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momothegeckho · 4 years

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24 Weeks...

HxH Kurapika (Continuation of 26 Weeks)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　and then they started　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

24 weeks...

Was he keeping count now? It was a Saturday, the day after his first conversation with you. In all truth, he did not want to say goodbye to you, and unknowing if he would actually see you again, he stopped you and all in one breath, decided to ask you out. Although it is true he doesn’t have time to waste, he still didn’t know what to do. What do people even do on dates?

He decided to meet you at the park, and so here he was, an hour early, fiddling with his sleeves. He was nervous yet excited to be with you the whole day, and wanted to impress you. Even though he had claimed it to be an outing between friendly strangers, he really wanted to impress you, because you looked so great to be around and he needed to see more of you.

He checked the time and realized that he had in fact arrived an hour early and still had to wait at least 45 more minutes before you arrived. At least, that is what he thought. He was pleasantly surprised when you arrived with 40 minutes early, looking around for him. Everything was still for a moment. He just watched you as you walked. You always looked nice prior to this day, but today, it looked like you put in more care into what you were wearing.Your hair was neater than usual, and... were those new shoes? Maybe he was just seeing things, but you had probably rushed out the house because the tag to your shoes stuck out of the back of them. Had you bought new shoes just to wear for today??

Answer is: you did. You have never been out on a real date before (Other times it was creeps trying to date you once and rail you.) So you made sure you looked your best today. You hoped that you hadn’t over dressed for the outing as it was a bit more than you usually wear, but you did look cute and you felt even better. You tried a new shampoo and body wash set this morning and you couldn’t lie, it smelled wonderful. On one hand, you were hoping Kurapika would notice this, and on the other, you were wondering why you cared so much about what he thought. You decided to let it slide, however, and resume your search for your “date”.

Kurapika decided to approach you before you went too deep into the park without him, and he did, in fact, get a strong scent of the shampoo you were trying. Yes, it did make him lose all sense for a short second. since he had never smelled something so wonderful before. He placed a hand on your shoulder to alert you of his presence, and you smiled as you greeted him. You noticed that he looked very casual and calm, yet he managed to catch your eye so quickly. He was dashing.

The date had started.

You were a bit sad at first because out of nowhere, the air had become awkward as you two sat in the park watching the lake, and a group of ducks swimming around. No one had anything to say, and that was your biggest fear, because you did not know Kurapika, and the only way to figure him out was to find the right question to get him to open up.

“Would you like to go to a museum? I know of one nearby that is exhibiting a row of ancient paintings?”

Either he was reading your mind, or he was a lover of the arts as well, because once he had asked that, a conversation had managed to come up on the arts and you were obliged to keep the conversation open because this is the first time you have seen him smile so much and wait...

did you heart just speed up?

It felt as if it was about to burst... A feeling that you have never felt before, well, except for the usual crushes you get on people you didn’t have the courage to go up to. There was just something about Kurapika, however, that made you feel more of a connection to him, something deep inside of him was drawing you closer in, and you were already willing to take the plunge.

After you two had journeyed through the museum and witnessing the sights of many unique and well painted pieces, you both went back to the park and had ice cream, sitting in front of the lake once more to relish that moment once again. This time, however, there was no awkward feelings. This time, it felt natural, and comfortable . You enjoyed this friend date more than you thought you would. In a split decision, you went closer to the pond to get a closer look at some baby ducks you had seen enter the water with their momma. Kurapika went with you, being the gentleman that he is, and smiled as you watched the baby ducks with love in your eyes. You were clearly one to relish life and the beings within it. Unlike how he had been for years.

Of course, with any date, one thing has to go off of plan, and the momma duck thought you were a little too close to her babies, and so, being a caring mother, she protected her kids by attacking you. Keep in mind, you ever dabbled in martial arts, and you weren’t the most aware of your surroundings at the moment. You got scared and began to fall forward into the water. Kurapika, trying to help you, grabbed your sweater, but you had already fallen so far, and so you took him with you. And so, there you two were, sitting in the shallow part of the lake, soaking wet and kind of cold, but somehow, that didn’t matter to the both of you, You just laughed at each other, and in that moment, Kurapika felt normal, and he couldn’t ask for anything more ganuine than this oment, because this date had gone perfectly, even though he was drenched in lake water. But the sight before him was wonderful. You looked so happy and so bubbly. He truly worried about nothing, because nothing could make this day any better.

“Hey I’m sorry about your clothes. Do you want to stop by my home to shower and wash them?”

Scratch that. You had just asked him the most wonderful question. He got to see where you, such an interesting and artsy person, lived. He inwardly kicked himself for how excited he was. Of course, he didn’t turn down your offer, but he also needed to remind himself that he should not be so willing to violate your private space. He picked you up out of the water, but before leaving, you stopped him to once again, look at the ducklings and their mom, even thought Kurapika had to slightly pull you away so a repeat wouldn’t happen.

Both of you were freezing as you walked with Kurapika to your apartment. Even though the weather was decent for Spring, it was far from hot enough to walk around wet. Though you didn’t mind much because you two laughed and talked the whole way back. Who knew you two would hit it off so well?

You were still hesitant, however.

The date was wonderful and so far from perfect that is was perfect! But you couldn’t help but wonder about one important detail. You were willing to let Kurapika know about you,

But any time you asked Kurapika about himself, he became stoic. Always brushing off the question and redirecting it back to you. In this world you live in, you understand that some people are more closed off than others, and it seemed tat now, you had a crush on one of those people. It was okay, though! You were willing enough at this point to gain more of Kurapika’s trust, and if it took a while, then fine! You would wait. You decided that he was worth waiting for.

Kurapika couldn’t be more elated when you brought this up to him. He hadn’t noticed how secretive he was being and blamed it on habit, but hearing you say you would wait for him to open up was the highlight of his day. Never had he heard such a declaration, and it was a new feeling to him. He would cherish those words far more than you knew.

You managed to impress him with whatever you did, and at this point, his head was in turmoil, because he has never felt like this for anyone. Yet, here he was, ready to open up to you once he was ready.

Could it be possible that he was already beginning to fall for you?

“Here we are! I have a washer and dryer, so I’ll just throw our clothes in together. Here. You shower first.”

You were definitely hospitable. By the time he had gotten out of the shower, you had already provided him with a rob for him to wear until his clothes were dried, and even made tea just in case he was too cold. You were like a saint. Your home was well kept. He noticed that you had a lot of paintings. Some on the walls, some on easels. You were a painter? He thought you were pretty talented, but he decided to keep to himself until you were ready to discuss it. Over the time you two spent together at your home, you talked more about common likes. The attraction to nature, and books, and Kurapika learned you were a writer. Admirable, yet so humble about your work. You had allowed him to read one of your works, and even though he wasn’t into poetry, your words were so deep hitting that he couldn’t put it down. You managed to learn some things about Kurapika as well. Not only his addiction to reading, and his physical training, but that he was also a Blacklist Hunter, and more sadly, the last remaining member of his Clan. You had cried for him, and he was happy that you had shared such empathy with him, even when he said you didn’t have to cry, you still remained with tears in your eyes, and even if it was a bit out of line for you, you hugged him, because not only had he managed to go on this long with no family, he had no place to truly call home with loved ones, and that was heart breaking for you.

Kurapika was overjoyed. His heart ached out of pure love for you, and your passion. He was truly attracted to you.

23 Weeks left...

This one looks so long winded ugh I hate that. I’m working to become better so I hope it improvess,,,

#kurapika fanfiction #hxh kurapika #hxh #hxh headcanons #hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter scenarios #anime fanfiction #anime fandom #kurapika #fanfiction #fanfic #hxh fanfic #hxh fandom

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foreverwayward · 5 years

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“Wayward Hearts” Season 2 Chapter 7: Night Shifter

Summary: After the sudden death of John, Sam and Dean, along with Riley, continue their quest for vengeance. As Sam and Riley’s powers continue to grow, the three young hunters find themselves closer to the Yellow-Eyed demon than ever before. The strength within themselves and their loyalty to each other will be tested as they are left to fight their families’ lifelong war alone, unaware that unimaginable evil will lead them to face darkness itself as they carry the weight of their fathers’ legacies.

