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queenbirbs · 5 years ago

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what if the closest we get to the moment is now | Ethan Ramsey x MC

WC: 10k+

Rating: Mature

Content: N*FW, contains semi-graphic medical scene (nothing too bad, but I don’t know everyone’s level of comfort with these sorts of things)

Summary: An OH AU where everything is a little bit different, but also very much the same; or, Ethan is an ER attending and MC is a paramedic, but they still manage to fall in love. Title taken from Katie Herzig’s Closest I Get.

+ + +

He sees her three times before he learns her name.

The first time is at the intersection of State and Congress, which he approaches with that tight feeling in his chest. It’s the feeling that only comes from jogging the three-mile route from his apartment, where he goes up around the government center and back down Bowdoin, before taking a lap around the Common. Then there’s the historic facade of King’s Chapel and the less-historic Chipotle on the corner, where he can choose to extend his route by taking Water Street up to Congress and circle back to his apartment.

Which is the route Ethan takes this morning with Jenner at his side, dawn slowly approaching as the sky shifts from that deep blue to a hazy gray.

The only light comes from the streetlamps and the headlights of the delivery vans and buses that idle at the major intersections. State and Congress being one of those -- his last one, actually, before he crosses to return home.

The appearance of another jogger at the intersection isn’t strange. Though he purposefully goes for his runs before five a.m., he knows he isn’t the only one with the same exercise preferences (or the same work schedule). There are others he sees along his route sometimes, though he doesn’t know their names, as he’s never been inclined to strike up a conversation while waiting on a light change before.

The woman in front of him is much the same; he spots the earbuds at the same time he hears the humming. She paces back and forth on the sidewalk, trying to keep her heart rate up. Ethan moves closer to the curb and into her peripheral, making her aware of his presence so he won’t frighten her by hovering behind.

“Morning,” she says to him, offering a quick smile. He returns the motion, suddenly unsure of himself, as he finds that he wants to say something back.

The light changes, cutting off any chance of a reply.

And then they’re crossing and he’s watching the way her ponytail swings in the beam of the headlights and the white piping down her leggings that frames tall, shapely legs that end in a pair of bright orange sneakers and then, suddenly, they’re on the other side.

Where she goes right and he goes left.

He thinks of her once more that day, hours into his shift, before deciding that he probably won’t see her again.

+ + +

The second time he sees her is at Derry Roasters.

It’s the local coffee shop down from the hospital that he frequents when, instead of pulling out every follicle of hair one-by-one, he goes to drink expensive lattes to escape the doe-eyed nuisances that are his interns.

Ethan is nearing the front of the line when he spots her at the back. Instead of running gear, she’s dressed in a black T-shirt and navy cargo pants, clearly dressed down out of some uniform. Her hair is pulled back in that same ponytail; she runs her fingers through it, her wide eyes giving off an overwhelmed vibe. It’s been years since he’s actually looked at the scrawling cursive above his head, having ordered the same drink so often that the baristas automatically charge him for a Vienna as soon as he steps up to the counter. In theory, he could take his drink and get back in line, sidle up to her, and offer his suggestion. Maybe she would chat with him, maybe he would get to know her name.

Maybe he would promise to see her again to share a coffee at a later date.

Before he can test such a theory, a young man darts into the shop and straight over to her. Ethan is trying to place where he’s seen the man before, but then the bartisa calls out his order and his pager is buzzing and he’s shoving down the disappointed feeling in his chest when he sees the young man’s head dip down to whisper in the woman’s ear.

He takes his coffee and goes, thinking of her twice more that day, and hopes that he’ll see her again.

+ + +

The third time he sees her is in the ER.

There’s a traffic jam of stretchers in the receiving bay, filled with the hypochondriacs or the psych evals or the people who called a closed doctor’s office, only to be told by the secretary’s voicemail to call 911 or visit the ER if any of their (usually minor) problems persist. Several paramedics are holding the wall, as if helping out in any way would inconvenience them.

Ethan is helping a nurse transfer in the fourth victim of a six-car pile-up when that ponytail catches his eye.

Down the hall, the young woman is leaned over a stretcher, one hand on an older man’s shoulder to keep pressure on a bandaged wound, while the other rests on his arm. She says something to the man, whose worried frown ticks up into a half-smile as he nods. Standing on the opposite side of the stretcher is the same young man from the coffee shop, who Ethan now recognizes as Rafael, one of their regular paramedics.

The nurse takes over the accident patient and Ethan returns to the line, shuttling the new patients in and signing off for the intakes. It takes him six minutes to get to Rafael and his new partner, who immediately launches into her patient’s status.

“Henry here took a fall, he’s got a five-inch gash along his clavicle.”

Ethan takes the copy of the report she hands him and assists with transferring Henry over to a bed. His gaze flickers down to her uniform where, pinned above her heart, a nametag reads S. McTavish. Before he can think of a way to find out her first name, a code blue sounds from on down the hall.

Rafael and McTavish are long gone by the time Ethan steps back out into the receiving bay, where another nurse has joined to help the first, leaving him to resume his duties.

It isn’t until hours later that he remembers the copy of the report he handed off to the nurses station. Rifling through the intake folder, he retrieves the document and is pleased to discover her first name at the top, written out in neat print: Sloane.

+ + +

As if the universe has designated him a break, he starts to see her everywhere.

Aside from the daily drop-bys in Edenbrook’s ER, he runs into her at the market one Thursday, and then the liquor store that same afternoon. Their interactions are short -- awkward in that way that barely-colleague ones are -- though he manages to make her laugh at his terrible joke in the wine aisle, so he considers the whole trip a success. He runs into her again at Carson Beach, where he runs Jenner so the Boxer-mutt mix will release some of that pent-up energy she’s infamous for. That breathless feeling hits him again when he sees her pass by on the HarborWalk, then circle back around and jog towards them across the sand, her orange sneakers kicking up little clouds behind her.

“Doctor Ramsey, hi!” she greets, flicking back the long rope her hair is braided into. Her skin glistens with sweat from her mid-morning run.

“Good morning, Miss McTavish,” he returns, keeping his eyes pointedly on the flush staining her cheeks and not letting it drift downwards to the shorts she wears that look as if they were sculpted on. He wouldn’t know, of course, as he certainly wasn’t checking out her backside when she jogged past earlier.

“And who might this be?” Sloane is already kneeling, so he doesn’t get a chance to stop her before Jenner knocks her down into the sand.

“Jenner, off!”

His dog perks her head up at the command, then resumes her wet kisses across Sloane’s neck. From underneath the mound of wet dog comes laughter, which eases some of his anxiety.

“Oh, she’s just a big ol’ girl, aren’t cha? Aren’t cha?” Sloane shoulders Jenner off her so she can sit up, ruffling her dark fur where it’s coated in sand. Ethan tosses a frisbee down towards the water and uses the distraction to help her back onto her feet.

“I’m sorry, she usually isn’t--” he cuts himself off with a sigh. Sloane follows his gaze and starts chuckling at his dog, who has abandoned the frisbee and is now trying to chase down a clump of seaweed in the water. “Actually, she’s a real pain in the ass. But I am sorry she knocked you over. I’m out here to tire her out so she’ll behave.”

Sloane flaps a hand at him, quieting his apology.

“Don’t worry, my dog Relay is the same way.”

Ethan watches his own dog give up on the seaweed and wade back onto the shore, trying to think up a response. “I’m from South Carolina,” she continues to explain. “About an hour outside of Hilton Head, so I take him to the beach as much as I can. Except for when I went to college in Columbia.”

“What did you study?”

“Pre-med. And then I went to Northwestern for med school, but that didn’t work out. So, I thought I’d try Boston out for a while, see how the north coast will treat me.”

He wants to ask how she went from studying medicine in the Windy City to responding to heart attacks on the east coast, but can’t come up with a way to do so that would be polite.

“How are you liking Boston so far?” he asks instead.

Her gaze leaves the stretch of blue water in front of them to meet his own, her mouth rounding into a smile. Standing this close underneath the bright sun, he can see the freckles that dot her nose. They fan out in small strokes across her cheeks.

“It’s interesting.”

“Just ‘interesting’?” he teases, shifting his stance in the warm sand, which brings him a few inches closer. Sloane doesn’t move away, though. Instead, her shoulders roll in a lazy shrug as her smile widens.

“Jury’s still out on a final verdict. For now, interesting.”

“Well, if you need any recommendations, let me know. Though,” he gestures to the beach surrounding them, “I can see you already know some of the sweet spots.”

“Thanks, Ramsey. I might just do that.”

“Of course. And it’s -- you can call me Ethan.”

“Okay, Ethan. Then you can call me Sloane. Deal?”

“Deal.”

+ + +

He doesn’t see Sloane again until the next Thursday, and even then their moments together are a few, too-brief moments in the ER.

The Fourth of July weekend keeps both of them up to their eyeballs in emergencies. He’s starting to see why Doctor Mirani always insists on taking the next week off. Just when he thinks he’s seen it all, someone manages to stick a firework in a new orifice.

When his shift is reaching its eleventh-hour, the receiving bay mysteriously empties, and the waiting room starts to clear out. It is, of course, when one of the interns from diagnostics uses the Q-word, which sends a shockwave of groans through all the staff. True to the nature of the universe, calls from emergency dispatch flood in about a ten-car pile-up in the tunnel. Ethan pushes off the nurses station to prepare for the oncoming storm when Kendra, his charge nurse, hangs up the phone.

“Dispatch is sending us a few that Mass Kenmore couldn’t take.”

Ethan scoffs, biting his tongue from making a rude comment about the rival hospital.

“What’s on the menu, then?” he asks, reaching over the desk for his coffee.

“A tractor-trailer hit an ambulance,” Kendra relays with a frown. “They’re sending over the two medics and the driver to us.”

The coffee in his mouth suddenly feels like lacquer, thick and cloying in his throat as he swallows.

“Did they say what company the ambulance was with?”

Kendra shoots him a curious look at the question, obviously wanting to know why he cares, but she’s been working alongside him almost as long as he’s been at Edenbrook. She can tell when he’s going to keep mum, especially when it comes to gossip.

“No,” she finally says, “sorry.”

The pile-up victims arrive first, with their herniated discs and second-degree facial avulsions and grade-three contusions -- enough to keep him busy, hopping from bed to bed to oversee the interns as they fumble about.

Then he’s back at the nurses station to book the avulsion into the next-available OR, while also sending a queasy-looking intern to the bathroom and performing another sweep of the immediate area for any familiar paramedics, when a voice sounds over his left shoulder.

“You’re a regular Mark Greene, huh?”

The anxiety in his chest ebbs away. Relief rises and crests across his shoulders, which ease down when he turns to see Sloane, her hands tucked into the pockets of her EMS jacket, leaning against the counter next to him.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Her mouth opens to contradict him, then abruptly closes as she runs a critical eye over his form. He resists the urge to straighten under the sudden scrutiny.

“I pegged you as a man who prefers the classics, as opposed to HIPPA-violation hook-up primetime, but,” her shoulders bounce in a quick shrug, “we all have our guilty pleasures.”

Ethan clears his throat. Then, for good measure, clears it again.

“I can assure you that I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on -- you can’t tell me you’ve never watched a single episode of ER or Grey’s. There’s nothing more entertaining than tearing a show like that apart.”

A nurse interrupts to get his signature on a report, giving him a chance to steer the conversation away from his watch history of medical dramas.

“Can I ask why you’re loitering in my ER in the first place?” Following the motion of her elbow, Ethan finally notices Rafael sitting in the corner. One of his interns is suturing up a wound on her partner’s waist, while several of the other interns stand around and ogle the young man’s physical attributes. They scurry off to the far corners of the department when he reminds them that drooling is not a part of their job description.

“Superman got a little banged up earlier,” Sloane explains, concern flitting across her face. “One of the walls buckled in when we were retrieving the other two medics from their rig. It’s like the thing was held together by spot welds and promises.”

Although ambulance construction isn’t his expertise, he is rather gifted in the art of observation. Which is how he knows that Rafael wasn’t the only one injured on the job, if the way Sloane is favoring her right side is any indication.

“Have you been seen to?” he asks, biting back the urge to roll his eyes when she seems surprised at the question.

“Oh, no -- it’s just a scratch, don’t worry.”

She wavers under his gaze, the one he uses to quietly bully patients into telling the truth. Within a minute, she’s hopping up onto an empty bed. The wince when she moves to take off her jacket tells him that his instincts were correct. Just below the cut of her sleeve is a four-inch laceration that she’s covered with two loops of gauze and a scrap of medical tape.

He busies himself by tending to the wound, trying to ignore the heat of her body and the little hitches of her breathing when he applies the antiseptic. This close, he can smell the coffee on her breath and the minty scent of her lip balm. His mind drifts to how such a combination would taste on his own lips, before he shoves the thought deep, deep down. When he glances up, though, he sees a similar hunger dancing through her eyes. Something base and egotistical uncurls from his chest at the sight.

“I could’ve done all this myself, you know,” she teases, watching as he fastens a piece of tape across her new bandage.

“Yes, I saw your handiwork,” he reminds her with a playful scoff. “Is that how they’re teaching students to bandage wounds at Northwestern?”

Sloane laughs at the gentle barb and slips back into her jacket.

“It’s what they teach to the ones who drop out, I guess.” She’s grinning as she says it, but her gaze drops to the floor for a brief moment, the movement telling him there must be a story there. Now isn’t the time for it, though he suddenly wishes that it were, if only to spend a few more minutes with her.

And if wishes were horses, beggars would ride, he reminds himself as he leads her out into the hall. “I’m surprised you remembered,” she says.

“Just… paying attention.”

+ + +

Late September in Boston is his favorite. When the heat of summer has peeled away and the promise of blistering cold is still some distance away, when all of the summer tourists have flown back home and the autumn ones haven’t yet arrived.

When the rain is more than just relief from the stagnant warmth, such as it is on this morning. The pavement is slick and dark with it, giving Ethan something to focus his attention on as he approaches the last intersection before home. Given the weather and people’s affinity to avoid it, he’s only seen a handful of runners out this morning, so he’s surprised when he spots someone already standing at the corner. Their figure is draped in a dark jacket, their hood up against the rain. It’s only because of the orange sneakers and the hound dog at their side that he knows it’s Sloane.

“Good morning.”

She whirls around at the sound of his voice. He enjoys watching the surprise on her face shift to joy, as she moves her hood back to take him in.

“And here I thought that Relay and I were the only ones crazy enough to be out in this mess.” Sloane gestures to the Bluetick hound at her side, who is busy sniffing Jenner’s backside.

“No, I thought I’d start my day off by getting the both of us drenched so my apartment smells like wet dog the rest of the day.” His sarcastic remark gets a huff of laughter out of her, which makes him want to grin like an idiot.

He doesn’t, but only just barely.

The light changes and they jog across to the opposite corner. “Well,” he begins, trying to think of some way to continue talking to her (but without offering to follow her home, which would come across either sexist or creepy). “I hope you--”

“Do you want to get breakfast?” she asks. “I know a great place off Amherst that opens in about--” she raises her fist into the air so the jacket’s sleeve will slide back enough for her to peek at her watch, which he shouldn’t find endearing, but he does. “--ten minutes.”

“Do they allow dogs?”

“They have a covered patio.”

“I’m not sure if that would protect us from the rain.”

“It’ll let up.”

Ethan glances pointedly at where the sun is struggling to break through the overcast sky. He thinks of the day ahead he’s already planned, about the laundry that needs to be done and the counters that need cleaned and the fridge that needs a purge. Then he looks back at his side where Sloane stands, who seems unable to resist ribbing him gently as she waits for an answer. “Come on, you’ll enjoy being spontaneous for once in your life. I promise.”

Sloane is right on two counts. The first is that the place does serve great food. The second is that the rain does let up about twenty minutes after they arrive, allowing them to watch as the city around them wakes up. Lights in the law offices next door switch on; cars clog up the avenues and block the intersections; people in business attire head off to work, passing people in delivery uniforms who have already been on the clock for several hours.

“Why did you become a paramedic?” he asks, genuinely curious to know something more personal than general shop talk or the way she takes her coffee (both topics which they covered already).

Sloane’s eyes narrow as she chews on a piece of toast, thinking over her answer.

“I like helping people.”

“I’m not some layman, so I’m not going to accept such a boring answer,” he tells her, and enjoys the little twitch of her lips as she gives into a grin.

“Good, because I’m going to tell you the real reason. Or, well, the major one.” Taking a sip of her coffee, she continues, “I like the uncertainty of it. I could go on a call and help an old woman back into her bed, or I can go on a call and talk a man down from the brink, or I can go on a call and help the rescue squad cut open a burning car and pull a person from certain death.”

“You like the unknown,” he surmises.

“Exactly!” she nods, gesturing with her fork in agreement. “I arrive to situations where everything has gone to hell, and I’m like the eye of the storm, keeping everything cool and calm and copacetic. It’s like an adrenaline rush.”

“You would be a good ER physician.”

She shrugs at the comment, though a flash of something passes across her face, so fleeting that he can’t put a name to it.

“I don’t know about that -- I like being out in the field. And with my crappy luck, if I did become a doctor, I’d wind up being placed at Mass Kenmore.” She makes a face at the idea. “Then I’d have to deal with the raccoons.”

“Raccoons?” he questions.

Her fork pauses on its way to her mouth.

“Oh, my god!” she hisses, leaning towards him across the table. “How do you not know about the raccoons? It’s, like, an infestation over there. One of them even got into our rig once when Raf was driving and got under the pedals. We would’ve ended up on the other side of the 93-North ramp and in the river if I hadn’t pulled the e-brake.”

“In the middle of the highway?”

“There’s no shoulder on the ramp, I had no choice!” She’s giggling over the rim of her coffee cup as she defends her actions, using the cup and his silverware when he requests a recreation of the scene.

She was right on a third count, Ethan realizes, as he watches her tale unfold, interrupting occasionally to ask for clarification.

He is, in fact, enjoying the spontaneity of saying yes.

+ + +

“You’re like my little Georgia peach.”

“I’m not from Georgia.”

“Oh, baby, say something else to me.”

“Touch me again and I will strap you to this stretcher.”

“That a promise, Peach?”

Ethan finishes checking over the fractured tibia in the fast track bay and ducks out into the hallway, having heard enough of the conversation.

“What seems to be the problem here?” he asks. Both Sloane and a man on the stretcher next to her look up at his arrival.

“I’m waiting on a bed to open up,” she explains, her jaw clenched tight.

“I hit my head,” the man moans pathetically, lifting a hand to touch his bandaged forehead.

“That’s because you drank too much and ran headfirst into a parked car, Junior.”

“Oh, so you do know my name?” Junior leers up at her, abandoning his injured head to reach for Sloane again. “Say it again for me, Peachy.”

Ethan decides it’s well past time for him to step in, doing so before Junior can get close enough to grab her.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to keep your hands to yourself.” Ignoring the man’s drunken babbling, Ethan glances around for a resident to dump the man onto. When none appear in sight, he beckons a male nurse over to help assist with the transfer.

“It must be my lucky day,” Junior crows as they wheel him down the hallway. “Two McDreamys all to myself.”

Resigning himself to the harassment he’ll be dealing with for the next hour, Ethan helps the nurse get him transferred into a bed. It’s another ten minutes before he can escape to return the stretcher to Sloane, who flashes him a grateful smile. Her hand brushes against his as she takes the stretcher from him and he convinces himself that the tingling sensation across his skin must be from the carpal tunnel he’s suddenly developed.

“Thanks again for the save, McDreamy.” With a wink, she’s off and gone, disappearing through the doors of the ambulance bay.

Across the hall, Kendra looks up at him from the nurses station and raises an eyebrow. He orders her back to work, scoffing when all she does is smirk in response.

+ + +

He thinks the knock at his door is something else at first.

Four thumps against wood drift over to where he lies, slumped on the sofa. It’s his noisy neighbors, he’s sure. The music he put on returns to its full volume once the racket ceases, allowing him to sink back into himself.

The thumps sound again, somehow harsher this time. The noise gets Jenner’s attention, who trots over to the front door and sniffs. Whoever is on the other side causes her to race back over and bark excitedly at him.

“Who is it, then, Lassie?” Ethan shoves himself up out of the hole he’s burrowed into and crosses the room.

That it’s Sloane standing on the other side of the threshold is a surprise (one of two that he’s received today, though this one is infinitely better than the other). “What are you doing here?”

“I thought you might need this.” In her hand is a bottle of liquor that, upon his closer inspection as he takes the bottle from her, is his favorite brand of scotch. “Everyone is going to send flowers, but I thought I’d bring over something you’d actually use.”

He doesn’t ask how she found out; the staff in the emergency department were well-known for their inability to keep mum on anything. The tragic diagnosis of his mentor and best friend definitely would have been the daily fodder. “Kendra gave me your address,” she explains, having somehow read his mind. Her now-empty hands wring together, then disappear into her pockets.

Ethan backs up, swinging the door wider to wave her inside. She stops just inside the entryway and succumbs to Jenner’s demand for belly rubs. He can feel her eyes on him as he goes to the kitchen to pour them each a glass. “Are you listening to cello covers of The Smiths?” she asks.

“If I knew who they were, then yes. But no, this is just an instrumental collection I selected at random.”

“Well, at least it isn’t Patsy Cline.”

“Good thing that you weren’t here an hour ago, then.”

He enjoys hearing her little huff of laughter as she comes to stand next to him in the kitchen. Handing her the other glass, they sip in companionable silence for a while. The sky outside his loft mellows to a brilliant orange, the clouds piped in pinks and purples. Sloane moves to the tall windows to take in the view; the light traces the features of her profile, outlining her in gold. It isn’t just the liquor in his stomach that suddenly warms him to the core.

“Your place is really nice.” After giving the open space an assessing spin, Sloane turns back to face him. “I’m glad to see that it actually looks lived-in.”

She moves to the bank of bookcases along the far wall, where photographs are symmetrically-spaced across the shelves. Ethan follows to study the pictures with her. There are a few from childhood, most with his older sister Allison, the two of them shoved next to each other in front of various American landmarks, their matching shirts stamped with cheesy phrases like South Dakota ROCKS! and Yellowstone National Park: Where the Wild Things Are!

She picks up the one of them pointing back at Mount Rushmore with bored-looking faces. Ethan remembers his mother insisting on the pose while they whined about how hot it was. Just as he remembers lying in their motel room that night, listening to his parents argue about cheating out in the parking lot. He’d been too young to understand, but being the older and wiser sibling, Allison had turned on their little box TV and let Johnny Carson drown them out.

“When I was little, I thought the mountains were naturally formed like that,” Sloane admits with a self-deprecating grin.

“That… explains some things.” He chuckles when she whacks him in the arm with the picture frame, before she sets it back onto the shelf and eyes another one. It’s a photo of Harper, Chris, and him at a dean’s dinner party, all of them in the fanciest attire they could swing on a medical student’s budget. They’re all wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, eager to make their mark in medicine.

Ethan wonders what it says about him that he’s kept this photo up on his shelf, despite the fact that both of the people in it are technically his exes -- Harper being the longest and most recent, and Chris being a one-night stand that multiplied into several more before ending abruptly. He wants to believe that it shows he can remain good friends with his previous partners -- but it’s probably a testament to his lack of other friends in his life, he realizes.

Though she’s not an Edenbrook employee, Sloane knows enough about the hospital through the gossip mill (that always seems to start in his department and then work its way through the rest of the facility) that she recognizes both faces.

“You went to school with the chief of medicine and the chief of nursing?” Her eyebrows dart up at his answering nod. “Wow, is there a fast-track placement at Columbia that I can get in on?”

Ethan snorts over the rim of his glass.

“Sure, if you can become one of the dean’s kids, they’ll make you chief innovation officer.”

“I’m sensing that you’re not just making up an example here.”

“Nepotism is afoot at every hospital, but it runs rampant at Edenbrook.”

As if shelving away the cheery turn the conversation has taken, she places the photograph back. His throat tightens at the next one down. Sloane is staring at it as well, biting at her lip, as if torn on whether or not she wants to expose the elephant in the room. “You’ve sufficiently liquored me up,” he reminds her. “Ask away.”

“That’s not why I brought--”

He waves a hand at her, cutting off her defense; he knows what she wants to know, what everyone asked him all day long at the hospital ever since the meeting this morning.

“Ask.”

Still, she hesitates -- but before he can demand again, she finally speaks.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Jesus, Sloane, just get to it.”

“That was my question,” she snaps back.

Realization washes over him. He forgets, sometimes, that she’s not one of them. She’s an outsider, looking in. She’s not interested in adding coal to the gossip mill to keep it churning; she’s not eager to know how long Naveen has or who’s going to take the now-vacant chief of emergency services position, or any of those pointless details.

She’s worried about him. It’s been so long since someone has that it takes him a moment for it to sink in.

“Oh.” He clears his throat, then clears it again, thinking it over. Does he want to talk about his mentor and best friend and the two months he was given to live? Does he want to talk about how everyone will expect him to accept the empty seat Naveen will leave? Does he even want to give up the long, grueling hours and getting his hands dirty and the adrenaline rush of saving a patient’s life -- all so he can sit behind a desk and nod at people? “No, not really,” he admits, surprising himself with the answer.

Sloane nods once and turns from the photo of Naveen and him, moving over to the barely-used, big-screen television.

“Are you savvy enough to have Netflix on this, or are we gonna have to haul out the VHS player that I definitely know you have stored away somewhere?”

Brushing dust from the photograph, he prepares to respond to her smartass remark with one of his own, when she makes a weird, strangled gasping noise that has him spinning around.

To see her holding a box set of ER season one, betrayal carved into the set of her jaw. “You have the entire series on DVD and you let me stand there that day and make a fool of myself with my excellent references?”

“You called me a regular Mark Greene,” he defends, “and I said I had no idea what you were talking about.”

Sloane rolls her eyes as she drops down onto the couch. She reaches for one of the four remotes that seem to come with every piece of technology he buys and, without him needing to explain, turns off the music and connects to the DVD player.

“What, I suppose you think you’re Doug Ross?”

“Clooney’s a good looking man.” He settles down onto the couch next to her, though he gives her enough space to not make her feel crowded. “I wouldn’t be opposed to such a comparison.”

“You realize the only way to settle this is with a marathon.”

“I’ve got nothing but time.”

It’s the quiet, he realizes, that must’ve woken him up. The television screen is dark, having shut off due to inactivity. With the only light spilling in from the kitchen, it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the living room. Scattered across the coffee table is the evidence of their impromptu watch party: a half-eaten bowl of popcorn. a quarter of a pepperoni pizza, and two empty glasses.

Curled up next to him is Jenner, who blinks awake to watch him collect the dishes as quietly as he can. Because curled up next to Jenner is Sloane, who has her face nestled between the cushion and a blanket he’d found for her when the Christmas episode, combined with his surround sound, made her cold.

“Stay,” he whispers at Jenner. She wags her tail as he gets up, but obeys the command.

“I should go home,” comes Sloane’s voice, muffled against the cushion she was snoring on seconds prior. There’s that feeling again, like his heart is suddenly too big for his chest cavity to hold, when her body contradicts her words by snuggling even deeper into the blanket.

“You can stay,” he murmurs, reaching out and tucking a piece of her hair back behind her ear. “I’ll wake you up early so you can get home and get ready before your shift.”

“Gotta day off,” she tells the cushion, a yawn finishing out the slurred sentence.

“Then we can go get breakfast at that place off Amherst again. Deal?”

The quiet of his living room stretches on as he waits for an answer. When none comes, he straightens and starts to head for the kitchen, sure that she’s fallen back asleep.

And then, so soft that he almost misses it for running the water: “Deal.”

+ + +

Annually, Boston EMS hosts a gala to raise funds for the upcoming fiscal year.

As one of the leading hospitals in the city, Edenbrook always receives an invitation to attend. And thus far, as the emergency department attending, Ethan has always declined the RSVP, as he can’t imagine anything more mind-numbingly boring than being stuffed into the overcrowded ballroom of the downtown Marriott with the city’s elite.

So, it’s no surprise that when Harper receives the invitation that she throws it into the trash without ever consulting with him. Honestly, he doesn’t blame her at all. It does make the whole situation rather awkward, though, when he asks her to dig it out of her trashcan so he can send in his response.

It doesn’t take him long once he arrives at the function to find Sloane.

She’s surrounded by her station, obvious even from a distance away due to the way they interact with each other. Ethan takes his time, though, circling the ballroom and letting himself be dragged into tedious conversations with the mayor and the police chief and every other person he didn’t come here to see. It had been their agreement, Harper’s and his, since she had rifled through her trash for the invitation after all.

By the time he’s done with his due diligence, Sloane and her company have moved over to the long bank of windows that overlook the wharf. He takes a moment to appreciate her figure in the dress she wears, the cut of the neckline dipping just low enough to catch his attention. Her gaze flickers up to scan the room and Ethan gets the pleasure of watching her spot him. A brilliant smile spreads across her face as she waves him over, unlooping her arm through her co-worker’s to reach for him and drag him into their circle.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” she chides, her elbow playfully nudging his side.

“It’s not typically my kind of scene.” It’s the truth, though it’s more of a deflection from the real truth, which is that he moved his schedule around and dry-cleaned his suit just to come here and see her. He hasn’t had enough drinks to spill that secret.

“Yeah, I have to say I’m pretty surprised to see you here, Doctor Ramsey.” Rafael gestures to the throngs of guests that surround them.

“Well,” one of the women shrugs, “I’m sure this is what the ER on New Year’s looks like.”

“The people here have more clothing on than our typical New Year’s patient, but sure.”

The group laughs at his poor attempt at humor, while Sloane shakes her head at him, though he can see her lips twitching from holding back a grin. He is soon introduced to the rest of the station: the training EMT Sienna, the station supervisor Elijah, and two of the firefighters Bryce and Jackie.

Though Sloane always seems to have the ability to merge into any environment, Ethan is glad he gets to see her amongst her people, still in her element despite the champagne and fancy attire. Her witty attitude and infectious demeanor are like magnets, drawing in people from other stations into their circle.

He can’t help but notice, though, that she keeps him close to her, either with a hand on his back or by looping her arm through his. Delight at her touch simmers low in his stomach over the course of the evening, a feeling he can’t blame on the alcohol this time.

After the live auction is over and the dessert plates have been cleared away, the guests start to slowly trickle out. Their table is one of the first to leave, deciding to continue the party at a little hole-in-the-wall bar down on the wharf. It’s how Ethan comes to be standing on a rickety pier, dressed to the nines, sipping on a draft beer at ten p.m., well past his usual bedtime.

There’s a brush of warmth against his arm. He looks down to see Sloane leaning against the railing beside him, squinting out at the dark water.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Of course. Anything to help our city’s finest.”

She gives a soft snort over the rim of her drink.

“You’re impossible.”

“You like impossible.”

“You’re right.” She’s smiling as she says it, leaning into his arm. He moves his hand from the small of her back and wraps his arm around her shoulders, bringing her into his chest. She lets out a contented sigh.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” she hums.

“Why did you drop out of med school? From what I see on a daily basis, you’d have your pick of residencies.”

For a long moment, there’s only the muffled pop tunes bleeding through the bar and the rhythmic churn of water against the pier and none of those things are her response. He fears that he’s finally stumbled upon the one topic that had warning signs all over it not to approach, and that he barreled right through every one of them.

“My sister got sick,” she eventually says. “She went to the doctor on a Tuesday and she was diagnosed with stage four Hodgkin’s lymphoma by the next Wednesday. Her girlfriend split soon after and the only family we have to speak of can’t be trusted any farther than you can throw them.” She sucks in a breath, her fingers clenching around the drink she holds. “So, I moved back home and took care of her. But loan holders don’t care about why you dropped out, they want their monthly-minimum -- and with no decent-paying residency to lean on, I had to figure out something. I ended up hiring a caregiver to be with Sydney in the afternoon and evenings, so I could go work my retail job and then go to night classes to get my EMT certification.

“I spent a year working for the local EMS and learned how to be adaptable to any situation. My partner taught me how to drive a rig at sixty miles-an-hour while taking hairpin turns on county roads. I helped deliver babies at both Texaco stations in town, fought brush fires with the volunteer fire department, waded into the river to rescue an idiot teenager who decided to try out drifting during Hurricane Matthew. I’d gone into the job to keep a foot in the door within the medical field, but suddenly…”

“...you loved it,” Ethan finishes for her. Beside him, she takes a sip of her drink and nods.

“Exactly. Then, in the last week of January 2017, my sister died. And a week after her funeral, after all the extended family stopped coming by and pretending to care, I’m sitting in her living room on the floor, and I’m organizing her finances to start the process of selling her house. I get to this envelope that just has ‘Read this’ written across it. So, I mean, I opened it, of course -- and there’s a letter from Sydney to me that she’d written probably a month prior to her death. In it, she tells me that she’d saved up money during all those years I was away at school for us to go on a trip together.

“But with her cancer treatment going nowhere, that was no longer an option. She wrote about how my work stories made her laugh, about how obvious it was that I loved what I did, but that I didn’t deserve to be stuck in our hometown for the rest of my life, carrying her dead weight around. Her words, mind you -- her dry humor would rival even yours. And then she went on about how she didn’t want me to be fucked over by quitting school for her, how she wanted me to continue my education, and that she wanted me to use our trip money to go back to school. So, I called up a realtor, spent three months keeping the house from looking like anyone lived in it, sold the place, and within the next week I was living in a duplex out in Lower Roxbury and enrolled in a paramedic course at Northeastern.”

Ethan lets the story settle, lets the noises of the evening fill up what little space remains between them.

“Thank you for telling me,” he eventually says. Pressed against his side as she is, it doesn’t take much for Sloane to dig her elbow into his ribcage.

“Okay, I told you my story. Tit for tat, as they say.”

“No one actually says that.”

“C’mon, I know stalling when I hear it. Tell me something I don’t know.”

Wracking his brain for something to say, he spits out the first thing that comes to mind: “I wanted to be a diagnostician.” Sloane perks up at the statement, shifting to look up at him. “Before, you know, during my early days of medical school. I had it all planned out, signed up for all the seminars to attend so I could rub elbows, narrowed down my list of where I would spend my residency. All before I started my first year.”

Dragging in a breath, he continues, “And then one day during my first year, I’m waiting for the subway, and this man falls onto the tracks. At first, no one moves. We’re all stunned into place, watching, as if we’re waiting on him to jump back up onto the platform by himself. Someone finally moves, and then a crowd runs to the edge and they’re all yelling for help and for police and for a doctor. It’s stupid, but the word ‘doctor’ finally spurred me into action. I jump down there with two other people. The man was impaled on a section of broken track, so we not only have to get him off the tracks, but I’ve also got to make sure he doesn’t bleed out in the process. There’s no time to worry over the puncture wound while we’re all in the path of a soon-to-be oncoming train, though, so we simply had to pull him off the metal. It was… intense. We carry him over to the stairs and get him laid out on the ground, where I can finally take a look at him.”

