mother to forget the charm, and then caused her mother’s death by distracting her from the battle. Why did she come here?

“Hey!” A man’s voice, and she flinched as she turned her attention up to a man running over to them. She knew him: he was the captain of the Guardians, and therefore the trainer of the boys who received that role. She couldn’t think of his name now; her mind was too numb to think.

“My mother…” she murmured, to which the captain knelt down beside her, switching his attention between her and her mother.

“What happened?” he asked, motioning to her mother’s body with his eyes. She kept her gaze on the body before her, squeezing the charm in her hand. She could feel the edges of the rock digging into her palm, breaking the skin and drawing blood, but she only turned a brief glance down at it before dropping it from her grasp. She hated the sight of it; if not for her own naivety based on the myth behind this item, her mother would be alive.

“The monster…” she choked out. The captain glanced down at her mother again before moving to scoop her up in his arms. She allowed him to, since she still felt like she couldn’t move.

“It’s all right, girl,” he assured, glancing up as another Guardian came running up. This one was younger, still a teenager; perhaps this was one of his first nights out. The captain looked the teenage Guardian up and down before holding Gia out to him. “Garaile, take the girl back to the village. I’ll take care of the body.” The boy—Garaile—nodded before taking Gia in his arms and heading back in the direction of the village.

“What were you doing out here?” Garaile whispered to her once they were a decent amount of distance away from the captain and her mother. “There’s a reason no one’s allowed in the woods at night.

#wip excerpt #writeblr #monsters

4 notes · View notes

winifredsandersonsbitch · 5 years ago

Text

“My Babysittee’s a Vampire”

Spike x Reader, BTVS

Warnings: cursing, partial nudity, a little pain? but not necessarily violence. Possible spoilers.

Description: The reader volunteers to watch Spike at Giles’s house while the others do some sluthing, but nothing goes as planned. It turns out that vampires are very hard to babysit.

Spike swore that the chip in his head prevented him from hurting anyone, but you weren’t so sure. Giles decided to keep him chained up in the house for observation and that required someone to actually observe him. You volunteered.

You were still the weakest of the Scoobies, unfortunately (except for maybe Anya, but she got points for being an ex-demon). There wasn’t much you could do except get in the way of the monster fighting. But if you could be helpful by staying in and doing some homework, hey. You weren’t going to complain.

“What, Buffy can’t even be bothered to watch me herself, now that I’m all neutered?”

Spike was in a hell of a mood, seemingly forgetting that he had come to you and your friends for sanctuary. It probably didn’t help that Giles and Xander chained him up in the bathtub.

“She’s busy.” You were unsure of whether or not you were trying to comfort him or just get him off your back. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

“So I’m just supposed to sit here and stare at the bloody wall all night?”

“Mhmm.”

You were up against the opposite wall, trying—and failing—to get through the sociology chapter your professor had assigned that day. Everyone else in the gang seemed to ignore their homework entirely, except maybe Willow, but you needed a good grade. Your future plans extended outside Sunnydale. But that was only half the trick. You also had to convince Buffy to come with you.

Spike lapsed into silence as you took your notes, the concept finally clicking into place in your head after the third time around. You highlighted and underlined, drawing triangles to help you understand the ideas of hierarchy and filling up your margins with little asides that helped you contextualize. You didn’t even wonder if you should be worried about the vampire’s sudden quiet until his voice broke through your focus.

“Read to me.”

You dropped your pen, startled. He was staring at you intently, like how you imagined a lion might study its prey. Like everything else had faded from view and he was trying to decide whether or not to take his chances on the hunt.

“I-It’s just soc-sociology,” you stuttered, holding up the textbook for him to see. “I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“I like people.” Spike bared his teeth in a grin that you guessed was supposed to be charming or encouraging, but toed past the line to frightening. When you hesitated, he sweetened his voice, practically cooing, “Come on. What harm could it do?”

So you did. He never asked you to stop and explain anything or gave any indication that he didn’t understand, but you interjected your own learnings in anyway. You almost forgot that it was him you were talking to. Willow used to really value school, and she was still the smartest person you knew, but witchcraft was taking over her areas of interest and none of the others cared about this kind of stuff unless you were helping them with their own homework. It was nice to have a rapt audience, even if he was literally being held captive.

“Basically, he’s saying that social environment shapes how we act and react to situations. Like in the Stanford Prison Experiment.” Your eyes darted from the text to Spike, waiting for a nod or something, but he looked as much like a statue as ever. “Good people can be made to do bad things because of the pressure they feel, real or imagined, to follow the rules that have been set in their environment.”

You waited for him to tell you that you had been right before and he was bored, but instead he leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. The chains around his midsection clanked against each other and you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, even though your heart felt like it might beat out of your chest.

“What about bad people?”