Masterlist

Word Count: 8,045

Content Warning: language and violence

DISCLAIMER: any words or phrases in bold in the story are not my own and are credited to the writers of Supernatural.

**GIFS ARE NOT MY OWN**

On the live evening news, a brunette news reporter held onto her Channel 8 microphone. She was in front of a group of onlookers as officers tried to clear the scene. Sirens wailed and the flashing colors of blue and red danced on the buildings around them. Other cops had barricaded themselves behind their squad cars with their weapons ready and aimed.

“We're here downtown in front of the City Bank of Milwaukee, and though a short exchange of weapons fire occurred just minutes ago, police and SWAT teams maintain position as we enter the third hour of this intense standoff. Authorities estimate as many as ten hostages are being held inside the bank; no word as yet on the identity of the suspects, or, uh--” The reporter stopped mid-sentence to a commotion coming behind her. “Something's happening. I think they're opening the door. Roger, are you getting this?” she asked her cameraman.

Police and others nearby shouted over each other as the camera refocused to the front door of the bank.

A man emerged from the building, terrified as he was pushed out by someone holding an automatic weapon. “Don’t shoot! Please! Don’t shoot!”

“No, no, no, no, no, don't even think about it! I said get the fuck back!” the voice behind the hostage yelled at the incoming officers.

As the camera zoomed in, there with the hostage and a military-grade gun, was Dean Winchester.

------

Two days prior, Dean, Riley, and Sam sat parked in Baby on a dark suburban street of Milwaukee. It was raining as the hunters went over their research. All three were dressed in suits, posing as federal agents.

A woman who was respectable and loved by family and friends killed a night guard at the jewelers’ where she worked. After stealing everything she could from the shop, the woman went home and committed suicide in her bathtub. There was no motive and nothing that pointed to the dead woman being anything other than an upstanding citizen.

“Alright,” Riley started, looking over her file. “The Milwaukee National Trust was hit about a month ago--same M.O. as the jewelry store and an inside job. Longtime employee as a teller, that was the 'never-in-a-million-years’ type, robbed the bank and then went home to kill himself.”

“So, there’s a pattern,” Dean said with his body shifted in her direction.

“Definitely. Bummer is, cops already took the surveillance video from the jewelry store, so we’re shit outta luck on that one.”

Sam looked out the window at a small house nearby. “Yeah. That’s why we’re here. This guy, Resnick? He was a security guard at the National Trust the night of the heist. The teller beat him unconscious before taking off.”

“Yikes.” Riley closed up her folder and grabbed her blazer to throw it on. “Well, hopefully, this guy can give us more than the jewelers’ did. We got jack to go on right now.”

The three got out of the car and the Impala’s doors squeaked before being slammed shut. Going up the front steps, they all straightened up before knocking on the door.

“Mr. Resnick,” Sam called out. “Ronald Resnick?”

At the large hunter’s request for the man inside, a large floodlight turned on next to the door. Riley and the Winchesters grunted out at the blinding light and covered their eyes.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean groaned.

A younger man, around Dean’s age, came to the screen door. He was of a thicker build with curly hair that met his shoulders. His face was naïve and showed his clearly awkward demeanor.

Riley kept her eye closest to the light slightly closed. “F.B.I., Mr. Resnick.”

Approaching hesitantly, the man nervously demanded, “let me see the badge.”

Sam, Dean, and Riley all pulled out their identification badges from their jacket pockets before planting them on the screen door in almost total unison.

The man inside squinted to read and study their authenticity. “I already gave my statement to the police.”

“Yeah, listen, Ronald, um--” Dean went to put his badge away. “--just some things about your statement we wanted to get some clarification on.”

“...you read it?”

“Sure did.”

“And you’ve come to hear what I have to say?”

Riley could feel the nervousness coming from Mr. Resnick. She knew he felt strongly about what he had seen and was still afraid to share his story. “Of course, Mr. Resnick. That’s why we’re here,” she added gently.

Ronald gave her an awkward, partial smile before nodding and opening the door. “Well, come on in.”

Following him into his home, the three walked through a narrow hallway and then into a cluttered room. The wood-paneled walls were covered in alien photos and conspiracy theory paraphernalia. Strung out maps, newspaper clippings, and random photographs hung above his messy desk.

“None of the cops ever called me back--not after I told them what was really going on. Uh--they all thought I was crazy.” Ronald’s words grew a little faster with a sense of purpose and urgency. “First off, Juan Morales never robbed the Milwaukee National Trust, okay? That, I guarantee. See, me and Juan were friends. He used to come back to the bank on my night shifts, and we'd play cards. I--I was the one that let him in after-hours. But that thing that I let into the bank? Wasn’t Juan. I mean, it had his face, but it wasn't his face. Uh--every detail was perfect but too perfect, you know? Like if a doll maker made it--like I was talking to a big Juan-doll.”

“A ‘Juan-doll’?” Sam asked skeptically.

“Look, this wasn't the only time this happened. Okay?” Ronald handed him a file folder. “There was this jewelry store, too. And the cops, a--and you guys, you just won't see it!”

Sam looked into the folder that was filled with Mr. Resnick’s own research. The complete profile was similar to a the work of a hunter.

“Both crimes were pulled off by the same thing.”

“And what’s that, Mr. Resnick?”

Ronald picked up a copy of a magazine called ‘Fortean Times’ and held it to his chest. The headline at the bottom read: ‘birth of the cyberman’.

“Chinese have been working on 'em for years and the Russians before that. Part men, part machine. Like the Terminator, but the kind that can change itself, make itself look like other people.”

Dean smiled at the man, “like the one from T2.”

“Exactly!” Ronald agreed enthusiastically.

At that same moment, Riley tried to shoot Dean a thought. “Nerd.”

Her boyfriend’s head snapped in her direction at her tease. Dean gave her a playful look of warning and she smirked.

Donald went on. “See, so not just a robot, more of a--a--man-droid.”

Sam’s eyebrow hooked up. “A man-droid?”

Riley stepped closer as the awkward man fumbled over his words. She searched his emotions and could feel how much this meant to him. Ronald whole-heartedly believed what he was selling. Telling him how far off base he was, wouldn’t do anything except hurt him. “Ronald how are you so sure that this is what’s going on?” she humored him.

With a wild and excited smile, he put up a finger asking her to wait. He scurried ‘to grab a V.H.S. tape that was labeled ‘M.N.T. Camera 4 - Juan’.

Quickly, he moved to put it into his television system and pressed fast forward as the hunters sat on his worn, plaid sofa. “Now watch. Watch. Watch him, watch, watch! See, look! Th--th--there it is!” Ronald paused the tape. “You see? He's got the laser eyes.”

On the screen, was Juan. As he faced the camera, there was a light-flare in his eyes.

Riley’s fist clenched immediately realizing it was a shifter as the boys shared a knowing look.

“Cops said it was some kind of reflected light. Some kind of ‘camera flare’. Okay? Ain't no damn camera flare. They say I'm a post-trauma case. So, what? Bank goes and fires me, it don't matter!” Ronald continued his rant even more fired up than before. “The man-droid is--is still out there. The law won't hunt this thing down...I'll do it myself. You see, this thing, it--it--it kills the real person, makes it look like a suicide, then it sorta, like,--morphs into that person. Cases the job for a while until it knows the take is fat, and then it finds its opening. Now, these robberies, they're--they're grouped together.” He gestured to the wall with all of his endless research. “So, I figure the man-droid is holed up somewhere in the middle, underground, maybe. I dunno, maybe that's where it recharges its, uh--man-droid batteries.”