“How bad?”

“The metal had sliced through his fourth intercostal.” Ethan brushes his fingers across the same spot on her back. “So, not only am I dealing with a chest cavity wound, but as I’m talking to the guy and trying to get information out of him, I can hear his breath getting shorter and shorter.”

“Pneumothorax?”

“Exactly,” he nods. “And all I have on me is a backpack full of textbooks. So, I borrow this woman’s pocket knife and another woman’s bicycle pump to create a makeshift chest tube. By the time I got it up and running, the paramedics arrived and carted him off.”

“I have a question,” Sloane interrupts.

“Hmm?”

“You said you borrowed the bike pump… the woman really wanted it back after all that?” Ethan feels her shoulders shake with contained laughter as he scoffs at her terrible joke. “Okay, okay, sorry -- back to the story. So, is that what made you change your field?”

“It seems juvenile, looking back, for one moment like that to matter so much--”

“No, it makes complete sense!” she insists, tipping her head back and closing her eyes as she tries to think of how she wants to convey her point. “It’s like… you sit in classrooms all day and you poke at cadavers and you can name every muscle in the body, but it’s nothing compared to the real thing. You’re a conductor and the patient’s life is this symphony you get to control. That rush -- it makes you take leaps you wouldn’t normally take.”

Her eyes open in time to spot the look of contemplation on his face. There’s something else, though, in the set of his jaw, in the ragged breath he takes in.

“Or risks that are worth taking,” he says. His other hand drops from the railing as he turns into her, gathering her even closer. Sloane moves readily, easily into the circle of his arms. “Like this.”

He leans down and she stretches up, meeting for a kiss that goes on and on -- until there is only the sound of the surf, steady underneath their feet.

“Yeah,” she agrees, and Ethan can feel the words against his lips. “Exactly like that.”

+ + +

“Make it harder.”

“Hmm.”

“Levator scapulae.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Trapezius… supraspinatus… rhomboid major… come on, this is Anatomy 1010 stuff.”

“I’m beginning to think that we should have agreed to ‘if Sloane complains about my seduction technique, she forfeits the competition.’”

“If you have to say the words ‘seduction technique’ out loud, then it’s probably not working anyway.” The words are barely out of her mouth before she’s squealing with laughter as Ethan digs his fingers into her ribs, tickling her there. “Inter… intercos -- intercoastal.”

The mattress dips as he shifts, dropping down to skim his lips across the skin covering the muscle she labeled. So far, she’s gotten all of them correct -- which means he’ll have to make this game of theirs a little more difficult. Shifting again, he centers his weight onto his left hand and distracts her with a lazy kiss against her lower back. He smirks at her bored sigh. “Latissimus dorsi.”

“Mmm, no, I want you to think… deeper.” His lips touch the spot again, his tongue dipping out to taste the skin there, warm and salty sweet. Tracing the outside of her thigh with his other hand, pleasure clutches at him when he sees the muscles in her leg twitch as his fingers stroke further inward, closer and closer.

“Iliocostalis?” Maybe it’s his imagination, but some of the confidence has left her tone, replaced by that low, breathy voice she uses -- the one that could get him to move mountains, if only his work schedule would allow it.

“Very good,” he murmurs, his fingers dragging two heavy passes across her inner thigh, where her abductor muscle tenses at his attention. She squirms against his bed, spreading her legs a little wider, silently urging for his touch to come a little closer. Unable to resist any longer, Ethan sinks two fingers into her. He groans as she clenches around him. Shameless little gasps fall from her mouth as he slides in a third finger, her hips gently rocking against his bed as she begs.

His name on her lips could be an aphrodisiac, could be sought after like the maca root, could convince men and women alike to traverse 3,000 feet into the mountains to seek out. It’s his luck, then, that she’s chosen to let him have the taste of her.

He curls down over her to nip at the skin of her waist.

“Longissi -- no, fuck -- serratus posterior inferi--”

All at once, Ethan pulls away. Self-satisfaction floods through him as Sloane groans in frustration, rolling underneath him so that she can glare directly at him.

“You know the rules,” he tells her with an easy shrug, as if he’s done with their game (as if he isn’t hard as a rock, staring down at her, pissed-off and naked in his sheets). He’s expecting her to do quite a number of things, all towards the goal of getting her way. What he isn’t expecting is for her to wrap her legs around his waist and use all of that hidden strength she possesses to tug him down on top of her, where she proceeds to kiss along his jaw and nip at his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“You tried your seduction technique,” she says. “Now I’m trying out mine.”

He feels every inch of her smile as she drags a hand across his chest, down over his hip, and around the base of his cock. Arousal is a hot poker to his sternum, drowning everything else out. His awareness tunnels until it’s only her (and her touch and her breath on his skin as she chuckles and the slick slide of her thighs against his hips and it’s all too much and not enough at the same time).

“I think it’s working,” he chokes out, talking about too many other things that he can’t put names on yet.

“Hmm… you know what?” she grins, beating him to the answer. “I think so, too.”

+ + +

It all starts when the waiting area empties out. A rare sight on a rainy Friday afternoon, when car accidents and ankle sprains typically fill the lobby to the brim. Such a rarity, indeed, that the interns collect at the double doors to take in the scene.

Ethan clears his throat, enjoying the way they all spin around in a panic at the noise.

“What’s say you all find something more productive to do with your time than stare out at the parking lot -- unless you’ve decided to abandon your medical careers and become meteorologists?”

Marisa, one of the more vocal interns, grabs a handful of her breast and tilts her head.

“There’s a thirty percent chance that it’s already raining.”

Some of the group laughs, while others glare. Ethan doesn’t bother asking about the pop culture reference and shoos them all away with threats of inventorying the supply closets if they don’t find patients to care for.

Sidling up next to him, the pediatric specialist stares out at the rainy day. Tucked into her elbow is the clipboard she’s never seen without. The interns all think it’s full of patient charts and motivational quotes. Ethan wonders what they would think of Ines Delarosa if they ever found out that hidden between the hand-outs on SIDS and the importance of handwashing is the newspaper’s sports section. Because, aside from being the state’s leading pediatric emergency physician, Ines is also a die-hard Bruins fan -- she’s even got the season glass seats to prove it (and a ridiculous amount of memorabilia, which he only knows about because he graciously attends her Halloween party every year).

“It is odd to see it so s-word,” she says, dodging the wrath of the ER gods by avoiding the word.

“If it keeps up, maybe you can get off early and snag a good seat at the game.”

Ines chuckles and shrugs her shoulders.

“A girl can dream.”

He turns from the doors to see that the interns are following his commands when Ines makes a concerned noise. Glancing back out the window, he spots the flashing lights of two cop cars as they streak down the street, followed quickly by a third and a fourth. After the eleventh he quits counting. “There’s a whole squadron heading east,” Ines calls out to the room. “Anybody know anything?”

“I’ll check Twitter,” Kendra suggests, her fingers flying across the keyboard. Both doctors watch as the screen loads, reflected in her horn-rimmed glasses. Ethan’s stomach tightens as her dark eyes go wide behind the lenses. “Oh, shit.”

It takes seven minutes for the first victim to arrive. From then on, the ambulance bay resembles a floodgate, filling up with concussions and internal bleeding and broken bones. It’s an all-hands-on-deck situation, with staff from every other department coming to assist. Even Chris and Harper come down to help -- and it’s almost like med school all over again with the three of them working together, side-by-side. Any awkward relations between them are buried deep in the wave of such a disaster.

Ethan spends the two minutes he can spare explaining the card system to the interns before handing each of them a stack. As he races from one bed to another to oversee the critical cases and get them transferred into the next available OR, he notes the lack of black cards. He can’t help but hope that it’s a good sign, and that the accident wasn’t as catastrophic as it could have been.

But with each new patient’s stuttering recount of the disaster, he finds that hope slowly dwindling. A partial tunnel collapse, they say, repeating what the news anchors have been relaying on the screens in the break room, where they’ve set up a makeshift triage for the less critical. One patient tells him about the crunching noise of the impact, while another one cries over the terrified screams of those trapped in between the layers of rubble.

It isn’t until the third hour (or fifth or sixth, he isn’t sure; time is a construct that he only becomes aware of when he has to call a time of death) that he finally gets an opportunity to talk to Sloane. He’s caught glimpses of her before now, rushing in and out of the double doors. This close, he can see the dust and grime that coats her jacket, the reflective strips splattered with black sludge. Streaks of the substance are smeared through her hair and down onto her neck.

“Hey,” he reaches out, cupping her cheek in his hand and drawing her eyes up from the transfer report she’s scribbling on at the nurses station. “How are you holding up?”

She bites at her chapped bottom lip, dragging in a breath as she thinks over a response.

“It’s… bad,” she tells him. “Out there.”

“It’s amazing, though,” one of the interns pipes up from where they’re hovering nearby, “that so few people have such serious injuries.”

Sloane meets the remark with silence and Ethan knows there must be countless victims that she had to overlook in order to get to those that would have a chance of survival. Placing her hand over his, she turns her head and presses a quick kiss to his palm.

“I’ve gotta get back out there.” She gives his hand a squeeze before she pulls away, back into the rush of bodies and out the door. Sloane McTavish, once more unto the breach, he thinks as he watches her disappear.

By the mid-afternoon, the ER’s lobby is no longer just a home for the injured. Loved ones come in droves, in fast-moving packs across the parking lot and through the entrance to clog up the reception desk. They demand to know if their brother or partner or best friend are safe within the hospital, their panic bouncing between one another and magnifying when the staff can’t give them the answers they need.

From inside the curtained-off cubicle where he’s working on a patient, Ethan can hear Harper giving a speech to the crowd. It’s sympathetic, but not coddling; assertive, but not aggressive. Her ability to sway a large group of panicked patients into understanding the reality of the hospital’s situation within two minutes is why she excels at being the chief (and why Ethan would never be able to do what she does -- he would’ve been mauled the minute he opened his mouth).

“You need any help?”

His head snaps up to see Sloane hovering at the gap in the curtain. Maybe it’s the fluorescent lighting, but she looks paler than last he saw her. Her knuckles are white where she grips the curtain’s edge, he also notes. “Raf is restocking our rig,” she continues. “He said for me to take a quick five and grab something to drink.”

“Take five means to sit down and get some rest,” Ethan points out.

“If I sit down, I’m gonna fall asleep.” She takes a long drink from the styrofoam cup in her other hand and grimaces. He can’t help but worry about how much coffee she’s ingested -- enough that there are fine tremors in her hands, her body running on caffeine and cortisol.

Finishing off the suture, he calls for a nurse to start the discharge process and guides Sloane over to an empty seating area.

“Sit down, honey. I’m going to get you something to--”

Her muffled cry of pain cuts him off. Ethan drops down onto one knee in front of her and cups her chin, forcing her glassy eyes to meet his. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? What hurts?”

“Nothing.” She shakes her head. “I’m fine, I--”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. What hurts?” He reaches for the zipper on her jacket when she snags his wrist and pushes him away.

“I told you: I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.”

He frowns at her hurried assurances.

“Forgive me, but I’ve heard that one before. I didn’t buy it then, either. Let me at least check you out.” His authoritative tone seems to sway her. She drops his wrist and inches forward in the chair; her pained wince as she does so worries him further. He’s got her zipper halfway down when a voice calls out from behind them.

“Slo, you ready to roll?”

Before he can stop her, she’s yanking her zipper back up and shoving past him to join her partner.

“Yeah, I’m all set.”

Ethan gets to his feet and prepares to coax her into getting checked out when Rafael glances between the two of them and smirks.

“Aren’t there supply closets for this kind of thing? If you need to get a leg over, partner, I can go grab a snack real qui--”

Sloane knocks her fist into Rafael’s arm, ignoring his fake cry of alarm as she turns and heads for the double doors.

“She’s injured,” Ethan tells him. “Keep an eye on her.”

Rafael quickly sobers, his grin falling away. He nods once before jogging back down the hallway and through the exit.

The rescue squad has reached the third section of the tunnel, Kendra tells him at some point in the early evening (or he thinks, at least; he hasn’t had the time to look out a window and actually take in the position of the sun in several hours). The opening brings a new flood of victims, their injuries more critical, given their extended time underground without aid.

Most of his interns are holding up surprisingly well, given the sheer influx of patients and the higher amount of critical codes. Ethan’s found only a handful of them having a pity party in the on-call room. His brain is too fogged to stumble his way through an original speech, so the one he gives is ripped straight from Doctor Greene. None of them seem to notice, though, solidifying Sloane’s claim that his interns are all fans of Hugh Laurie’s medical drama instead.

His thoughts turn once more to his girlfriend as he leaves an intern to wipe away their tears and moves back out into the hallway. The few times he’s seen her he’s been too busy with a patient to get close enough to check on her. Reaching into his pocket for his phone, he’s about to resort to texting Rafael again to get a status when he spots her across the room.

She’s standing at the nurses station and staring down at a report. The pen in her hand moves back and forth in short strokes across the page, too sloppy to be anything legible. Even from where he stands, he can see the choppy rise and fall of her chest. Hurrying past a cluster of waiting gurneys, he pushes his way through the hallway traffic to reach her side. He calls her name as he rounds the counter. The lack of reaction in her drives that stake of worry down farther into his chest. Gripping her shoulder, he gives her a little shake.

“Sloane, hey, look at me,” he urges.

His breath catches in his throat when she complies; her pale face is clammy, her lips tinged blue. Blinking heavily up at him in confusion, she tries to take a step back. His instinct already has him shouting for a bed. He’s moving even before she can collapse, catching her before she hits the floor. He loops an arm under her knees and another around her back, fighting back the wave of panic when her head lolls to the side.

Kendra rushes over with a bed; they wheel her into the closest open room, a team of nurses racing in behind them.

“’m fine,” Sloane mutters as Ethan jerks her zipper down. “Jus need a new… bandage--”

“Fuck,” Kendra swears.

Looking down at the bloodied mess of her shirt, Ethan can’t help but agree with the sentiment. He tugs the fabric up to expose a blood-soaked bandage, secured only by a few strips of medical tape. Peeling back the bandage, he sucks in a breath through his teeth at the jagged laceration across her lower abdomen. The one she clearly tried to pack with gauze and walk off.

“Jus patch me up an--”

“Goddammit, lay back down!” he orders as Sloane tries to sit up. “You’re not fit to do anything but try to save your own life for once. You’re in hypovolemic shock.”

“If I was, be dead already,” she argues, her words slurring together.

Kendra produces a pair of scissors and they cut off her uniform as Ethan orders for a blood transfusion, as well as a CT scan to rule out internal bleeding.

“BPs at eighty-nine, heart rate is 126,” Kendra reads out. “She’s in tachycardia.”

Fury at her disregard for her own safety roils in Ethan’s gut, compounding on the anger he already feels towards himself for letting her go earlier. Layered beneath everything is fear, thick and cold and viscous as it eats away at him.

He spends the next hour going through the motions of testing and eliminating any possibilities of further injuries. Once they get her downgraded from stage three and stabilized, Ethan allows her to give in to sleep and steps out to check on the rest of his department. Finding everyone at their posts (and no one sobbing in the on-call room), he returns to Sloane’s room.

Where he’s surprised to find her awake, albeit groggy.

“Hey,” she greets, her voice almost lost underneath the steady beeps of the monitor.

Ethan steps further into the room and shuts the door behind him, snuffing out the hospital’s incessant noise. Settling down into the chair by her bed, he reaches out to take her offered hand and brings it to his lips.

“I need you to explain to me what the hell you were thinking.”

She sucks in a breath, holding it for a long moment before letting it out. He raises his head, clutching her hand to his cheek as he watches her mull over her answer.

“I was in the first section of the tunnel,” she begins. “The one we’d already cleared. I was on my way to help Raf board someone when I heard this noise. Like an animal wailing, you know, really high-pitched and drawn out. It’s closer to me than him, so I get down on my hands and knees and I’m crawling through the wreckage and I’m calling out and I can -- I can tell it’s a kid because he starts to talk, and he’s asking for his mom, and finally I spot him and he’s… he’s just a little tiny thing.”

She pauses to catch her breath. Ethan turns his head and presses a long kiss against her knuckles. “He’s pinned underneath his mom, who we… had to move past earlier... and he’s tucked up underneath a seat. I don’t know how we missed him before, but I know I’ve got to get him out of there; he’s soaked in blood and I can’t tell if it’s his own or his mom’s, and there’s no time to try to figure it out. I finally get him out and he’s got a gash above his ear -- deep enough that I know I’ve got to hurry. And… that was it. I was going too fast, wasn’t watching all of my steps, and I’ve got him in my arms when I feel myself start to slip, but I’ve got him so I can’t stop myself, so I tucked him close to my hip and rolled into the fall and... landed onto a broken railing.”

“That you slapped a bandage over and ignored,” Ethan finishes for her. “Without letting anyone know and refusing to let me check--”

Sloane shakes her head; tears track down over her pale cheeks.

“You don’t -- Ethan, there were so many people down there, trapped and screaming and… and we were hauling out buckets of debris to get to them and sometimes, by the time we got to them, they wouldn’t be screaming anymore and I knew I couldn’t stop and sit that out, I couldn’t--”

“You’re lucky you only needed stitches and a blood transfusion. If you had gone on any longer, you would have progressed to stage four hypovolemic shock. You could have fallen into a coma from blood loss,” he hisses out, the anger from earlier returning with a vengeance. “Only a rookie would pull a stunt like this.”

She meets his narrowed gaze and it’s like she can see past his front, past the frustration; without moving, without speaking, she peels back those jagged layers to see the worry and guilt that festers below.

“This is what we do,” she murmurs. “Sometimes we forgo our own safety for the sake of others.” Tugging on his hand, she urges him to sit beside her on the bed where she can run a comforting hand through his hair and down his arm, reassuring him of her presence.

“I know,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss her forehead, then the bridge of her nose, and then her lips. All of the pressure in his head evaporates at her touch, at reassuring himself that she’s okay. “But next time, let me do it. I am closer to the ER, after all.”

Sloane lets out an exasperated chuckle, rolling her eyes at his lame joke.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know,” he says, that soft smile of his making an appearance -- the one only she gets to see. “Get some sleep. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

Standing up, he reaches above her head and switches off the strip light. The room dims, lit only by the muted hallway lights that leak through the blinds. Leaning down, he gives her a longer, sweeter kiss, trying to pour all of his relief into it. “I love you, too,” he tells her as he tucks the blanket in around her.

“Wake me when your shift ends.”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

+ + +

He approaches the light with that tight feeling in his chest; his body’s assurance of a job well-done. Covered in a fine sheen of sweat from the summer heat, he yanks at the collar of his T-shirt and wafts it against his chest, groaning at the feel of air moving against his skin.

“Are you prepping for the marathon?” he asks between ragged breaths. “Is that why you were going so fast?”

“Wasn’t going any faster than usual,” Sloane replies with a shrug. Leaving her side, Relay trots over to sniff at Jenner and then at him, nudging his pocket with interest, where the tennis ball they toss around in the Common hides.

“Well, either you’re lying, or I’m starting to show my old age.”

“You’re not old,” she scoffs. “You’re thirty-eight.” Turning towards her, Ethan recognizes the look on her face; he immediately becomes invested in whatever she’s about to say next. “Here, I’ve got an idea: I’ll race you. If you beat me, then you’ll get a treat.”

Both dogs and he perk up at the term. “Deal?”

“Deal.”

The light changes.

They take off, jogging across the intersection and up onto the opposite sidewalk.

Where they both turn left for home.

+ + +

AN: I did some routine googling for the medical information in this, but not nearly enough as I probably should have. Take it with a grain of salt. *Fixed as of 6/2/21: changed Sloane’s dog name from Haint to Relay. Haint is a term for ghosts or evil spirits, which I learned originated from Gullah culture in GA and SC, so I feel it was appropriation for me to use it with an MC who is white / is not part of that culture. This fic also contains a real-life AU in the fact that Boston EMS does not work on the same structure as Chicago or NYC, where some ambulances reside within certain quarters at a dedicated fire station -- however, in this they do because everything’s made up and the points don’t matter.

#ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #choices #open heart #open heart fic #f: what if the closest we get to the moment is now #Kaila writes things #we get to play 'will this massive wall of text show up in the tag or not?'#picture it: me; 2019; desperately wishing tumblr had the same rich text format editing that AO3 does

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kingsuckjin · 4 years ago

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Ungodly Beast 2

⸸ Pairing: Devil! Jungkook x reader, Priest! Namjoon x reader

⸸ Rated: M (18+)

⸸ Genre: smut, horror, fluff?, angst?

⸸ Synopsis: You’d rather go to hell yourself than let the devil take your baby, even if he helped create him… even if your little boy is beginning to sprout horns.

⸸ Warnings: (may contain spoilers) death, kidnapping, kind of depression and some heavy feels, satanic symbolism, voyeurism, blowjob, fingering, unprotected sex (please wrap your ding dong before playing ping pong), more sinful shit, male masturbation, dom-ish reader, strangulation (like also not in a sexy way), dom! Jungkook, spit kink, the most dirty talk you've ever seen, fisting, fingering, dick size kink, daddy kink, degradation, impreg kink, pain kink, devil kook still looks wild, spanking, branding, choking, hair pulling, biting and scratching, blood play/blood eating, tattoo kink, really rough sex, a very jealous Jungkook, more death/murder, a very brief mention of drugs, fluffy sex, gore, a fight scene, it's just graphic and awful.

⸸ Words: 15k

⸸ Note: I’d link the first part in this fic here, but tumblr has been doing this cute little thing where if you insert a link in something then the fic won’t show up in the tags. So I very sincerely apologize for the inconvenience, but you’ll have to go through my masterlist to find part 1. Also, an anon told me that this fic goes really well with the album Too Weird to Live too Rare to die by panic at the disco, specifically the song Far too young to die, so if you're looking for something to listen too while reading this, then that would be perfect.

"What have you done?"

Those were your mother's first words after telling her you were pregnant. You had no idea how she knew, perhaps it was the worried, troubled, tired look on your face that that told her. Maybe she just sensed it, sensed the seed of half evil already taken root and growing inside of you.

You stayed silent, confirming an unspoken conclusion between you. She clutched at the rosary around her neck as her shocked, open mouth quivered and glossy tears pooled in her eyes.

"You didn't…" She whispered, "please tell me you didn't."

Out of shame, you still didn't speak.

"How did you know?" You finally decided to ask.

"I've dealt with him before, I know the way his terrible presence feels, and now I feel it with you. I almost can't stand it." Her words both stung and made you have an unsettling feeling that crawled up your spine. Was it simply the baby she had felt? Had he marked you somehow and now it was you making her feel like this? Or was he with you? Silently watching and waiting.

"What did you give for the child?" Your mother was nearly in sobs now.

"He didn't tell me at first-" you began to try to defend yourself but your mother cut you off.

"He never does. What was it?"

"He's taking him…" you felt the prick of tears sting your eyes now too. You had to cover your mouth quite suddenly to keep a sob from escaping. It hurt to think about, to talk about. You were afraid. "...when he turns five."

She took your hands between hers and looked you in the eyes.

"We will do everything we can, I promise. We will fight."

You nodded and attempted to blink away the tears.

"Pray with me. We can pray. God will help us, I know it."

You nodded again as she gripped your hands firmly in hers reassuringly. She let her head fall slightly and closed her eyes prompting you to do the same.

As she started with her prayer, you began to feel a ringing in your head, the sound grew and grew until it was piercing, drowning out her words. A tsunami of nausea overtook your body so powerful you jumped up from your seat at your mother's kitchen table, knocking the chair back as you ran for the bathroom in a dizzy haze.

"Ah, they should call it all day sickness instead of morning sickness." Your mom had committed, seeming to brush it off, but you knew in your heart and deep in your soul that something was very, very wrong here.

From the moment you first saw him, you were in love. His big doe eyes, his chubby little cheeks, his soft little hands, and feet. Although he had no horns or black eyes, you tried hard not to see his father in him, which was difficult sometimes.

The worst memories for you were taking him to get baptized as a newborn. He had screamed from the moment you had entered the church and nothing you could do would calm him.

The moment the blessed holy water touched his skin, you watched as it seemed to burn and blister his infant skin in just seconds. You went out to your car in the church parking lot,

calmed him the best you could before strapping him into his car seat, and you cried.

You cried because while he seemed to be a normal little baby, your son, the baby you feed with your own body, sing to, bathe, and love, you were occasionally reminded of what he was and that you might only have him for a very short time.

He still whimpered in the back seat just as you did in the front. Guilt and sadness and fear prompted you to get out of the car and into the back seat where you unfastened him as his pout only worsted your feelings. You took his small body in your arms and held him to your chest. Your nose snuggled into his mess of fluffy dark hair.

"I love you. No ones ever going to take you away from me. I don't care what you are, you're my son more than anything." You let your tears fall onto his head.

That wasn't the scariest thing you had been through though. The worst was the nightmares.

The first was just under a month after he had been born. You had sat up in your bed covered in sweat, the house felt like an oven. Your heart was beating hard even before you had heard it coming through the baby monitor.

Singing.

It sounded high and angelic along with the happy coos of your son. As your groggy mess faded with the race of your heart you also realized it was in a language you not just couldn't understand, but had never heard anything like it before.

It took no time at all for you to practically leap from your bed, and dash from your room and down the hall to your son's room.

As you pushed his door open you saw him. You felt like your heart was beating in your throat now as you saw him with his back to you holding your son, bathed in only the moonlight that the sheer curtains of the nursery let in.

The singing had turned to a soft hum. You realized how wrong you were upon pinning his voice like an angel. You saw the horns sprouting from his wavy hair that dangled as he looked down at the baby in his arms.

You wanted to scream, you wanted to fight, you wanted to do anything to save your baby and keep him from being taken away from you. He was a newborn, it wasn't even time.

You couldn't do anything though, and you didn't know why.

Horrifyingly you found yourself yet again drawn to him, in awe at his presence.

"You can't…" you managed to choke out.

"I will." He didn't turn as he spoke to you. After he spoke, you woke up.

You couldn't sleep very long for months after that nightmare.

There was no denying by age two and a half that he looked more like his father. There was also no denying the little bumps you found while brushing his shaggy hair that sat on the top of his head under his skin. Most mothers would be concerned, wonder if their child had gotten hurt, and bumped their head a few times. But you just sat there frozen, feeling the bumps. You knew what they were, they were his father's claim to him, they were forming horns.

"Mommy okay?" Your son noticed your strange and oddly still demeanor as the hairbrush dropped from your hands onto the bathroom tile where you sat.

That's when it hit you the hardest. Your baby was halfway there. Halfway gone. All you had done so far was helplessly try to deny the fact that he was coming for him. He would take your little boy and drag him to hell if you didn't do something to fight this, find some way, something, someone to help you.

"Mommy?" your son had turned around and was now reaching for your cheeks to smush with his hands like you often did him. His face read of concern and question. Your heart melted at his little gesture. You took in his sweet little face again, his little two front teeth poked out just a little. You couldn't help but squish his face gently right back.

"Mommy's okay." You tried to reassure him the best you could, and it seemed to work. Lucky for you toddlers were sweetly gullible.

The moment you got free time you sent a text to your mom telling her you'd be dropping her grandson off at her house tomorrow, you didn't wait for a reply as you already knew she would jump at any chance to see her grandson whenever she could.

You then made a very important series of phone calls.

"Thank you, thank you so much for meeting with me today on such short notice father-"

"Father Namjoon or just Namjoon is fine." He interrupted. "And don't mention it, I'm here to help. You mentioned problems with your child?"

You took a deep breath and let your face finally show the worry you felt, your bouncing foot on the floor let out your anxiety. You sat there in his office at this tiny church. Worried he would throw you out the moment you told him the truth about what was going on.

Father Namjoon sat across the big worn wooden desk from you and waited patiently for you to further explain. Behind him on the wall was a massive cross along with pictures with him and maybe members of the church pinned to the wall.

" I'm afraid I didn't tell you everything over the phone because… well, every priest I've called said I was crazy and hung up on me after I told them." You admitted and watched as his body language changed with his growing attention.

"But father Namjoon, I swear on my son's life that what I'm about to tell you is the truth. My son is no trouble, but his father is. See, I would've brought my son in today, but he gets these… headaches and nosebleeds in churches."

You watched his reaction carefully, he curiously tilted his head.

"Go on…" he urged.

"Because his father… is… the devil."

Namjoon gave you a nod of understanding that was far too casual for the words you said.

"I have proof." You defended before he could even think to refute your claim.

"I believe you."

"What?" You asked thinking maybe you were only hearing what you wanted to.

"Listen," he leaned forward so that his arms rested on his desk. "He's real. I know he's real. The nervousness in your voice and you say you have proof… you seem perfectly sane to me. When can I meet with your son? Would your home be alright?"

"What are you doing right now? He's with my mother right now."

"Let's go." He said with sureness and no thinking time behind it.

He followed your car to your mother's home. You watched as he got out of his car and just stood there in the driveway, staring at the home.

"Something wrong father?" You asked as he brought forth the cross around his neck and clutched it tightly.

"I can feel him."

"My son? My mom says the same thing about him. We just assume he carries the same feeling as-"

"Not your son, the devil. He's here."

Your heart began to race at the thought of encountering him again. Maybe you had gotten in over your head by asking a priest to see him, but you had to do something.

"Your cross." You stopped father Namjoon as he started to walk towards the door. "I'm sorry but you can't have it near him. My mother had to take down all of hers when he was born."

His eyes seemed to shift around nervously before finally taking off his cross and putting it in his car.

"No worries." He gave you a reassuring smile.

You expected more upon entering the house, not just for your son to casually be sitting there watching tv.

You and your mother had exchanged silent, nervous glances upon her letting you in and seeing the priest.

"Hey buddy, someone wants to talk to you." You knelt down and told your son but he seemed to ignore you.

Your mom turned off the tv, but it didn't seem to affect him.

"Touch his head." You whispered to Namjoon.

He stepped forward and crouched on the floor.

"Hey, little guy! What kind of show were you watching?" He placed his hand on your son's head to pat it but quickly retracted it.

"Don't touch me." your son spoke clearly and firmly. His speech was nothing like his normal, broken toddler way of talking.

You looked at Namjoon who still looked shocked by something, it had to be the growing horns.

"Daddy said don't touch me." Your son spoke again perfectly as if he were a few years older.

Daddy said

"Oh my go-" you couldn't help but let out at his words. Had his father been around this whole time? Just watching him… and you?

"I won't touch you, I promise. Could you turn around for me?"

Your son did as he was asked and faced the priest, looking up at him with wide, almost terrified eyes.

“Can I show him your back?” you asked knowing he would let you touch him before he would a priest. Your son nodded but seemed confused.

You lifted the side of his shirt and showed Namjoon the mark spread along the ribs. The upside-down thick, black cross.

“Quite a birthmark you have there.” Namjoon joked with the boy.

“His father has the same one."

Namjoon stood to his feet which prompted you to do the same.

"Can we talk?" His eyes flickered towards the front door.

"Yeah of course."

"Possibly off the property?" He added and you gave him a nod.

“I'll be back” you assured your mother as you left with the priest.

He led you to his car before asking if you wanted to get a coffee and told you he needed it after what he had just seen and felt. You understood and agreed.

He continued to apologize on the short drive there, but again you understood his need to process this.

It wasn't until after you both had gotten your drinks and sat down in a quiet corner of the shop that he began to talk openly.

“I’m still not sure what to think of all this, but I know you're not lying. He looks like him. My…” he let out a sigh as he played with a pink packet of sugar. “My grandmother had a run-in with him once, never said why or how, but she described him and the way his presence felt. I just don’t think it's your child making me feel that way. I really need to ask what happened between you and...his...father.”

“I-um..I…” you too took a deep breath and decided to explain everything as detailed as you could from summoning him, to only having a few years left with your son. You felt ashamed as you explained to this priest how you had slept with the devil.

Namjoon didn't seem to judge you though, as a matter of fact, he looked sympathetic. He seemed so sweet, kind, and understanding.

“I’m not sure what I can do here,” he told you and reached across the table to place his hand on yours “but I promise to do the best I can. I will do what I can to help protect your family and son.”

You felt the honesty and sincerity in his words, it felt so comforting to you.

“It’s going to be hard, I can just tell he doesn't want me there. I don't know if it’s because I’m a man or because I’m a priest. Let me ask you a rather personal question, have you dated at all since your son was born?”

“No.” you shook your head “I don’t want anyone getting attached to my son because I just don't know what's going to happen. Also, I’m afraid…he might do something. I just… I don't want to put anyone else into this that doesn't need to be.” that part hurt you too, you just felt so lonely on top of it all. “I've had no one to turn to with all of this except my mother.”

“Well, you have me now, okay? You don't have to feel alone anymore. We can solve this together.”

Namjoon had come up with a plan to meet with your son every other day, and at the end of the week, he would meet with only you and talk over the progress, if he had made any at all.

Just a few months in, there was a difference. It seemed his method of slowly introducing god and holy objects such as crosses were beginning to work, he no longer got headaches and nosebleeds around them, and his horns while still little bumps under his skin, they had stopped growing. That also happened to be the month your mother got very very sick. No matter how many times Namjoon came and prayed over her, she still continued to just slip away until she was gone.

And now you had no one but Namjoon.

The day after she passed away was the hardest. Your son was still too small to fully grasp the concept of death, but he still cried about his grandmother never getting to play with him again.

You had waited until you had put him to bed and he had fallen asleep to pour yourself a glass of wine and just cry.

Nothing could distract you from the pain, from the heavy misery, not even the pouring rain and house shaking thunder.

You had turned off all of the lights, the only thing that would occasionally light the room was the lightning.

You felt so alone, more alone than you've felt in your life. You tried hard to sense him, but he just didn't seem there. The one time you felt so desperate and alone, his presence didn't loom over you.

“I hate you,” you spoke out loud. “If you can hear me I hate you. I hate that you've done this to me, I hate that you took her from me and your son. Are you really watching over your son or do you just love to see me suffer? Do you love to see me alone? Huh?” anger coursed through you as you talked to the walls “Answer me!” you yelled a little too loudly and worried that you would wake your son up so you decided to be quiet.

The desperation and loneliness felt like it was suffocating you, you had to do something.

You felt pathetic calling him up this late, but once you heard his voice you already felt better.

“Hey, how are you hanging in there?”