Being around Buffy and the others, around so much supernatural for so many years, had made you into a person who could handle most things with a cool head. It was a required skill. You could freak out about the little things—tests, dating, work—though they seemed to matter less now than ever. But you couldn’t let the supernatural world scare you shitless unless you wanted to shut down completely. Your hands trembled where they grasped your book, but you kept your voice even. You forced your eyes upward to meet Spike’s.

“You tell me.”

——

You couldn’t run away from him, even though you were deeply and truly uncomfortable, so you excused yourself and went to the kitchen for a snack. You knew you shouldn’t leave him alone for too long, chip or not, so you sat down at the table and tried to catch your breath. You were counting down from one hundred when he started shouting about blood.

“It’s unfair,” he said when your frame filled the doorway, arms crossed, “that you get your snack and I don’t get mine.”

At this, his eyes raked down your body. You doubted that the gang would mind much if they came back to find him with a broken nose, but you exercised some hard-won self-control and dug your nails into your palms. Spike was smart and if he was working you up, it was probably for a reason. You treaded back to the kitchen and returned with a mug filled with some B negative that Giles had “borrowed” from the hospital’s blood bank.

“This is the last of the human stuff,” you told him with some satisfaction. “Next you’re drinking pig’s blood.”

You held the mug well away from you, willing your eyes to ignore the splatters on the rim from when you had poured it in. Spike cocked his head.

“Are you going to unchain me, or—?”

“I’ll get a straw.”

When you came back, he was slumped against the inside wall of the porcelain tub. You sat on the edge, held the mug up for him, and turned your head away, enough that you couldn’t see him take his first sip but not enough that he would notice. The sound by itself was almost worse.

“It’s cold.”

“I’m not running a hotel. You’re a hostage.”

“I’m a guest seeking asylum.”

You sucked in a deep breath. “Fine.” You couldn’t bicker with him any more. You needed this to be over.

You warmed it in the microwave, swearing the whole time, and brought it back with both hands wrapped around the mug to keep yourself from throwing the blood in Spike’s face. He smiled as if he knew what you were thinking and relaxed against the tub, tilting up only his chin so that you had to sink to your knees against the tile floor to get an angle that would work.

“I could get used to this,” he mused when he had finished. A few droplets splattered on your hands. You tried not to look at them and began soaping up in the sink.

“Don’t.”

“You know, love, Passions is on in twenty, if your watch is correct.”

You unclasped it from your wrist and wiped it off with a damp tissue. “Forget it.”

“I guess we could always read more from the textbook.” You caught his crafty smirk in the mirror. “You seemed to like that well enough.”

You sighed. “Will it get you off my back?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Fine.”

You crossed to the tub and tried to puzzle out how to lift him without breaking anything. Spike’s hands were bound in front of him by a separate set of chains than his body to make it more difficult for him to escape and give him some limited mobility. His back was flush up against the tub wall, pressed to the porcelain in a way that would make it difficult to pull him up from behind. There was a small amount of space in between his legs, as his feet had been spread to either side of the tap.

“Well?”

“Shut up.”

You stepped into the tub gingerly, easing over the high rim to stand in between Spike’s legs in the space provided. It wasn’t much, and you caught the fabric of his jeans under your foot at first, but you adjusted.

Next you placed your arms on either side of his chest right under his arms.

“Lift with me,” you said, and together you managed to get him to sit on the edge of the tub. “Okay, next—”

He straightened out, trying to stand before you were ready for him, overcompensating so he wouldn’t hit the wall nearest to him and then hitting you with the full force of his weight as he toppled forward.

“Fuck, Spike!”

He was so goddamn heavy. His chest pressed against your face, forcing your back to the wall where the tap caught you in the back of the lower thigh and tore the skin. You couldn’t shove him back unless you wanted him to fall out the back of the tub and onto the floor, possibly cracking his skull in the process. It was tempting, but your reputation as a babysitter would be shredded.

“This isn’t exactly comfortable for me either, you know!”

“Ouch. Ouch. Fuck. Okay, I’m going to push you back slowly. Try to keep your balance.”

But when you moved your leg to keep it from being pressed against the spout, you hit the knob for the cold water, which came pouring down over your heads.

Spike cursed so loudly the neighbors could probably hear. “Turn it off!”

“Stand up! I can’t turn it off with you all over me like this!”

He righted himself too quickly and fell backward back into the floor of the tub, sending his legs sprawling out beneath you. Your feet were knocked out from under you and you fell on top of him heavily, bruising your elbow and knocking your chin against his sternum as the water poured on.

“Fuck,” he whispered, unable to do anything else. It took you both a moment to adjust to the pain and you closed your eyes to your own idiocy.

“Did you hit your head?” you asked finally, reaching out a hand to the platinum blond mop that was now plastered against his skull.

“Turn. The bloody. Water. Off.”

“Okay, okay,” you huffed. He groaned as you sat up, spreading your legs to either side of his hips to steady yourself and keep from slipping in the tub that was slowly filling up. “But this was all you. You had to watch Passions.”