Dean nodded, apparently impressed with how thorough Ronald’s intel was. The theory may have been completely off base, but the work was there.

Trying to force a fake smile, Riley didn’t know what to say. The poor guy had tried so hard to get answers for his friend. All the while, Sam was staring at the man intently, almost in judgment.

“Okay. I want you to listen very carefully,” Sam said calmly as they all stood from the couch. “Because I'm about to tell you the God's honest truth about all of this.” Riley and Dean both waited with curiosity to see what Sam would say. “There's no such thing as man-droids. There's nothing evil or inhuman going on out there. Just people. Nothing else, you understand?”

His partners were almost startled at his response and stood dumbfounded on how to move forward.

“But,” Ronald uttered desperately. “The laser eyes...”

“Just a camera flare, Mr. Resnick. See, I know you don't want to believe this. But your friend Juan robbed the bank and that's it.”

The anger and frustration that was building in Ronald, was enough for Riley to want to help calm him. He was so deeply hurt by how Sam had handled the situation. “Ronald--”

“Get out of my house! Now!” he interrupted in a demand.

------

Riley and the brothers had found their way back to their motel room. It was covered in tacky wall decorations that seemed to be obligatory to wherever they stayed.

“Man, that has got to be the kicker--straight up. I mean, you tell that poor son of a bitch that--what did you say, ‘remand the tapes that he copied? Classified evidence of an ongoing investigation’?” Dean laughed as he sat at the table with a beer. “That's fucked up.”

As Riley walked by, Dean’s hands snaked around her waist and pulled her close to sit her down on his lap.

Taking a sip from Dean’s beer before adding her thoughts, Riley looked over at Sam. “I gotta say, it’s a little scary how good of a Fed you are. The guy did some legit legwork though. Maybe you could have thrown him a bone, or at least been a little gentler with the guy.”

Sam scoffed, turning away from the television he was replaying the video on. “Man-droid?”

“Okay, except for that part,” she chuckled. “But I mean, I liked him.”

“Me too. I mean, he’s not that different from us if you think about it. People think we’re crazy.” Dean’s arms wrapped around Riley’s waist and his chin settled onto her shoulder while she traced outlines of sewers from town blueprints.

“Yeah, except he’s not a hunter, guys,” Sam almost snapped back. “He's just a guy who stumbled onto something real. If he were to go up against this thing he'd get torn apart. Better to stay in the dark and stay alive.” Sam then paused the video where the shifter’s eyes reflect back at him.

Sighing, Riley replied, “I guess so.” Her eyes went up as she saw the flaring eyes on the tape again. “Shapeshifter.”

“God I hate those fucking things,” Dean added in annoyance.

“Oh, and I don’t?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, but one didn’t turn into you and frame you for murder.”

Riley almost slammed the pen down with a scoff. “If we’re having a pissing contest here, remember one of those bastards literally murdered me.”

The brothers looked at each other realizing their mistake.

“Touché,” Dean surrendered.

“Anyway, Ronald was right. It’s like the one we killed in Missouri and it lays low in the sewers.” Sam got up to look at the map as Riley went on. She traced her pen over her marks. “Now, all the heists have been connected. And if you line those up with the sewer main layout, there’s one more bank laid out on that path.”

------

Over their regular clothes, the trio wore blue jumpsuits as a bank security guard led them into the surveillance room. Undercover as technicians, their suits read: ‘Securiserve Guard Service’.

Riley had her hair up with what looked like silver chopsticks.

“You guys usually send three people to deal with a small glitch in the system?” the guard asked curiously.

“Oh--” Sam said through a breathy laugh. “She’s in training. Gotta shadow us on the job.”

Satisfied with that answer, the security guard nodded. “Alright, you guys need anything else?”

Riley smiled. “We’re all set here, sir.”

“Okie-dokie,” he replied as he left the room.

With a chuckle, Dean beamed. “I like him. He says ‘okie-dokie’.”

------

Sam, Riley, and Dean sat in front of the monitors reviewing the bank’s footage. It had been at least a couple of hours of searching for any more eye flares on the camera’s logs.

“Anybody got any popcorn?” Dean jested.

In one of the frames, the security guard that had let them in sat quietly by the front door. When his eyes didn’t reflect, he was officially off the hook.

“Well, looks like mister okie-dokie is...okie-dokie.”

As Riley scanned a different screen, a middle-aged man walked in front of the camera as his eyes flared. She sat up straight as she paused the footage to get a closer look. “Bingo. Got him.”

The brothers leaned over to see as Dean said, “Hello, freak.” The three got up to leave before Sam and Riley could hear Dean utter, “oh shit...”

He was looking at another monitor and they joined him to look. There, locking up the bank with a chain and lock while holding an automatic weapon, was Resnick.

“Hello, Ronald,” Dean commented with a look of discomfort.

With worry and a sigh, Riley muttered his earlier words in agreement. “...oh shit.”

------

The large and polished bank was several stories tall. It was ornately decorated with beautifully designed ceilings and large tile flooring. Slate-colored marble pillars and counter tops were effortlessly woven throughout.

As automatic gunfire came from the main lobby of the bank, the hunters hurried down the halls in its direction.

Dean shook his head and spoke to Sam with snark. “And you said we shouldn’t bring guns.”

“Well, I didn’t know this was gonna happen, Dean.”

“Look,” Riley started as they reared another corner and people fled in their direction. “Whatever we do here, Dean and I do the talking. Because he does not like you Agent Johnson.”

Ronald held a key on a chain up high for everyone to see. His hostages had all gone to the ground by his orders. “There’s only one way in or out of here and I chained it up. So, nobody’s leaving, understand?”

The Winchesters and Riley made it to the lobby as they calmly walked in with their hands slightly raised in surrender.

Resnick’s eyes were large and panicky as sweat fell from his face like bullets.

“Hey, buddy,” Dean called. “Just calm down, okay? Calm down.”

Riley felt dizzy from all the confusion and fear that came from the nervous man.

When he saw the hunters, his mind automatically connected them to the ‘man-droid’ conspiracy theory.

Knowing things were about to escalate, Riley tried to get through to Ronald. “Mr. Resnick--”

“You!” Shaking, he yelled at the three as he pointed his weapon. “Get down! Get on the ground!”

Nodding nervously with an awkward smile, Riley slowly went down to her knees, as did the brothers. “Yeah--no. That’s cool. We can do that. Let’s just not shoot anybody okay? Especially not us.”

“I knew it. As soon as you three left. You ain't FBI! I mean, you are way too pretty to be a federal agent,” Ronald admitted without noticing.

“Aww--” Riley immediately stopped being flattered before looking at Sam. “Wait, did he just compliment me or was that a jab at me being a woman?” Only a second passed before she tilted her head with an accepting look. “Eh--I’m gonna say it was a compliment.”

“Who are you? Who are you working for, huh? The men in black? You working for the man-droid?”

“We’re not working for the man-droid!” Sam replied in annoyance.

Ron continued to shout as he waved the gun around. “You shut up! I ain’t talking to you! I don’t like you!”

Both Riley and Dean turned to Sam with an “I told you so”-look.

“Fair enough.”

Giving an order to one of the hostages, Resnick demanded that a middle-aged man frisk down the hunters for weapons. When the man got to Dean’s boot, the hunter closed his eyes in frustration as a silver knife was pulled from his boot.

Dean gave Ronald a face of innocence as Riley was next. The hostage patted her down clean, but the anxious man with the gun pointed at her hair.

“What about those?” Ronald asked. “Take those out of her hair. They look--‘stabby’.”

The man removed the sticks from Riley’s hair as it fell down onto her shoulders. “Damn, a girl can’t even accessorize anymore?” she asked somewhat grouchily.

They were pure silver sticks; not that sharp, but still something she could easily sneak in undetected.

Sam turned to his partners with a look of irritation.