“Not good Namjoon.” you sniffled “I-I just feel so alone, so in over my head. All the things my mom has done for me I just…” you did your best to hold back tears.

“Do you want me there? Is it alright if I come over so you don't have to feel alone?”

“Please?” Your plea was squeaky and weak.

“I’ll leave right now okay? It's just important to remember that you're not alone. God is with you.”

“Thank you. I don't know what I would have done this past few months without you.”

“Please, don't mention it.”

You don't know how it got here. You had only had a half a glass of wine in total, and a two-hour deep conversation and now you had pulled him into your room and you were ripping off each other’s clothes as if they were tainted.

“Fuck me” you tossed your shirt to the floor and pressed your lips back to his with ferocity. He sharply exhaled through his nose at how turned on he was by your demand, although you could feel it through his underwear.

“You sure?” he mumbled into your lips. You let out a hum into his before sinking to your knees.

“Fuck.” he muttered, mesmerized as you pulled his underwear, letting it fall at his feet and letting his cock loose.

You let little time pass between the moment you saw his cock and putting it into your mouth. You were hungry for touch, for affection, for sex, for companionship, and you were sure to show that in the form of his dick in your throat. It was as if somehow you hoped it could fill that strange void that had existed in you for far too long.

He thrust in tandem with your head bobbing while letting out groans and sharp breaths of pleasure that just told you that it had been a while for him too.

Thunder rolled in your dark room as you suppressed a gag and let your spit dribble down your chin. You were dripping with need at just the thought of sex.

As a brief flash of lightning lit the room, you swore you saw him in the chair in the corner of the room, legs crossed, watching you.

Could it have just been your imagination playing tricks on you? Could you have been just thinking about him? Was it what you wanted to see?

You closed your eyes as you took Namjoon deeper into your throat, letting the tip of your nose connect with his thin patch of pubes.

His hands tangled in the back of your hair.

"Can- can we have sex? Please? This feels too good to take this anymore."

You took him from your mouth and got into the bed on all fours. He took a moment to take your body and pose in for a moment, but once his brain seemed to function again he got behind you on the bed.

His fingers ran down the skin of your back almost making you shiver.

He yanked your underwear down around your thighs and ran his fingers along your soaking folds.

"No teasing, fuck me."

You heard an almost inaudible moan behind you before feeling his tip at your entrance.

The feeling of him slowly sinking into you, filling you, felt so nice after so long.

"Be rough with me."

"O-okay." He stammered and grabbed the back of your hair to pull on as he began slamming into you.

The skin of his thighs slapped at the meat of your ass over and over, but it somehow just wasn't enough.

"Harder, call me names."

"I won't- I can't call you names." He panted his refusal.

Thank god he was behind you so he couldn't see you rolling your eyes.

"Stop stop, stop."

His hips quit moving at once.

"Lay on your back." You had had enough and wanted to take this into your own hands.

One he pulled out and played down you straddled his hips, reaching down to guide his cock into your entrance before sinking down on it.

The moment you slowly moved your hips with him buried inside of you he began to moan. You picked up his hands and placed them on your breasts.

"What do you think, father?" Your voice dripped with seduction as you clenched around him.

"You're so- oh god- so beautiful."

"Wrong answer." You stilled your hips making him scramble for the right words.

"Your pussy is so wet… just for me."

"All for you." You began to move your hips again with the answer that satisfied you. Possibly to make sure they didn't stop again his hands drifted down to your hips to move them faster on his own. You couldn't help the loud moan that slipped out of your mouth at him taking control just a little.

"You take my dick so well."

"Fuck fuck." You chanted, moving your hips faster, feeling so close to losing it. You couldn't lie, the thought of him being a priest was really about to get you off right now.

"Such a bad girl." He murmured. Maybe he felt the same.

"Does it feel good being in the same cunt as the devil has been?" You teased.

You swore you heard a very short, unamused chuckle from somewhere in the room.

"Fuck yes, fuck I'm so close." He aggressively moved your hips now, his fingers digging into your flesh and finally making you cum.

"Up up"

You got off of him fast and watched ad his hand went around his cock to give it a few short jerks. His thick cum spurted from the tip. Coating his hand and shaft.

"I'll get you something to clean that up with." You climbed off of him as he quickly nodded.

"Darliiiiing"

You felt a hand on your thigh that woke you from your sleep.

"Wake up, I need you." Your face contorted in confusion at Namjoon's words.

"Too tired." You muttered into your pillow.

"But I'm so hard for you." His deep voice whispered in your ear sending tingles through your body.

"All I can think about is your wet little cunt of yours. I'll do whatever you want me to darling." His hand ghosted up your back until it came around and reached your neck where he left it

"Mmm." You hummed in satisfaction as you rotted your ass into his once again hard dick.

"You like that? Hm?" His voice was so thick and rough with sleep. "What if I squeezed just a little?" His fingers tightened slightly around your throat.

You were more than ready now for round two, it seemed he had found some courage between when you fucked earlier and now.

"Who does your pussy belong to, darling?"

"You." You whispered mixed with a moan. You needed him back inside of you so badly that you ached for it.

"You lying whore." His grip on your throat tightened, so much that it became almost impossible to breathe.

You struggled against his grip and tried to pry his hand from your throat.

"Your body and cunt belongs to the devil. Evil courses through your blood." You could hear the hate in his voice through his gritted teeth.

You tried to kick at him, hit him, but you could feel the tightness in your face and brain from lack of blood flow and oxygen.

"Stop, please." You attempted to choke out as your vision grew hazy.

"You belong in hell too."

You thrashed until there was no more pressure on your throat, your hands and feet collided with nothing.

You sat up in your bed covered in sweat. You were alone and once again your room was as hot as the pits of hell themselves.

You picked up your phone from the nightstand, almost blinding yourself with the light from it as you checked the time.

Namjoon had left hours ago. He had left upon your request.

"What the fuck." You sighed as you flopped back into your bed.

As you laid there the weight of reality seemed to feel heavier and heavier on your chest, crushing.

Your mother was dead, you had fucked a priest, the devil wouldn't leave you alone, and you had very little time before your son was gone forever.

Your bedroom felt too large, too spacious for your lonely body just as all of your problems did. Would you end up sucked into it all? Eaten alive? Was there any point in fighting at all?

You swallowed down the lump in your throat but it was no use. You couldn't stop the tears that filled your eyes and leaked into your hairline as you stared up at your ceiling.

"Please" your word brought forth your sobs in the empty room "make it stop. I'll do anything but give up my son, just make it stop."

You couldn't help it, for weeks after your dream you felt weird around Namjoon. The rational part of your brain knew he wouldn't hurt you, although you still denied any little advances he made. It did fade, and once he took you out to dinner and you let him put his hand on your knee, but he was careful not to overstep boundaries.

You thought about calling him one night as you laid there sleepless in your bed. You don’t know how you had gotten so turned on but your body felt so hot with need.

You tried to just roll over and go to bed, but your sensitive clit throbbed along with your heartbeat as if begging you to touch it. Sny motion you made at all only made things worse until you gave in.

You pulled up your oversized sleep shirt and shoved a hand down your panties. You paused a moment as you realized that it wasn't just getting off you needed, but contact with someone.

You went to reach for your phone on the nightstand, but your hand didn't even meet it before you froze.

"Don't." It was a command.

Your eyes flashed to him sitting in the chair in the corner of the room, just like you thought you had seen him a month ago with Namjoon.

You quickly pulled your hand from your underwear and sat up with your mouth agape.

"Did you miss me, darling?" His horns tilted as his head did.

"Get out of my fucking house and leave me and my son alone!" You growled, clutching your shorts angrily in your fists.

"Why? So you can fuck that priest again?" He held up his index finger, slightly shaking it making a tsk-ing sound.

"Why does it matter to you what I do?" Your voice was stone cold.

He narrowed his eyes at you and leaned forward in the chair with a smirk. You couldn't stop yourself from thinking how regal and utterly beautiful he looked. He looked far more casual this time in a black t-shirt and jeans, but nonetheless majestic and powerful.

"You must've forgotten. That's alright, I wouldn't mind reminding you. I'm not here for our son, don't worry, not just yet."

"Then let's talk about that."

"Talk?" He gave a little smile "we can talk. Come here."

Although you wanted to, almost needed to, you stayed in your bed.

"Then feel free to keep going… unless you want some help."

"Tell me why you're here." You demanded.

"I'm here to save you. You called me."

"I didn't." You argued.

He beckoned you over once more as he stood from the chair. You got out of bed this time and stepped closer.

"You've done nothing but try to get my attention for months. Don't argue, you know I'm right. I can hear it again, that delicate little heart of yours fluttering when you see me." He reached a hand out for you, you took it, it was just so warm in yours. You let him pull you in until your back faced his chest with his hands on your sides.

"You called me, see?" You closed your eyes as he whispered to you, your bodies swayed together in a nonexistent song. It felt as though he was pulling you deeper into a trance, and you let yourself go.

"Does that heartbeat for me? Do you live for me? Do you want me?" You felt his nose graze your neck, the hot air from his worst trailing behind it. You had dreams of this moment for years. His whispers, his touch, the way he made you feel drunk and hypnotized you, the way he made you feel whole.

"Yes." You couldn't lie, everything but the truth had melted away, you couldn't feel or speak much else. You were weak for him, weaker than you remembered.

"Then are you mine?"

"Yes." You answered once more.

"I'll talk to you my love, about whatever your heart desires. First, tell me what it is you want from me." He whispered as you felt him grip the hem of your sleep shirt at your thighs. His hands brushed your skin. You continued to sway with him, eyes closed, worried that if you opened your eyes that this would all be a dream, worried that if you looked at him you'd fall deeper.

You didn't want to say it, you didn't want to admit you wanted him right now. He had done so much to you. Your internal struggle was hard, you wanted him desperately, yet he had done so much to you and your family. Even your closed eyes couldn't hold back the tears that escaped.

"Why did you take her?" A single son escaped but you shut it down, you refused to show all of your weakness.

To your surprise, he gently shushed you.

"Darling, I didn't take her. Her soul was never mine to take. I don't decide who lives and dies, it was just her time."

You were stunned, why was he comforting you? Why did it feel so good?

"Please don't take our son, he's alI have now, he-"

"I've thought about so many things. We can talk later, no tricks, no lies. You don't need to worry. Just let them all fall away and tell me what you want."

You bit your lip as you felt his cock begin to twitch beside you.

"You already know I want you." Your voice was a soft, weak whisper.

"Yes, but do you want me to hold and comfort you? You've been struggling so much with that. Perhaps you want my cock buried so deep inside of you that it hurts. Or maybe you just want me to pump that belly full of a second baby."

His hand slid into your panties as you let out a gasp of excitement. Every nerve in your body felt hypersensitive, so when he slid his finger over your slit you cried out for him.

"All of it. Please, I want it all."

"What a greedy, needy little bitch. Did that boring god loving freak not satisfy you?" He teased as his finger dipped into your folds and teased at your clit.

"N-no." You stammered.

"You didn't look like you were having much fun, not until you saw me at least." He seemed so amused by it. "I'm a little mad you let him poorly use you like that" he seemed to growl making slight fear go down your spine. "Who fucks you better? Who has a bigger dick?" His finger circling your clit picked up speed with the ferocity of his words.

"You." Your breath was already short.

"Tonight, prove to me that you're mine, that you're devoted, that you'll do whatever it takes for me, And I'll show you I'm yours."

This wasn't happening, you couldn't believe the words he had just softly said into your neck. Your disbelief was cut off by your quickly approaching orgasm. You let out a whine as your knees turned to rubber, you would've fallen had he not have been holding you tightly against him.

"That's it darling, let me have you, let go for me." Your orgasm exploded through you like a bomb and all you could do was whine.

"Such a good girl." He still held you tightly and placed light kisses on your neck and collarbone as he took his tattooed hand from the front of your panties.

You let out a small shriek when he picked you up and carefully set you on the bed. He could've broken you in half right then and there, if he wanted to.

"On all fours, ass facing me."

You hurried into position for him, and for a while, you felt nothing until you felt the fiery sting of a slap along a cheek.

You sucked in a breath.

"What's the matter baby, can't take it for me?"

He was so wrong, you loved it.

"I'll take whatever you give me." Your words were followed by the pleasure of another slap.

"Fuck it." He muttered and suddenly you were dragged by your legs onto his lap where he positioned you over it.

"Take anything for me, huh? We'll see about that." The slaps kept coming until your ass felt raw. You arched your ass up for him as you let out a needy whine.

"You're so fucking wet, it's everywhere. Do you want me to touch you? Is that what you're whining for?"

You let out another whine.

"Say it."

"Please touch me. I want you to touch me."

"I'll give you what you want." You knew that tone he used, it was the tone of having something else planned.

His fingers immediately sunk into your core.

"You're wetter than I thought, I could slide whatever I wanted into you so effortlessly."

You could hear the sounds of his coated fingers working you too.

"Whatever you want." You replied hoping it was his cock, but you knew better at this point.

"My love, I'm going to absolutely fucking ruin you."

You went to reply but suddenly felt the slight stretch and sting of more fingers entering you.

"Ahhhh." You let out but backed up further onto his hand, still wanting more.

"What a good little whore, look at you riding my hand and taking it all for me."

You loved the pain, and he gave it to you like no one else could. You were already ruined for anyone else, but he didn't know that.

His hand felt so deep inside of you that you swear you could feel it in your stomach.

"Harder." You begged, and he obliged.

"You like me filling you like this, slut? I'm going to stretch your pussy so well for my big cock."

You continued to rock backward in tandem with his movements, it didn't take long at all until you were almost there, panting and gripping the sheets.

He stopped and slowly pulled his hand from your cunt, leaving you feeling more hollowed out than a pumpkin.

You left his lap and looked at him just in time to see his shirt come off. His body was just as beautiful as you remembered it, something of pure art and fantasy combined. Tattooed, muscular, and smooth you just wanted to lick every single inch of him, you had to.

You climbed back into his lap and pushed him back while you leaned forward and placed your lips to the very warm flesh of his collarbone. Your lips made their way down slowly to his nipples and enveloped one in your mouth.

"Ah." A sound of surprise and pleasure came from him, and you loved it, you loved that you could make him feel that way, you wanted more.

You took your mouth from his chest and crawled backward until you sat between his legs.

You undid his pants and pushed his underwear down along with him. You had almost forgotten just how massive his cock was. It was veiny and the tip was a blushed shade of pink that made your mouth water.

You spit in both your hands and wrapped them both around his shaft.

You slid your spit slicked hands over his leaking head before slowly bringing then down to the base.

"Faster darling. Don't play with me." He threatened with a grunt. You did as he asked and even added your mouth.

His hands tangled tightly in your hair at once.

It was hard to take him even halfway into your mouth without you gagging around his size and thickness filling your throat.

As you sucked his dick, you stared at the three black sixes on his lower stomach and watched as they moved as his muscles flexed.

"What I wouldn't give to cum down your throat right now."

You moaned around his cock at the desperation and lust in his voice.

"So fucking good for me. You suck my cock so well with your little whore mouth." He gripped your hair tighter but still not enough to hurt.

Him lying there, moaning and groaning as you pleased him made you all the more impossibly wet, you could feel it as you squeezed your thighs together.

"Please come here." He asked as he released your hair and sat up.

As you let his cock leave your mouth and too sat up only for him to lift and drag you onto his lap once again. He reached down and guided his cock into your entrance.

As you lowered yourself onto him he made a noise that should've stopped your heart.

It was a moan and a sigh all at once, he combined that with dropping his head onto your shoulder. The fullness and warmth of his cock inside of you, every little move he made, he was all just too much. How could you survive something like this a second time, especially with being this close to him.

He didn't move even an inch for a moment, not until he lifted his head off of your body and peered at you with those inky black eyes through his just as inky dark hair.

His net movements were fast, rough, and hard. He grabbed your hair from behind, forcing your head as far back as it could go without breaking anything. Your chest was arched towards him and he used it to his advantage by taking a nipple into his mouth as he bucked his hips into you quickly. All you could do was grip his shoulders for dear life as he fucked into you, fingernails sinking deeper and deeper into his muscular flesh the closer he pushed you to your high.

You felt the little sharp sting of him pinching your nipple between his teeth. You couldn't help but fall completely apart as you moaned out the filthiest curse words that you could.

Once he let your hair go and you could properly look at him, you saw beads of dark liquid forming on his shoulders. Your nails and grip had drawn blood, real human blood.

All you could do was stare. He bled just like you, he was vulnerable just like you, just like anyone else.

"Hm?" He caught your staring but seemed confused.

"I-I hurt you. I'm sorry." You furrowed your eyebrows with guilt.

He laughed, it was a real laugh, not a teasing one, not an unamused snort. His nose crinkled and his more prominent two front teeth were made more visible.

"It didn't hurt, I didn't even know you did it." He tried to get a look at the little droplets himself before wiping one away with his finger to show there was no mark left, he had somehow healed.

Each fleeting glimpse of his humanity vanished as soon as you spotted it.

His dick was beginning to soften inside of you despite him not getting off yet.

"Did you want to kiss it and make it better for me?" His voice was seductively playful and you couldn't tell if he was joking or not until he brought his blood-smeared fingertips to your lips.

You looked him in the eyes as you took them into your mouth and sucked them clean. He looked satisfied and you could feel his dick twitch back to life inside of you, showing you how much he liked that. Without a second thought, you attached your mouth to his shoulder and began to lick and cuck at the blood droplets where the wounds once were. The moment reminded you of when you were a child and they told you that wine was the blood of Christ, except this was so much better. You wanted to show him you were willing to take him in any way possible, to submit to every desire he had.

He pushed his now hard cock as far as it would go into you.

"I want to do something to you." He whispered as he continued to slowly thrust.

"Do it." Your reply was fast.

"It's going to hurt you." He added.

"Do it."

“I will. For now, shut up and bounce on my cock, slut.” his tattooed hand grabbed throat “ and you better fucking ride it harder and faster than you did that stupid Jesus loving freak.” his face read of disgust.

“Yes daddy,” you replied trying to hide the smirk at the satisfaction on his face from you calling him that.

He dropped his hand from your neck and you began to move your hips as he laid back. You would normally start slow, but you let him have it. Everything about him was incomparable to anyone you’ve ever slept with.

“Fuck, like that baby.” His hair was messy, his eyes were squeezed shut and his tattoo that looked like a snake that wrapped around his torso almost looked like it was slithering.

“You like that daddy? I took every inch of your big cock just for you.” you loved the power over him that he was letting you have and you were going to make sure you got to enjoy it.

His hand shot to your hip and he squeezed.

“I swear If you fucking make me cum right now you’ll fucking pay for it,” he grunted obviously trying to hold back seeing as his hand was digging into your skin as if it was the last lifeline between him and losing it.

“Don’t you want to cum in my pussy daddy? Fill it full of cum and watch it drip out of me?” you continued to tease him and bring him even closer as you jackhammered up and down on his rock hard dick.

“Fuck, this is your last damn warning bitch.” his jaw was clenched, but it was too late, you were already falling apart on top of him, once again saying the dirtiest shit you could as he shuttered under you, barely hanging on as he watched you cum.

You paused, breathing heavily for a moment of rest, but it didn't last long. He was pulling out of you and throwing you face down on the bed, holding your hands by the wrists behind your back.

“I fucking told you, didn’t I?”

“Sorry, dadd-”

“Did I say you could speak bitch?”

He wasn’t even inside you anymore but you’re empty walls clenched as you let out a small moan onto the bed sheets.

“Now let’s see just how fucking much you’re willing to take. Be good for me darling.”

You were scared but excited at the same time, the adrenaline that coursed through your veins was nothing like you’ve ever felt before.

“Yes daddy.”

“Don’t fucking move.”

You listened and stayed completely still.

You felt his hand cover the back of your neck. It got warmer and warmer until it felt searingly hot, it was burning your skin. You bit down on your lip so hard it had to have left a bruise just to keep from screaming. There was no way of stopping the whimpers that came from you in the few seconds that his hand was on your skin.

“There,” he said and sounded as though he was admiring his work before releasing your body and letting you sit up. By the time you sat up though, the pain was entirely gone as if it had never even happened.

“It’s the mark, to match.” you knew he meant that he had just branded you with an upside-down cross to match his and your son’s. You were too busy noticing the wetness on your cheeks and wondering where they had come from to concentrate on this strange sentimental moment.

You felt something warm roll down your cheek and lifted a hand to wipe away what you now realized were tears, but he gently grabbed your wrist.

With his other hand went to your chin and guided your head to face him.

You were met face to face with him, his dark eyes peering into yours and also assessing your wet cheeks.

Both hands now went to your cheeks and his thumbs wiped over the wet mess on your skin.

He was trying to dry your tears.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” his voice was quiet. It was a glimmer of sincerity, a splinter of sweetness.

“I didn’t even feel it.” you joked but he didn’t buy it or laugh, instead he just continued to stare into your eyes with both hands on your face.

He leaned in so slowly, head tilting slightly and his lips met yours so gently. Your eyes closed and pressed your lips harder into his.

It was a sweet kiss but it held the strength and intensity of being punched in the stomach.

Your hands came up to roam the back of his shaggy, dark hair but your mind was elsewhere.

You imagined him as an average man, your son as a normal little boy, you imagined a family. Cuddling on the couch, touching him whenever you pleased, your son being able to play with his father, your life with him would never grow dull. However, your daydreams were dashed as your hand accidentally met with a horn.

What was wrong with you? You knew these things were stupid and unattainable, he was unattainable. Although you had known this fact from the start, here you were sleeping with him again. He fucked you over so hard, he was pure evil and you knew it, but yet here you were falling for him even harder. To be fair though, was there a soul living or dead that could resist him, that ever has been able to?

You pulled away, his hands left your face.

He looked at you with wide eyes, he looked almost shocked, scared. There was some kind of very deep feeling moment between the both of you, some kind of wordless exchange of revelations.

A million things you wanted to say to him flooded your mind at this moment. There were so many things you wanted answers to ”Do you know how miserable I was? Do you know what it felt like waiting for you in fear the entire time? Do you know how much I hate not being able to hate you? Do you know how bad it hurts me seeing your face in my son’s? Do you know how badly you ruined my entire adult life? Do you know how hurtfully perfect you look? Do you know how lucky and cursed I feel all at once? Do you feel any weight for the things you've done to me and my family?” but you were too scared this moment would end, that he would never come back, that he would take your son and leave. You wanted to cry, but you pushed the entire internal war out of your mind, you boxed it all away just to not ruin this moment.

During your thoughts and your stares at one another, his face had softened and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Y/n” you realized that it was the first time he had ever spoken your name out loud, and as beautiful as it had sounded coming from his lips, you didn't want to hear it spoken so guilt filled. “I’m so sor-”

"Are you going to make me cum again or not?" You broke the silence, and he seemed thrown off for a moment. You didn't know what he was apologizing for, but you didn't want to know. Not only did you want to shut this sad moment down just to have the fun back, but something inside of you hurt to hear and see him like this.

An expression you were familiar with him having flickered onto his face, a smirk. It relieved you and set the fire in your body back alight.

He tackled you with his hands wrapped around you. You were flesh to flesh, his lips moving to the space above your breasts, sucking hard before moving onto another are.

“Dont fuck anyone else.” it wasn't sharp like his normal demands, it was almost as if he was asking you not to without making it into a real question.

You almost snorted as he continued making an army of marks that continued to trail lower and lower.

You almost snorted sarcastically.

“Then who the Hell am I supposed to fuck?”

“Me, fuck me.”

You did sarcastically laugh at this one.

“Don't laugh at me.” he said defensively before sucking a new place by your belly button.

“What? Every few years you’ll swing by and I just have to wait until then?”

“No. Are you even enjoying this anymore or have you now set your focus on calling me out?” he looked up at you with an arched brow.

“Calling you out seems more fun right now.” you were only half joking, all of that hurt hfrom earlier was now festering back up to the surface upon hearing his stupid lies.

“I told you I’d talk, and I will. Trust me.” he sat up and looked down at you.

“I’ve trusted you before and that was shitty.” you argued.

“Then why the fuck are you fucking me now? Why the fuck are you letting me mark you? Why the fuck are you telling me you belong to me?” he shot back.

“BECAUSE I WANT TO PRETEND YOU'RE NOT… NOT...I DON’T KNOW...THE ACTUAL FUCKING DEVIL!” you whisper yelled at him through clenched teeth.

He came down over you and looked you in the eyes for a moment with such a look you thought he might kill you, but instead his voice was quiet and calm.

“If you think I’m incapable of feeling then you’re wrong, you're dead wrong. If I didn’t feel, then why would I want my son? Why have I been watching him grow, watching you love and take care of him and doing my best not to interfere with your time with him. I may not be mortal but I have feelings, I have empathy. Do you understand the shit I have to see and be in charge of? Do you know what it feels like to just want something so pure in good while living in something so fucked? Watching you and our son has been the only sliver of heaven that I’ve ever been able to have.” his arms were shaking as he held himself over you. You had never seen his body show any signs of tiredness or weakness, even his wounds had healed right up. He was shaken talking about this and it was obvious.

It hit you hard. Why would he want to take him? Why did all of this just make sense?

“So please, don’t take this away from me right now. Let me make you cum again, let me just have this for a little longer and we can talk.”

You were stunned. He had felt the same way, he wanted to drag this out just as much as you did, he wanted to cherish this. The question now in the air was, if you both wanted to be together, then why couldn't you?

You yanked him by the hair, forcing his lips to collide with yours. Your tongue clashed with his split one, but it no longer surprised you or made you nervous. While little about him was normal, what was normal anyway? From the moment you saw him as he really was you had thought he was perfect, so why until now had you been wishing for him to be the man you first saw at the bar? Was it because the puzzle piece of his humanity had been missing in an otherwise perfect puzzle?

Your teeth gnashed together as if you were young, new lovers blooming with anticipation, as if you had never touched before now, despite fucking for god knows how long already.

He bit at your already sore lip you had bitten down on, but he wasn't harsh.

“I want you.” you told him meaning more than just how he took it. He reached between both of you and pushed himself into your already abused core, you winced from the ache and the sensitivity.

“Close your eyes” his voice was so quiet you almost didn't hear his instruction.

You closed them though.

“Now imagine me like you.”

“Why?” you asked.

“Humor me.”

You did, you imagined him like he was the night of the bar, like you had thought of him earlier.

“Now run your hands through my hair.”

With your eyes still closed, you felt for his hair before coming them through the soft, wavy strands. Your eyes opened just to make sure what you were feeling was correct. As you looked at his hornless head, his brown eyes looked down at you. Now you properly looked him in the eyes and now that you could see his irises, you knew now that he was looking right at you, not just at you though. He looked at you like you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen with a small smile of amusement.

“I just wanted to have this moment with you, like you. I thought it would mean something to you to not have to look into cold, black pits.”

The man looking and speaking to you right now was not the devil, he wasn't horrible or evil but neither was the man he was before but you were yet to know why he did the things he did.

You lifted your neck this time to kiss him and his lips chased yours as you laid back onto the pillow. He once again slowly began to thrust, short breaths and quiet moans escaped you both. Your legs entangled around his hips, angling your own body so he could hit just the right place.

“Be with me.” his voice shook as he continued to thrust “I’ll do anything.” he sounded just so weak as if he were pleading.

“I’m already yours, don't pretend you don't know that.”

“Let's have a family then, I’ll stay.” he rested his forehead on top of yours, his eyes were closed, hips still moving hard cut slow as if with each powerful but passionate thrust was a chance to convince you to be with him.

“As-” you could feel yourself coming closer and struggling harder to catch your breath. “As long as you stay.” You knew it, if he went away, if you lost him tonight, nothing would ever feel this good again, you'd never feel this complete for as long as you lived.

“Let's start now on expanding.” you could see his slight smile before his voice turned serious and sultry.” want me to put another baby in you?”

“Please, fuck I’m so close.”

“Come on baby, cum for me one more time.” he picked up the pace with his hips up just a little more. “Let me get you pregnant again.”

He only thrust into you a few more times before you were coming undone underneath him.

“Fuck, I love you fuck fuck fuck.” you moaned as he also let go, burying himself deeper than he already had been.

“I love you, I love you too.” he messily kissed your lips as you felt his last few pumps slow.

Only when he had said it back did you realize you had said it at all.

You were still breathing heavily as he pulled out and laid down next you. There was silence between you, for a while as you both recovered.

"I said I would talk so here it is."

You decided to just lay there and listen to him.

"I've always known we were supposed to be together, always. There are things I just know, I can't explain it, sometimes I just know destiny and sometimes I don't until certain events happen. Ever since I became the king of hell I've always known that eventually there would be one woman that would bring me to my knees. They call her Lilith, although that's not her name just as satan, the devil, whatever, isn't mine. There have been stories and mythology written about you that just aren't true, much like everything else in my life. When I met your mother, I knew I was fucked. So I stopped you from being able to conceive, how was I supposed to know I was only helping destiny along? When you summoned me I was nervous, although curious as to what you would be like, I never watched you until you began to work on summoning me. I developed a plan. I thought if I just gave you what you wanted and then took it away from you then you would hate me, you would never want to see me again, but yet again I plated into destiny. The moment I saw my son… when I watched you care for him and love him, I-I felt this longing. I wanted to hold him, I wanted to be with you both. I kept my distance and fought against the urge to just drop in and tell you how I felt. I resented you for the power you held over me, but at the same time I wanted to give you your space and let you have your time with him. I was still going to take him but at that point it was out of love. I knew you were still angry with me anyway, rightfully so, I also thought… that you couldn't love someone like me anyway, you were better off with a mortal and I wanted to let you live your life. I watched your pathetic attempts to protect our son from me, at least you thought you were only trying to protect him. You're a good mother, just like yours was. When our son was really little I used to sneak into his nursery and just hold him and stare at him, I could see you in him. The point where I knew I had to step in was the priest. Not only did he treat my son like his, not only did you fuck him and make me jealous but-"

He abruptly wet quiet just as the anger in his voice seemed to pick up.

"I'm sorry." You replied.

"It's not that, it's not any of that that makes me hate him, it's not my jealousy." He still didn't say what it was, but instead he got out of bed.

"Where are you going?" You sat straight up.

"I'm going to shower if that's okay." He replied as he shuffled for the bathroom attached to your room.

"Sure." He was already in there by the time you uttered out your dumbstruck reply.

He had said he would stay, you don't know why him doing average things in your home just astounded you.

You laid back in the bed with the reassurance of him planning to stay and you thought about it all.

At first you asked yourself what your mother would think of this, what she would say. Maybe if she knew everything that he had just told you she simply wouldn't say anything at all. She had been able to love the devil's son and see him for just the little boy he really was, so maybe she would've done the same for the devil himself had she really known him.

You were beginning to feel uncomfortable with the stickiness of his speed leaking out and smearing all over your thighs.

Some part of you was nervous to go into the bathroom with him showering in there, but it was your house.

You ran to the bathroom as fast as it could to keep the cum from dripping everywhere and making a mess on the floor.

You paused as you caught a glimpse of his silhouette through the shower curtain.

His horns had returned, but you didn't look at him as much as his overall shape, you could help your staring.

"I hear your heart again, are you looking at me?" He chuckled and your eyes went wide with the horror of being caught.

"I…"

"Do you want in here with me?"

"...y-yes?"

"Get in, I promise to just let you shower, no funny business." He offered.

He kept his word though, he did his own thing in the shower and so did you. He did look jarringly beautiful with the water beading on his tattooed skin and muscles, but you didn't know how much more your body could physically handle of him so you kept your hands to yourself.

He got out of the shower before you, you were a little concerned at the silence so you got out soon after.

You found a fresh towel and pajamas waiting for you on the bathroom sink so you quickly dressed.

He just sat there in a white t-shirt and black sweat pants at the foot of your bed. His head was down and he looked to be in deep thought as he stared at the floor. He looked a little sad.

"Have you seen him since you've been here?" You asked curiously, making him finally look up and shake his head.

"Would you like to?"

He seemed shocked by your offer.

"I wouldn't want to wake him…"

"It's alright, he's a good sleeper, he'll go back to bed… if you want to that is."

"I really really want to, I haven't seen him person to person since he was a newborn."

You led him down the hall and pushed open your son's cracked bedroom door.

His night light dimly lit the form of his little body snuggled in his toddler sized bed.

You let his father take a few apprehensive steps into the room, slowly approaching him before he knelt on the floor by the bed.

You just looked on at the little moment.

He gently pushed his son's shaggy hair from his sleeping face, but caused him to stir.

"Daddy?" You heard your son's sleepy voice ask. You had no idea how he knew it was his father, and from the look on his father's face, neither did he.

"Hey buddy."

Your son sat up and threw his arms around his father's neck, who promptly picked him up and stood. He wrapped his arms around the little boy, holding him close.

"How did you know it was me?"

Your son unwrapped his arms from his father and looked at his face.

You saw his lips begin to quiver and his eyes fill with tears as he started to break down.

"Oh no." You whispered as you saw your boy stare at the horns on his father's head.

"Your horns are scaring him." You whispered.

Your son patted the top of his own head as he sobbed in his father's arms.

"Me too, I too."

"Oh." You said as you realized that your son was answering his dad.

"You have them too? That's how you knew, huh?"

Your son nodded to his father and began to cry harder. His dad pulled him back into his body, lightly shushing him and patting his back. He buried his head in the little boy's hair much like you had the day in your car after he was horrifically baptized.

The moment hit you like a train.

He had missed his father all this time, and you had no idea.

"you know I'm always with you, right? You and mommy both."

Your son nodded into his father's neck, soaking his shirt with tears although his father didn't seem to mind at all.

"I know you hear me sometimes. You know I'm here."

Your son pulled away from him again to look at him.

"Daddy-" his words were cut off by upset hiccups from crying so hard "no leave."

"I'm not. I'll stay, I promise."

His father knelt back down on the floor and attempted to lay the boy back in his bed, but his little hands stayed locked around him.

"I'll be here when you wake up, and all of the rest of the days when you wake up from now on, you can let go, I'll be right here."

Your son finally relinquished his hold on his father who pushed more hair from his son's face.

"And mommy?" Your son's eyes look at you now.

"Mommy has always been here, silly." His father then spoke something in a strange language, it might've been the one from your dream after your son was born.

Your son gave his father a nod not just as if he understood, but he did understand this very strange language. You had never heard your son speak it, and you had no idea that he even knew a whole other language, until he spoke it back to his father.

He sat there knelt beside his son's bed until he drifted off to sleep. You watched as he gave him a kiss on his forehead before standing and turning to face you.

You walked into the hall and closed your son's bedroom door when he looked at you with a look of concern.