“You’re the one,” he grunted, “who volunteered to play babysitter.”

The shower head drenched you as you twisted and leaned back to flick the knob off.

“I’m normally good with kids, so I figured I could handle one whiny brat for a night.”

You were breathing heavily, your body throbbing from all the places you had scraped and bruised in the struggle. Spike didn’t look much better, although you supposed he had his super vampire healing or whatever. You weren’t worried about it. Your clothes, on the other hand...

“Now what?”

Carefully, you stood and stepped out of the tub. You avoided your textbook on the ground as you grabbed a towel from the cabinets underneath the sink and wrapped it around yourself.

“You can’t leave me here.”

There was at least an inch of water kept in the tub by the plugged drain. It would probably serve Spike right to sit there all night. You both knew that the others would find it funny rather than an exercise in abuse of authority.

“Take the chains off,” he said, switching his tone from murderous to honeyed. “I promise I won’t bite.”

“You can’t,” you retorted, before realizing you had proven his point. “I mean, if what you say is true.”

“Do you think I would be here right now if it wasn’t?”

You couldn’t. This was the setup for a disaster. Things like this always happened to you guys.

“Look, I could’ve hurt any of you before you chained me up. I didn’t.”

He did look kind of pitiful, soaking and lying on his back in the bathtub.

“Maybe you were playing the long game. And now you’ve decided it’s not for you.”

Your words made sense, but you were wavering. Maybe you had a death wish. You left the room for a moment and returned with the key.

“Your hands stay locked up.”

“Fine.”

You were all too aware how close to him you were now, to his mouth. You barely breathed when you stepped into his personal bubble and let the chains slide to the floor. His lips twisted as he looked down on you and before you could step back, his face contorted and he stretched his mouth open.

“Ow! Fuck! Bloody hell!” he cried, putting a hand to his head as you fell back onto the floor on your already sore ass, scrambling backward. “It was a joke!”

“Buffy should have staked you,” you spat, but you led him into the living room anyway.

The two of you were still dripping all over the carpet, but you ducked into Giles’s closet after re-hiding the key and brought out two pairs of pajama pants and a t-shirt.

As it was, you had to take the scissors to Spike’s shirt and throw it out. It was impossible to get it off with the chains on, though you gave it a shot anyway and ended up tangling Spike in it. It was kind of gratifyingly funny to see his head tucked in under the fabric as he struggled.

“You bloody witch!”

“Stop squirming!”

The pants were worse. He had to sit down in the armchair as you shimmied his soaked jeans off, leaving him only in boxers.

“Like what you see?”

“Shut up or I’ll leave you like this.”

Getting the pajamas on was even harder. He had to stand up, support himself by leaning his hands on your shoulder, and kind of hop into the legs of it as you held them up. They were big on him, too, but you tied the drawstrings as tightly as you could, which meant having your hands near a very sensitive area for a few seconds. Ultimately, the pants still hung low on his hips, and you wrinkled your nose in frustration. When you pulled back, Spike had his lips puckered, stringently trying to avoid laughter.

“So you’re just going to leave me in damp knickers?”

“We’re all having to make sacrifices today. Turn around.”

You didn’t want to leave him again, not even for a second, afraid of the trouble he’d get up to on his own. You yanked off your own jeans and t-shirt, watching his back in case he disobeyed you, unable to ignore how muscled and lean he was.

Goddamnit, he really could kill you if he had half a mind to. You’d been training ever since you’d found out what Buffy was, but with school and a job, there was only so much you could fit in.

You wavered between turning around to unclasp your bra and staying in place to monitor him, but ultimately you decided it was safer to just hurry up and do it. You weren’t sure how much skin Spike saw when he went ahead and broke the rules, but it was more than you had hoped. You pulled the t-shirt over your head hurriedly, but Giles wasn’t necessarily a very big man, and it was decidedly short on you.

“Spike,” you hissed. “Go watch TV.”

“Well, we’ve probably missed Passions by now. But our romantic evening doesn’t have to be ruined.” His eyebrow quirked suggestively and you balled up your wet jeans, aiming right at his face.

“Go!”

You almost took yourself out on the corner of the coffee table as you pulled on Giles’s only pair of pajama shorts. You had to roll the top down three times for them to sit at your hips without totally falling off. Spike watched you do it. You gritted your teeth and said nothing.

When the others came back, you and Spike were in separate chairs, your hair still drying.

Xander opened his mouth and then closed it, glancing back and forth between the two of you. Giles seemed disturbed, his right eye beginning to spasm as he spotted the piles of clothes on the floor. Willow stifled a laugh, almost choking on it. And Buffy’s fists curled like she was preparing to hit one—or both—of you.

Spike didn’t look away from the TV, although the corner of his mouth twitched. You dug your fingers into the chair’s arm rests.

“I deserve a raise.”

#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #spike x reader #fanfiction

225 notes · View notes