“What?” Dean challenged. “It’s not like we’re just gonna walk in here naked.”

The hostage handed Resnick the items before the captor took them and dropped them into a deposit box.

“No, no, no, no!” Riley and Dean begged in unison before the weapons clattered inside and they winced.

“Look, Ronald...we know you don’t wanna hurt anyone,” Dean said hoping to appeal to his softer nature. “But that’s exactly what’s gonna happen if you keep waving that cannon around. So, why don’t you let these people go?”

“No! I already told you. If nobody's gonna stop this thing, then I've got to do it myself.”

“Hey, we believe you, okay? That’s why we’re here.” Dean paused before signaling Ronald over. “Come here.” When the captor hesitated, the older Winchester kept his hands up. “Hey, I’m not gonna try anything. You got the gun, boss. You’re calling the shots. I just gotta tell you something.” When Ronald allowed the hunter’s suggestion, he leaned in as Dean whispered, “it’s the bank manager.”

“What?”

"He’s telling the truth, Ronald,” Riley said softly. “Why do you think we’re dressed like this? We’ve been monitoring the cameras. We saw the bank manager...we saw his eyes. It’s him.”

“His laser eyes?” he asked eagerly.

“Yes. Wait--what? No. No, Ronald, we’re running out of time here. If we don’t find him soon, he’s gonna change into someone else and we won’t know who. We’ll be screwed.”

“Why should I trust any of you? You’re a bunch of damn liars!”

Dean slowly stood, still in a state of submission. “Take me.”

With fear in her eyes, Riley sent a thought to Dean. “What the hell are you doing?”

“It’s okay. He's not gonna hurt me.” There was a pause as the hunter waited for Ronald to look less tense. “Take me with you. Take me as a hostage. But we gotta move fast. The longer we stand here, the more time he has to change. You’re not crazy, okay? I believe you. There really is something in this bank.”

“Alright,” Ron relented with a small smile. “You--you come with me. But everyone else gets in the vault.” His voice raised to a shout once again as he waved the weapon.

Gasps and cries came from the other hostages in fear.

------

Further into the bank, Resnick ordered the hostages into the large vault. “Come on! Move! Get in there.” When Dean was the last to follow, Ronald stopped him. “You, lock it up.”

“Everyone, just stay cool, alright?” Dean gave Riley and Sam an apologetic look before closing the vault.

They both sighed as the door slammed and was locked.

“Who was that man?” a woman asked from behind them. She was a teller at the bank with long and curly strawberry-blonde hair with a name tag that read: Sherry.

With a tone of worry, Sam replied, “my brother.”

“Oh,” she swooned. “He is so brave.”

Riley rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, “oh, for fuck’s sake.”

------

With his uniform disguise finally removed, Dean went through the multiple hallways of offices with Ronald in tow.

“So, uh--” Ron stuttered nervously. “That girl you guys are with...is she--is she seeing anybody?”

Dean stopped dead in his tracks and spun to give Ronald a firm look. “Yeah. Me.”

Realizing he had just stepped in it with the large hunter, Resnick cleared his throat. “Oh, yeah that’s--that's great. You two make a beautiful couple,” he chuckled awkwardly.

The two went into the bank manager’s private office and the hunter looked around as Resnick went behind the desk.

With a cry out, he slipped and fell onto his back. He was lying on something wet and slimy that appeared to be flesh-like. Seeing what he had been touching, Ronald began to scream before standing up in a panic.

“What--what the hell is that?”

“Oh great.” Dean walked over to the pile of flesh and knelt to look. “When it changes form, it sheds its skin. So, now it could be anybody.” He sighed. “Alright, let’s get one thing straight, it’s not a man-droid. This thing is a shapeshifter.”

“Shapeshifter?”

“Yeah. I mean, it's human; more or less. Has human drives and in this case, it's money. But it generates its own skin, it can shape it to match someone else's features--you know, taller, shorter, male... And it doesn’t always kill the ones they shift into. I don’t think it really matters to them.” As Dean stood, he searched the desk before finding a letter opener and sighing in relief.

“What’s that for?”

“Remember old werewolf stories? It’s kind of the same thing with these guys. Silver’s the only thing I’ve seen that hurts them.” Dean began to stride out of the room as he flipped the blade in his hand. “Come on, Ronald.”

------

The two headed down a wide corridor as Ron began to chuckle to himself in joy while smiling ear to ear.

Dean looked at him skeptically. “What the hell’s wrong with you? You nuts?”

“That's just it. I'm not nuts. I mean, I was so scared that I was losing my marbles. But this is real! I mean, I---I—I was right! Except for the man-droid thing. Thank you.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.”

Dean and Ron took only a few more steps forward before the power went out. It went completely dark before a few dim backup lights turned on.

“Dammit. No, no, no, no, no.” Dean looked around with worry. “Shit. They cut the power. Probably their way of saying hi.”

“Who?”

“Cops.”

Ronald’s anxiety grew as he followed his newfound partner onward. “The cops?!”

“Well, you weren't exactly a smooth criminal about this, Ron. I mean, you didn't even secure the security guard. He probably called them.”

“Oh my god. I didn’t--I didn’t even think to--”

Interrupting him, Dean put out a hand asking him to calm down. “Alright, hang on, hang on. Let's just take a breath here for a second. They’ve probably got us surrounded. They've cut the power to the cameras, so there's no way of telling who the shapeshifter is.” The hunter took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. “It’s not looking good, Ron.”

A clattering noise came from nearby and the two turned towards it. Ron jumped and pointed his rifle.

“Did you hear that?” Dean asked in a hushed voice.

------

Inside the vault, the hostages had tried to make themselves comfortable on the floor while they waited. Sam lightly paced as Riley leaned up against the safety deposit boxes with her arms folded. They had both slipped out of their fake uniforms and had tossed them off to the side.

Shelly, the teller already infatuated with Dean, spoke over Sam’s shoulder. “So, has your brother always been so--” she giggled. “Wonderful? I mean, staring down that gun. And you know the way he played right into that psycho's crazy head, telling him what he wanted to hear. I mean, he's like--” the girl smiled, “a real hero or something.”

“Alright,” Riley interrupted, obviously annoyed. “That’s enough outta you, Strawberry Shortcake. Why don’t you just go have a seat with the others?”

Sam laughed to himself as Riley went back over to him.

The vault door slowly opened as Dean stood in the doorway with a handgun.

Grinning with excitement at the sight of the older brother, Shelly jumped a little. “Oh, my god! You saved us! You saved us!”

“Actually, I got a couple more. Alright, people let’s go, let’s go.”

Staring in puzzlement, Shelly watched as several people were herded inside, including the security guard.

“What are you doing?” she asked brittlely.

“Hey, uh--Sam? Rye? Ronald and I need to talk to you.”

The two followed him out of the vault before Dean closed it and sealed it behind them. They walked away from the sealed room as red and blue lights flashed through the blinds.

“It shed its skin again.”

“Oh fuck...” Riley said pinching her nose. “It could be anyone. It could be up in the halls; hell, it could be in the vault.”

“Great,” Sam replied with a scoff. “You know, Dean, you are wanted by the police. So even if we do find this damn thing--how the hell are we gonna get out of here?”

Dean sighed and shook his head softly. “One problem at a time, little brother. I’m gonna go do a sweep of the whole place, see if we can find any stragglers. Rye, you come with.” Handing her another letter opener he had found, Dean then turned to Sam. “Once we get everyone together, we've got to play a little game of ‘find-the-freak'. Now stay here, make sure Ronald doesn't hurt anybody, okay? Help him manage the situation.”

Sam’s voice raised in outrage. “Help him manage? Are you insane?!”

Alerted by Sam's raised voice, Ronald looked over.

Dean gazed past Sam and gave Ron a grinning thumbs-up. Quietly, he spoke under his breath to his brother. “Look, I know this isn’t going the way we wanted...”