"There's still more I have to tell you, it's the most important thing."

"You're going to have to trust me, okay?" He asked from his seat on the sofa beside you. "There are things I know and things I don't, you have the power to change destiny, and right now what I'm seeing is someone is going to try to take you away from us, from your family."

"Okay," you tried to patiently follow, ready for him to say anything.

"Namjoon is going to kill you."

"Why's he going to kill me?"

"I had this deal with his whore grandmother… she wasn't happy with it, it wasn't my fault. It's not my fault mortals are idiots."

"Hey." You firmly snapped at him.

"It's just what I do, I teach lessons. Anyway, I believe Namjoon is going to hurt you and maybe even our son. He can't physically harm me, I'm immortal, but he can hurt the things I care about. Unfortunately, I can't kill him either, I can't kill humans, God's rules. So I can't stop him, there's nothing I can do but pass this to you. It doesn't matter what you do, Namjoon will hunt you down."

"Okay." You simply just sat there looking calm on the outside but terrified on the inside.

"So, y/n… I think it's kill or be killed in this case. If you die, I'm not sure how much I can do to protect our son but take him with me…"

To hell was what he meant.

You let out a sigh as you stared at the floor and scraped together some kind of plan.

"Take my soul." You offered.

"Why?"

"In case something happens to me, take my soul." You were sure of your decision.

"I'm not taking your soul." He declined.

"Why?" It was your turn now to ask.

"Do you want to go to hell? Do you realize how many eternities you would be tortured down there before I ever found you?"

"No." You answered both questions and seemed less sure of your offer now.

"I'm not taking your soul. Our son could come and go with me because he has that power, but you, a pure mortal… you would be in more pain than you could ever imagine."

"But if I killed a man… wouldn't I go anyway?" You pointed out.

"Not if it was out of self defense for you and your family."

"What the fuck am I saying?! I can't kill father Namjoon!" You realized.

"Y/n, I know he's going to kill you, and I don't want to lose you, I'd do anything not to lose you. What about our son? What about our second child?"

Your mouth dropped open.

"Second child? It-we…?"

"It's not just you living in that mortal body anymore. I know, just like I did the moment I gave you our son. You have to live, you have to do this, you have to trust me." He reached for your hand and threaded his fingers through yours. "I love you and I need you here with us."

"How do I do it?" You gave in.

You were terrified as the phone rang.

You had just left your son with the babysitter and you sat in your car. You were alone but you felt him near you.

"Hey!" Namjoon's voice came through cheerfully and it made you feel sick.

"Hey, I'm not doing so great tonight. Everything is a bit heavy and I kind of want some fresh air. Would you go for a walk with me at the park? I know it's late but…"

"Of course. The one closest to where you live, right? I'll meet you there in a few."

You thanked him before hanging up.

"I'm sorry you have to do this." He appeared right beside you in the passenger's seat now, but you didn't look at him, instead you spaced out while looking out the window at the dark park. You were nervous, you were trying to ready yourself, you were trying to wrap your head around this situation.

"What happens after? What do I do right after?" You asked.

"I'll take care of everything. No one will know." The grim thought of what that entailed was shadowed by reassurance of only having one task to do. "You just wait in the car, I'll drive us home. I'll take care of you."

"What if he sees this opportunity to kill me like I do with him?" You asked with your hands shaking in your lap.

"I think he would wait for a moment when our son is with you, pick you off at the same time."

Your mouth was dry, but you still tried to swallow down the weight of his words.

"But what if I die? You said you don't know all things." You continued to think your worries out loud.

"I also said people can change destiny, they do it all the time."

"You haven't been able to." Your point made him go silent a moment. It was true, he had been fighting against his destiny with you since before you were born only to end up with you.

"Part of me didn't want to change it, even if I hated it at first. I've always wanted you. The first time I saw you I knew I wouldn't be able to stay away from you. The first time you saw me, I just wanted you to look at me that way forever, I didn't care about anything anymore and that was scary. You're my Lilith, my eternal soulmate, there was never any fighting you. There's nothing more powerful than what we have, not me, not god himself."

"What if you're tricking me?" You asked abruptly.

"You really think I would?" His voice sounded hurt and you could feel him looking at you as you said nothing "of course you do, of course you'd think that after what I've done and because of who I am." His voice was soft now like he had accepted that option "I wish I could take back what I did to you, everything I've done to you. I wish I never would've made that deal with your mother, I wish you would've had a family with a normal man, a normal life… what have I done?"

"Like you said" you sighed "it was supposed to happen anyway, it's not all on you. I've suffered for you, and now I'm going to kill for you. Would I be doing that- any of this if I really thought you were tricking me?" You admitted. "Maybe I'm just blinded by you, so in love with you and wanting a family with you that I can't see anything else, you're the devil, it's probably what you do, but what other option do I have anyway?"

"We could go home." He offered softly. "We could have our family and play pretend until it's ripped away." You could hear him swallow louder than his soft words."Then I'll have nothing, but at least I would've had everything for just a fraction of a moment in my eternal life."

"I'm not going to live forever anyway you know, our son might, but I'm human. I die, and when I do I'm destined to be tortured in hell for eternity."

"You're not going to hell."

"How do you know?" You asked partially out of curiosity "I'm in love with Satan, I bare his mark, I bared his child. How much more sinful can I be? You can't sit there and tell me Satan's soulmate is going to heaven."

"God has never let me have anything. If he decides it's your destiny and your time to go, if you're taken from me and I can't have you in life, he's not going to let me have you in death." He explained.

You sat there thinking about what he said and came to the very real conclusion that you were most likely going to die tonight. God wouldn't let him have you, he had already seen that Namjoon would kill you, you were going to die.

Your eyes began to fill with tears as everything finally began to sink in.

"Please take care of our son."

"Don't." He snapped at you "Don't you say that shit like I'm going to lose you."

You began to sob, you weren't listening to him.

"You're going to go out there and fuck him up and that's going to be the end of it." His voice was stern, but you were falling apart. You let your head fall onto the steering wheel.

"Why wont you just take my fucking soul?!" You cried in despair and frustration "you have every single fucking thing in my life but that, just take it god damn it! Take it and let me burn until you find me. I will obviously go through anything for you and our son at this point. Just fucking take it."

"You don't deserve it. I don't deserve you, okay? I've fucking destroyed your life, I'm not dragging this into the timeless afterlife, no matter how badly it hurts. We have one single shot, and this is it. I'm fucking horrible, I'm the worst of the absolute worst, but there’s no way I'm going to be that selfish to let you rot in hell because of me."

"Please?" Your voice was a desperate squeak as you finally turned to him. "Fuck." You uttered at what you saw.

There was a dark liquid running from his pitch black eyes and down his cheeks.

"Is-is that fucking blood? Are you crying blood?"

You watched as it pooled at his chin and dropped onto his white shirt.

"Please do everything you can tonight." He ignored your question and begged you.

If you had a doubt that he loved you before, you didn't now. You watched as he closed his eyes.

"God," he began, he didn't seem as though he was talking to you at all "just let me have this, please? I'll do anything. Just let me have my family."

The dark car was suddenly illuminated by headlights coming from behind. You turned to see a car pulling into the parking lot.

"I'll be with you." He spoke as Namjoon parked beside your car.

The passenger's seat was empty when you looked back.

This was it.

You felt for the pocket knife you had put in your pocket upon leaving the house and your adrenaline began to rush through your body.

You willed your weak legs to get out of the car.

You forced a half-hearted smile but did your best not to look him in the eyes.

It was quiet at first as you both started down the dark trail.

"Don't get offended, but you look terrible."

You hadn't slept since you had gotten your mission yesterday night, your mind felt fried and stressed and tired.

"It's been hard." You were honest about how you felt.

"Why is your lip bruised? Did you get hit?" He pried as you thought back to how hard you had bit it the other night.

"No, I did it, by accident." Although it was the truth, you wouldn't have believed it either with the way you had said it.

"Are-are you seeing anyone? It's been a few days since we talked and-"

"No." You lied quickly.

"If there's anything I can do to help you or your son… I know things are still rough for you…"

"We'll be okay."

He gave you a strange look.

"You're not still worried about… him?" You could hear the suspension in Namjoon's voice and you knew you had to say something to extinguish it for now.

"I am, I just don't know what's left to do, I feel so hopeless." You said as you saw the path begin to lead into a more wooded area ahead.

"Don't you feel him right now?" Namjoon asked.

"He's always just… around, I'm used to it. Maybe it's just me at this point."

"What's that on your neck?" He reached out to see.

You had to do it now, you felt like your mark had given you away.

You stepped back out of his grasp as you quickly took the knife from your pocket and flipped it open. You didn't know if he had time to see it or not before you lunged at him.

He had put his hands up to stop you but the force you had come at him sent him toppling backward.

You went to plunge the knife into his neck only to feel his hand around your wrist stopping you.

He yelled for help but there wasn't another soul at the park, you had been here awhile waiting, you would know.

You used your other hand to help overpower him, but he was still stronger even with all of this adrenaline and chemicals coursing through your body, even with the image of your family in your mind.

"Stop!" Namjoon yelled at you, but this was too far gone to stop now, your mind was already made up. You knew that if you stopped now then you would be the one who died.

Your arms were beginning to grow tired and your strength was weakening and because of that he was able to shift the point of the knife towards you.

In one last burst of strength you tried to switch the knife's direction back towards him but your muscles just gave out.

You didn't feel the pain of the plunge into your chest at first, but you felt the crack of your ribs at the sheer force. You were in shock, it didn't feel at all like you had just been stabbed. You let go of Namjoon and rolled over onto the cool grass as you tried to process everything.

You could hear Namjoon panicking, sitting over you, trying to help you, it was confusing.

Why was he trying to help you? He wanted you dead.

"Please? Where are you?" You choked out. It was hard to breathe, you felt like you were drowning as you looked up at the stars.

"Get away from her." It was the only voice you wanted to hear, it had brought you some kind of peace.

You saw Namjoon look at something with wide eyes before leaving your line of vision. His quick footsteps on the ground you lay on got further and further away.

You continued to choke and gasp.

Jungkook watched in the distance as the knife was turned on you and the blade disappeared in your chest.

It hadn't hurt until now. It was as if you were his voodoo doll. He had never felt pain before, but once he felt the sting, he knew exactly what it was, although his pain came from the inside. Until now he had been watching coldly, waiting for this to happen, knowing you would die.

You had to die, there was no other way you'd let him have his son, there was no way you'd let your son end this world. You were too compassionate, too human, too emotional. You were all the things Jungkook never thought he was. Perhaps you completed him in many ways he only was now able to realize.

He was able to fool you so well, tell you all the sweet things you needed to hear to lead you to your own demise. But why did it only now hurt him? Had it been so easy to lie to you because maybe somewhere deep down in his unbeating heart he knew that maybe you really were the one? He felt as though that as you laid there dying, that you were forcing your most human parts into him, you were cursing him.

He had never actually thought you were his Lilith, his soulmate, not until now as he watched you bleeding out and physically felt it. He felt the weight of every sweet thing and lie he had ever told you pressing on his chest. Your face, the sweet moments, holding you, the guilt of never telling you his name, everything flashed before him. He wondered for a moment if he was dying too.

"I have given you a gift, the gift to feel.Your heart is broken, child. Go to her, be with her in her last breaths before I bring her home."

It wasn't even a voice that Jungkook heard, but it wasn't in his head either. He knew who was speaking to him. He suddenly felt enraged. He wasn't going to let God take you away from him.

"Get away from her." Jungkook boomed making the silly mortal that was panicking over you run at the sight and power of his voice.

Jungkook knelt down beside you and watched as the blood flowed from the corners of your mouth and tears streamed from your eyes.

"He's not going to take you from me! God damn it! Please don't take her!" Jungkook knew you wouldn't go to hell, god himself had said so. You did nothing wrong, you had been fooled by him just like Eve had been, and Eve still went to heaven when she died. He would never see you again and it hit him harder than anything ever had before.

Jungkook lifted his hand, the one he hadn't unknowingly slipped through your fingers, and produced a flame which gave way to a scroll of paper.

He pulled you into his lap as you continued to choke. He put your hand to your wound and dipped your fingers into your blood.

"It's okay, it's going to be fine, please just sign it, you have to move, sign it." He let go of your hand but it was limp. There was no more choking, only a faint rattling coming from you now.

"Please please just sign the paper." He begged. "I'm so sorry, I was wrong, I did this and I'm so sorry. It hurts so badly, sign the paper, I need your soul, I need to find you."

Silence.

There was no hummingbird heartbeat, there was no heartbeat at all as he looked into your empty eyes that still looked back at him. Your body lay in his lap with the mark he had given you, but you were gone.

“But I love you...” it was the first time in his existence that he had said it and meant it. You had never known he didn't mean it, you had never known everything he did was a lie, maybe it was best that way. Despite not feeling any of it before, he felt it now, all at once. If he could do it all over again just to mean it, just to experience those feelings along with you he would. He would have held you longer, cried more, he wouldn't have ever let you do this, he wouldn't have fed you those dreams and lies and he would have protected you. Namjoon never wanted to hurt you.

All Jungkook wanted to do now was hold you, so he did until you grew cold. It wasn't fair he only got to feel this after you were gone as punishment. He wanted to go back, he wanted to start over, but it was too late. What kind of cruel god would gift him with his now?

His chest continued to sting, as his anger continued to fester. He hated everything, God, Namjoon, himself, this horrible fucking mortal world.

He was going to burn it all. He never wanted to make another deal with any human ever again.

Whilst he couldn't touch these stupid fucking humans, his son could, he was half human.

This wasn't supposed to happen for another few years. He didn't think his son was old enough just yet, but it would have to do, he was still naive enough to destroy humanity on his father's command. All he had to do was show his son what he was capable of, fill him with rage for his dead mother, and watch the world burn. All Jungkook knew was fire and destruction, now his son could learn as well, both of them with a bitterness in their hearts.

Jungkook let out a loud scream of anger and frustration and all of these new feelings that he didn't want that felt like they were internally ripping him apart.

The entire park was sent up in flames, including your body.

The end was coming early for this world, it was over. He was going to destroy every last one of God's precious creations for making him feel like this.

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thekillingjoke-haha · 4 years ago

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Prime Time,Bitch!

Tagged: @spnquotebingo the keep reading function is messing up for me

Sam said he was locked up tight in the dungeon. He was never locked in with her. She was locked in with him. The hunter becomes the hunted with no where to run.

Warning: Mature Language,Blood,Gore,Character Death?

-"Thoughts"- (they are red for those who can see)"Quotes" 'Reading'

"I'll be right back. This demon side is fighting to stay in control. I just need a few more pints of blood." Sam said as he slung a bag on his shoulder. "Yeah I got it get some food to!" Y/n said with a smile as she walked him to the impala. The roar of the engine rumbled as she waved him off going back inside what she didn't know was Dean knew that Sam just left and a chilling smile grew on his face.

Y/n popped popcorn as she sat in her room a horror movies playing as she got comfortable. A scream came from the movie drowning out the sound of the dungeon door opening up. The youngest Winchester laughed as a girl tripped over nothing her and Dean always make fun of them they had no real reason to hit the ground so they should get right up. This made her slightly sad. Was Sam going to fix Dean or was it already to late for him? Shaking off the thought the killer was about to crush the women's skull when the power cut out,but the red emergency lights didn't cut on yet which was weird. "God damnit." She grumbled getting up and grabbed a flashlight and went to the breaker to fix it walking right past the open door. Flipping the switch the normal lights don't turn on only the red ones and she turned around to get her phone to call Sam when she dropped her flashlight. Y/n gazed at the empty chair in the center of a devils trap she took off running to her room,but paused he knew she would run there for her phone and Dean or the demon he's become won't let her get help. She changed course to Sam's panic room to hide.

"Oh N/n where are you? I miss my little sister don't you miss me?" A metal sound of something dragging on the floor made her tense. Thinking of all possible things it could be of how she's going to die.–'It could be a bat,but we don't have any metal ones in the bunker. Maybe a sledgehammer,but that would have ment he when into the garage and the power going out would have locked everything.''– Her eyes widen as she released what it was he must have been carrying around she was sharpening it with the rest of the blades earlier that day."Have you figured it out yet? I know how you think when a horror movie is playing you see ever scenario before the movie can catch up. No wonder Sammy says you cheat at Clue!" Dean laughed as he seemed to wander to each room. The sound of wood splitting as he yelled "Here's Johnny!!!" It seemed so much worse that Dean was the evil this time a normal demon would know her so personally this seemed almost cruel him quoting films they watched together. "What to clichés? I admit the axe is old school."

The panic room the size of a cubbie it was so small,but just big enough I could calm down and think properly. Looking up another version of myself sat in front of me...my conscience. I could speak,but she could she's in my head after all. –"You can't run. There's nowhere to go doors locked down the moment the lights went."– I saw a illusion of myself running through the halls just to hit a corner and get a axe to the chest before it faded away. –"Can't go for your phone or your laptop he probably broke it the moment he noticed you weren't in your room."– I saw myself creep into my room just to see a shattered phone and my laptop with a cracked screen buffering to open instant messenger to text Sam. The laptop was slammed shut on my fingers causing some to break and get sliced by the glass looking up the sick grin of the Demon caught my eye before the axe ended that path. –"The burner. The one in your dresser Dean doesn't know about it so neither would the demon.Get it and get back here as quickly as possible. "– It was settled call for help. Listening for any foot steps I creep out of the hiding space a faint whistle going off down one of the many halls way from my room. Sneaking down the hallway staying low I get to my room where the door is torn to shreds as I open my drawer and fish out the phone. Going back down the hallway I get back to Sam's room and immediately call him.

"This call has been forwarded to a automatic voice message at the tone ples–" Hanging up I call again and again with no answer. At this point help was no longer a option. The whistling seemed to get closer and I rushed to the panic room until I paused. –"A enclosed space in a closet. There's not much space to move around if he finds you there your done for."– I back away slightly. –"Behind the door offers a easy place to hide and get out,but if he does the same to Sammy's door he did to yours it's not much of a hiding spot then."– A axe goes through the door creating a massive hole and Dean peaks inside and sees the white of you tank top in your (f/n) flannel. The door was whole again as I looked around the sound of metal getting louder running out of time. –"Under the bed allows you to see him without him seeing you,but like the panic cubbie not a lot of wiggle room if he hears you your done."– It was too late running to the metal door of the panic room she slams it shut not to loud to sound like she's trying to hide it,but just loud enough for the demon to register it. Sealing it shut I slip under the bed and wait for the time to get out and hopefully find a weapon.

Boots walked into the room turning to the closed closet. "Oh N/n!~ There's only so many places to hide in such a small room. Did you really think I wouldn't hear that heavy ass door close?" He chuckled darkly as he opened the closet and went to the small door. Dean tried turning the wheel to unsealed it,but it seemed to dawn on him that it could only be opened from the inside. With a huff anger he began pulling the brick of the wall started to bend outwards and crack. I was glad I wasn't in there. Going to slip out from under the bed while he's distracted the burner phone rang its annoying ringtone. Not even bothering to stop it I rush to get out faster,but a firm grip caught my ankle and dragged me out. Turning onto my back Dean stood their his apple green eyes staring at me. "Found you." He lifted up the axe having let go of my ankle lifting up my feet I put as much strength as possible into kicking his stomach. The demon was knocked back into the closest hitting the ground. Unfortunately axe still in hand. Stanfing up I ran leaving the phone behind. -"Sam took Baby so the trunk armory is out of the question. The garage has so pretty handy tools too bad that it was sealed along with the front and only entrance. Kitchen has knifes none that can hurt him,but just enough to slow him down. Library demon blade was in there last you checked,but Sam could have grabbed and put it on a high shelf."– Too many options and the kitchen was closer so that was the first stop grabbing a knife I held it tightly as a stalked slowly to the Library to see if there were any supernatural weapons.

The library was dark and the red lighting barely lit up the large room. "Would you like to play a game?" Dean mocked in a deep voice as he went around the bunker his voice echoing no real pinpointing where he is. I can't call Sam and prying to Cas hasn't worked meaning Dean made angel banishing symbols in most of the rooms. Y/n was getting desprit the bunkers massive size most of it was unexplored by them so being lost in a underground maze b wasn't the best option. "Are you scared yet Y/n? Well be afraid. Be very afraid. I'm what goes bump in the night sweetheart! Never thought the Winchester’s downfall will be by the hands of the oldest. What a twist!!! Right?" Dean yelled turning to the table I saw the supplies I cleaned with,but the weapons were gone and a note was left on in their place. 'Hey Y/n I put the weapons back into the trunk for tomorrow's hunt so you wouldn't have to...you're welcome and your blade was just sitting on the table so I put it up. ~Love Sam' I wanted to cry oh chuck nothing can save me in this buncker Bobby was sending us gallons of holy water next week because we were low...all rooms were demon proof,but he seemed to be a exception now,so no calling Crowley either.

Turning around the library doors open and I duck behind one of the many shelves. "Welcome to my nightmare!~" He said with a chuckle that bounced from every wall. Dean knocked down books and destroyed anything in his way while he looked around. Crawling on the ground I go to leave when the sound of something whooshing in the arm made me drop like a bag of rocks. The axe meet the shelf and I gazed at the red illuminated face of my brother eyes now black and demented. Laughter bubbled out of his chest as he mumbled. "Carful dear wouldn't want to lose you head." Yanking the axe free many books tumbled down. Taking the kitchen knife in hand I slash his calf and go for his thigh when the knife is flung out of my hands. "You little bitch!!!" He hissed now holding the knife and showing it into my stomach. A silent cry came from my lips bot to give him the satisfaction of my screams just yet. I look up at him and just past his head where I couldn't normally reach was the handle of my blade peeking over the shelf.

I begin to giggle and it turns into fits of laughter. Black eyes flicker back to confused green ones. "What's so funny?" I catch my breath as I lean up slightly. "You picked the wrong place to corner me. Wanna play?" Grabbing his knee and pulling it buckled under him causing Dean to hit the shelf letting the blade fall freely. Reaching out I catch it "Let’s play." Stabbing upward into his stomach the same place the knife was lodged in my own stomach. He howled in pain as I removed the blade and ran keeping pressure on the knife wound as I turned corners just to get away. -'He played with your head play with his. The intercomes...a good distraction can lead him away and let you get the jump.'- I hurry to the intercoms not before making a pit stop.

Demon!Dean POV

I growl at the wound on my body the little shit stabbed me. This makes killing her so much easier then she can be just like me. Grabbing the axe I stomp through the bunker. "What a excellent day for an exorcism." Her voice sounded through the speakers now I know were she is. "Would you like that?" I said aloud with a grin. "Intensely." Y/n said trying to make her voice horse before the clipping sound of the intercom stopping rang out before being replaced with a creepy melody that always scared her. "There was a crooked man. He walked a crooked mile he had a crooked six pence upon a crooked stile." It went on with childish like tones until it got further in the song it was so god damn loud though. "The crooked man stepped forth and... rang the crooked bell and thus his crooked soul... spiraled into a crooked hell.Murdered his crooked family... and laughed a crooked laugh." My ear drums almost burst at the loud deep voiced scream ears still ringing I didn't register the blade being driving into my sholder flinging her back I turn around as she's running down the narrow hallway taking the axe with both hands throw it straight and the axe hit her almost dead center in the spine. The audio cut off after the song and I stood over her. Y/n had her face turned coughing up blood I definitely hit her lung. "Thanks for catching it for me." I smile as I heavily put my foot on the small of her back pulling the axe out. She screamed out it was mildly gurgle from the blood. Turning her over my little sisters eyes shined with unshed tears. "Oh,no tears,please. It's a waste of good suffering." I said with a small whipping the few that slipped by she whimpered Sam's name and I grew frustrated. Lifting the axe again. "Looks like you couldn't make the cut,N/n. Just another extra that stuck around for too long." Dropping the axe down it went into her chest the creaking of her collar bone and sternum were whispers compared to the blood curdling cry. They soon died out as her skin paled and her breathing stopped she'llmake a strong demon. "See you soon." Taking the axe out I begin to drag her body.

The lights in the bunker cut back on meaning Sammy was home. Having placed her perfectly in the chair I was tied to I wait until he finds her standing next to the door. "Y/n?! Y/n!?" He yelled most likely having gone to her room rushing the the dungeon his heavy foot steps abruptly stopped. "Oh God! Y/n come on!" The moose of a man rushed in the room cradling her face in his hand. "You were too late, Sammy. She called your name before she went,but I guess five missed calls wasn't enough for you to rush home. N/n fought for so long waiting it out just for you to never show." I said closing the door as he turned to me standing infront of her corpse. "You didn't make things easy on her. I mean you took all the weapons and put the only thing to defend herself on the top shelf...like keeping the cookie jar way from a child. In some way you killed her before I could." Lifting the demon blade that had his own blood on it. I stalked towards him cornering him in the room. "Sure you won't give me a good chase,but woah she wore me out." Holding the blade to his throat when a gun shot fired and a sting hit my arm causing me to drop the knife.

Y/n stood colt in her left hand the axe keeping her up in her left. "Demons always so sure that what's dead is dead and can't be undead. Ever heard of a pulse jackass. " so distracted that she was alive Sam was able to restrain and she held a handful of bags of blood. "Let's get this over with." She bagan to inject me and I felt myself become mire human and I started thrashing hard. With the last vile in hand she looked into my eyes. "You should be dead." I hissed as she pushed the needle in. "Sorry. I'm into survival."

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A/n This is the last one in round one of the Spnquotebingo and I ended with a dozen quotes.

Title: "Prime Time,Bitch!" Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors

"Here's Johnny!" -The shinning

"Would you like to play a game?" - Saw

"...be afraid. Be very afraid"- The fly

"Welcome to my nightmare."- Nightmare on Elm Street

"..lose your head." Alice in Wonderland

"Wanna play?"- Child's Play

"What a excellent day for an exorcism...Would you like that?....Intensely." - The Exorcist

"There was a crooked man. He walked a crooked mile he had a crooked six pence upon a crooked stile." It went on with childish like tones until it got further in the song it was so god damn loud though. "The crooked man stepped forth and... rang the crooked bell and thus his crooked soul... spiraled into a crooked hell.Murdered his crooked family... and laughed a crooked laugh." - The Conjuring 2

"Oh,no tears,please. It's a waste of good suffering." - Hellraiser

"See you soon." - Coraline

"She called your name before she went,but I guess..." -Hadestown

"...what's dead is dead and can not me undead." -Jacksepticeye (DBD playthrough)

"I'm into survival." ‐Nightmare on Elm Street

#spnquotebingo #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #winchester!sister #winchester!reader #demon!dean #horror movies #horror quotes #Dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #castiel #crowly #hunter being hunted

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years ago

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Henry (Amphiptere Naga) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Female Human/Male Naga Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Naga, Amphiptere, Best Friends to Lovers, Demisexual, Graysexual, Sex Worker, Cam Model, Mutual Pining Words: 6104

A gift from @oddacle to her friend/roommate! A woman moves back to her home town after an online friend offers her both a job and a place to stay. She accidentally learns an interesting secret about him that she tries, and fails, to hide. Please reblog and leave feedback! Art by @oddacle!

The Traveler's Masterlist

You stretched at your desk and sighed. “Well, Henry, I should get to bed,” You said. “I’ve got a lot of packing to do tomorrow.”

“Dude, I can’t wait to see you in person finally!” He said over the headset. “I’m so excited you’re coming to work in the store.”

“Me too!” You said. “It’ll be nice to see you in person! And I can’t thank you enough for giving me a job and a place to stay. Working at the grocery store was crushing my soul.”

“I get that,” He told you. “I felt so out of place when I worked construction. I’m so glad I decided to save up to open the flower shop.”

“You and me both,” You said. “Flower arranging is something I love to do. I about fell out of my chair when you said you owned a shop.”

“Two more days and you’ll get to see it yourself,” He said with a laugh. “Go get some sleep. I’ll see you soon.”

“Night, Henry,” You said, smiling to yourself as you logged off. You had met Henry while gaming almost five years ago now, and he had been one of the best friends you’d ever had. At first you just played together, but after about a year, the two of you had exchanged phone numbers, and since then you texted each other constantly and called each other once a week. Despite that, you had never actually seen what he looked like. You didn’t mind; maybe he was body-shy. You could understand that.

When you finally quit the soul-suck of a job in the back of a grocery, he was quick to offer you a place in his shop, in your own home town, no less, as well as one of the apartments above the store. You’d been homesick since you moved away with your mom when you were younger, so the idea of going back had massive appeal. Combined with your dream job and working with your best friend, it was like everything you ever wanted was just falling into place.

That Saturday, you loaded every single thing you owned into a rental truck and headed to Santa Barbara, excited to start a new life and meet your best friend for the first time.

You pulled up to Henry’s Floral Arrangements later that evening just before sundown, driving nearly nine hours straight with only a few breaks for food, gas, and bathroom visits. You pulled out your phone and clicked Henry’s number.

“Hey, are you here?” He asked excitedly.

“Yep!” You said, stepping out of the truck. “I pulled up just now. Are you in the shop?”

“Yeah, I’m coming out! Be right there.” And he hung up.

You giggled at his enthusiasm and walked around the truck just as he came out of the shop, his face as excited as a brand new puppy with a brand new toy, and you stopped in your tracks.

He. Was. Beautiful.

He was a naga, but a rarer breed than average: an amphiptere. He had short, two pronged horns on his head and large wings on his back. His horns were teal, and the feathers of his wings were teal and ocean blue with black accents on the outside and grey on the inside, like the skin of his torso. His snake skin was teal and ocean blue as well, with giant black rings lining his back. His eyes were as golden as his nipple rings. He had lovely tattoos on his arms, neck, and back of waves and geometric shapes. He was lean and muscular, and had short black hair. He wore no clothing, so every inch of his glorious body was on full display.

You stood staring at him, unable to speak, as he slithered up to you. Oh god. This was not a possibility you had entertained. Living next to your best friend had sounded like a dream. But now… oh no, this was a disaster. How could you be attracted to him? You never felt attraction, not ever! Of all the times, of all the people, Henry had to be… this! This lovely specimen of a naga, and the best friend you’d ever had! What were you going to do?!

“You alright?” He asked, tilting his head and lowering himself down to look at your face.

You blinked and smiled breathlessly. “Yes! Yes, I’m great! It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“You too!” He reached out for a hug and you walked into it. His skin was cool and smooth to the touch. He smelled like peonies. “Come in, come in, let me show you around!”

“What about unpacking?” You asked.

“Oh, leave that till tomorrow,” He said. “Let’s order a pizza and eat in the shop.”

You grinned. “That actually sounds amazing.”

“Come on!” He held out his hand and took yours and pulled you into the shop.

Oh, it was incredible. It had just crested into the middle of spring and the seasonal flowers were exploding all over the place. Color was everywhere. You closed your eyes and just breathed in the fragrances.

“Have I died?” You asked, your eyes still closed. “I’ve died, haven’t I?”

He laughed. “I hope not, you just got here.” He picked up his cell phone from the counter. “Pepperoni and pineapple on thin crust, right?”

“Yep!” You said, sitting at the counter, your eye catching on the decorative cherry blossom bonzai tree that you’d sent him for Christmas two years ago. You weren’t sure if he’d even like it, much less have kept it, but there it was, right next to the register where everyone could see it. It gave you a warm feeling in your chest.

He took you to the second floor, where there were two apartments, one on either side. You couldn’t help but notice one half of the stairs was covered with a ramp, likely to make it easier for Henry to get to the second story.

He led you to the apartment on the right and opened the door. It was a modest place but comfortable, and from the smell it seemed like it was recently deep cleaned and freshly painted in a pretty holly-green color with blush pink accents. There was a vase with all your favorite flowers spilling out of it on the kitchen table. It was mostly furnished with older but functional furniture, so you hadn’t needed to bring any heavy wardrobes or mattresses or anything, thankfully. Most of what you had in your old place was junk anyway.

“I love it,” You told Henry. “And I love the flowers.”

“I thought it would be a nice touch,” He said, holding his arm almost shyly. “I wanted you to feel comfortable.”

“I feel more comfortable here than I did in the two years I spent in my last place,” You said truthfully. “You know, we can leave the unpacking for tomorrow, but can we go down and get my rig and gear and hook it up while we wait for the pizza? It’s the only thing I have that I don’t want to leave in a truck overnight.”

“I get that,” He said.

The two of you managed to get your PC, laptop, gaming gear, and computer desk up the stairs in one trip. There was a flat screen TV on the wall of the living room to which you hooked up your PC. You ran a diagnostic as Henry heard the buzzer from the door and rushed down to get the pizza. Then the two of you spent an incredible evening eating pizza, watching comedies on Netflix, and solidifying the strength of your friendship.

You were comfortable, more so than you had ever been with anyone. Five years of talking to him was wonderful, but being close, seeing his smile, hearing his laugh and the way his eyes crinkled when he did was pure magic.

Magic that you didn’t want to ruin by being weird or creepy just because you suddenly felt attracted to him. Would he be weirded out by the fact that your brain turned into goo the moment you saw him? Would he think it was just because of his looks? You didn’t want that.

And you didn’t want to fuck up what was already an amazing relationship. Hell, meeting him in person and hanging out with him had already been a huge test of your friendship; working with him and living next to him would be an even greater one. You didn’t want to complicate it even further with an, in all likelihood, one-sided attraction.

By the time the pizza was gone and he headed back to his apartment for bed, you’d already decided to put the attraction or any notion of a relationship beyond friends out of your head.

But by God, he was beautiful.

You sort of jumped into the deep end when you started in the shop: prom season was just beginning, so you spent weeks making corsages and lapel pins. Henry thankfully spared you from having to deal with spoiled teenagers, entitled moms, and annoyed jocks dragged in by their girlfriends. Henry seemed well practiced at fielding angry customers who couldn’t make up their mind.

After work, the two of you often ate dinner together, either in his place or yours. Even though you were usually exhausted at the end of the day, you still played games together at least four times a week from your respective apartments, talking to each other over headsets even though you were probably only two walls and twenty feet apart. Sometimes you took your laptop to his apartment and played at the same desk.

It went on that way for months. It was amazing and you treasured every minute you got to spend with him. Despite putting the idea of dating him away in the back of your head, it was easy to pretend like it was just the two of you, together, against the world

After prom season ended, business slowed dramatically. You weren’t as tired in the evenings, so when you weren’t playing games with Henry, you did a little writing. You were too shy to let anyone read it, even Henry, but it still felt good to have a creative outlet.

One night, as you were writing, you heard Henry’s voice over your gaming headset on the desk. The two of you had quit playing over an hour ago, so you put it on to see if he needed anything.

“You alright, Henry? Are you back online?”

He didn’t respond, so you thought maybe you were just hearing things, but as you went to pull your headset off, you heard him say, “I’m glad to see you again. I’ve missed you.” The sound of his voice was distant, like he didn’t have his headset on.

Did he have company? His voice sounded silky and sultry, a tone you’d never heard before, and you wondered briefly if he had a girlfriend, or boyfriend. Or whatever. He’d never mentioned anything like that to you, but you weren’t his mom; he was allowed to have private things he didn’t share with other people. You did, after all.

Still, the idea that he was in a relationship cut a little deeper than you would have liked.

You heard another voice, but it was strangely robotic sounding, like it was coming through a speaker, and you couldn’t quite make out what the other person was saying. Whoever they were, they sounded male. Maybe he was in a long distance relationship?

“Mm, I love it when you talk to me like that,” Henry said, a sexy lilt in his voice. “Tell me what you’d like me to do. I could touch myself. Would you like that?”

You blushed and your heart began to race. You shouldn’t be listening to this, you knew that. It was private and none of your business. But… you couldn’t take the headset off. You wanted to hear this. You wanted him to talk to you that way. Maybe through this person, vicariously, you could have an intimate moment with him. It may be the only chance you ever got.

You heard him moan over the headset, and a sparkling heat filled your body. You bit your lip at the thrill you felt, but you were unable to move, like a deer in headlights. There was a dangerous quality to this, the idea of getting caught listening in terrified you.

You heard the person on the computer say something, but you couldn’t understand them.

Henry responded, “Of course I will. I know how much you like that… mmm, that feels so good.”

Henry’s moaning over the headset made you feel both exhilarated and astonished. You felt like you could listen to him moaned for hours.

Henry grunted sharply and repeatedly, then gasped for a minute before speaking again.

“That was wonderful,” Henry said. “It always is with you.” The other person said something you couldn’t understand, and Henry answered, “Oh, I’m afraid we don’t have time for that, darling. Our date is almost over. If you’d like to purchase a ten minute extension, you can donate an additional five hundred tokens, or you can schedule another date from any of the open slots on the main website. You know I’m always happy to spend time with you.”

You sat up in your seat, confused. Tokens? Website? What was he talking about?

There were more words you could hear, and Henry tutted. “Aww, are you sure?” He pouted. “Well, alright. I hope you won’t make me wait long, darling. See you soon.”

There was some tapping on his keyboard, and there was a power-down sound. Henry sighed and you could hear him slither out of his office, closing the door behind him.

You sat for a moment, trying to wrap your head around what you’d heard. Was he getting paid to jerk off for people? You opened a web browser and typed “amphiptere cam model” into the search engine.

You knew amphiptere nagas were rare, of course, so you weren’t surprised to only have found two results. You were surprised to find Henry’s face on one of the profiles, wearing beautiful make up and a sexy underbust corset with matching opera gloves. You clicked it, and realized he was both very expensive and highly sought after, considering all of his five weekly slots were already filled for the next two months.

Henry was a cam model. And he was apparently very good at it.

You put a hand to your forehead, stunned. What was happening right now? This was something you could never have anticipated. He was hot, of course, but he always seemed like a shy, down-to-earth kind of guy to you, even after meeting him. Who knew he had this in him? You weren’t judging, it was just surprising.

You didn’t manage to get much sleep that night, and when you did, you dreamt of being on the other end of that screen and woke in a sweat.

The next morning, you stood in the shower with your thoughts in a roil. Should you tell him you know? Would he be upset with you? Probably; listening in was a huge breach of both privacy and trust. Oh, god, what had you done? How were you supposed to act around him now? He’d know something was wrong; you could never hide your emotions well and he knew you better than anyone. Was it too late to live in a cave and cut ties with society altogether?

No, there was no internet in caves. Fuck.

You couldn’t avoid him forever; you were due downstairs for work. You could tell him that you were sick, but knowing him, he’d shut down the shop for the day to take care of you. He was so damn sweet.

No, You said, mentally slapping yourself. Don’t get distracted by his adorableness! This is a crisis!

You got out of the shower and started brushing out your hair, your stomach in knots. A knock at the door made you jump clean out of your towel. Throwing on your robe, you went to answer it. Henry was standing there with a bag and coffee, and his eyes widened when he saw your bathrobe.

“Oh, sorry, I just came to bring some breakfast. Felt like treating you a little.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat and smiled. “Thanks, this is awesome. I’ll get dressed and meet you down in the shop. You’re the best.”

He gave you a full, sharp-toothed grin and snaked his way downstairs, leaving you to grip the door to keep from falling to your knees. Did he have to be so kind? He was the worst!

You met him downstairs and tried to be normal through breakfast, but all you could think of was the way he moaned last night and tried to keep the blush off your face. Work wasn’t any better, you had all of ten customers that day, so you spent most of it talking to Henry and daydreaming about him calling you darling. It was all you could do to hold it together.

After closing the shop, he asked if you wanted to have dinner and a game at his place, but you declined, saying you were tired. He seemed concerned but didn’t press it, and you were able to escape upstairs.

You made yourself some tea to try and settle your nerves, stress-eating girl scout cookies straight from the box as you waited for the water to boil. Was it going to be like this forever? This was torture.

Another knock at the door startled you into dropping your cookies.

“Fuck!” You hissed at yourself as you bent to pick up a box. “Get your shit together!”

Henry was at the door. He had a bag from a deli.

“I brought you soup,” He said. “You seemed like you weren’t feeling well today. Is anything wrong?”

You felt incredibly guilty, staring at that bag for a solid minute, unable to talk.

“Hey,” He said, frowning and squinting into your eyes. “What’s up? Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I’m so sorry, Henry,” You said without thinking.

“Sorry?” He said. “For what? What happened?”

You were having a hard time articulating your thoughts. You hadn’t meant to say sorry, and once it slipped out, your mind blanked.

“Look, can I come in?” He asked plaintively. “Something is obviously wrong. I want to help.”

You scrubbed your face. “Okay.”

He followed you in and laid the soup on the table. “So… tell me. What’s going on?”

“I don’t even know how to say it,” You said, looking around helplessly. Your eyes fell on your headset. You picked it up and listened to it, and you could hear the fan from his office running. “Here,” You said, handing it to him. “Listen.”

He put the headset on, frowning with confusion.

“Do you hear anything?” You asked.

“I think that’s the fan, right?”

“Yeah, from your office,” You said.

He laughed as he took it off. “I’m an idiot, I must have forgot to disconnect last night after we were playing.”

“Right, it was active last night. All last night. I could hear you.”

His face went from confusion to blank shock, his mouth hanging open.

“...oh,” He said quietly. “Oh, god.”

“I’m so sorry,” You said. “I shouldn’t have listened. I should have taken it off and ignored it. I’m so, so sorry.”

There was a pause. “How long did you listen?”

“I think it was the whole thing. I heard you… finish.” You blushed just thinking about it.

“That was a thirty minute session,” He said, confusion back on his face. “Why did you listen so long?”

You looked away and bit your lip, unable to meet his eyes.

“Did you… enjoy it?” He asked. He sounded almost hopeful.

You couldn’t speak, but you nodded once.

“Really?” You heard a smile in his voice, and you managed to look up. He had a goofy, sappy grin on his face. “You don’t think it’s gross or anything like that?”

You shook your head. “No. I’m curious, though. Why do you do it?”

“I only do it during the off seasons,” He said. “The first year was really hard for the store and I almost lost the shop. I got into camming to make ends meet, but the money was so good I just continued to do it when business is really slow. I’ve been able to save a lot of money this way. I was even thinking of opening a second location, and I think at the end of this season, I’ll have enough.” He looked very shy. “You really don’t mind it?”

You shook your head fervently. “No, not at all.” You looked at his earnest face. He didn’t seem angry, and while you were relieved, you also felt inquisitive. “What’s it like? Does it feel weird?”

“It did at first,” He admitted. “But it’s normal now. It’s actually fun, especially getting ready and putting on the clothes and stuff. I don’t really get to wear that stuff out, so it’s the only time I get to feel… I don’t know, fancy.”

You smiled softly. “I think I get that.”

“Actually,” He said, rubbing his neck. “I was going to record a free promo to put up on the website tonight. Do you want to help me do my makeup? I sort of self-taught myself, but I can never get the eyeliner right.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course, sure!” You said. “I really liked that corset I saw you in.”

He narrowed his eyes at you and smirked. “Did you Google me?”

“I had to,” You said. “Wouldn’t you?”

He laughed. “I guess.” He took your hand and led you toward the door and his apartment. “Come on. I’ve always wanted to have someone help with this. I’m never sure which colors compliment my skin.”

“Wait, let me grab my makeup bag,” You said, running back to your bathroom, snatching it up, and returning. “Okay, let’s go.”

Helping a guy with his makeup counted as a date, right?

He took you to his bedroom, which you’d never been. There wasn’t any furniture, not even a bed. Instead there was a huge nest of fluffy pillows and soft blankets which took up most of the floor space. He had a large walk-in closet where there was a hidden vanity with fairy lights around the mirror. The hangers had various corsets, fishnet shirts, and gloves. There was another desk that seemed to be a large jewelry case.

“This must have cost a fortune,” You said, impressed. You wished you had the confidence to wear some of this.

“A small one,” He told you. “Sometimes in camming, you have to spend to make money. The customers like variety; it’s why I record a new free promo every week. I don’t want my patrons to get bored with me.”

“Who could ever get bored with you?” You blurted without thinking.

You blushed. He blushed.

“Uh… I don’t have any chairs,” He said. “But you can sit on my tail, if you like.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, looking at his tail as it made a hump for you to rest on. “Won’t I hurt you?”

“No, no, not at all,” He said. “Please. I want you to be comfortable.”

“Really, it’s okay, I’ll stand,” You said, unable to even imagine sitting on his beautiful tail. “Now, let’s see. We’ll wash your face first and then we’ll start on your make-up. What about a gold lip? That’ll make your eyes pop.”

“Ooh, that’s a good idea,” He said. “I just bought some new shades recently, and I think there’s a gold in there.”

Applying his makeup for him was a stressful experience. You were eye to eye with him, so close you could feel his breath on your skin. His lips were inches away from your own, and you were having trouble not dwelling on that fact. He was cold-blooded, and therefore generated no heat, but you wondered if he could feel yours at this distance, if he enjoyed it or was made uncomfortable by it.

You did also notice, though, that his tail had wrapped around the two of you twice. He let his arms dangle, but you noticed the muscles twitching a few times and asked yourself if you might be making him self-conscious. After all, you were the only person in his real life who knew about all this.

“Makeup done,” You said. “You look amazing. I wish I could pull off a look this daring.”

“I bet you could,” He said with a smile, looking at you fondly. “Now that I think about it, I’ve never seen you done up before. I’ll have to take you somewhere really nice so that I can see what that looks like.”

Again he blushed, even through the makeup, and pressed his lips together.

You didn’t answer that statement, trying not to read too much into it, and instead looked over at his vast array of cute garments. “How about that gold and blue underbust with the Victorian scrolling pattern? I think it would look good with your makeup.”

“Oh, yes, that’ll work nicely,” He said, grinning. “And that shrug with those gloves. I usually work a little bit of a striptease into these promos.”

You cleared your throat. “You… uh… you’ll have to let me go,” You said, gesturing at his tail.

“Oh!” He jumped and unspooled, so to speak. “Sorry. Have you ever laced a corset before?”

“Yeah, once or twice. I’ve had friends who’ve worn them before. Would you like help?”

“Yes, please,” He said. He lifted his arms to let you reach around him and position the corset, gingerly moving the feathers of his wings out of the way so that you didn’t crush them. “Thank you for this. I’ve never gotten finished so fast before. I should ask you to help all the time.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” You said, pulling the strings taut. “This was fun.”

“I’m glad you think so, too,” He said, looking over his shoulder. “If you don’t have any plans after I’m done filming and editing the video, would you like to come back over and help me take all of it off?”

You looked at him and blushed.

“I didn’t mean that in a dirty way,” He said hurriedly. “It’s just nice having someone who knows and I can talk to about it.”

“I get that,” You said as he pulled on the gloves. “Are you ready to record?”

“Yeah,” He said. “Thanks for helping.”

“Sure,” You told him. “I has happy to. I’ll let you get to it, then.”

He nodded and you saw yourself out.

When you got back to your apartment and sat down at your gaming desk, you sighed heavily, the thoughts of how good Henry looked revolving in your mind. You were both extremely attracted to him and a bit jealous that he looked better than you in all that stuff. It actually made you laugh a little bit.

“Welcome back,” You heard Henry say, and you looked down at the headset laying on your desk.

Oh jeez, he left his headset plugged in again. God you loved him, but he was such an idiot sometimes.

“I’m glad you could join me. I’m hoping your having a lovely day.” You heard the soft shhff of him taking off one of the gloves. “I always love seeing your face. I love the way your hands move. I love the smell of your shampoo when it mixes with your perfume. I love that soft little smile that you get when you arrange flowers across the shop from me.”

…what? What did he just say?

“I hope you’re listening. I’ve tried so hard to say this to you when we’re face to face, but I can never seem to find the words. This way, I can say what I want. This way, if you don’t hear me, then I haven’t risked our friendship, and if you do hear and don’t feel the same, you can ignore it, and nothing has to change. But… if you do feel the same… come back. Please. This show is for you and no one else. I’ll be waiting for you.” You heard the headset being pulled off and laid down on the desk.

You stood up and did the same. He couldn’t mean you, could he? There was no way. Stunned, you walked back toward your front door and opened it, looking across the hall at Henry’s door.

It was cracked open.

With your heart in your throat and breathing like you just ran a mile, you pushed it open and walked slowly toward his office, only to find it empty. The headset was laying on the desk and the camera was off. Looking down the hallway, you saw the light in his bedroom was on and the door was also cracked. Swallowing hard, you walked down to his room and opened the door.

He was laying there, curled up around himself, laying with his head on his arms, looking a little forlorn.

“Henry?” You asked.

He popped up immediately, his eyes widening. “You came.” He whispered. “You actually came!” Before you could respond, he rushed up and snatched you off the ground, hugging you tight. “Does this mean you want me, too? The way I want you, I mean.”

“I… yes,” You said. “I just didn’t want you to think it was because of… well… all this.”

“I don’t care about that, I’m just so happy,” He said, kissing your cheek. “I’ve been in love with you forever, even before we met in person. I was just scared that if you found out about my second job, you’d be disgusted. Knowing you don’t mind it gave me the courage to try and confess.”

“I’m glad you did,” You replied, hugging him tightly around the neck. “I’d never have been able to do it.”

He pulled back and looked at you. “Can I kiss you, please?”

You laughed at the absurdity, but you appreciated that he asked first. He was thoughtful like that. You nodded, and he didn’t waste time, pressing his lips to yours hard enough that you could feel the fangs behind them.

His kisses became hungry, and he gripped your clothes. “I… um… don’t want to assume,” He said breathlessly between kisses. “But… um…” He looked over at his bed-nest, and regarded you with a questioning look.

“It’s okay,” You replied. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, too.”

He snaked over to the nest and lay you down in it, unbuttoning your shirt.

“Should I take off the corset for you?” You asked him.

“I can leave it on, if you like,” he said seductively, kissing your neck and leaving a trail of sparkling gold lipstick on your skin.

“Would that be uncomfortable?” You asked.

“Not at all,” He replied, his kisses moving lower. “I want to look good for you.”

“I’m not a client, Henry,” You said. “You don’t have to work so hard to impress me. I’m already in love with you.”

“That’s good to hear,” He said, his lips against your breast. “But it’s not about wanting to impress you and I don’t see you as a client. I see you as the woman I want to be with. I should put more effort into my time with you than anyone else. I want you to know you’re special to me.”

“You’ve done more than enough to make me feel special,” You said. “I want to return the favor.”

Your hand went into his hair as his tongue swirled around your nipple, and the lower half of his tail moved up around your head. When you turned to look at it, you saw a swollen, puckering slit, normally hidden underneath him as he moved, that he now revealed to you. You pressed your finger along the line, and he moaned against your skin. One of his hands reached down into your pants, into your underwear, and touched you.

You gasped softly at his fingers tickling your slit, you doubled your efforts on his own, moving your head so that your tongue could reach it and licking a slow stripe upward. A strangled, broken grunt came from him.

He continued to undress you slowly and kiss your body, touching you and teasing. You writhed underneath him while sucking at the slit on his body, watching as a bright golden organ slowly peaked its way out, followed by another. You were startled at first, but it was fascinating to watch. You took one in your hand and sucked on the tip of the other, reveling in the sounds that he made.

His lips finally came back up to meet yours, the need in his body evident as he lined one of his cocks up to you, the other resting against your clit. He rose up to look at you.

“Still okay?”

You nodded. “It’s okay.”

He began to push himself inside you, kissing your forehead and cheek as he did so. You gripped his shoulders and held on as he fully seated himself, his second member resting between you. The slit was farther down on his tail, about halfway down, so the position was a little awkward at first, but the two of you pulled each other close and found a rhythm that suited you.

He lifted you up easily, his tail between your legs, undulating into and out of you, and all you could do was hang on for the ride. You moaned, held securely in his arms, his wings flaring out behind him, the light of his bedroom lamp filtering through the feathers like sunlight through clouds.

“I’m so close,” He gasped, picking you up as a flood gushed from the cock you had been riding, splashing against your leg and his tail, before he moved you onto the second one and kept going.

“That’s handy,” You said, also gasping.

“When this one is done, the other one will be ready again,” He said as you bounced on him.

“Oh, god,” You wheezed. “What have I gotten myself into?”

He laughed breathlessly and kissed you again, hitting harder and faster. You felt your own wave coming fast and you began to moan and whimper, not able to control the sounds you made.

Finally, you came, and the rush of ecstasy filled your mind. You lay your head on his shoulder as you dangled in his grasp bonelessly, his tail still moving inside you slowly.

After giving you a moment to recover, he sped up again, and you came again. It might have been hours before the two of you found a stopping point, or more precisely, and exhaustion point. He lay you down in the nest, corset and makeup still on, and the two of you slept in a sweaty pile.

The next morning, he woke up with the makeup smeared across his face and a serious case of bed-head. You laughed.

“What’s funny?” He asked sleepily, smiling at you from the coil of his tail.

“I think I should have taken you up on the offer to help you dress down,” You said. “Let’s get that taken care of.”

You helped him out of his corset and the two of you stepped into the bathroom, three-fourths of which was just the shower. Stepping into the shower, you soaped him down and washed his long body, and he did the same for you. The two of you couldn’t help kissing and giggling and cuddling the whole time.

He ordered in breakfast as you dashed across the hall to fetch some clothes. When you got back, you said, “You didn’t get to record your promo.”

“I can do it tonight,” He said. “Will you help me with it?”

“Of course,” You said. “I’ll be your manager or assistant or whatever you’d like to call me.”

“I’d like to call you my girlfriend, actually,” He said with a smile.

“I like the sound of that,” You replied, hugging him around the waist. “Partners in all things.”

“I like that, too. Speaking of which, I think I might be able to open that second location sooner than I thought.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, if you live with me in my apartment, we can rent out your apartment, and the extra income will help. Two birds, one stone.”

You smiled. “Sounds good to me. As long as I’m with you.”

“Always.”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Naga #Demisexual #Graysexual

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stusbunker · 4 years ago

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AGA: An Open Tab

A Kinky Supernatural Fan-fiction AU

Featuring: Dean Winchester/ Benny LaFitte

Written for: @spnkinkbingo and @thoughtslikeaminefield

Square Filled: Bear

Word Count: 1731

A/N: 18yo+, Benny’s turn to visit Dean at work this time. Internalized bi-phobia, objectification, sexual tension.

A Gentlemen’s Agreement Masterlist

It was another Friday night at the bar, Dean was slinging drinks and Anna and Bella were waiting tables. Jack was decidedly late, again. Dean bobbed his head to the music and tried to stop watching the old smoke stained clock on the wall. It was the second week in a row and Dean was no longer interested in giving Jack the benefit of the doubt.

Dean had been helping Cas out at the bar for six months. Cas, one of Dean’s closest friends, talked Dean into bartending on an as needed basis, since the college kids Cas hired had been notoriously flaky. ‘As needed’ had somehow become Dean’s taxing second job. Which was how when Cas’s own nephew couldn’t bother to show up on time, Dean was left to step up, again.

The afterwork rush was heavier than normal and the music already seemed too loud. Dean just finished pouring the last of the beers for Anna to take back to the pool tables when Jack finally made his appearance, excuses flying out of his mouth. Dean knew he shouldn’t be so short with the kid, but Cas sure as hell wasn’t going to be.

“Save it and go help that group at the end of the bar, will ya? I’m already backed up.” Dean watched as Jack balled up his hoodie and shoved it beneath the register. The redheaded waitress gave Dean a knowing look as the hapless youth washed his hands.

It was going to be a long night.

Castiel Novak made his nightly appearance just after ten. Eight years ago, when he inherited the bar from his brother, Cas decided he needed to look like a business owner, despite his young age, so he started wearing suits. If the weather was cold enough, he’d even wear a trench coat over them. Dean never had the heart to tell Cas he was overdoing it and, of course, Cas never learned better on his own.

There was a time when Cas’s obliviousness had been endearing to Dean, but lately it only seemed to add to Dean’s exhaustion. Dean guessed that showed progress. Then again, he was still the dancing monkey behind the bar because Cas needed him there, so maybe it wasn’t a lot of progress.

After so long, Dean had learned to pick Cas’s voice out of the crowd, from any point in the room; unintentionally clocking his path like a sonar. Dean finally put eyes on Cas when he made his way to check in with a few of the regulars at one of the booths. He saw Cas again when he initiated some awkward small talk with the waitresses. Lucky for them, they were too busy to be stuck on Cas duty for long. By the time Cas got behind the bar, Dean had a pack of women in one corner that refused to let him walk away. Which left Cas to figure out the shape of things all on his own.

Jack could barely answer Cas’s questions; he was so overwhelmed with orders.

After turning down a second round of shots with the ladies, Dean lost track of Cas. After ten minutes, Dean figured Cas had left for the night, easing any anxiety Dean had held for the remainder of his shift. If Cas was gone, Dean didn’t have to play too nice with the kid and he could close without too much hassle.

Which was exactly when Benny walked in the door.

Dean didn’t realize Benny knew where he worked, but Benny sure as hell meant to find him there. It had been two weeks of dirty texts since they met, and Dean nearly jumped over the bar to kiss him; he was so excited. But then Dean remembered where he was and what he was: in his longtime crush’s bar and still in the closet.

He doubted it would hurt his tips at this point in the night, but a fat dose of reality was the next best thing to a cold shower he could get.

Dean nodded at Benny, tongue teasing the back of his teeth. “How’d you find me?”

“A girl’s got to have her secrets,” Benny chided. “I’ll take a bourbon, if you’d be so kind.”

Benny reached into his back pocket and Dean tisked at him. “C’mon man, your money’s no good here.”

“Is that so?” Benny smirked, before taking a lip smacking sip of the double Dean had poured him. Dean couldn’t wait to feel that stubble burning his skin once more. “What if I want to show my appreciation for the fine service?”

Dean shook his head and licked his lips.

“What?” Benny blanched.

Dean leaned in and whispered a reasonable six inches from Benny’s ear.

“After the fine service you gave me, you’ve got an unending tab,” Dean insisted.

Benny chuckled, rich and melodic. It made Dean feel like a teenager, so eager to hear that laugh again. A couple sat down beside Benny and Dean got pulled away into a string of orders after that. Jack, apparently, had given himself a break, and left Dean to hustle for a solid thirty minutes alone. All the while, Dean made sure Benny’s drink was filled.

Once Jack returned, Dean bailed. “Hey, I gotta grab some stock, your turn to do the one man show.”

Without a passing glance to Jack’s stunned face, Dean rounded the bar and nodded Benny to follow. Dean headed straight down the back hall, which led to the coolers and the office. Benny was a casual ten paces back. The second the walk-in’s door closed, Dean pushed Benny against it. Dean’s lips desperately latched on to Benny’s mouth. A mouth and beard that felt even better than Dean remembered.

Benny took Dean’s face in his massive hands, and slowed the kiss, drawing it out, and savoring it. He leisurely turned them until Dean’s back was the one pressed to the door. Which made Dean sigh just as Benny broke the kiss. Dean hooked his fingers into Benny’s belt and dragged him closer.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” Dean snipped, slotting his thigh between Benny’s.

“I had a notion.” Benny half smiled. “How long we got back here?”

“As long as we need. Forget the kid, he can figure it out.” Dean moaned as Benny lifted him off his feet with the nudge of his thick thigh between Dean’s legs.

“You say that like you actually are gonna leave him hanging. We both know you’re not that guy,” Benny teased, breath ghosting over Dean’s throat. Dean blushed.

“Yeah, you’re right, but I don’t want to think about leaving yet,” Dean whispered, hands sliding under Benny’s shirts and roaming his barrel chest. Dean could only imagine the power behind all that breadth. Benny sucked on Dean’s pulse point and began to rock into him.

Dean slid his fingers through Benny’s chest hair, relishing in the manly down. Dean dropped his left hand to palm Benny’s covered cock. The weight of him in Dean’s hand only fueled them both. Benny took Dean’s gasping mouth once more and they fell to a place beyond words.

The bass of the music pounded through the insulated walls, the only reminder of where they were at all. Dean started to undo Benny’s fly when suddenly the melody line and a cacophony of voices flooded the cool air. Dean hadn’t realized they had moved off the door until it was already open.

“Hey! There you are! Jack said you were getting stock. We’re out of Light and—,” Cas trailed off. “Is everything alright?”

Cas eyed Benny suspiciously.

Dean cleared his throat and shrugged, arms swinging awkwardly. “What? Yeah, everythings fine. Just grabbed an extra pair of hands for the kegs, man. Why?”

“You seemed flushed, Dean,” Cas noticed. Of course, Cas had suddenly become observant at that moment.

“That was Light and Hacker-pschorr, boss?” Benny interrupted.

“Yup. Alright, Cas, thanks. Why don’t you go and tell Jack we’re on our way?” Dean patted the door frame to get his point across. The door swung closed as Cas, still squinting, turned to go.

Dean unapologetically adjusted himself in his jeans as Benny dragged his fingers over the labels on the rows of silver barrels.

“Sorry about that,” Dean whispered, not looking Benny in the eye.

“Hey,” Benny called out to him, reaching for his elbow. “No matter to me who sees us. You good, cher?”

Dean inhaled deeply through his nose, and nodded. “Yeah. Or, I will be.”

Benny cocked his head and gave Dean an understanding smile.

“It’s like that, huh?” Benny guessed.

Dean closed his eyes at the disappointment he was sure to see etched onto Benny’s face. “I didn’t— Sorry, this isn’t fair to you,” Dean tried.

“Oh, Dean, that’s your battle to fight. But just so you know, I don’t scare so easy,” Benny winked at Dean and squatted down to lift his keg.

Dean about melted on the spot. How’d somebody like him find such a class act?

Benny shuffled out of the cooler. With his eyes on Dean the whole while, full of silent promises, Benny backed out of the door. Dean pinched his forehead and sighed before bending down to grab his share of the load.

“Coming through!” somebody bellowed.

Back to reality they went, with a whistle and a string of cat calls announcing their passage through the packed bar. Dean could have sworn he heard just as many appreciative male voices as female ones and he tensed in fear. He didn’t usually feel so exposed, but Cas’s interruption was just another reminder of all of the parts of himself he was used to being hidden.

“That’s my kind of bear, alright,” a skinny guy gushed to a petite brunette. Dean rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t blame the man for ogling Benny. He certainly was all bear.

Once Dean was back behind the bar, he felt suffocated with the amount of people surrounding him. He managed to hook up the kegs quickly, leaving Cas and Jack both breathing sighs of relief. Dean looked passed them to find Benny, who tipped his head and gave Dean a wistful salute.

“Thanks, Benny. I’ll be in touch,” Dean called out over the ruckus of the crowd, hand raised in a motionless wave.

Benny lifted his chin in agreement and disappeared out the side door.

Tagging:

@flamencodiva @dolphincliffs @dontshootmespence @fookinghelljensensthighs @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @wingedcatninja @defenderrosetyler @ericaprice2008

^*^*^^*

Part 3: Quality Assurance

#spnkinkbingo #denny #dean winchester/ benny #dean/benny #mlm #bear

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paper-stars-and-fireflies · 4 years ago

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Tell me, should I let you go?

Tags: RadioDust, Trans!Angel Warnings: Drug Use, Addiction Fic was inspired by the song Sober by Bad Wolves. Listen while you read! Angel Dust woke up in his bathtub, again. His neck hurt from being bent forward overnight, and his back and joints all ached from the cramped spaces and unnatural angles. At least the cool tile felt nice. Dizziness washed over him as he tipped his head back, trying to right his world, and soon after he was scrambling for the toilet, dry heaves wracking his frame. He spit, if just to relieve the nausea, and settled back against the wall, one arm feebly reaching for the vanity. There was a snuffling and scraping sound and all of a sudden Angel’s lap was full of pig, his pet bounding back and forth across him, desperate for attention.