“Understatement!”

“He’s right,” Riley interjected. “If we let the cops in right now, Ron gets arrested, we get arrested, and we’ll probably never catch the shifter. Sammy, I am not about to let that happen.”

The hunters turned to see Resnick in plain view to the cops with his weapon raised as Sam gestured at him in exasperation.

Riley rolled her eyes before whispering firmly. “Ron! What are you doing, man? Get out of the light!”

“Seriously?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, Ron's game plan was a bad plan,” Dean admitted. “I mean, it was a bit of a crazy plan, but right now crazy's the only game in town, okay?” He slapped Sam on the shoulder and took Riley’s hand as the two hurried off to finish their search.

There was an awkward silence as Sam stood there alone with Resnick. “...hi, Ronald,” he said obviously fake and forced. When he got no response but an uncomfortable look, Sam headed back to the vault. He opened the door and looked inside. “I'm going to leave this open--give you guys some fresh air, all right? But no one leaves this vault.”

A nearby phone began to ring and Ronald jumped at the noise. Without thinking, he went to pick it up. “H--hello?” There was a pause as he listened to the other end. “Demands? What do you mean demands? No, no, no--I--I'm not a bank robber.”

Sam looked in his direction and scolded him to hang up.

“--kind of a crime fighter I guess.” Ronald listened to the caller. “No, I’m acting alone.”

In a huff, Sam rushed over to him and slammed the phone back on the hook. “Ronald, the less the cops know, the better.”

In the vault, an older security guard began to yell for help saying he thought he was having a heart attack. The others were shouting that he needed help.

“Great, could be our guy,” Sam sighed. “Go guard the door.” After Sam gave Ronald the order, he picked up the phone to make a call. “Look,” he spoke to the other end of the line. “One of our people could be having heart trouble. You need to send in a paramedic.” There was a pause as Sam listened before shouting. “Just send in a paramedic and don’t try anything else. Please!” Hanging up, Sam ran his hands over his head. He knew they were in trouble.

------

The couple had been actively searching before they found their way into another office. With flashlights in hand, they scanned the area.

“You know,” Riley started. “This would go a lot faster if we split up.”

Dean shook his head and spoke adamantly. “No way. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

When he looked up, there was a ceiling panel slightly askew. “Here,” he said handing her his flashlight. Dean picked up a coat rack nearby and used it to move the panel above them.

As he dislodged it, a naked man’s body fell to the ground.

“Lovely,” Riley added sarcastically.

When Dean turned the body over, they could see it was one of the men in the vault.

“Oh,” she added. “Well, that’s not good.”

------

Dean and Riley had hurried back to Sam and a still jumpy Ronald. Whispering to his little brother, Dean told him that they had found.

When they all looked into the vault, the man that was holding up the aged guard, was the copy. It was the shifter. He was persistent in getting the older man out to get him some help.

Sam went to the weak guard and helped him out of the small space. “It’s alright, sir. We’re gonna get you some help.”

“Yeah, let me help you,” the shifter pressed.

Staying cool as to not let the creature know they were onto him, Sam just shook his head with a calm face. “Nah, it’s all good. I got him.” He began to walk the hostage away towards the lobby.

Dean and Riley kept their gaze locked on the shifter. “Hey,” Dean motioned for him to come their way. “Can we talk to you for a second?”

“Sure, man. You’re the one with the gun.” The shifter walked out of the vault as Riley pulled out her letter opener and stepped forward, ready for a fight.

As soon as he noticed her challenging stare, the creature grabbed Riley by the wrist before hitting her hard and knocking her to the ground.

Dean growled in fury as he charged at the shifter. Punches were exchanged and the Winchester took a good blow to the face that made him stumble.

The disguised creature took his opportunity and fled.

Without any thought, Ronald hurried after it. “Hey! Stop!”

Dean stabilized himself and helped Riley up. “You alright?”

“Son of a bitch!” she gritted. As soon as she was on her feet, she took off in pursuit.

“Riley!” he yelled out as he chased her.

Ronald had followed the shifter into the main lobby. As it went to duck behind a marble counter, Resnick raised his automatic weapon to fire.

Riley and Dean ran in and skid against the tile as they halted to a stop. To their horror, Ron was out in the open again as a laser sight found his back.

“Get down, Ronald!” she shouted.

At the sound of the gunshot through the windows, Dean grabbed Riley with his whole body and threw them down to the ground to hide behind another counter. He balled them up together hoping to shield her from any other shots.

Sam had been on the stairs taking the guard to safety as he watched the terrible scene unfold.

After a second or two, which felt more like unending minutes, they turned to see Ronald. Feathers that had popped out from his puffy vest fluttered to the ground around him as his eyes were wide with shock. He dropped to his knees and then flat onto his stomach, his arm falling into the shadowed area by the couple.

Riley pulled away from Dean and crawled on the floor to where the counter ended. She laid flat on her belly and held Ronald’s hand in both of hers. Their eyes met as she forced her abilities to work.

She focused as much as she could and sent the dying man a feeling of comfort before her voice went into him as his final thought. “I got you, Ron. You did good, buddy. Juan would be proud.”

Ronald’s face softened and a slight curl went up on his lip as he felt peace consume him. The blood in his mouth dripped onto the floor as Riley felt a breeze through her hair. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel Ron’s spirit and to let him know he wasn’t parting this world alone.

When she opened her eyes, that small hint of a smile stayed frozen on his face. He was gone.

After leaving the guard at the top of the stairs, Sam fled to his partner’s sides. Riley was still on her front, holding on to Ron.

“Riley,” Dean whispered. “Rye, we gotta go.”

She sniffled before grabbing Ron’s rifle and pushing herself back towards the brothers. Wiping her eyes quickly, she looked at Sam and Dean before giving the older brother the weapon.

Sam handed Dean the chain with the key on it to the outside. “You guys get the guard out, I’m going after the shifter.”

“No,” Riley told him. “I’m coming with you.”

The young Winchester nodded at her request as Dean looked at her with worried eyes. He couldn’t help but think she would be reckless or that history would repeat itself. “Just stay with me.”

Riley put a hand to the side of his face and kissed him gently. “This is something I gotta do. I promise, I’ll be alright.”

Dean squeezed the hand at his face and she and Sam got up to hurry back into the dark hallways. He looked around furtively and with anxiety before making a dash towards the guard.

Holding onto their flashlights, Sam and Riley vigilantly made their way through the darkness.

Sam put his hand out as if asking for the letter opener. She slapped it away and shot him a look of irritation. Anyone watching would have believed they were real siblings as they silently exchanged “give it to me” and “no” through annoyed facial expressions.

Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes as he gave up asking.

As the two came around the next corner, there was the teller, Sherry with another employee. They both froze in terror and put their hands up as the hunter’s flashlights lit them up.

“Please,” Shelly begged. “Don’t hurt us.”

Having already been exasperated with the woman, Riley sighed with frustration. “What the hell are you doing out here? Get your asses back in the vault. It’s not safe!”

The two women’s heels clicked on the tiles as they scurried away.

Sam gazed down at his surrogate sister with a hooked eyebrow.

“What?” she asked. “The girl gets on my nerves.” Riley began to walk on and Sam chuckled to himself as he followed.

------

Holding the guard in front of him and the rifle in his other hand, Dean approached the front door slowly. Outside, several paramedics pulled a stretcher out of an ambulance while the S.W.A.T. team set up on the steps ready to shoot.

Dean stood behind the hostage and spoke gently to him as he guided him forward. “This’ll all be over soon. Everything’s gonna be alright.” He unlocked the door and guided the guard a step outside.

The guard shook in fear as he yelled, “please! Please don’t shoot!”

As the officers began to advance, Dean shouted firmly. “No, no, no, no, no. Don't even think about it!” The hunter looked around at the media frenzy and number of first responders that surrounded them. It was in that moment that Dean truly began to worry if they would be able to get out of there that night.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean whispered before yelling again. “I said get the fuck back! Now!” After a pause ensuring the situation was going according to plan, he told the guard to go.

As the weak man stumbled out, Dean hurried behind the doors and latched them once again. “We are so fucked,” he muttered.

His phone rang and he fumbled to get it out as he answered slightly out of breath. “Sammy?”

“Yeah, it slipped its skin again. This bastard shifts fast--faster than the one from St. Louis.”

“Shit,” Dean hissed as he ran a hand over his head. “God, it's like playing the shell game. It could be anybody. Again.”

“Yeah, I think most of the employees are out of the vault by now.”

“Alright, you search every inch of this place, I'm gonna go round everybody up. And Sam--watch out for Riley,” he added before hanging up.

------

Tired and completely on edge, Dean ushered the hostages back into the vault. He sighed heavily as Sherry was the last one to go in.

She turned to face him. “I thought you were one of the good guys.”

“My name’s Dean,” he told her gently.

Hesitating before she spoke, the teller said, “I’m Sherry.”

“Hi, Sherry. Everything's gonna be all right. This will all be over soon, okay?” Trying to give her one last look of comfort, Dean closed the vault and spun the lock.

Just then, the phone rang. Dean sat his handgun down to answer. “Yeah?” he asked firmly.

“This is Special Agent Victor Henriksen.”

“Yeah, listen, I'm not really in the negotiating mood right now, so--”

The agent interrupted him with obviously no time for his games. “Good. Me neither. It's my job to bring you in. Alive's a bonus, but not necessary.”

“Whoa. Kinda harsh for a Federal Agent, don't you think?”

“Well, you’re not the typical suspect, now are you Dean?”

Horrified that the agent knew his name, Dean stood frozen before Henriksen spoke again.

“I want you, Sam, and Riley out here, unarmed--or we come in. And yes, I know all about Sam and your girl, Riley. Your little brother and the Bonnie to your Clyde.”

Dean smirked at the reference knowing Riley would have loved it too. “Yeah, that part’s true. But how did you even know we were here?”

“Go fuck yourself, that’s how I knew. It’s apparently become my entire job to know you three. I’ve been looking for you for weeks now, Dean. I know about the murder in St. Louis and I know about the Houdini act you pulled in Baltimore. I also know about the desecrations and the thefts. I also know about both your dads.”

“You don’t know shit about our dads,” Dean replied trying to contain his anger at the comment.

“Ex-marine raised his kids on the road, cheap motels, backwoods cabins--real paramilitary survivalist type. I just can't get a handle on what type of whacko he was. White supremacist, Timmy McVeigh, to-may-to, to-mah-to. And then there’s Riley’s old man. Now, that one stumped me a bit. She was raised the same way you and Sam were, but the guy was a mechanic in his earlier years. I’m assuming he was involved in whatever bullshit your own father was.”

“You got no right talking about our dads like that. They were heroes.”

“Yeah. Right. Sure sounds like it. You have one hour to make a decision or we come through those doors full-automatic.” The line went dead as Henrikson hung up on Dean.

The hunter softly pounded the phone into his forehead in irritation before slamming the phone back onto its hook.

------

Sam and Riley were still searching the halls when they saw blood on the floor in front of a closet.

As Sam quickly threw the door open, the half-dressed body of Sherry fell out. Her throat is slit, her face grey and empty.

Riley cringed and felt herself nearly sick at the sight. Blood and gore didn’t affect her in the slightest. Though seeing that woman with her throat cut open by a shifter was enough to bring her back to memories she was still trying to suppress.

She gulped hard as she finally stared down at the body. “Fucking bastard.”

Turning fast on her heels, Riley spun around and began to jog back to the vault. Sam hurried to be at her side.

When they finally reached the vault, Riley steadied her breathing. “We got a problem,” she told Dean.

“Yeah, we got a bit of a problem outside, too.”

“It’s Sherry. The teller.”

Dean made a face of ‘dammit’, before opening up the vault. The scared hostages all flinched and stared back in fear. “Alright, Sherry, we’re gonna let you go.”

“What? Why me?”

“Sign of good faith, okay?” Riley tried not to snark.

Nervously and almost stammering, Sherry stood with the hostages. “I, uh--I think I'd rather stay with the others.”

Riley bit her lip in anger as she struggled to control her rage and walked over to the woman. “I’m afraid we’re gonna have to insist.”

------

Back where Sam and Riley had found the woman’s body, the three guided Sherry to it and shoved her into the room. When she saw the replica of her body, dead on the ground, Sherry began to scream hysterically.

“Is that community theater or are you just naturally that good?” Dean teased.

Riley’s eyes grew slightly dark with hate as she got closer to Sherry. “I’m gonna make sure you never turn into anyone else ever again.”

Sherry screamed and wailed in response.

In that instant, Riley could hear the woman inside. She wasn’t a monster, she was truly just a terrified woman.

But before she could tell Sam, Sherry fell to the ground and fainted. Riley ran a hand through her hair. “Shit.”

Sam looked at her, confounded. “What?”

“It’s not her.”

“Of course, it’s her.”

“No...” she groaned. “She may be annoying as hell, but she’s not a monster. I could hear her thoughts...finally.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake...” Dean uttered under his breath as he went to check the hallways again.

Riley crouched beside the body they had found, perplexed. As she turned to look at Sam, the eyes of the body opened and stared up at her. It was the shapeshifter.

The creature grabbed her by the throat and Riley fought back. With the letter opener in hand, Riley struggled and stabbed at the shifter.

Sherry woke up, terrified once again and screaming. Sam went to her side but then looked back at Riley unsure of what to do.

“Get her out, Sam! Now!” Riley demanded in the scuffle.

With hesitation, Sam complied and took the woman out of the room.

Finally escaping Riley’s grasp, the shifter kneed the hunter in the face sending her onto her back before fleeing. Riley practically growled in anger as she got up to go after it.

Sprinting in its direction, she rounded a corner and the shifter hit her in the face, hard. Riley stumbled and then stood tall. Cracking her neck, she got into a fighting stance and eyed the creature. “Bring it on, bitch.”

She swiped at it with the silver blade and it avoided the attack before retaliating. The two tussled as the monster got in two good head butts.

Riley slashed at her again and the shifter grabbed her wrist and wrenched it up. The hunter grasped ‘Sherry's’ forearm as the monster’s skin slipped off stickily. “Ugh...” she groaned. “Fuckin’ gross.”

Riley kicked her hard and then hit her several times in the face. She grabbed her leg and wrenched it back, shoving her against the wall. They struggled like that for a moment before the hunter managed to ram the silver blade into her chest. The creature groaned and Riley let its body slide to the floor.

Panting from the fight, Riley knelt down to look at the disguised monster to ensure it was dead. It felt so good to see another shapeshifter wasted. And it felt even better that she was the one to do it.

A noise came from nearby and she flinched in its direction.

It was Dean. “Rye, what the fuck happened?”

She chuckled. “Bitch was a fighter.”

Dean crouched beside Riley and looked her over for serious injuries. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I’m good.” She looked at the creature one more time with satisfaction. “I’m good.”

Lights came from around the corner as the S.W.A.T. team stared them down. They panted nervously looking at the officers that had found and cornered them.

------

After the feds and S.W.A.T. team had made their way inside, they cleared each hallway. Along the way, they found the body of the man that had fallen from the ceiling and the body of the Sherry duplicate.

“Sir?” an officer said to Agent Henriksen. “My team said it's secure. They're gone”.

“You tell your team to tear it apart!” the agent shouted. “The ducts, the ceilings, the furnace, everything!”

“I don't think that's necessary.”

“Why the fuck not?”

The officer took Henriksen to a broom closet where other officers had gathered. Inside, there were three men stripped down to their underwear and handcuffed to each other on the floor.

Henriksen’s head fell in defeat and humiliation as he realized the three had gotten away.