“Be easy on daddy, now,” Angel moaned, scooping up the pig and cradling him. The nausea was ebbing slightly, but not enough. He turned his head, coughing and hacking into the toilet again. Just holding Fat Nuggets felt like too much, but Angel managed to claw and stumble his way to his feet. His reflection looked worse than he felt, mascara and eyeliner dripping down his cheeks and his eyes red around the edges. His throat felt scratchy and a fresh wave of dizziness had him stumbling forward into the sink. “Saint’s sake, am I still drunk?” he mumbled, fumbling for his toothbrush. His mouth tasted like sugar and stomach acid, and it took him twice as long to get himself looking presentable, crumbled clothes aside. The dizziness and nausea had more or less left him to fester, but the lights felt too bright and a migraine had settled behind his left eye. He matched his steps to the slow pulse of his head, wobbling around his room as he unceremoniously stripped out of yesterday’s clothes and pulled on a fresh shirt and shorts. He had no plans to go out, so he didn’t bother getting too dolled up. He checked his phone, but there were no messages, not from work, not from his family, not even from Alastor. Probably for the best, even though he was craving a few sweet words this morning. Better to lay low and not let anyone realize how he was. There were empty bottles and plastic cups, and evidence of the fun that was wreaking so much havoc on him this morning scattered around the room. He cleaned it all up, burying it in his trash so no one would find it later. He should feel ashamed, maybe, drinking, smoking, maybe even popping a pill or two, but it wasn’t such a big deal. Just a couple drinks, a smoke, a couple pills. No one had to know, and he’d been so good. They had to give him that. This was just one of those, whaddaya call’em? Cheat days. It was just a lil treat. One time thing. He placated himself, shoving off the bits of shame and regret crawling under his skin. Angel settled into his bed, Fat Nuggets happily curled up against him, grumbling as he thumbed through the TV channels. It made his head hurt that much more, but frankly he’d take that over the silence, in the room or in his head. He scratched idly at the inside of his arm, only glancing down when he realized he’d picked at a scab. A very new one. He swore, tearing tissues out of their box, knocking over everything else on the nightstand. Angel dabbed at the tiny wound, peering closer. It was definitely a needle mark, and not the only one. He yanked down on the sleeve of his shirt, casting furtive glances around his room. It was fine, it was okay. It would be gone in a couple hours, a day top. It was tiny. No one had to know he hadn’t just fallen off the wagon, that he’d jumped headfirst. It was fine. He just had to stay home, lay low one day, be extra careful from here on. He crouched by the bed, picking up the things he’d knocked over. A couple framed pictures of his friends, another of him and Alastor dressed up in silly Valentine’s themed costumes. They’d thrown a party back in February for his six months sober celebration. There was a lopsided stuffed deer, a prize Al had won for him at Hell’s carnival, back on one of their early dates. When Fat Nuggets had torn it up one night, Al had hushed him, stitching it up and adding a few personal touches, showing him anything could be repaired. He set everything back up neatly. No biggie. This was something else that could be fixed. No big deal. Definitely not, until there was a knock at his door. “Angel? You okay?” Charlie’s innocent voice was the last thing he wanted to hear, but he heaved himself onto his feet and stumbled to the door as fast as he could manage, leaning against it to hold it shut. “Just peachy, dollface. Ya need something?” he called through the door, making sure all the locks were on. He pushed the chain lock all the way across, quieting the metal with his fingertips. “You’re late for your check-in session, I was making sure you were up.” “Check-in?” “Did you forget? Today’s the 5th, you were supposed to meet me downstairs an hour ago.” Charlie’s voice was picking up a suspicious edge he didn’t like. Of course today would be a check in. How had he forgotten that? He was so careful, making sure he’d clear his appointments so he could live pretty freely under the radar. “Sorry doll, I, uh, just over-slept. Stayed up too late….watching too many movies!” He bit at his lip, not buying his own excuses. Clearly, she wasn’t either. “Angel, let me in. I want to make sure you’re okay.” She insisted. Angel huffed, putting on his usual demeanor. It wasn’t like he didn’t have practice faking it. The door swung open abruptly, revealing Angel in his t-shirt and sports shorts, a button down shirt only partially blocking out the pride pun printed on his shirt in pastel colors. The sleeves hung down to half-way down his forearms, carefully folded. Charlie studied him, suspicion and confusion warring across her face. “Something wrong, doll? I was in the middle a somethin.” He tried to hurry her along, one arm braced against the door frame. The injured arm was tucked against his back, the elbow carefully hidden with the cuff. “I’ve just never seen you dressed like that.” Charlie finally admitted, staring at his chest. He shifted uncomfortably, wondering if the shirt looked wrong on him. Finally, she smiled, pointing at it. “I like your shirt. It’s good to cope through positive humor.” Angel glanced down. ‘The first gender’s free,’ the pink text read. ‘Too bad I needed a refund’, the white and blue text finished. He laughed with her, but it felt stuck in his throat. He could feel sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. “So look, can we reschedule the uh, check-in, doll?” He tried to keep his voice steady, his smile wide. Charlie waved one hand, still giggling. “Sure, sure,” she called, turning away. “I’ll see you after lunch then, my office. Bye Angel!” Oh sugar honey. Angel bit his lip, keeping his internal screams to himself, willing himself to shut the door calmly and muffle his impending break-down in a pillow. By two in the afternoon, Angel had scrubbed himself head to toe, made sure his makeup was flawless, perfumed, eaten, drank, anything and everything to beat back last night’s demons and act the part of the perfectly adapted, normal, and completely clean Angel Dust he’d been becoming the last eight or so months. ‘Just one quick meeting, no big deal,’ he kept reminding himself. He sauntered into Charlie’s office, plopping down into the chair opposite her desk, checking his nails to keep up his bored act. The marks on his arm were all but gone now, but there were still a few nagging symptoms of a come down he hadn’t quite chased off yet. Charlie shut the door behind him, part of her pledge to privacy, and sat across from him, separated by a massive wood desk that was definitely made for one of her parents. She just looked tiny, sitting behind it. “Okay! So, we are… just shy of one year! How are you feeling today?” Charlie consulted her paperwork, searching around for her pen as she spoke. It was the one she’d taken from Katie Killjoy, way back at the hotel’s launch. “Same ol’, bored as hell, but doin’ my best. Clean, nice, and well-adjusted.” Angel ticked off on his fingers, reciting the three goals Charlie pushed all of her patrons towards. She hummed, clicking the pen a few times before she began to take notes. She probed at him with the usual list of questions, asking about his recent activities, work, friends, mood, and how he was coping and feeling about each of the problems he’d mentioned in previous meetings. He could see she’d drawn his shirt in the margins. ‘Piece. Of. Cake.’ he congratulated himself, standing up and starting to excuse himself. He’d made it through the full hour without a single slip up. “Sit back down, Angel.” Charlie scolded, setting her page down flat. She dropped the pen, eyeing the chair when he didn’t. He sighed, plunking back down. “What’s up, boss?” He asked, arms crossed. Charlie reached over the desk, yanking his sleeve up before he could stop her. “I knew it.” she hissed, sitting back in her chair, hands wrapped around her elbows, arms pressing flat against her ribs. “Angel, you’re not even close to clean.” “What! That’s playing dirty! I am! Well, I was. Definitely was! I was being a super good boy, but then, I dunno, something happened, and then I guess I made a mistake last night, and then I guess, I dunno. A lot happened last night, an’ I don’t remember none of it, but I swear! I was clean until yesterday! I’ll get it back!” He wasn’t being completely truthful, he’d been sneaking drinks and hits of whatever coworkers had on hand while he was at work, but he definitely couldn’t tell her that, and he really had been cutting back… Why couldn’t he remember last night? “Angel, you’ve come to check-ins still stoned before, just… stop.” Charlie pinched the bridge of her nose, blowing out a breath. “Last night, Alastor brought you home from Val’s. You were a huge wreck. He took you upstairs, but you started screaming at us and locked yourself in your room.” She paused, looking up at him, willing him to say something, but Angel, for once, had nothing. “Have you ever told me the truth?” Charlie sighed, pushing herself to her feet. She circled the desk, opening the door with a resigned, defeated look. Angel frowned, knowing he was the cause, but not how to fix it. Getting high at work wasn’t surprising, but to get totally wrecked wasn’t right. Angel shuffled, thinking he was being dismissed, but what happened next was so much worse. Alastor walked in, face blank and perfectly schooled into place. Charlie retook her seat, gesturing to the open chair beside Angel. Al took it, not looking at him. He just stared straight ahead, completely zoned out. “Angel, you were already on your last warning before this. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Charlie tried again. Angel opened his mouth, starting over with what he’d already tried, but it fell on deaf ears. Neither Charlie or Alastor so much as twitched as he tried spinning line after line, trying for pity, sympathy, humor, anything. When she couldn’t take anymore, Charlie shook her head, scribbling away on a sheet of paper. Angel couldn’t make out the words, no matter how desperately he wanted to. It felt like his whole head was throbbing and the room was spinning. How hot was it in here anyway? He shoved his sleeves up, already caught out. It was hard to catch his breath, he slumped forward, tempted to put his head between his knees. Were his ears ringing, or was that Al’s static? “Angel,” Charlie said, clearly not for the first time. Concern was leaking into her voice, and he fished himself back out, sitting up, head lolling to one side. Al stayed silent, not offering a hand, a word, even a tune. He had never felt so alone in a room full of people who were supposed to care about him. So much for that. “Angel, I have to evict you.” She said finally, sliding the page over to him. “You have to sign this.” It wasn’t possible to hold back the tears dripping down his face, and just as impossible to figure out why he couldn’t stop. Who cared about the dumb hotel. He had any number of places he could go. Molly had a spare room, if he wanted to go back to the mob. Cherri had a couch, and he’d already thrown his lot in with hers for turf wars. Hell, even Val would take him back and let him live in a studio if he did more videos. Screw the Hotel! Angel growled, throwing his things into duffel bags, ripping his posters off the wall, slamming the drawers closed after emptying them. Fat Nuggets hid under his bed, snuffling sadly, but he didn’t have it in him to apologize yet, even if the pig was innocent. Sometimes he just had to stay angry. “I would think you wouldn’t want to destroy your own possessions, darling.” Alastor spoke softly from the open doorway, looking around slowly. Angel pouted, looking more pathetic than mad, but he didn’t care. He didn’t notice when Al had gotten there, but it didn’t matter. “I don’t possess anything. Anything that’s mine gets broke or taken away.” He said pointedly, snatching the pictures off his nightstand. He inspected them, finally dumping them in the wastebasket by the vanity. Alastor blinked, his radio noise some garbled music that was probably supposed to calm his nerves, but they just grated on them more. Angel did his best to ignore him, storming around the room, packing away every possible hint he’d spent a moment in the room. Finally his last nerve snapped, worn thin by his unhelpful, intrusive, cold boyfriend. He snatched the deer plush off his nightstand, the last thing left unpacked, and hurled it at the Radio Demon’s chest. There was sharp feedback as it struck him, like a microphone dropping or a headset being plugged in. “Would you just get out of here!” He screamed, voice shattering. Alastor looked passively at him, picking up the doll slowly, smoothing its short fur. “Very well. I will wait for you in the foyer, if you prefer.” Alastor turned, still cradling the deer. “Would you prefer I take Fat Nuggets, or can you manage, love?” His trademark smile drooped, dipping into something smaller, sadder, but sincere, broken-hearted love in an instant. Angel sniffled, dragging his arm across his face. Saints’ sake, his makeup was wrecked all over again. “Whaddaya talkin’ about?” Angel choked out, grabbing for more tissues. Alastor set the doll down on the bed, coming closer. Angel let him into arm’s reach, but he wasn’t ready to be touched just yet. “I’m waiting on you, my dear.” Alastor repeated, gesturing to Angel’s bags. “What for? Ain’t ya done with me for bein’a a dirty wh-” Angel was cut off with a harsh look from Alastor, contempt and scorn he rarely wore. “You’re nothing of the sort. I discussed this very carefully with Charlie last night, I’m very sorry we did not make ourselves clearer.” Alastor fetched the pictures from the wastebasket and looked at them, keeping his hands busy. “You ain’t breakin’ up wit me?” Angel asked again, eyes wide. But he was sure that Al had been so cold because… “Never, my love. I would never abandon you over something so trivial.” Alastor set the pictures aside, finally lifted his hands, cupping the spider’s face gently. His gloved thumbs cleared away the last of his love’s tears. “But you were so….dead?” Angel tried, sniffling again. “I was so worried about you, darling, I was beside myself. I stayed with you all night, and spoke with Charlie once I was sure you were quite alright by yourself.” “So Charlie is kicking me out -” “You’ll be moving in with me, my love.” Alastor spoke softly, eyes downcast. He drew Angel in closer, pulling him to his chest. “Charlie agreed it would be better for you, but to keep it quiet. If that’s not what you want, then-” “No! No, no no, I, Al, I want that, I just. I don’t get it.” Angel sighed, resting his weary head on Al’s shoulder, four arms wrapped loosely around him. He knew not to hold too tight, or else Al got squirrely. Al drew back, but only slightly. He pressed his forehead to Angel’s, his ears and horns tangling gently with Angel’s hair. “Addiction is difficult, and it can only be fought with attention and support, not alone, isolated in a hotel room. I’d like to give you that, if you’ll have me.” There was hope, love, faith, and trust in Alastor’s voice, everything Angel had ever wanted, truly wanted, the things he’d tried so long to replace with the high, trying to stuff his feelings with drugs. “I’m never going to let you go.” Angel answered, new tears prickling at his eyes. “Let’s go home, my darling.”

#radiodust #Trans!Angel Dust

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baepsaesbae · 4 years ago

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Parang Kape Ko. Bittersweet. || Just Like My Coffee. Bittersweet

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x reader

Genre— Fluff/Romance, Enemies to Lovers au, coffee shop au

Warnings— None

Word Count— 1.8k

Summary— You work at a coffee shop with the most annoying person ever. Kim Taehyung.

A/N— Thank you @kitsutaes for requesting! I hope you like it darling. You can still request drabbles up until the end of the August with this post

You couldn’t quite place it. Something about Taehyung made your skin crawl since the very first day you laid eyes on him. To make matters worse, your manager kept pairing you together for nearly every shift (she couldn’t help it, she thought you guys looked cute together).

You despised the way girls would giggle and try to subtly give him their number after ordering their drink. You rolled your eyes every time he’d wink and flirt back with them. Each shift with just the two of you was unbearable.

Taehyung was naturally a player, anyone could see that. Women would swoon from a mere flash of a smile. They’d be putty in his hands with a simple wink. That being said, Taehyung was so taken aback when his charms didn’t work on you. He couldn’t figure out what he did to tick you off, but it seemed like you didn’t like him from the start. That was a concept he couldn’t fathom.

It was like a never ending game of tag that you didn’t want to play, and you couldn’t risk Taehyung finally catching up to you. The more you showed your disdain for Taehyung, the more intrigued he’d be by you, thus spurring him to pester you even more.

“Hey grumpy grump! How was your weekend?” Taehyung greeted you as you clocked in.

“It was fine. Yours?” you replied with indifference.

“It was chill, kinda lowkey. I actually found a cool hole in the wall restaurant that I thought maybe we could--”

“I’m busy,” you interrupted without looking at him.

“But I didn’t even say when--”

“You don’t need to. I’m very busy all the time,” you walked away to prep the machines before Taehyung could even reply.

“C’mon, just give me a chance! It doesn’t even have to be a date. I genuinely want to get to know you. Why do you hate me so much?” Taehyung pouted as he followed you around like a lost puppy.

“Prep the tables and chairs, please,” you commanded without acknowledging his whining.

“Yes ma’am. See? I’m such a good boy, I always listen to you,” he called out from across the cafe as he unstacked chairs.

You ignored him. This was your normal routine every time you worked with Taehyung. He seemed to get a thrill every time he riled you up, so you’ve learned not to give him the satisfaction. Straight up ignoring him was the best way to go.

Taehyung became preoccupied with taking orders once the customers started piling in. You absentmindedly made the drinks, a task that you could now do with your eyes closed. You thought about what Taehyung said. Sure, he’s an annoying prick who knows he’s too handsome for his own good, but does that really justify your hatred for him?

You hated to admit it, but Taehyung is the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life. Your heart fluttered every time he teased you, and though you gave off the impression that you wouldn’t care if he disappeared off the face of the Earth, you were secretly pleased with the attention he gave you. On occasion, you’ve caught glimpses of random girls glaring at you while Taehyung was messing around with you.

You shook your head as you powered up the blender to make a double mocha frappe with 2 extra shots of espresso. What the hell were you thinking? This is exactly why you don’t like Taehyung. He lives in your mind rent free.

“I think that frappe is blended enough,” Taehyung observed. He appeared out of nowhere, startling you.

“You good?” he asked with a hint of concern.

“I’m fine,” you answered curtly as you handed him the drink.

“Frappe for Tiffany!” Taehyung called out before returning his attention to you, “I was serious earlier by the way. This little game of ours is fun, but I honestly want to get to know you. Plus, you never actually talk to me so I don’t know what I did to make you hate my guts or whatever. Unless you’re like a massive introvert or something. I’d respect that of course, but like I said I literally wouldn’t know that because you never talk to me so--”

“Okay! Fine! I’ll go with you to that stupid restaurant. Will you finally shut up now?” you snapped.

“Aw, so you do listen when I talk to you. It’s a date! Or not, that’s up to you. You free after this shift?” he lifted his eyebrows with excitement.

“Yeah,” you begrudgingly nodded.

The rest of the shift flew by with the nonstop stream of customers. The morning rush is always tough, but Taehyung handled the flow perfectly every time. His demeanor calms even the most irate caffeine addicted customers.

“I’m starving,” Taehyung announced as he clocked out.

“What kind of food does the restaurant serve?” you asked as your stomach rumbled.

“Hamburgers!” Taehyung beamed.

“Cool. Text me the address and I’ll meet you there,” you say as you head towards your car.

“Wait! It’s actually not too far from here. There’s no need to take two vehicles,” Taehyung rubbed the back of his neck.

“Do you wanna ride in my car?” you asked quizzically.

“Actually I wanted to take you for a ride. On my bike,” he quickly added.

“Sure I guess. You got a little basket for me to ride in or something?” you attempted to be friendly.

“Not quite. I don’t have a spare helmet, but I can assure you that I’m a safe driver,” he says as he leads you to his parking spot.

“You have a moped?” you asked in shock. You couldn’t help but smile at the cute little lavender moped that Taehyung probably zips around on every day.

“Yeah, I love this little sucker. It used to be my sister’s, that’s why it’s purple. But it’s badass on the streets,” Taehyung patted the seat.

“So where am I sitting?” you asked even though you already knew the answer.

“You’d be safest sitting behind me. You can hold onto me if you’d like. For safety reasons, of course,” he smiled.

You climbed onto the moped after him. You didn’t want to hold onto him, but you whimpered and quickly wrapped your arms around him as soon as he took off. The tiny moped was surprisingly fast, and since it was so small, you could practically feel every bump on the road.

Taehyung smirked as you hung onto him tightly. “Cute,” he thought.

Taehyung’s scent enveloped you as you leaned into his back. You’ve grown accustomed to his smell since you were always together at work, but being up close and personal with him was a different story. He had a comforting smell that made you want to snuggle up to him even more. You wondered which cologne he was wearing, just in case you wanted to pick it up for yourself.

You felt how solid his torso was as you clung to him. Your thoughts lingered to his earlier question yet again. Why did you hate him so much? He really didn’t seem like a bad guy. In fact, the opposite is true. Sure he could be a bit flirty, but he was also always kind and gentle. You realized that he never flirted with the customers first, he simply returned their energy.

“We’re here!” Taehyung happily announced.

He led you into a small restaurant that appeared to be family owned. The owners greeted Taehyung by his first name, indicating that he’s probably a regular customer.

“Welcome in! And who’s this lovely lady you brought with you?” the man greeted.

“Taehyung! Is this this coffee shop girl? She’s just as gorgeous as you said she wa--” his wife began to ramble until Taehyung cut her off.

“I’ll have two of the usuals please. Oh, and two sodas. Thanks guys,” Taehyung ordered quickly before bringing you over to a small table in the corner.

“How much do I owe you?” you inquired as you took out your wallet.

“Nothing. This is my treat. I’m surprised you finally agreed to hangout with me,” Taehyung smiled as he shifted his weight in his chair.

“What was that lady saying before you ordered?” you tilted your head.

“She uh, was telling me about the daily special,” Taehyung lied.

“No she wasn’t. I was right next to you, Taehyung. Am I the coffee shop girl?” you teased, delighted that the tables have turned.

“I mean you are a girl and you do work in a coffee shop. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re THE coffee shop girl…” Taehyung was flustered.

“Is this a date or are we just hanging out?” you pressed further.

“Which would you like it to be?” Taehyung retorted.

“I asked first,” you countered.

“I guess I can’t argue with that. I would prefer this to be a date. But since you hate me I’d happily settle for us just hanging out,” he admitted.

“I wouldn’t say that I hate you…” you trailed off.

“Oh really? Then why do you always ignore me and only talk to me to boss me around. I find that hot by the way, but we don’t have to get into that right now,” he smirked.

“I...I don’t know. Your face always bothered me I suppose,” you answered thoughtfully.

“My face?” Taehyung burst out into a fit of laughter, “___, am I so ugly that you just can’t stand being around me?”

“The opposite actually. Oh what the hell, we’re here anyway. You’re so goddamn handsome it’s aggravating. You’re so nice it’s unnerving. And when you talk to me it’s like you’ve known me forever. If I didn’t act so cold towards you I would’ve fallen for you so easily,” you finally got everything off of your chest.

An awkward silence filled the room and you began to regret coming clean. The owner came by with the burgers and you noticed the ketchup was done in the shape of a heart.

“Damn,” was all that Taehyung replied after a while.

You silently nodded as you bit into your burger.

“I’m glad I kept bugging you then. I thought you were a cutie during orientation. I knew you weren’t actually a bitch because I’ve seen the way you interact with people who aren’t me. You’re such a sweetheart. Also please don’t think I’m a creep for watching you at work sometimes,” he chuckled.

“I’m sorry for being so cold towards you. I’m not really good with processing emotions and all that,” you blushed, “But now that everything's out in the open, I’d be willing to let my walls down I guess.”

“Sure. We can take it one date at a time. And maybe you could actually talk to me at work?” Taehyung gave you big puppy eyes.

“Maybe. I’ll see what I can do,” you failed to suppress a smile.

Kim Taehyung might not be too shabby after all.

#bts fluff #taehyung fluff #bts drabble #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #taehyung drabble #paralumanplaylist #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic

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a-dorin · 5 years ago

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youth | the zabrak brothers

a/n: i recently got an anon asking about the zabrak brothers in high school and college! so i am going to be answering their question! sorry if i got carried away with the headcanons! enjoy :))

high school

all three boys weren’t together in high school until maul & feral were freshman, while savage was a sophomore

they attended an elite private school on dathomir, a costly institution that prepared students for higher education

it was run by the nightsisters, a religious group of women

so, the boys all had to wear uniforms that consisted of:

grey or black slacks

polished dress shoes

a black, navy, or burgundy blazer with the school’s logo stitched on the pocket

a freshly pressed tie

sometimes, there were “casual” days

where the boys could wear khakis with a black, navy, or burgundy polo

maul was the one who broke dress code the most

he either refused to wear the tie, always left the top buttons undone, wore his silver chain (”no visible jewelry allowed”), and painted his nails black (”no nail polish allowed on boys”)

as predicted, the brothers got into trouble constantly

whether it was arriving late to class, cursing, or brawling with one another, the brothers were sent to the dean’s office often

one time, maul prepared a speech discussing the importance of “knotting in the male zabraki species” (this was a speech performed in chemistry class) and when the teacher suggested he go to the dean’s office, a devilish smirk painted his features

“perhaps you would like to see the knot yourself, mrs. zula?” (mrs. zula was a strict, older, batty nightsister)

needless to say, maul was the troublemaker of the group, with his main talent consisting of his sharp tongue and quick wit

savage was your typical athletic type: involved in more than one sport, it was his only extracurricular, he would weight lift in the morning before class started, then practice for hours after school

savage’s favorite sport was wrestling, and he was quite good at it. he tried saber wielding, but the sport was too technical, too strategic. wrestling is similar, but savage excelled at it due to his perseverance and brute strength

feral was involved in a variety of athletic activities: student council, debate team, scholastic bowl, baking club, peer mentoring, as well as the theatre troupe. he was also an active participant in art club

on the other hand, the only activity maul tended to really enjoy was saber wielding, as he had started the sport at a young age

although all of the boys were involved in different activities, they all actively supported one another

even if savage was sweaty and exhausted from wrestling or track practice, he would swing by the school’s auditorium, making it just in time for the latest fall play or spring musical

maul always saved a seat for savage

and the boys always brought a bouquet of flowers for every performance, just for feral

at home wrestling meets, maul would buy a decently sized portion of the bake sale table (which always earned a wide, bright, grin from feral)

savage and feral had a tendency to be the loudest at saber competitions. feral typically brought a freshly painted/drawn sign with a cheesy slogan (maul is number one! or maul will make you bawl!)

savage and maul were exceptional athletes, earning championship titles

yes, their plaques and photos are still on the walls to this day

since maul was a saber wielder, he was quite popular with girls. it is such a competitive and grueling sport, so many girls crushed on him

however, he paid no mind, either just entertaining the flirting or paying no mind to it

which, savage often gave maul shit for

“the ladies are practically drooling over you”

“i’m not interested in any of them. they just want me for my saber”

even though they were all apart of diverse friend groups, the brothers would always sit by one another at lunch, chatting about their days

and no matter how horrible of a day they were having, the laughter and smiles couldn’t be contained at the lunch table

there were other little moments too

like all three piling into savage’s beat up honda civic to carpool, early in the morning

feral and maul would snooze in the car while savage lifted weights before class

or helping one another get ready for homecoming and prom, straightening ties or smoothing out wrinkles in suits (cue feral frantically running around the house in his boxers the morning of prom, steamer in his hand)

the boys never really had girlfriends or boyfriends in high school, they had one another, and that was enough

at savage’s graduation, the twins were emotional, gazing at their older brother with nothing but adoration, eyes glossy with tears

savage was the class of 2005, on his way to mustafar central on a wresting scholarship

their last summer together as a trio was bittersweet.

even if maul and savage bickered, feral knew in his heart that it pained maul to see savage go

when maul received his scholarship offer his senior year, feral engulfed him in a massive hug, while savage hollered on the phone

at his signing, they were the proudest donning their “mustafar central” gear with pride (savage even came home from the midst of his freshman year to show his support)

feral brought a cookie cake, while savage brought the balloons

tears brimmed maul’s eyes when feral opened the admission letter, and savage was on the phone, eagerly anticipating the news

the whole house shook as yells of joy echoed through it

even though feral believed that savage wouldn’t be able to make it to his last spring musical (it was beauty and a beast that year) savage was able to make it

needless to say, feral was very surprised when he emerged from the dressing room, his older brother standing there with a bouquet of flowers

“what can i say? i couldn’t miss it.”

at the twins’ graduation, savage sat in the bleachers, the camcorder shaky as he bawled (savage was a crybaby that day)

maul and feral were apart of the class of 2006

feral on his way to a culinary school in coruscant (his dream school!)

while maul had his scholarship with mustafar central, training to be a professional athlete with a major in exercise science

college

college was a completely different ballgame for the brothers

even though they were separated, they messaged one another constantly, whether it was texting (texting was starting to become extremely popular) or through myspace

mustafar central was not a large university, the enrollment about 6,500 students

meanwhile, feral was at a well-known culinary school in the heart of coruscant, where there were about 1,000 students at his college

often, feral joked that maul and savage were the “country mice” while he was the “city mouse”

from the beginning, maul was beyond elated by the sheer amount of freedom he was given

he was able to expand his style, go out and party, and the best of all, maul grew as a person

he socialized more, gaining a large social circle

since savage was a wrestler and maul was a saber wielder, they had completely different schedules

yet, they carpooled together for target or walmart runs

they ate together in the dining hall when they could

however, there were mandatory dorm visits, where savage would help maul with the science classes he was struggling with, while maul helped savage with english and social science courses

“how are you a stem major yet cannot use grammar”

“before you go and chastise me, how about we discuss your organic chemistry grade?”

when he could, feral would travel to mustafar, surprising maul or savage at their meets

maul and savage did the same, popping in at feral’s apartment unannounced, bringing pick-me-ups and other odds and ends

savage would have maul tag along to parties, as savage was actively involved in a frat

maul had a knack for strategy, so he often was the champion of beer pong, calculating who would be his best partner, along with what angle would give him the best shot

the best part of college for the brothers though, was the reunion during breaks

they loved catching up with one another, sneaking in alcohol and sharing all of the stories that came to mind

their favorite spot was on the rooftop, gazing at the stars

life in college was good for the zabrak brothers

it was healthy for them, as they all got to explore their individuality even more, but give one another support and love while they found themselves

when feral came out to his brothers at the end of freshman year, maul and savage said nothing, but rather scooped him into their arms, in a massive cuddle pile

his junior year, maul was gaining traction as a saber wielder, becoming well known across the galaxy

he was undefeated, reigning victorious over not only obi-wan kenobi, an infamous saber wielder from university of corsucant, but countless others as well

savage was winning world championships, beginning to train for the galaxy title

feral was content at his college, earning all sorts of praise, his dream of a bakery becoming more and more of a reality

although, one fateful evening, their lives were forever changed

*****

tagged: @sapphicstars @maulieber @starflyer-104 @alwayshappysith @doobiwankenooku @magicalkitkat12 @dartheldur @princessayveke @multifandombtch @spaghetti-666 @lis-ard @swimmingsloths @sithmando @mother-0f-monsters @bonniewinchester @bonesaldente @maidofsionis @bespectacled-bunny @arsonistvoyager @tinalbion @nottodaysatan-8866 @vei-saretti @maybe-your-left @isabewwwa @aki-iko @corrupt-fvcker @ranoutofideas71

#darth maul #professor!maul #feral #savage opress #savage #zabrak brothers #headcanons #star wars

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macybeckham7 · 4 years ago

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Tattooed Heart - Jack Grealish

tagged: @luc-57x @cinnnabaee

Part Two

Jack was sat watching as Yn dancing on the table with Tyrone, the two had the biggest smiles on their faces as they danced, they were holding hands as the footballer spun her around before they swayed from side to side. Jack smiled as he saw how big their smiles they had one their faces. It was one of their teammates birthday party which was 90′s themed. He raised his glass up to her as she spotted him and instantly said something to Tyrone before making her way over to him.

‘There’s my favourite’ she giggles as she sits beside him, instantly stealing his drink and taking a sip and instantly grimacing in somewhat pain as she didn't like how strong, and the burning sensation running down her throat.

‘That’s what you get for stealing my drink asshole’ he mutters making them chuckle with each other.

It had been a few months since Jack did the tattoo on her, and they had been nonstop talking, he would text her ever morning hoping she had a good day, and every night asking her how her day was and to sleep tight. They would have hours long facetime calls, where Jack was working out while Yn was drawing some tattoo details, while the other weren’t looking the other found themselves just in complete awe of the other. Yn always texting Jack wishing him well for the game ahead, and often finding a photo of her IG story of her either at home or in the shop and showing that she was in fact watching. Jack had invited her to a few games, especially the game against Chelsea which she brought her dad along. After the game he took her onto the Villa Park pitch, the two playing under the flood lights as they both had massive smiles on their faces as Jack was somewhat surprised at her skill. She scores and instantly jumps into his arms as they celebrate as if it was a goal in an important match. Yn had often been midway through a design when a delivery guy had popped in and brought either her favourite smoothie or a doughnut from her favourite place or a bunch of flowers with them all having a little slip with a small J writing on it in mark, making her feel butterflies in her stomach.

They had countless sleepovers together, but nothing really happened between them, a few kisses here and there but then they finish the night just snuggled up with each other, just enjoying being close to each other.

As the two sat watching Tyrone now dancing on the table with one of his teammates girlfriends, Yn rested her head on his shoulder as they both laughed and tried to get the other to hear what they were trying to say. Jack followed her outside as she looked through her little clutch bag and pulled out a cigarette, he watched as she placed it in between her lips and flicked the blue lighter and burnt the end and took a long drag, he watched her as she exhaled.

‘So are you coming home to me tonight?’ he asked with a small smirk.

She walks towards him and gently places the cigarette in his mouth as they looked deeply in each others eyes. She gently caressed her cheek before kissing him softly.

It was currently 2am in the morning, YN had her heels in her hands as she walked carefully along the road. They both had McDonald’s milkshakes as the two laughed and joked with each other. The two getting a few weird glances from people, as they probably looked like they had just walked out of a time machine and was lost in the present day Birmingham. They both were being pretty rowdy and every so often they brought out a rather questionable dance move, or started playfighting, which ended up with YN dropping her milkshake which she wasn't too happy about. The two of them felt like they were best friends, but also could be something more. With Jack he had never had a feeling for something like this before and it kind of scared him. Previously his other relationships had finished because he had always put his career ‘first’ and he didn't want to fuck anything up with YN, because how cheesy it sounds he doesn't want to think about his life without her in.

The two stumbled into his house, as they were in a heavy make out session, he pins her to the wall as his mouth moves along her jaw, he picks her up and takes her to the bedroom. He lays her down on the bed and undressed her, his eyes took in her beautiful body before her starts leaving a trail along her skin, making a gentle moan escape before she bites down on her bottom lip. He leaves a small kiss on the tattoo on her hip bone before he looks up at her and sees her smiling at him. He pulls off her panties and pushes her legs apart, he leaves a kiss along her inner thigh making her whimper. He moves closer to her as he watches her reaction to his touch, her back arches as he slots to fingers inside her, before he starts to eat her out, she enjoying how good he was making her feel and the how good his stubbles feels against her skin.

…..

YN was feeling somewhat fragile as she entered the tattoo complex, she waving to her dad who laughed at how she was feeling as he saw the Mr Bump plaster on her knee. Which she got last night from tripping over a few times. Her first client was already sat on the sofa filling out a form, so she luckily didn't have time for a grilling from her family. She quickly set up and called her over, the two girls with her came along and sat next their friends. YN wasn't as chatty as she usually was but tried to make the best experience for them, her mum appearing and offering drinks and snacks which she usually does.

‘Are you the girl who is dating Jack?’ the girl asked as YN was getting the area ready.

She looked up shocked about the question. ‘Grealish’ she mutters, as if she had to be certain she knew which Jack they were on about.

The other piped up, mentioning that they had been seeing you on Jack’s and Tyrone’s IG accounts, with even the #40 mentioning in a recent video ‘imagining being with a tattooist and not getting freebies’. YN couldn't help but giggle as she knew that was such a Tyrone thing to say. She decided to keep quiet as she focused on getting the tattoo stencil on.

‘You’re really pretty’ she smiled.

YN only had a half a day and she felt like she had spent the whole day talking about Jack, either clients mentioning him and gushing how cute they were or how they met, or talking about the Villa captain might be moving away to Manchester United, YN just keeping quiet as she listened to everyone’s comment.

They didn't see each other till the weekend, when Villa had a game, YN wore his jersey and went to Villa Park to support the boys. She felt her heart in her throat as she saw him get clattered into and was left on the deck on the floor, she could tell he was hurt, luckily the ref stopped the game. She felt like she didn't breath until she saw him get up, he winced but managed to carry on in the game. After the game they both were at his house, YN showing some attention to his ankle, his eyes trained on her as she gave soft delicate touches.

‘Can you tattoo me..’ he mutters.

Her eyes meeting his as she looks at him questioningly, the two jumped in the car and drove down to the shop. He wanting her to free hand draw a heart on his ankle. She asked a few times if he was sure with him nodding and telling him to colour it in too. He noticed her hand shake slightly before she took a deep breath and started the tattoo gun, she looked at him again before leaning in and concentrated as he was going to have a piece of her art on him forever.

She looked at him and saw him wincing in pain, his thigh tight as she could see his muscles contracting. She decided she needed to get his mind off the pain

‘Do you feel the pressure to be the captain to your childhood club?’ YN asked.

He shook his head. ‘No I think I thrive with it’ he mentions.

She smiles as she wipes the tattoo. ‘How did you get into football?’

‘I think any boy gets thrown into football’ he smiles. ‘But I just wanted to be Gazza’ he explains. There was something about YN for Jack, where he thought he could just talk to her about anything and she wouldn't judge him like someone else would because they didn’t understand him. He felt safe with her and that kind of scared him.

A few weeks had past and just like YN said the tattoo was coming alone nicely, YN and Jack are still at the awkward ‘what are we’ point, both set of friends kept trying to get them to ask the other one out and questioning ‘what is the worst that could happen?’ and for them both they both couldn't help but think what if they had read signs wrong. It was only really behind closed doors and when they were alone when they would show any affection to each other, when they were around anyone else they just casually flirted with each other.

It was a nice summers day when YN suggested they should go on a bike ride and have a little picnic together. Jack invited his sisters as they enjoyed the day together.

YN was laying on the blanket as Jack was watching his sisters mess about, Jack gently leaned down and kissed her.

‘I like the new hair colour’ he smiled as he gently played with her hair, as he noticed his two sisters watching them.

He had already got a grilling from the two of them, they were getting attention from his fans, a few of them turning up at her store, having to stop with her clients with a few people wanting to know if she was dating Jack. She didn't understand how people even knew where she worked, because she kept her IG separated from the business IG. A few just choosing her just to spent a few minutes with her. He knowing this was all new to her and was probably scary, he kissed her again with their lips moving perfectly insync with eachother, the two not caring about the pressure or anything else in the world when they were with eachother.

#tattooed heart #jack grealish imagines #jack grealish blurbs #jack grealish

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thegeekyblondegirlwholovesstars · 4 years ago

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Coming Home Part Three

JJ x Reader

Warnings: Most parts of this series will only go as far as the show does, however, in this part there is be sexual assault and trauma.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list :) and thank you for reading I hope you enjoy!!💖

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

5 years later

You closed your eyes and let the salty breeze rush over your face. This familiar feeling caused every muscle in your body to relax. You drew in a breath as you shuffled out of your sandals and curled your feet, taking in the sensation of the sand between your toes. Just as you were about to take a step forward and run down to the ocean that you had missed so much your aunt called from the balcony.

“Honey it’s almost nine you have to log on to your class”

You nodded, turning back to the sea and shuffling back into your sandals. As you started to walk back up to the new house on Figure Eight that you now shared with your aunt and uncle you muttered under your breath “How did I get here?”

Under devastating circumstances you returned to the outer banks about a month ago. Seven months ago your parents were killed by a drunk driver on their way home from a date night. Shattering your heart and turning your life upside down for the second time in the sixteen years you had been alive. The death of your parents left your aunt and uncle to be your legal guardians. They allowed you to finish out your junior year of high school, but decided they should move “the family” to a place that was more familiar to you. So they bought a house through a real estate agent named Rose Cameron and once school finished in June you were supposedly coming home to the outer banks. However, your aunt and uncle were extremely successful accountants and unlike you and your parents did not have to work two jobs to make ends meet. Their money meant that you were actually the closest and the farthest from home you had ever been. Sure you were back in the outer banks but instead of your real home on the cut with the Pogues you were now living in figure eight, technically a kook, and had to do summer work to ensure your place at the kook academy in the fall.

The night you got to the outer banks, your real estate agent Rose, who was now a good friend of your aunt’s, insisted on having you at Tanny Hill for dinner. Barely awake after the flight, stressed out of your mind at everything you had to do, and hollow from the loss of your parents and the feeling of being so close yet so far from your best friends you went to your room to get dressed for dinner. Your room had been set up for you before you arrived, it was arranged to mimic the way you had set up your room back in Rhode Island but the space felt the same way you did, empty and isolated. Grabbing a pink polka dot sundress from your massive closet you slid off your sweats and as you slipped into your dress you had a realization. “The pogues won’t want to see me now that I’m a kook.” Fighting back tears at what was your new reality you ran you hands through your long hair and headed to meet the Cameron’s. The dinner was delicious and the Cameron’s seemed to be nice enough. They had a daughter your age, Sarah, who you got along well with. They also had a son Rafe, who was older than you but didn’t take his eyes off you all night. You blushed coyly as you weren’t used to this kind of attention from boys. After dinner that night he offered to take you on a tour of the house and before you left he asked you on a date. You accepted figuring you should start anew and deciding he would be a nice distraction from your longing to see John B, Pope, and most of all JJ.