------

Three figures in S.W.A.T. armor with weapons had exited the bank and were running up the stairs on the outside of a building. They left the stairs and turned into the deck of a parking garage and walked towards a car--it was the Impala.

As they get into the Chevy, the three in uniform pulled off their helmets and masks. It was Sam, Dean, and Riley. They all were still shaking after having only just barely escaped.

Riley’s hair fell and she brushed a hand through it as they sat in silence.

Their situation was bad and they knew it. The hunters, of course, had experienced their fair share of run-ins with the law, but now the feds were on their tail. How the Winchesters and Riley were going to con their way out of that nightmare, was beyond them.

“We’re so fucked,” Dean admitted.

His partners both nodded their heads minutely.

With nothing left to say, it was time they got out of there. Dean started Baby up and hurried them out of the parking structure. The only way to stay safe for the time being was to get as much distance between them and Milwaukee as they could.

Sam leaned forward and turned on the stereo to beat the uncomfortable quiet. Styx’s song ‘Renegade’ came through the speakers and the brothers and Riley looked at each other, slightly shocked by the odds of it playing. But, as no one spoke up, the song played on as they disappeared down the road.

“Oh, mama, I’m in fear for my life from the long arm of the law. Lawman is pullin' into my runnin', and I'm so far from my home. Oh, mama, I can hear you a-cryin', you're so scared and all alone. Hangman is coming down from the gallows, and I don't have very long...”

------

S2 Chapter 8: Born Under a Bad Sign

SIDE BAR: I LIVE for the love and reblogs, but since big things are happening, maybe don’t put spoilers in the reblog comment section and leave them just in the regular comments lol Love you ALL!

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hnrywinchester · 5 years

Text

Fare Thee Well - - 14

Summary: She hasn’t sene Gabriel since he died nine years ago, then a phone call changes everything.

Pairing: Gabriel x OFC

Series Warnings: ANGST, smut, swearing, PTSD Gabriel, Character Deaths, Canon Compliant