You were just about to sit down at your desk when your phone buzzed. You retrieved it off your bed and opened it to a text from Rafe:

Rafe😚

Good morning sexy, there’s a kegger tonight at the boneyard. I’ll be picking you up at 3. Good luck with your school work and I’ll see you tonight.

Gm Rafe. Thank you, I’ll see you then!:)

You cringed slightly at his chosen nickname for you. Yet he was sweet, most of the time, and you guys weren’t even official yet so you brushed it off, sat down at your desk, and opened your laptop to begin what you privately called your “kookwork”.

Glancing over at your clock you realized it was 1:30. So you finished up and turned in your last assignment for the day before you began to get ready for the kegger. Before getting in the shower you sat down on your window seat and glanced out the window to see Pope walking down your street. He wore a “Hawards” shirt and carried groceries. You jumped up ecstatic but just as you were about to reach for the handle and open the window, you remembered what you had become. Ignoring the pang in your heart you jumped in the shower and began getting ready.

The mirror reflected a you that you didn’t recognize. You wore a tight white crop top and a jean skirt with brown Ralph Lauren sandals that your aunt had bought you. You straightened your long and normally wavy hair while your face was naturally made up, but your freckles hidden. Glancing down at your wrist you were grounded. On your wrist you wore a gold bracelet with mini shells on it, this was what your parents had given you for your 16th birthday and you wore it every day in memory of them and as a way of keeping them with you. Also on your wrist was several string bracelets your school friends from RI had made for you before you left. In addition to these tokens of friendship, was your most sacred and prized possession, a bracelet that you hadn’t taken off since the night it was given to you five years ago. It was JJ’s bracelet.

You looked up from glancing at your wrist as there was a knock at your bedroom door.

“Come in!”

“Rafe is here!” your uncle said after cracking your door open enough to see you standing in front of your mirror.

“Y/n, sweetheart, don’t you look beautiful. Patty come take a look at your niece.”

“Oh honey bee!!” your aunt squealed as she pushed past where your uncle was leaning on the door, almost knocking him over. She embraced you and then smoothed your hair down.

“Thank you Auntie.” you blushed.

“Mhmm.” your uncle cleared his throat as to say what about me?

“Thank you Uncle.” you turned to him and smiled. “Thank you both, for everything”

“You don’t have to keep thanking us sweetheart. It’s the least we could do after everything you’ve been through.”

You smiled as your uncle chimed in, “Well are you going to keep that boy waiting?”

“Noo...” you said grabbing your phone and turning the light off as the three of you headed out of your bedroom and down the stairs. You opened the door to see Rafe shifting his glance down to you and smiling.

“Hey” he said his jaw agape as he took in your appearance.

“Hey”

“You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” you returned his smile, “you look spiffy RC” you said he opened the door to his truck for you.

“Thank you y/n, you look absolutely smoking.”

You laughed at his remark, “Thank you! Let’s get to the boneyard.”

The drive was mostly filled with silence and some singing because Rafe had played your favorite song during the short drive to the boneyard.

“Is Sarah going to be there?” you asked.

“Yeah but she’s gonna be hanging with her fucking Pogue boyfriend. I don’t want you talking to them, so don’t go looking for her.” He spat his jaw tensing and his hand gripping your thigh much harder than he had been before.

“Ow, Rafe!” You flinched pulling your leg away from his grasp.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean too.” He responded pulling his truck into a parking spot near the boneyard.

“It’s okay.” You sighed, your leg red and already bruising, you wondered how you were going to explain that to your aunt tomorrow. You lifted your head up to look at him before getting out of the truck.

“What’s your problem with pogues anyways?”

“I DO-“ he corrected his voice and restrained his temper saying “I don’t want to talk about it right now. Let’s just go have a nice night, I’ll go get our drinks you meet Top by the lifeguard chair.”

“Okay” you nodded and mustered a weak smile as you opened the passenger door and started down towards the beach with Rafe.

You were sitting on top of the lifeguard tower, it was much later now. On the verge of midnight you guessed judging by the way that the tide began to rip back away from the shore. You had only had three drinks and were a little buzzed at most. You were never one for drinking unless it was wine or a margarita, you preferred smoking. At this point you hadn’t seen Rafe or Topper for hours. You kept entertained by chatting with some tourons but stayed away from the main area of driftwood, eyes scanning for Rafe and your heart hoping Sarah would come find you. You stole a glance toward the ocean and then towards the fire and driftwood. That was when you saw him. A figure you could never mistake for another. His messy blonde hair was illuminated by the moonlight, you glanced next to him to see Sarah, her arms wrapped around it couldn’t be... “John B” you muttered to yourself “JJ” you smiled.

“What was that sexy?” Rafe boomed. Suddenly standing in the sand below you.

“Nothing, I- I thought I saw something. Where have you been?”

“It doesn’t matter where I’ve been. I want to know what you said.” Rafe demanded.

“I said it was nothing.”

“Yeah alright. I bet.” He scowled as he grabbed you down from the lifeguard tower.

“Rafe. Rafe you’re hurting me!” you scolded.

“I heard what you said. How do you know the names of those pogues? Huh? Do you have something to tell me?” He shouted tightening his grip on you and pulling you towards a hidden alcove in the wall of rock that surrounded the boneyard.

“No. I don’t know what your talking about.”

He stopped dead in his tracks causing you to jolt forward into his arms. He pulled you upright and whispered threateningly into your ear. “Is that so. If you’re not going to tell me what I want to hear. You’re going to show me what I want to see.”

“NO RAFE.” You screamed hot tears were burning down your cheeks now as you realized what he meant. “Please you’re drunk. STOP.”

Once you had reached the alcove, he turned you around and slammed you against the wall. Causing you to shriek in pain. He covered your mouth. Muffling you’re struggle against him.

“Listen. I’m trying to make you the princess of the kooks. But you’re here, by my invitation and you mutter the names of pogues you never met.” he slapped you across the face as you let out a deafening sob. “That doesn’t make much sense now does it s e x y.”

You cringed at the name you hated and continued to struggle against Rafe’s grasp on you.

“You even look like a Pogue with these stupid bracelets.” He grabbed your hand and ripped each one of them off of you throwing them into the sand.

You screamed in agony from his hold on you and from the feeling of your heart breaking as he ripped off the bracelet that your parents had gotten you and then the ones your friends had made and then you struggled the most as he pulled off JJ’s bracelet. That bracelet symbolized every promise you had ever made to JJ and watching Rafe throw it aside out of your sight caused you to go limp as you screamed “NO RAFE STOP M- MY... SOMEONE HELP. HELP!!”

He ignored your cries and sobs, pushing you back against the rock wall so hard you felt the skin of your back break. With you trapped he began to slide his hand up your skirt and begin to stroke your thigh, higher and higher. Before he could undo the top button on your skirt he was suddenly gone from in front of you.

You stumbled away from the wall crumpled to the ground. You tried to look for your bracelets but the burning pain from your now bleeding back and bruised wrists kept you from crawling forward. Through the tears streaming down your face you saw a blur of long dark curly hair.

In a comforting voice the girl said “Hey hey you’re okay. My name is Kie. We heard you screaming from down the beach. What happened? Did he hurt you?”

Between sobs you nodded and turned to reveal your back, the previously clean white shirt was now red with blood.

“Oh my god we need to get you some help. I know where we can bring you.”

“No. NO. He th- threw my b- bra- bracelets in the sand. I need to find them!” You cried you voice was hoarse from screaming and weak from the shock.

“Okay. Umm I’ll help you look. What do they look like?”

“There’s a gold one w- with small gold shells, four string bracelets, and one is made of lea- leather and i- it has th- threE beads o- sea gl- sea glass.”

You and Kie sifted through the sand and you found each of your bracelets except for JJ’s. At this point you didn’t know what had happened to Rafe. You didn’t care. You were just relieved to be free of him and in this moment all you cared about was getting JJ’s bracelet back on your wrist. A few minutes had passed now and you felt like you were about to collapse, you began sobbing harder and uncontrollably, unable to find JJ’s bracelet. Kie came over to you and hugged your head, careful not to touch your back so she didn’t hurt you. She smoothed your hair and comfortingly whispered to you “Shhh we’ll find it. Don’t worry. Take a deep breath, let’s keep looking we need to get you some help as soon as we find it okay.”

You nodded, pulling out of Kie’s embrace, you were now breathing steadier and the two of you began to look once again.

Not even twenty seconds had passed before you heard an unmistakable voice say. “Y/n? Is that you!?”

You turned to see JJ not ten feet from you. Holding the bracelet.

If anyone ever needs anything, wants to give me feedback, or just wants to chat about fandoms please message me and let’s be friends:))

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@tangledinsparkles @hopelesswritingxd @im-a-stranger-thing @jenahbell

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years ago

Text

Depths: For All Those Below Part 2: Call it a Guillotine

Michael runs across something he maybe shouldn’t have seen. But he ends up making an unlikely friend. Now it’s been a year since Sela had to leave abruptly and she returns in almost just as strange circumstances that they first met. Michael’s happy, but he wonders--will she stay?

Mermaid/Siren AU. Black!OC. Read Part One Here.

Enjoy my masterlist.

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________________________

Michael watches as the dogs take off. Their tags twinkle as they race down to the water’s edge. He whistles once they get too far and South is the first to pull back on speed and turn to the command. Moose keeps pushing along but when Michael calls out her name, she spins around, paused as she pants waiting for Michael to catch up. “I get it. Beach’s exciting,” he teases as he catches up.

Moose is fearless and she closes in right at the edge of the edge right as the wave comes in. She lets out a small yip before backing up from the water. Southy is more than content to stand up near Michael. Though the sand is compacted thanks to the water that’s already saturated it, and for a moment Michael swears he’s sinking into the squishy ground, South doesn’t seems to be too upset about it. They sniff around and catch waves back into the oceans, their barks signaling to Michael how far or how close they are.

He knows he should be paying a bit more attention, making sure that none of them get too close to a jellyfish or eat anything they shouldn’t. But it’s the water--it always captures his attention. He shouldn’t be looking. He’s miles away from the villa that he first met Sela at--but it doesn’t matter to him if he’s honest. He could be halfway across the country and if he’s near some body of water, he watches. Michael listens for the plop, waits to see if there’s a ripple out there in the depths. In Italy, he stayed at the water’s edge for so long, he nearly watched the sun come back up. If it hadn’t been for Ashton’s 3 AM text about waking up super early from his sleep and wanting to pater about the area the hotel was in, Michael would’ve seen how the sky turned orange at the beach.

Even from this vantage point, Michael can’t see anything. Though he didn’t really suspect it. It’s too early in the day. There are still family’s with their umbrella’s dug into the sand and kids still building sandcastles. But he thinks maybe she would. Maybe Sela would risk it for him just to give him a sign. And quite possibly, it’s just wishful thinking. There’s no ripple. No plop to alert Michael. So he brings his gaze back to his dogs and whistles out when they get too far, too rowdy.

Michael only lets them run rampant for a couple hours. It’s when Southy plops down next to him on his seat that he knows it’s probably about time to head home. “C’mon, Moose, it’s time to go.”

She doesn’t give in too easily and hops just a little to egg Michael into play. He knows that tactic and stands his ground. “Oh, no, you can’t get me like that.” Moose tries it a couple more to extend her stay but ultimately when Michael doesn’t give in, she bows just a little and allows the leash to be grasped and trots alongside Michael back up the sandy shores to the car.

“What about a treat?” Michael asks as they pull out of the parking lot of the beach. The dogs perk up and he laughs. That always seems to do the trick.

It’s just as Michael pulls into the driveway of his house that he notices the clouds are starting to look a little more gray than they did before and there are more clouds than there were just a mere hour or so before. He can’t remember if the weather was supposed to take a turn today or not. But he’s glad he’s home now before it gets any worse.

The dogs paws click against the hardwood floor and he knows the next couple of hours will be hell thanks to bath time but Michael would rather both of them have gotten some energy out at the beach before attempting this at the top of the day. And at every pass of the window in the house, Michael peers out to the sky. It’s definitely getting darker and definitely looks like it’s going to rain. He makes note to keep an eye out on the weather more in the coming days. Just to see if it’s something happening.

“Oh, God,” Michael laughs, spitting as Moose shakes out her fur. He was already covered in water, but he’d rather his clothes be wet and not his face. “Moose,” he giggles. “Now I need a bath.”

South jumps out of the way of his sister’s spray but still manages to catch some sprinkles to the face. His displeasure is clear on his face as he backs up and sits on his haunches, front paws lifting just slightly. “Yeah, I know, Southy,” Michael states. “She’s got quite the range.”

Once both dogs are cleaned, Michael turns to laundry, needing to wash the towels used for the dogs. He carries the armful to the laundry room and the moment his foot crosses the threshold, a clap of thunder echoes. “Yikes,” he mutters to himself. Towels are deposited and just as the top the washing machine closes, Michael thinks he hears a knock. He’s not sure thanks to the echoing thunder and the blanket of rain now falling. But he decides to check it out anyway.

As the washing machine whirs to life next to him, Michael pads back up the front of the house. The peephole doesn’t show a body--not in the darkening shadows of the rain and clouds. It could be nothing. Could’ve just been thunder and his brain playing tricks on him. But Michael cracks open the door for just a moment. Nothing sits on the porch, nothing on the door. He can’t even find a shadow running from the door, or a bush shaking.

Possibly it was his own brain playing tricks on him. Stepping back inside, Michael closes the door and watches it for a moment. Maybe another knock will come. Maybe something will happen. And he knows part of it is his hope. It’s going to be his demise. But even if it is, Michael would be happy to let it destroy him. She was right all those months ago, but now as Michael thinks about it, it was past a year. How that had happened is beyond him. Things were moving faster than he could keep up with.

Maybe that’s why she hadn’t resurfaced. She was attempting to save him even if it was killing him slowly. Michael would’ve drowned himself in the depths just to keep her close. And she wasn’t even fully human. Though, she was human enough. She was human enough for Michael and that’s all he needed. All he needed was her promise that she would meet him again.

It’s a cold snout against his ankles that causes Michael to tear his gaze away from the door. South peers up at him and then looks behind him, down the winding hallways. The only thing down there is the door that opens to the backyard. “Bud, you gotta go out?” Michael asks.

It’ll be a mess, but Michael concedes and find some shoes suitable to get wet in the downpour. Michael shuffles along, peering into the corner of the living room where the dog’s toys are and Moose is curled up on her bed and seems all too content to rest her head on the top of the octopus sneak toy. At the backdoor, Michael pushes it open and instead of South scurrying out of it, he hides behind Michael’s legs.

“What’s up? I thought you needed to go out?” South’s whimper is Michael’s only response. Michael peers down behind him. “Is it because it’s raining? We can use the pads in the garage.” Michael slides the door back close and turns back up the hallway but doesn’t fully walk up to the living room. He stops halfway up the hallway and cracks open the door.

There’s no South behind him. Michael peers back down the hallway and finds South still staring out at the backdoor. “Southy, c’mon. Got the door open for you,” Michael calls out. South doesn’t move, doesn’t hardly even glance back to the sound of Michael’s voice.

“Okay, seriously, what’s up? You gotta go or not?” Michael calls back out followed by a whistle. South turns to the sound and then whimpers as he trots closer to Michael. He peers behind himself yet again. “Okay, South. What’s up?” Michael closes the door to the garage and heads back to the back door.

The click of paws let’s Michael know he’s moving in the right direction however he’s still not sure what has caused the small dog to be so scared. “Talk to me buddy, what’s going? Huh? Scared of the storm?”

Michael keeps his gaze on South’s body as they travel back towards the door. There are low growls shaking his body as they get closer. And it’s with furrowed brows that Michael glances back up. Through the sheets of rain, sitting on the edge of his pool is a figure. His heart races and he instinctively picks up South. “What the fresh hell?” he whispers.

He turns and scurries back down the hallway to find his phone. He’s gotta call someone--the police possibly. Michael’s not sure if it’s a fan or not, but even if it was, he’s sure they’d be standing directly at the door and not with their feet dipped into his pool and most definitely not sitting in the rain. However, with a racing heart and fingers shaking, Michael spies his phone face down in the cushions of the couch. He tucks South into the mountain of blankets peers down the hallway to see if the figure has moved any closer to the door.

From his spot all he can see is the rain and some of the wall. So with the phone pressed up into his palms he slinks closer, using the wall that was partially obstructing his view as cover to peer around. They’re swinging their legs out of the pool and it’s only in this moment that Michael spies something forming, changing from one massive collective unit into something separate--two legs.

“Sela?”

Barreling down the hallway, Michael tears open the back door and stand on his deck. He watches for a moment as the figure stands. From the higher point, they don’t look too tall but something in Michael’s gut jumps, something tells him it’s her.

“Did you knock at my door?” Michael calls out, pushing his now soaked hair out of his eyes.

“No, I didn’t.”

It’s the sound of her voice, the icy blue eyes. All his words leave him. He blinks, rapidly,testing to see if that makes her disappear. Michael has incorrectly conjured her up before. He’s imagined her to be standing at the end of the bread aisle and brushing along his arm in the spice section. He’s wanted nothing more than to find Sela standing in the mall, ordering a pretzel because then it would make her human. It would make her so utterly human that she couldn’t run away from him again. He imagined her sitting next to him in the studio as he lays the guitar for another track and he conjured her sitting beside one of the guys as they practiced for the tour and argued about the setlist.

But that’s all it’s ever been, a figment of his imagination. It’s all his own mind wanting her to come back so badly that it tricked itself. But even when Michael squeezes his eyes shut, whispering to himself, “You’re okay. You’re at home. You just took Moose and South out to the beach. You got them both a pup-iccino. You gave them both a bath. You’ve got the towels in the washing machine. You’re safe. You’re home.”

However after two deep exhales and opening his eyes, Michael’s still standing out in the middle of the rain with Sela standing in front of him. “You’re--you’re actually real? In front of me?”

Sela’s strides are long. Michael notes it’s not just a dress she’s in this time. There’s a very poor excuse of a rain jacket covering her upper body, though the skirt of the dress looks all too familiar. Sitting on the ground next to where she was, are a pair of shoes. No doubt they’re soaked now thanks to the rain. “How did you find me?” Michael asks, watching her climb up the steps to the deck. “And why not knock? You literally scared the shit out of me.”

“Are you really going to ask a creature like me how I found you?” she asks it with a bit of a smirk. “Have you forgotten what I am? What I do?”

“No,” Michael answers in an exhale. His fingers twitch, an ache to reach out and touch her, really make sure she’s real.

“To answer the second part of your question, I didn’t knock because I hadn’t had the nerve. So I came around the back.”

Michael peers around his backyard, the fence and privacy hedges he has up. “So you fucking scaled my fence?”

“It’s not as hard as you think it to be.”

“And you-you just hung out? In the rain?”

Sela shrugs. “Water doesn’t bother me. I wasn’t-wasn’t sure if you were going to be receptive. I was going to leave. Let you have peace.”

“But you promised me you’d come back.”

“I would’ve kept the promise,” she assures, gently taking his hand. Her hold is firm, squeezes at the bones in his fingers. “Just would not have been today.”

A tingle runs up Michael’s arm, flutters across his chest at her touch. She’s real. Like really real and in flesh as much as she can be in front of him. Michael searches her eyes, the slow blink and something swirls--a bit of milky white in the icy blue and her skin almost feels just a little slimy but still like he remembers. “Let’s get inside,” he breathes and then turns back towards the door.

“I-I shouldn’t stay long,” Sela calls out, allowing herself to be pulled along by Michael. His shoes sloosh and squish on the hardwood floor. She doesn’t move too far from the door. Michael drops her hand to find more clean towels.

The kitchen is pristine mostly white with silver accents and a bit of black sprinkled in. She looks over to the time on the clock and microwave. She can see pictures and notes stuck to the fridge by magnets. She takes in the houseplants in the windows. His whole life has continued on from what she can tell. She almost ran into him once late at night three weeks ago. She had been doing patrols, lapping through when she came up to the shores of the Santa Monica pier. Michael was there with some friends for the carnival and Sela stayed pretty far out, knowing the pier is pretty active, full of people, even at night. Which makes it a prime hunting territory for any rogue creatures, so whenever Sela’s in town she makes sure to pay extra attention to the area.

He looked happy, laughing in the dazzling neon lights of the pier. Sela watched for maybe too long as he and his friends stood about, eating god knows what that late at night. And in that time, for the hour or two that she was able to see him, Sela wondered if she should attempt to keep that promise she made a year ago. Not that she thought Michael had forgotten her, but more like she wondered if Michael deserved more; if he deserved not having to deal with her again. And he did. He deserved to invest himself in someone that would be worth it. Someone he would live out his life with and it was seeing him on the pier that Sela remembered why she always approached humans with caution. They weren’t a kind she could sustain getting mixed up with.

“Sela, you alright?” Michael’s voice is close now, and turning her attention from the immaculate state of his kitchen, Sela blinks to take in Michael’s appearance. The sweatshirt clinging to his body from the rain that’s soaked it.

“I’m okay,” she returns, spying the towel in his outstretched hand. “Oh, I really, I really can’t stay long.”

“This isn’t the beach. You cannot stand here drenched.”

“I’ll just get wet again when I leave. It’d be a waste.”

Michael inhales sharply. He hadn’t read that between the lines of what she was saying. He knew she wouldn’t be staying long but part of him hoped that the more he insisted on getting her dry it would wield her on staying until the rain let up. And they didn’t know how long that would be--though Michael knew it wouldn’t take too long. Sela had to duck out once before and for the sake of his own sanity, he’s not going to let her run out again, not without knowing that he did what he could to cherish the moments they had.

“Not if you stay until the weather breaks,” he counters.

“Are you-are you sure? Could be hours. And I don’t want to intrude.”

Even though Michael had imagined what it would be like for Sela to come back, to randomly show up at the grocery store, or knock at his front door, the question that still lingered in the back of his head was whether or not she would stay. And in this moment, watching her trying to soften the blow, trying to keep herself still at a distance was all the answer Michael would need. Sela will always have to leave.. She can’t stay here with him.

“Doesn’t matter,” Michael answers. “Hours or not, I want to actually talk to you. Hear more stories about you being Overseer. Tell you about my dogs and all the random things that have happened.”

Sela wants to apologize. She wants to say sorry for not being able to stay longer and she’s sorry for thinking this would be easier. But instead, she nods. She takes hold of the towel and nods. “Okay.”

Michael leads her to the guest bedroom with an attached bath and then excuses himself to his bedroom to shower and changed into clean clothes too. He finishes first and switches the towels previously washed into the dryer and tosses his soaked clothes in but waits to start the cycle until Sela finishes. He stands in his kitchen, two glasses of water at the ready but unsure if he should offer food. But soon the debate of what to offer is overshadowed by his curiosity. What had she gotten into in the year she had been away? Was she in Italy at any point? Could they have crossed paths sooner but just hadn’t known it?

And if they had, if they had met sooner what would have that looked like? Would it feel like less pressure? It could’ve all been happenstance, a coincidence of the universe. But not right now. Right now, Sela had found him. She had almost knocked on his front door and if it weren’t for South, she probably would’ve slipped away and he would’ve never known. This would’ve been one of the universes almost.

Barks sound and Michael snaps his attention up and scurries from the kitchen to the hallway. Sela stands with her clothes and towel in hand, dawned in one of his t-shirts and sweatpants. The dogs are at her feet, sniffing and jumping to get attention. “I’m sorry,” Michael rushes out. He had tucked them away when he initially brought Sela inside but no doubt they got bored and he hadn’t really locked anything so they were no doubt going to get out sooner rather than later.

Sela’s crouched now as MIchael approaches and gently rubs the top of Moose’s head. “No, no need to apologize.”

Michael takes her clothes and starts the wash finally. When he returns, he finds her now sitting in the hallway, Moose climbing into her lap and South keeping off to the side but still seemingly intrigued. Sela laughs, head turned to the side exposing her cheek to Moose’s tongue. “So that’s Moose,” Michael laughs. “A bit more energetic compared to South.”

“South I suspect is the one that spotted me because they seem very worried.”

“In all honesty, South’s not a huge fan of a lot of people. But he’s sweet once he warms up to ya.”

Sela nods and manages to get Moose wrapped into a hug before turning back to Michael. There’s a sparkle in his eyes and she nearly thinks to tell him not to think like that, whatever thought he has he should stop it. Part of her suspected that coming back was maybe a bad idea. But she had given Michael and promise and the last thing she wanted to do was fall through on it. The last thing she wanted Michael to think of her was a liar--she was surely many other things, but not a liar.

“How’d you even get here? Like on land? It’s the middle of the day.”

“Came up to land last night.”

“Last night? Where did you stay?”

“I have some old friends in the area.”

Michael pauses for a moment, tilting his head to the side. Were there people like her that could be human or in their human form indefinitely? But Sela had said she couldn’t be human for long. Was it linked to her position, could she not stay human for long because she’s Overseer? However before he can ask any of the questions crossing his mind, Sela continues on.

“Some old sailors I helped once and they owed a few back favors. So they let me spend the night with them.”

“Sailors you say?” Michael starts, slipping down and sitting next to Sela on the floor of his hallway. South approaches a little closer to the both of them at the sight of Michael staying close by. “So you don’t just help unsuspecting good looking humans on the beach?”

Sela gazes over to Michael and spies the teasing grin on his lips. “She was in the wrong place, helping you was a side effect.” The sentence leaves her with a bit of a smile creasing her lips, but she manages to cover it back up.

“Oh, kill a man’s ego why don’t you?”

“I can. Easily. Besides, this was well before you were born. There was a crew known to be dangerous and impulsive. They didn’t really care what they could take, if they felt like they wanted it they would go after it. They wanted a second ship to send out for more supplies and I assume drop off some shipments for payment. The sailors I helped had been young at the time and were just learning the seas when the attack happened. What that villainous crew hadn’t known is that the ship they attacked had a few friends of the deep. We had just finished meeting. I was lingering close to the surface. But I had gotten a ways out. However, I could hear cannons firing. Didn’t know what it was., so I came up to see what the commotion was.”

“And let me guess that’s all you needed to do. Before noticing the crew you were close with were under fire.”

“Exactly,” Sela comments. Moose drops a squeaky toy into her lap and she holds it out for Moose to give it a tug. “The captain was badly injured but most of the crew made it out fine. Those sailors pledged their loyalty and you’d think those old men would forget seeing as they nearly forget everything else, but they do not. They remember.”

Michael hums before speaking. “I can speak from experience even if you had never shown yourself again on that beach, I wouldn’t have forgotten you either.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t have. Not like I looked like some dainty mermaid from your movies.”

It’s as she mentions the mermaids that Michael remembers how she hadn’t just dropped her legs into the water or the way her skin hadn’t just been cold thanks to the rain. “Does any amount of water make you turn? Your fin earlier,” he adds softly.

“I can control it, to a certain extent. Earlier I was just letting go. But yes, in the water it’s easier to turn. Less effort since this form is only ever temporary.”

“When did you find out you could turn?”

“I was created. Or more like, I was turned. Becoming Overseer is an entire process. I was given a human form out of necessity. Some of the creatures I watch over also have a human counterpart and I need to be able to keep up with them as well. I needed to be able to blend in outside of the water.”

“But you can’t do it for long?”

“No,” she admits. “Can’t stay like this for long. It’s taxing, physically. Powers come with a cost.”

Michael nods noticing now her hair which was down is now tied up. Like she normally did during their secret rendezvous. He wishes he had noticed it in more detail earlier, to see if it was longer, if anything had changed. But this close it feels like nothing really has, except time and place. “It does, I’m sure. Are you hungry?”

Moose gives a particularly tough tug on the toy but Sela manages to keep balance and laughs. She turns to Michael with a shake of her head. “No, I’m not hungry. Thank you though.”

He nods. “Of course, no problem.”

“So, tell me. What is like being a rockstar?”

“Oh, it’s nothing too exciting.”

“I am sure it’s plenty exciting. Tell me.” So, Michael tells her--about the stops on the tours and the nights on stage, and the jetlag, and the stupid bits that they did backstage to entertain themselves and the times he ventured around new cities, and cities that aren’t new because he’s been there before but feel new because he’s never quite had enough time in them.

They venture from the hallway to the living room. Michael brings out some snacks, mostly just in case she’s hungry and only partially for himself. South climbs up to the couch in Michael’s absence, only to change the load of laundry over to the dryer. But in this moment, South ventures up close to Sela, snout pressing into her arm. “I promise I’m not scary--well not like this I’m not.”

South doesn’t stay too close but the small moment is something that she’ll definitely cherish. When Michael returns, he tries not to look out of the window. The white noise of rain falling in sheets doesn’t fill his house anymore. He knows what that means. He almost wills it to rain again, to pick back up and not be done unless until sunset, at least a few more hours with her. For now though, he has the dryer, though it won’t take long. But he carries on to the living room, noticing Moose curled up in her lap and does not want to admit that for a fleeting moment he almost thinks to ask if she can spend the night, if she can push it one more day for him. Would that be fair? Should he be selfish like that?

“A movie while the clothes dry?” Michael offers. Low stakes and it does give him a little extra time.

“If you’d like,” Sela returns. However, the movie becomes background noise for Michael. He pays more attention to the way she curls up on the couch, legs tucked under her or the way she drops her head back just a little when she laughs hard. It’s a movie that he’s seen a thousand times and he’d rather watch her, rather commit to memory the way her brows slope or her lips curl.

And Michael really shouldn’t even be doing that. All it does is bring back the memories of when she left and even in Michael’s slightly buzzed state he still remembers what it was like to kiss her. His lips tingle at the memory and it’s only at that sensation that he turns back to the TV, turns back to the reality of the situation. Sela will be leaving him again and he wonders if it would even be worth it to promise to meet again. Possibly the universe deciding is better than the expectations or the temptation to hang out on the beach late in the night for the hope of a glimpse. At least thing, Michael can only curse the universe and not try to guess where she’ll be.

The dryer signals it’s finish of the cycle and Michael looks down the hallway, watching as Moose clicks down the hallway. “Do you not want to watch this movie?”

Michael blinks, shaking his head for a moment. “No, it’s not that. I-I do love this movie.”

There’s a hum and even though Michael hasn’t said it, Sela gently rests her hand on his arm and it’s as if he did. “I can stay for the rest of this and one more.”

Michael wraps his hands around hers and reclines into the cushions. “I’d like that. After that I can give you a ride. Wherever you need to go.”

“Thank you.”

True to form, Sela stays through the rest of the one movie and when it ends, Michael extends the invitation to her to choice the next film. It’s with a sheepish grin that she admits to never really watching movies. “I spend most of my time in the water, so haven’t got much need for film, or cable.”

Michael’s cheek heat in embarrassment. Why had he not considered that fact prior to now he will never know. So he picks another one, one from his childhood that he’s shocked is available on any streaming platform. But it’s nice just to sink into the cushions and Sela doesn’t shy away from him. She settles in even more and all he can think about is just how fucking normal it all feels.

Sela’s not sure when she even considered ducking her head onto his shoulder but it’s as the credits roll that she realizes now she did at some point. But she doesn’t shy away from it. Instead, she lingers just a moment longer. “I am glad that South spotted me,” she offers softly.

“I am too. Even if it gave me a heart attack.” There’s silence for a beat longer. “I should go check on the clothes,” he says softly. Sela lifts her head to let Michael stand but she does follow behind him to the laundry room.

The clothes aren’t super warm as they come out but they are dry. Sela watches at the door, peering at the shelves. The detergent all has a little slot on the shelf. It’s nice, and neat. Shocking that Michael would keep it this organized but a nice surprise. Sela takes her clothes and returns back to the guestroom. The t-shirt is the hardest piece to take off. It’s warm, yes, but Sela hadn’t realized how much Michael’s scent had speed into her nose and she didn’t want to give it up. She manages to pull it up and slip the dress back over her frame.

She remembers her shoes, but they’re no doubt still soaked. Softly padding to the backdoor, she finds her shoes and they’re heavy. “Figured as much.” Sela tosses them into the garbage bin nearby.

“Shoes got ruined?” Michael asks, noticing her on the deck.

“Yes. They were old anyway.”

“I can-we can make a stop to get new ones.”

Sela shakes her head. “Won’t matter.”

Michael nods and the two of them head to the front of the house. “Where are you headed? Back to the sailors?”

“Yes, please. I can give you directions.”

He laughs, finding his keys and phone. “That would be greatly appreciated.”

Inside the SUV, Sela directs him through the roads. The radio plays softly, strums of guitars and the raspy croon of lost love. Sela almost turns it off, but sits on her hands instead. They cruise down the roads and it feels like it’s an eternity. And no doubt it’s the silence that exists between them. It’s the fact that there is so much to say but yet neither one of them has said anything.“I’m sorry,” Sela blurts out, after directing Michael to the next turn.

“Sorry about what?”

“About this whole thing. I want you to know this is what I would’ve wanted for you. Me leaving like I did, or meeting you again like this. I do want you to have peace.”

Michael can feel his throat trembling. He’s thankful there’s a stop sign at the end of the block. “I-I do,” he returns simply.

“But I mean real peace. And I mean the satisfaction of living a life with someone.”

“That’s not the only satisfaction in life, you know?”

“It’s the one you deserve. And I am not saying this because I want to disappear from your life forever. I say this because you shouldn’t be chained to ideals, to what if’s that you know what happens. You should have the satisfaction of possibility.”

Michael takes the turn as Sela previously directed and keeps straight down the streets. It’s a residential area but he can tell he’s much closer to the water than he was at his place. He can see why she would probably pop up here. “There will also be more possibilities than we can ever imagine,” Michael counters and notices the street he’s on is a dead end. The irony, he thinks.

“Sure there will be. But that doesn’t mean you should be locked in on just one. Last house,” she directs.

Michael pulls up into the driveway and turns to face her. “What are you saying?”

“You know what I am saying,” she counters, still staring up at the red door of the house. “I can’t make any more promises. I’ll be around. I know we’ll run into each again. But I can’t make any more promises.”

“No more promises?” He shouldn’t make them either. Shouldn’t agree to them. But it doesn’t make hearing it any easier. Promises kept him up at night. Promises made him look at every body of water in anticipation. He thinks he spent more time in the last year praying than he ever had in his entire life combined.

“I saw you three weeks ago on the Santa Monica pier, during some late night patrols. You were with friends and you were laughing. And I could tell you were happy.”

“You saw me?” Michael tries to think back to that night. He had suggested the pier, purposefully looking for her. But he hadn’t even caught a glimpse of her. “I didn’t see you.”

“I kept hidden. It’s not like I can just pop up from the water like that to anyone.”

Michael will give her that. “So what happened? If you saw me three weeks ago on the pier, and you waited to prove what?”

“That you had moved on. To prove that my promise to meet you again was a mistake I had made because you would write me off.”

“But if you never showed yourself that night, what would’ve changed anything?”

“It was me,” she admits, finally turning her gaze to him. “I wanted to prove myself wrong. That you’d still remember me. And you did. You still remembered me, but I can’t do this. I can’t do this to you.”

“Can’t drag me down to those depths,” Michael states with a nod. He remembers when she told him that she only showed herself a second time because she knew, she knew then he wouldn’t have given up on her. She told him then he’d drag himself down into the depths just to get another glimpse to prove that she was real. And now, it was Sela. It was Sela dragging herself down, attempting to open gates that wouldn’t ever open to them. “And you can’t drag yourself through it either.”

“Please do not think I regret coming back up that night. I don’t regret our conversations. I just regret not being honest earlier, that we were heading down a path that would ultimately cut off.”

Working the tears back down and the shakes from his voice, Michael exhales deeply. “No, you have plenty of warning. I just don’t think we listened.”

“Never been too good at listening to orders,” Sela jokes.

“Been good at giving them though,” Michael returns with a tiny chuckle. The air around them fills with laughter for a moment.

“I can only be normal for moments. You deserve more than moments.”

“You deserve more than those too.”

Sela shrugs. “I don’t mind being what I am. I enjoy it. It’s just not easy.”

Michael leans across the console, hand cupping the back of her head and pressing noses together. “We’ve gotta stop saying goodbye like this.”

“Don’t call it a goodbye then.”

“Then what do we call it? If we’re not making promises, what is this?”

“Threats,” Sela laughs for a second. Michael exhales his laughter in a tuft and his lips softly brush over hers. Sela moves in closer, though it’s not much more space to go to seal his lips with hers in a gentle kiss. “We call them threats because we don’t know when or where we’ll meet again. We call it threats because this could be the last one but it always lingers,” she counters in a whisper.

“Call it a guillotine,” Michael answers. “Hangs above your head but you never know when it will drop.”

“Call it a guillotine,” Sela returns. Michael kisses her again and then pulls back into his seat. He hadn’t even noticed she had cracked open the door. In the starting setting sun, Sela almost looks ethereal as she walks up to the front door. She doesn’t stand but for a moment before it opens and Michael spots an older man with graying hair and beard peeking around.

They lock eyes, for a moment. The skin looks weathered, a scar right under the man’s eyes let’s Michael know that yes, Sela had not lied about a single thing about her living a life well before he had. It’s a subtle nod the man gives and Michael returns it before it shuts close. He knows he should peel down the driveway, he knows he should head back home. But for a moment he sits in his car, staring up at the red door. He thinks about what could be going on inside. Would those men even ask Sela where she had been? Who he was? They probably wouldn’t care. For all Michael knows, they are trading stories about the high seas and Sela’s preparing to disappear yet again.

It’s a few minutes as Michael sits in the car and finally decides to back down the driveway. Michael starts back down the dead end and he notices just out of the corner of his eyes something in the water. No other cars are coming so he stops in the middle of the way and climbs out, running to the edge of the asphalt and onto the grassy and rocky edges. He catches the glittering edge of something as it moves closer to the rocky edges.

Sela peeks just the top of her head out of the water, milky eyes and dark skin as the sun starts to to reflect just a little off the water clinging to her skin and hair. The sight should scare him--the razor sharp teeth and the way one of her hands rest on the rocks. “It is dangerous to stop in the middle of teh road like that, you know?”

“It’s dangerous for you to be playing on the rocky edge like that, you know?”

She grins, all her teeth showing for a moment. “Call it a guillotine.” She dips back beneath the surface and the only thing left behind is the soft plopping sound.

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fuwafuwagem · 4 years ago

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Crossfire

Chapters: 7/10 Rating: Explicit Relationships: Dabi/OC Additional Tags: Alcohol, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Oral Sex, Sex, Smut, Angst and Fluff and Smut

Read it on Ao3 here

Chapter Seven: Every Villain Has His Day

The address Giran had texted was for some dingy little back alley bar, and Dabi wished he were heading to Hoshiko’s bar instead, but he would go there later. Now, he had business.

Giran was standing outside of the building, a cigarette protruding from his lips, and a crazy looking blonde schoolgirl standing at his side.

“Good to see you again, Dabi,” he said. “Glad you made it.”

Dabi’s eyes narrowed as he gave the girl a once over, then he sighed. “Are we going in?”

Giran grinned and turned to the building in question. “Of course. Mr Shigaraki is waiting.”

***

Hoshiko glanced down at the shopping list Kisho had given her and sighed. The dreary afternoon was starting to get to her, and the bags in her hand were already weighing her down, but there was still more to pick up. She’d wanted to get everything at the big mall nearby, but when she’d arrived, the whole area was cordoned off and there was no chance of getting in, so she’d had to go to several smaller stores that were dotted around the town. She was grateful that the last few items she needed to buy were all cleaning products that she’d be able to get at the same store. It was a boring task, but at least she didn’t have to do it often, and Kisho always paid her for it.

She checked her phone as she browsed the shelves for what she needed. Dabi had promised to meet her at some point, but he’s had some of his own errands to carry out, and the look he’d given her begged her not to ask questions, so she didn’t. She hoped he would call her soon though. Hoshiko was craving coffee, and maybe something sweet, and also help carrying the bags she was accumulating. Her trip to the cashier added two more bags to her load, and she groaned as she exited the store. She toyed with the idea of just going for coffee on her own, but decided it might be easier to drop the bags off with Kisho at the bar first, then come back into town to meet Dabi when he was ready.

She set off in the direction of the bar with fantasies of caffeine and cakes and Dabi laying naked in her bed when she heard an unwelcome and familiar voice.

“Oi, I know you,” he called out. “You’ve got some nerve lurking ‘round here.”

Hoshiko took a deep breath and continued walking. She’d prove to Dabi that she wasn’t always looking to pick a fight.

“I’m talking to you!” he yelled angrily, and a massive hand swiped the bags right out of her arms.

She spun to face him, seething with fury, but his earthy body towered over her so much that it was hard to look intimidating in comparison. He loomed like a sheer cliff face, and he didn’t look as though he would play nice.

“No boyfriend to defend you this time?” he said with a foul smirk, and he flashed a set of teeth that looked like ragged stones.

“Just leave me alone,” Hoshiko spat. “I’m on my way to work.” She got on her knees and started to pick up the shopping he’d knocked out of her hands. Luckily, most of it was still in the bags. It wouldn’t take long to grab everything.

She wasn’t quick enough.

***

Dabi dialled Hoshiko’s number for the third time. It wasn’t like her not to answer straight away. He’d planned to meet her in town once he was free again, but if she wasn’t picking up …

He sighed, deciding to head to the bar. The one reason he could think of for why she wouldn’t take his calls was if she were busy helping Kisho. He walked the now familiar streets, through the park, past a cafe, over a one-way road, but it was the window of the electronics store that caught his eye. He’d seen it when the TV’s in the window had been broadcasting details of the Hero Killer’s arrest, but now it showed a different villain. One he was all too familiar with. And gripped in the villain’s large, earth-like hand was …

“Hoshiko!”

***

It was getting harder to breathe. Hoshiko had felt her ribs crack when her assailant had grabbed her tightly. He was far more aggressive than she had ever anticipated. She must have really pissed him off. He had grabbed her, slammed her body against a wall so hard she’d heard cracks in various places across both her body and the building behind her. She could barely hear what he’d been screaming in her face because her mind had become so clouded, but her lack of a reply must have agitated him further since now he was rampaging hard enough to have drawn out reporters and camera crews.

Hoshiko hung limply in his grip, with only one thought in her mind.

I’m so sorry … Dabi …

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #crossfire #dabi

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alleiradayne · 5 years ago

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Cowboys and Angels

A COCKLES X READER RPF SERIES

Filming for the last season of Supernatural is underway and Y/N, long-time set photographer, finds herself the center of attention for two of her co-workers, Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles. A roller-coaster of emotions ensues over the year as the three of them attempt to balance work, the end of an era, and experimental love.

Part VI - Sharing

Summary: After a less than stellar holiday break, Y/N returns to set with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Warnings/Tags: A lot of angst, with a tiny ray of hope. Characters/Pairings: Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins, Reader Word Count: 1,956 A/N: Once again, please assume everyone involved is consenting and polyamorous. No spouse hate. No wife hate. No Cockles hate. No Misha hate. No hate whatsoever. If you don’t like RPF, don’t read it, and don’t complain to me about it. Update: The oh-so-lovely @atc74 made this stellar aesthetic for me in hopes that it wouldn’t get the Tumblr Ban Hammer™. Let’s test it.

Days. Weeks. Then months. Like water from a sieve, the brief moments Y/N spent with Jensen and Misha—naked or otherwise—drained away. Too many fourteen-hour days. Too many sleepless nights. But that had not been her breaking point. No. Farm from it. At least at work, she might hold a long stare, linger too long in conversation, or merely savor their presence in silence. Hell, she might have even fucked in their trailers the two men that had irrevocably altered her life.

At least at work, they were together.

As Y/N stared at the unopened presents beneath her withering Christmas tree, she sighed. Holiday break had come and gone. No plans. No phone call. Not even a text. They hadn't even sent her anything. Not that she had held any sort of expectations. Given the whirlwind start to their relationship and their exhausting work schedules, they had hardly taken the time to talk much beyond work or the rules of their encounters. Small talk, sure. But never anything about plans. Forget the future.

But the future came and went. And during those few months, Y/N's worst fears plagued her restless mind. Too many questions lingered unanswered in the darkest recesses of her thoughts. She had imagined something that was not there, could never be there. Love was an entirely different game. What they had played was lust, gotten their fill, and were over it. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Even in the days leading up to their return to set, the mere thought of facing them again soured her stomach. Where the holidays had dragged, the last week had passed in a blur of days. Mired in the unknown, Y/N floundered. What had kept them from her? Why leave her so stranded?

By her final Sunday night off, she had worried her nerves down to frayed ends. So, when Y/N walked back on set the following morning, she was determined to find both Jensen and Misha to end whatever it was that they had shared.

Unless there was nothing to end. Maybe that was what they had wanted. A short time play partner to scratch a sudden itch. Nothing wrong with that. As much as she hated it, she could handle it.

The thud of her bag on the folding table echoed through the cavernous soundstage. Several eyes snapped to her, voices quieted and smiles fading. Of course, they all felt it. With seven episodes left to film, everyone felt the looming end of the show. But none of them felt it the way she did. None of them felt the love, the deep passion, and the betrayal she felt. She ignored them.

Much like she ignored the confident warmth that enveloped her shoulder. Misha had found her before she had even managed to set up shop.

“Hey, Y/N.”

When she turned to look at him, his inviting smile melted faster than snow in July. “Hey.”

“Okay, we need to ta—”

“There’s really nothing to talk about,” she interrupted. “Y'all needed something from me, now you don’t. Pretty fucking simple.”

“No, please—” he started, but she wrenched free of his embrace and returned to her task. When she remained focused there despite his insistence, Misha ran both hands through his hair as he looked across the soundstage as though searching for something. Or someone. “No, it’s not that simple at all. It’s incredibly complicated and we should have talked about it sooner. Let me—”

“You know, we could have done this before the holidays,” Y/N stated. “Or right after. While we were still on hiatus. I didn’t hear from either of you for a month and a half. Not even a text message to let me know you were okay.”

Misha grimaced. “I know, Y/N, and that was wrong. We should not have done that to you. We… did not plan on any of this. It wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to be long-term.”

She rounded on him then. “Then what was it supposed to be?! A fling?! A temporary fuck buddy?! What?!”

He waited. Bless his heart, he waited for her to finish her tirade. When she calmed, he said, “A lover. The intent was no one-night stand. There was never going to be anything temporary about this. Please, Y/N come with me. We’ll find Jensen and we’ll talk in my trailer.”

Suspicion narrowed her glare as she considered Misha out of the corner of her eye. When her bag sat empty on the folding table, Y/N turned to him and spoke.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Mirrors. Why did they have so many mirrors in their trailers?

Carbon copies of each other, Misha and Jensen’s trailers were nearly indiscernible. Except for their scent. Jensen’s smelled of heather, pine, and sea salt, whereas Misha’s smelled of leather and citrus. And on those distinct aromas rode memories, each more salacious than the one that preceded it.

As she sat on the couch and stared at the mirror beside the TV, those memories flooded her senses. Cold glass on her tits. Misha’s hand between her thighs as he torqued one arm behind her back. Her skirt shoved up over her hips. Underwear wrenched aside. And his cock pounding her pussy until she came.

It should have aroused her. Should have sent that familiar rush down her spine. But as she waited for Misha to return to his trailer, she felt nothing. A little anxious. But mostly nothing.

That thought settled in the resigned recesses of her mind the moment the trailer door crashed against the opposite wall and Jensen leaped over the threshold. Startled so, Y/N reared back and jumped from the couch. But when Jensen spotted her and their eyes met, all her doubts vanished.

In a rush of wind, he crossed the two steps between them. His massive hands slipped into her hair, cupped her head, and kissed her so tenderly, Y/N might have wept were it not for her surprise.

When he released her, Jensen remained close, so close his breath warmed her lips, her cheeks, and Y/N shivered despite the heat that swelled in his embrace. The moment lasted only that single breath, for Misha cleared his throat before he entered his trailer. The door clicked shut with a soft snap behind him as he stepped in, and he remained by the door with an expectant look on his face.

Jensen regarded him for a beat, then turned back to her. He even managed to frown prettily. Damn him. “I guess we're supposed to talk.”

“Jen.”

Y/N found Misha's stare darkened, serious as ever. “We do need to talk. Before this goes any further.

With a disgruntled sigh, Jensen dropped onto the couch beside her and took her hands in his. “I want to apologize first. For not staying in contact at all over break. That was... very disrespectful, considering our intentions.”

She glanced at Misha as she asked, “What are your intentions?” then returned to Jensen.

As though she balanced precariously at the edge of a cliff, Y/N waited with rapt attention, her wide eyes boring into his. And Jensen, bless his heart, stared back. Between his lips, his tongue slipped, wetting them before he spoke.

“To make this permanent.”

Permanent.

That word alone sounded odd as it echoed in her head. “Permanent,” she repeated. The weight of it slowed her speech, so heavy on her tongue. Undetermined seconds ticked by, so lost in her thoughts. She had anticipated this moment. But as she sat there in Misha’s trailer between Jensen and he, Y/N questioned her every thought, her every action, her every want since filming had started that season.

When she remained silent, Jensen regarded Misha with a sidelong stare. From the door, he said, “The holidays should not have happened how they did, Y/N.” A hesitant step bore him nearer the couch, as though he second guessed himself, but another more determined step closed the remaining gap and he sat beside her. “We were planning on having you visit. Meet family and the like.”

“But we dropped the ball,” Jensen interjected. “There were things we should have done first, a long time ago, before introducing you to anyone.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Jensen grunted a disgusted sound deep in his throat. “Because we’re awful. To be honest, I was scared. I wanted to tell my family in person, but I could never find the right opportunity. Which is unfair to you. There probably won’t be a ‘right’ time to explain this to anyone we care about.”

Y/N wrung her fingers into knots as she listened. “I appreciate the understanding.”

“Of course, we understand. We should have just done it,” Misha added. “But we didn’t.” He inched closer and grasped her free hand in both of his. “We love you dearly, Y/N. More than you could possibly imagine.”

“We’re equally shocked, trust me,” Jensen teased. “Misha just said it while he was making breakfast the other day and I broke my favorite mug when I dropped it in the sink.”

“You did not drop it because I said I loved Y/N, you dropped it—”

“Hey!”

Misha’s teeth clicked shut and Jensen’s voice caught in his throat. At least they listened well enough. “Are you trying to tell me you didn’t tell your families about me ahead of time and so that’s why you couldn’t… I don’t know, call me? Text me?”

“We should have,” Jensen stated. “None of the shit that kept me busy is worthy of your forgiveness. I should have texted you at the very least, if not called you to let you know everything was fine. Considering our short good-byes at the break party, it was the least we should have done.”

Misha nodded in agreement. “We’re jerks. We fucked up. But we still very much care for you. And we still want you to be in our lives. We hope you still want us in yours.”

At least they hadn’t intentionally ignored her. At least things made some sense. No, it wasn’t perfect. In fact, in the moment it all felt quite unforgivable. How could they expect her to move forward—with them, no less—after such a betrayal of trust? As if nothing had happened, a mere apology should fix it all?

To be honest with herself, a part of her wanted to walk away. Simple and clean. And yet, she loved them, much like they loved her. But did that mean she had to meet their families so soon?

Patient as ever, they waited for her to speak. Her rambling thoughts leaped from one to the next, and so, she said, “You didn’t give me your addresses. I couldn’t send the pile of gifts I got you, they’re all still sitting at my apartment…”

Misha groaned and Jensen palmed his forehead. “We should have. Can we make it up to you tonight? We also have several gifts for you.”

Before the holidays, gifts had felt like an unquestioned given. But there on the other side, they felt like complications. Strings. She sucked in a deep, clarifying breath and exhaled as she said, “On one condition.”

“Anything, Y/N,” Jensen insisted.

She couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Let's hold off on any family gatherings for a while. Make sure this is the real deal, give it some time.”

Misha laughed as he said, “Out of the three of us, you're going to be the most level-headed. We need that.”

Jensen agreed with his own short bark of laughter. “Deal. Now, how about those gifts? I've been dying to give you mine.”

“Whenever we wrap tonight, meet at my place?” She asked.

Misha grinned as he said, “It's a date.”

If you want to be tagged for this series specifically, send me an ask or a DM! If you want in on any of my tags, you can ask for that, too!

The Whole Thang:

@atc74 @hannahindie @bevans87 @meganwinchester1999 @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings @elfinmox @princessofthefandomrealm @jmekitchens @81mysteriouslyme @dolphincliffs @canadianspnhunter @meowmeow-motherfucker @staycejo1 @hobby27 @pretty-fortune @mypopculturediva @fanfictionjunkie1112 @sandlee44 @4llmywr1tings @claitynroberts @maddiepants @donnaintx @blackeyedangel9805 @rainflowermoon @winchesterprincessbride @lazinessisalliknow @the-is13 @waywardafgrandma @keymology @sister-winchesters99 @amanda-teaches @amandamdiehl @onethirstyunicorn @spnbaby-67

COWBOYS AND ANGELS MASTER LIST ALLEIRADAYNE’S MASTER LIST

#jensen ackles fanfic #misha collins fanfic #jensen x misha #jensen x misha x reader #jensen ackles x misha collins #cockles #cockles x reader #cockles/reader #jensen/misha #jensen/misha/reader #alleiradayne writes #rpf fanfic

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dvp95 · 5 years ago

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can’t breathe when you touch my sleeve - chapter 12

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: e

warnings: none

tags: alternate universe, slow burn, fluff & humour, tiny bit of inner turmoil wrt sexuality but trust me it’s not that deep, deeper than anticipated but still not that deep y'all this is primarily silly, eventual smut, idiots in love

word count: 3,311 for this chapter (53,098 total)

summary: Dan keeps making a fool of himself in interviews, to the point where it’s basically a meme. Now he’s got to sit down for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the YouTuber he’d had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.

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The last time that Dan was alone with his mum for longer than a few minutes at a time over Christmas, their conversation had felt awkward and stilted. All of the things they had to say to each other lingered right below the surface, sharpening the edges of the conversation in a way neither of them knew how to acknowledge.

That's what Dan expects this lunch to be like. He thinks he's prepared for every option of what his mum might say to him, carefully building up the familiar walls in case he needs them, but.

She arrives late with apologies on her lips and Colin in her arms, frazzled as always, and it's almost comforting to Dan that she hasn't gotten any more punctual since he moved out. That's something they share that used to drive his dad up the wall. Maybe it still does. Dan wouldn't know. The only reason he's on time is that he came straight from work to nab a table at the dog-friendly brunch place that Yelp insists is good, and he's been happily dog-watching since he sat down.

"Sorry, sorry, hi," his mum is saying, dropping Colin on Dan's lap without warning. "Traffic was a bloody mess."

"That's alright," Dan says, but the words are coming out on autopilot. He scratches Colin's fuzzy head and blinks back the wetness that threatens to well up behind his eyes.

It's been a good few months since he'd last seen Colin, and he's as cute as ever. Dan can bet that the collar is brand new, though - the vertical stripes on it are narrow and the hues are garish, but there's no doubt about what it is.

"It's nice, yeah?" his mum asks as she sits across from them, clearly noticing Dan's preoccupation. "I hope I grabbed the right one."

Dan swallows around the growing lump in his throat and lets his fingers brush over the bright rainbow around Colin's neck, making sure it's there and real. It's a gesture that he didn't expect, and one he has no idea how to deal with. He keeps petting Colin absently and meets his mum's eyes.

"It's perfect," he tells her. "Suits him."

"Suits you," she counters lightly. She gives him a soft, sad sort of smile. "Caught you on the telly yesterday. I haven't seen you look this happy in a long time, bear."

Oh, fuck. Dan is not going to cry, not surrounded by dogs and strangers in this weirdly bougie restaurant in Chelsea. He wipes hurriedly at his eyes and feels a rush of gratitude when his mum pretends she hasn't seen, looks down at the menu.

He hadn't expected this. He doesn't know why, since he'd thought about a million and one ways that this lunch could be awkward or painful, but he somehow never thought she'd be so... supportive.

And maybe that's not fair of him. His mum had supported him when he'd dropped out of school, when he'd bought a one-way ticket with his shitty Asda paychecks, when he came home from drinking in the park at three in the morning with a split lip. She hasn't been perfect by any means, and because of that Dan has always assumed that her support was conditional even if her love was not.

Vividly, he remembers the way she'd cheer on the sidelines of any game he or Adrian played - although Adrian had wanted to play, the absolute freak - and how embarrassed he'd felt at the time, hot under the collar from the attention.

"I am happy," Dan tells her. They are both looking at their menus now, one of his hands shaking on Colin's back. "I'm - it feels good to be honest with myself and with you guys."

"With yourself?" his mum asks, her voice softer than he's heard it since he was a child. "Oh, Daniel. You didn't know?"

That's not something he really wants to get into with her, but Dan understands why she's asking. He's almost thirty years old. She'd probably just thought he was keeping it from her, not smothering his own wants for fifteen years. "No, like. I knew. But I didn't want to know. It's not like it's been fucking easy, has it? So I just. Pretended it wasn't there as best as I could, and. I've been pretending for a really long time, mum."

There's more to it, but she doesn't need to know any of that. Dan doesn't want to sit there and tell his mother how much he'd hated himself, how unsafe he'd felt at school and home and out with his 'friends', how there had been a point where he didn't want to live at all if he had to be gay.

Dan had definitely come a long way in the decade or so since then, but he'd done that by keeping a box of feelings locked up tight and ignoring the voice in his head that reminded him how much he wanted men.

Now, he feels... okay. He's going to be okay.

His mum's hand covers his on the table, the size difference between them almost comical.

"I love you," she says. "Blimey, I can't even imagine. I'm so glad you told me, Daniel. I feel like... like we don't really know each other that well."

Maybe a week ago, that might have gotten Dan's back up against the wall. And whose fault is that? he thinks but doesn't sneer, because his mum had put a rainbow collar on Colin and keeps saying she loves him. He can fight past the automatic defensiveness.

Dan runs a hand over Colin to calm himself back down, smiling when Colin licks his hand. Eventually, he feels like he can respond to her without snapping something he'd regret later. "That's true."

Luckily, their waiter stops by their table with three waters - two in glasses, one in a bowl - and effectively startles Dan and his mum out of the very serious conversation they'd decided to have in a public place. The conversation moves on to their jobs, Adrian's various adventures, and how good of a boy Colin is. Dan remembers to ask after his grandparents and his mum snorts into her vegan pancakes at one of his jokes, so. It's all going suspiciously well.

They even have the waiter take a photo of the three of them, which is surreal to Dan. He's not used to this, to wanting to have a physical reminder of any time he's spent with his family, but they're having such a nice start to the afternoon.

There are moments where Dan can feel the gap more deeply, though. Stories that carefully don't include his father. Questions she asks that he doesn't know the answer to.

It gets to a point, boiling up inside of Dan, that he has to ask before he explodes.

"Mum," he says, quiet. They're nearly done eating, which means that if this goes badly Dan can easily hug his mum goodbye and go take comfort in Phil's lap. "Did you... did you tell Dad about my text?"

He's nervous to look at her when he asks, but he's glad that he didn't try to hide. The anger that flashes across her face for a split second is so vindicating that Dan can't even imagine how differently he'd feel about his mother if he'd never seen that.

"I did," she says shortly.

There's a beat. "I suppose you're going to tell me that he'll come around and he loves me?"

"I'm not going to tell you anything of the sort," his mum says. Dan is desperate to look away now, doesn't like seeing that disapproving twist of her mouth even if it isn't directed at him. "You're both grown men and can make your own decisions. I made mine, that's all I can do."

Dan swallows hard and gives Colin a nibble on his bacon so he has an excuse to break eye contact with her. "Adrian's fine with it."

"Well, of course he is. And of course I am too, Daniel, because even if I had some issue with gay people - which I don't," she stresses the words like she's trying to convince Dan, "one of my best friends is a lesbian, she's a lovely woman - I would still prioritize my son who I love over any of that prejudicial nonsense. It takes a very special kind of person to think that anything about their child is worth not speaking to them."

Ten, fifteen years ago, Dan had been convinced that everyone in his life would hate him for this part of him that he kept under wraps. He hated himself, why would other people be any different?

And maybe that could have been the case back then, before society started to get its shit together a little bit and 'gay' stopped being synonymous with 'bad'. There's no way to know for sure, and he supposes it doesn't really matter. That's not the timeline he lives in.

Dan chances a glance at his mum, who is idly folding her napkin into various floppy origami shapes like she needs to be doing something with her hands.

The question sticks in his throat, but Dan forces it out anyway. His mum has said a lot of nice things that he's going to cry about when he's alone, but he needs to know how far that extends.

"And... am I still invited to Christmas?"

His mum blinks up at him, looking a bit startled. "Of course you're still coming to Christmas. My home is your home and always will be, don't be stupid. If your father wants to put his own selfish arse over his sons, then he can be the one to fuck off. We don't need him to have a good holiday."

Dan buries his face in Colin's fur and squeezes his eyes shut for just a moment, letting the gratitude and grief wash over him.

Out of every scenario he'd pictured, Dan never even thought to hope for this kind of unconditional acceptance. He knows that they still have a long way to go, that he and his mum will always have things they can't say to each other and that Adrian will never be his best friend, but. They're trying. All three of them are trying to navigate this so that they can be a bit closer, know each other better, and that's a start.

The park isn't far, but Dan's mum insists on driving so she doesn't have to walk back and get her car later. Dan hates how much he relates to that.

An old CD blares over the car's shitty speakers, knocking Dan back into childhood the way few things can. Some indie punk bullshit from the 90s that he still somehow knows all the words to. They both sing along to it and his mum scream-laughs when Colin barks, coincidentally in rhythm with the drums.

Dan is having fun with his mum, a concept that is so foreign to him he's half convinced it's a sleep-deprived hallucination, and he almost forgets to text Phil that they're on their way.

Ok! We're already here, Thor insisted lmao, Phil sends back immediately, and Dan feels a little bad that he hasn't been keeping Phil updated all morning. Still, he supposes, he was working and then dealing with family bullshit, so he supposes that Phil will understand.

They park a little ways down the road and Dan feels odd in the sudden quiet of the car. The things they don't talk about seem to fill the space between them, creeping in as the nostalgia fades.

"Mum," he says, and she pauses in the midst of opening her door. "I... thank you, for this. It means a lot to me that you came today."

"Of course," his mum says like it really is that obvious.

"You might see more of me soon, if you'd like to," Dan tells her, putting Colin on his lead so he doesn't have to make eye contact. "I'm thinking about moving to London."

"Oh, Daniel, that's wonderful," she says, warm, and Dan's heart hurts so fucking much. Their relationship has always been a bit complicated, strained, but he's willing to make an effort if she is.

He gives her a small smile and gets out of the car with Colin, the sincerity in her voice suddenly too much to handle in such a small space. While they walk, he chats to Colin about how nice the park is and how there are a lot of new friends for him to play with. He likes to think that Colin's tail wags faster at the information.

The sound of the gate opening makes a bunch of dogs look over, the way it always does, and Thor starts bounding toward Dan as fast as his stubby legs can carry him.

"Thor, you can't just - oh, Dan!"

Phil stops chasing after Thor and just approaches them at a regular pace, grinning.

"Don't worry, he's not making an escape," Dan laughs, crouching down to greet Thor and holding tight to Colin's lead just in case.

Thor licks at Dan's free hand and then sniffs at Colin, who seems chill with it. He's such a calm dog, Dan loves him so much. Dan is so busy overseeing this introduction that he nearly misses the humans above him introducing themselves to each other.

"Hi, I'm Phil, and this is Thor! You must be Mrs. Howell."

Dan's mum pulls a face, and for a terrifying second Dan thinks she was all talk after all, that she really does care now that she's faced with a man, but she just says, "Not hardly. Call me Karen or call me nothing."

The problem, of course, is that Phil is predictable. Dan knows the joke is coming a split second before he brightly says, "Nice to meet you, Nothing."

Thankfully, his mum laughs.

"Cheeky. This young man here is Colin."

Phil crouches down too, his eyes meeting Dan's for a brief, nervous moment before he's holding out his hand for Colin to shake. Colin, the very good boy he is, sits down and shakes paw.

"And very nice to meet you," Phil says solemnly. Dan had no idea his heart could fit any more of Phil in it, but it swells three sizes like the fucking Grinch. Dan's sure it's written all over his face, but he doesn't need to hide that from anyone here. He's allowed to be obviously smitten over his boyfriend. "I've heard so much about you."

It's all far too genuine for Dan, suddenly, this whole thing, so he snorts and unhooks Colin from the lead.

"You're such a dork," he tells Phil as they both stand, the dogs chasing each other around now that they've both been released. Phil just shrugs and grins, hands in his pockets.

He looks nice in his buttoned shirt, short sleeves showing off his arms and a headache-inducing print enough to make Dan ridiculously fond, but he also looks a bit anxious. Dan knows the feeling.

"Wanna sit?" he asks his mum, gesturing to a picnic table. She rolls her eyes.

"I've been sitting all morning, Daniel," she says lightly. "I think I can handle craning my neck to look at you lot."

Quick getaway, Dan's depression gremlin shouts. She doesn't want to be here, she's just acting nice because she's afraid you're on a ledge, just like Adrian was, none of them actually accept you or want you to be around...

It always gets harder to shut up the less he's slept, so Dan has to ride the wave of self-hatred until Phil smiles down at his mum and starts making easy conversation.

Phil is so good at this part. He's not relaxed, Dan can tell by the set of his shoulders and the awkward way his hands are sticking out of his jean pockets, but some combination of radio training and natural charm make him seem like nothing is more thrilling than hearing about Dan's mum's drive to the city.

Dan isn't good at this part. He tunes out a bit and starts taking photos and videos of the dogs whenever they come close enough. They're fast friends, and Dan likes the idea of orchestrating puppy playdates when he lives here.

He zones back in when he hears his name, blinking over at them like he's fallen asleep standing up.

"What?" he bleats.

"We weren't talking to you," Phil informs him, his lips twitching.

"You're talking about me, then?"

They exchange an amused, exasperated sort of look. Dan suddenly isn't very sure at all that this was a good idea. Of course Dan's mum likes Phil, it's impossible not to like Phil. Now they're just going to gang up on him all the bloody time.

Even in Dan's own mind he can't pretend like that's a bad thing.

"I was just saying," Dan's mum says, "that I wanted to thank Phil for bringing you back to England. I know you've been talking about doing it for years, kid, but you do tend to put things off."

"Like I said, Karen," Phil says with a level of familiarity that Dan isn't sure how to feel about. It's just the way the Lesters act, but it isn't the way the Howells are. It's strange to watch his mum try and keep up with the vibe of a man who's talking like he's known her his whole life. "It's really nothing to do with me."

"Oh, bollocks," his mum says. Dan laughs.

There's still so much he and his mum don't know about each other, things they need to reconnect on, but that doesn't mean it isn't obvious to anyone with eyes that Dan's plan is only changing right now because of Phil coming into his life.

"Well, can you blame me?" he jokes, some of the knot in his chest easing. She really doesn't mind, does she? Not the way he thought she would.

"Not at all," she says, and Phil ducks his head with a stupidly shy sort of smile. Dan wants to kiss it off his face.

Colin trudges up to them then, panting and whining a bit, and they all coo nonsense at him. He's always so lazy and chilled out over Christmas, Dan bets he doesn't do the zoomies with super excitable dogs very often.

"Seems like Colin's done for the day," says Dan. He leashes Colin and hands the lead to his mum. "It was really nice to see you both. Like, really. I had fun."

"No need to sound so surprised about it," his mum says dryly. They aren't huggers, really, not unless some traumatic shit is going down, so it doesn't surprise Dan when she just blows him a kiss goodbye. "Hopefully I'll see you both soon, yeah? Don't be strangers."

"Wouldn't dream of it," says Phil. He shifts closer to Dan, their shoulders knocking lightly together.

"Love you, mum," Dan says, because he feels like he has to after everything, and because it's the truth. She smiles up at him, so warm that something in Dan settles into place.

"Love you too, honey. It was really nice to meet you, Phil."

"Likewise," says Phil. He bumps into Dan again as they watch her and Colin walk away, the solidity of his shoulder keeping Dan grounded. Dan has had a very long, very emotionally taxing day, and that small bit of contact makes the stress of it all seep out of him at once. "You okay, Dan?"

The sleepless night is catching up with Dan, now that the anxiety is dissipating, and all he wants to do is melt into Phil's chest and take a long nap.

"I'm very okay," he says, surprised by how much he means it. "Let's go home, yeah?"

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #dnp fic #can't breathe when you touch my sleeve #words words words

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