Beta’d by: @aquietuniverse

Words: 4.6k

“Gabe…. Gabriel.. Fuck,” Liv panted as she writhed on the mattress, two handfuls of honey blonde hair tightly wound between her fingers, “I can’t…” “You can,” he urged, his mouth relenting from her overstimulated core just long enough to get the words out before his tongue returned to it’s task, “stop resisting, and let it happen.” An exasperated groan broke free from her lips. The pressure was too much, but for some unknown reason it wouldn’t relent. Maybe she didn’t want it to end, or maybe it was because this felt different than all the other times. It almost felt too good. It was the kind of good that she feared would never be replicated, so she had to prolong it as long as she could. She also knew this wasn’t even the worst he could do. He was taking it easy on her, so why this was so mind-blowing was a mystery. Plus, it wasn’t like this exact scenario hadn’t taken place just two weeks prior. It had to be the slight hangover, or maybe the fact that they’d hadn’t really relented with each other for the past twenty four hours. She wasn’t about to tell him to stop though… Finally, she felt relief impending. That bubble in her stomach began to inflate into her chest, her fingers and toes tightening as she yanked his head to exactly where she needed it. As she cried out a string of profanities littered with his name, she felt him hum in appreciation against her, adding just enough to send one more aftershock vibrating through her. “You don’t play fair,” she panted as his lips finally released her and began kissing a trail up her stomach. “Never claimed to,” he teased, “plus, you started it. Waking me up with that sinful, oh-so-talented mouth. It actually is only fair I return the favor. So…” “Shut up.” “I don’t know what you were expecting. When have I ever left you high and dry? Well, when I’m in my right mind anyway…” “It was supposed to be just for you!” “I don’t do ‘just for me’, sweetheart. You know this. Why are you complaining, by the way? I’d ask if it was good but I already felt the answer.” “I’m not complaining…” The little pout that settled on her lips was one of the most endearing things he’d ever seen. Her flushed face and still half sleep-lidded eyes was definitely the sight he wanted to wake up to for the rest of eternity. He flopped down onto his stomach beside her, arms burying under the pillow as he laid his head down onto it, face towards her. He knew it was time to get up, it was Luci day, but another five minutes wouldn’t kill anyone. As her heart settled from one of what she hoped would be many more mornings with him, she rolled over on top of him. Her chest pressed into his back and she snaked her arms around his neck, giggling at the grunts and groans that sounded as he shifted to accommodate them. “Oh, not mad anymore?” he teased, the corners of his lips pulling up into a smile. “Guess not,” she retorted, squishing her nose against his cheek, “are you ready for today?” “‘Course. Why wouldn’t I be?” “Lucifer…” “Eh, he’s nothing.” Her stomach dropped at his words. Typical of him to not understand the gravity of a situation. She hadn’t seen the Devil since he’d “killed” Gabriel all those years ago, seeing him again was certainly going to kick up some long-repressed memories. “Baby, he isn’t nothing. Please tell me you’re taking this seriously,” she pleaded, pushing herself off of him. “I’m taking it seriously, don’t worry about me,” he replied, turning over to his back to watch her as she put her clothes back on, “Come on, I’ll make you breakfast. I sent Cassie out to get some food for this dump yesterday.” The frown on her face remained as he tried to lighten the mood. He noticed, pursing his lips as his head swayed to the side. Why couldn’t he get one day without some kind of catastrophe needing his attention? He wasn’t going to admit to her face he was just as nervous as he was when they went after him nine years ago. He hadn’t told her then either, but this plan seemed at least slightly more geared for success and with better odds. Luci wasn’t jacked up on his ego and vengeful after eons in the cage. This time would be different. “It’s gonna be fine!” Gabriel continued, getting out of bed and dressing before going to stand in front of her, “I promise.” “You can’t promise that,” she warned, glaring at him through her brows, “That’s what you said last time.” “Yeah, and last time it was fine too. Just what happened afterwards went a little south…” “Gabriel. I can’t…” “I’m not goin’ anywhere. Who dies when they have this much to live for, right?” Gently, he pulled her into his arms, tucking his chin onto the top of her head. They stayed still, minds racing. All the contentment she’d thrived in yesterday had washed away, being replaced by the vision of his wings seared into the wooden floor of that old hotel, body laid out, still and bloody. Even with his arms around her that still felt like a reality, the piece of her that only he kept together shook in its place as she recalled the years of his absence. She still hadn’t given him an answer, whether or not she would stay behind, and the question was still buzzing in the back of his mind. His own chances of making it out of there in one piece were low enough, he didn’t need to add her into the mix. Michael would be gunning for her first. “Just…” she stuttered, lifting her head to look at him. “I know,” he answered, not needing to even hear the rest. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, feeling the tension she was holding in her neck and shoulders melt away at his gesture. Her pace picked up as the desperation set in, locking a hand into his hair as her eyebrows scrunched together. If life had taught her anything, it was that something standing right in front of you could be gone without a moment’s notice. “Hey, hey,” he cooed, pulling his head away, “look at me.” Regrettably, she opened her eyes, swallowing hard to repress tears she knew were coming. His face was soft yet strong as his hands came up to cup her face. He gave her that trademark smirk and she wished she could have said it helped ease her building anxiety, but it didn’t. “Lucifer doesn’t know what’s about to hit him. I got him, okay?” he assured, kissing her forehead, “Now, kitchen. Go.” Grabbing his hand, she led him from the bedroom. A piece of him was happy to be out of there, he had to make a point to scrub the walls clean before they slept in there again. She may not be able to read the words written there, but he could. He needed no more reminders than the ones already burned into his memory of his time down in the pit. When they popped out of the hall and into the main area, their attention was grabbed by a large, slumped figure in the library —Sam. He was still wearing the same clothes he had the day before, setting alarms off in both of their heads. Quickly, Liv changed direction and tugged Gabriel towards the hunter. “Sam?” she asked quietly, “did you sleep?” “Uh hey. No,” Sam admitted, his lips forming into a tight line, voice heavy. “Do you want to?” Gabriel inquired, placing a hand on Liv’s lower back, “I got enough in the tank to knock you out for a few hours. Better than nothin’.” “No. Thanks though.” “You need to sleep, Sam,” Liv continued, “We have a big day.” “Yeah. Trust me. I know.” “What’s up buddy?” Gabriel chimed in, stepping a little closer to him. “Lucifer.” Gabriel nodded, tucking his lips into each other, “Can you give us a minute?” he whispered into Liv’s hair, kissing her temple afterwards. With a small smile and a nod, she took off in the direction of the kitchen, hoping that Gabriel could fix whatever was plaguing Sam . As soon as Liv was out of view, Gabriel pulled out the chair next to Sam and sat down. Sam’s eyes were tired, black circles having formed underneath, his face even more conflicted than normal. “What’d he do to you?” Gabriel finally spoke up. “Everything. When I was stuck in the cage with him for… for a year,” Sam confessed, too tired to even care it was the Trickster he was pouring his heart out to. “Yeah, I can sympathize with that first part. Never was stuck in the cage with him, heaven before he was cast out though… shit show.” Sam’s eyes changed and filled with sympathy as he looked at the archangel. Gabriels’ face was set into a sad, lopsided smile, his eyes mirroring Sam’s. Gabriel remembered those years, before Earth had been created, before Lucifer had been kicked out, anarchy began and Dad disappeared. Before he ran. “I was the youngest brother there for a little while, before pops made the seraphs. He’s always been a twisted dick, don’t know where that wiring went so wrong…” Gabriel continued. “How’d you… deal with it?” Sam mumbled softly. “I didn’t. Lot’a pent up issues in this handsome façade Sam, I’d give Dean a run for his money. Back then, I told myself I was helping my brother fight through his issues. I thought I was doing him a service, proving to him that I loved him. Letting him use me like that… But you know how this story ends.” “Yeah. I’ve tried running too.” “Luci always comes home.” A silence settled between the two men, heavy and thick as they both traveled back into their nightmares. Gabriel recalled years and years of mutilation and abuse at the hands of his brother, one could even call it torture. Physical, mental, emotional, Lucifer knew no limit when it came to inflicting pain. He’d used Gabriel’s soft and gentle nature against him, using it to his advantage like it was a sport. When he finally fled heaven, it was the first time he had ever truly felt peace, even through the pain of missing his family. “Are you… afraid to see him?” Sam questioned, his eyes falling to the table. “Afraid? Nah. Nothing worse he can do to me than what he’s already done,” Gabriel answered, his voice void of the fear he felt, “I survived. Like to think I came out on top actually.” That was a conviction he truly felt. Lucifer, he hadn’t changed. He was still bitter, jaded, cruel. He’d done nothing to remedy his flaws and downfalls over the years, whereas Gabriel felt he had. Well, at least he’d tried. He’d loved, lost, saved a few people, killed a couple of bad apples. All in all he didn’t think he’d done too badly for himself, considering. Then there was Liv, of course. No matter what powers Lucifer held over Gabriel, he’d never have something like her. “Don’t… let him get to you,” Gabriel continued, “He feeds on it. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Sam was shocked by the sentiment in Gabriel’s tone. This was the same guy that killed Dean in front of him hundreds of times, and then made him live out six months of pure hell in some elaborate prank. Yet, here he was now, hunting down the devil and willing to put himself on the line to save the world, even if he was a little reluctant. Times certainly had changed. “How long?” Sam inquired nervously, “how long have you and Liv been, whatever you are.” “Long time,” Gabriel responded, “if you’re wondering if she was around for Mystery Spot, then yeah. Earned myself the dog house for that one. Ya hungry? I’m making the Liv Special. Eggs over easy and more bacon than any one human being ever needs to consume. You’ll be doing her arteries a favor by sharing.” “Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks.” As Gabriel took off in the direction of the kitchen, Sam knew he needed to linger a little bit longer. Dean was still passed out in his bed, his snores could faintly be heard from all the way in the library. Sam had heard him stumble in around 4 AM, his efforts with that little brunette were not in vain. While he knew Gabriel’s intentions were good, the angel had done nothing to ease his mind. If anything, it had only pissed him off further. Lucifer had been destroying lives since before the sun was even created, yet somehow God had let him continue to exist. He thought back to all the people they’d lost throughout the years and the fact that that devoid, petulant monster was still walking freely angered him to no limit. One day they’d get the upper-hand on him and end him once and for all or he was going to die trying. When Gabriel turned into the kitchen, he stopped dead in his tracks in the doorway. Some things needed to be appreciated and revered for exactly what they were and this was one of them. Liv was seated on the counter, her legs hanging freely over the edge, swinging absentmindedly as she held a mug of coffee in one hand and her phone in the other. Her attention was still very much engaged with whatever she was doing on it, he was fairly certain it was that weird candy game he’d caught her playing a few times now. She was addicted to it. Her hair was cascading around her face and shoulders, his t-shirt hung loosely on her small frame and he couldn’t help but take in the rawness of the moment. This was her. Most would never see this side of her, they’d never be so lucky. To them, she’d always be that tough-as-nails hunter with the tongue to boot. To him, she’d always be that goofy, clumsy, giggling nerd who watched too much Harry Potter and could solve almost the entire Sunday Crossword singlehandedly. He figured at some point when Dad was pulling everything together, turning atoms into molecules and molecules into trees, platypus’, angels and humans, a piece of her must have been thrown into him by mistake. One little molecule meant for her was whirring around wreaking chaos, rewiring his electrical currents. How could something so small and insignificant be so profound that it changed fate itself? He knew he wasn’t meant to love her, he was designed for a much greater purpose, but as he stood before her there was no grander task he could have been assigned. He was her lover, her best friend, her guardian and she the very thing that kept his grace pumping through his veins. Perhaps it was that little stolen piece of her that had kept him alive through the tortures of hell. Buzzing in his body on overdrive, jumpstarting his own wearied cells into functioning just enough to keep him going day after day, year after year. Remember what you’re fighting for. She was the beginning and the end, the very definition of purpose. There was no force that heaven, hell, or anything in between could muster that was strong enough to tear him from her now. “Hey,” she greeted, finally catching sight of him leaning in the entryway, “what’re you doing?” “Enjoying the view,” he beamed, pushing himself off the frame and towards her. As he advanced she rolled her eyes, scoffing with a grin. She tossed her phone down onto the counter as he came to stand in front of her, nestling himself between her knees with his hands pressed into the cool countertop on each side of her. Her arms wrapped around his neck lazily, one hand toying with his messy hair. “You know, your face is gonna get stuck that way if you keep rolling your eyes like that,” he teased. His lips fell to her throat, her pulse thrumming beneath his lips reminding him again that she was real. She was here. She was with him. “You don’t have to come today,” he whispered against her skin, lips feathering as he spoke. “Don’t be dumb,” she insulted, “I’m going. Don’t even try to stop me. You’re making me sit out the grand finale, I’m at least helping in the opener.” A sigh of relief exploded from his chest. He felt her breathe a small laugh through her nose, her arms wrapping a little tighter around him. His lips began to brush against her again, trailing up her neck and face until his forehead was pressed firmly against hers. She finally answered his request, and for once, she was giving in. “Thank you,” he choked, the relief settling so many of his nerves and fears. “You owe me,” she warned, keeping her eyes locked on his. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. Swear to… you.” Swearing to God held no meaning, not to him, but she did. She smiled with one side of her lips, bringing one hand between them and holding her pinky out straight. He mirrored her expression, linking his own smallest finger with hers and squeezing, pulling their hands into his chest. With not a second’s more hesitation he leaned in and kissed her, lightly at first, but his motions picking up speed and tempo as he grew more and more grateful for this break he’d been given. She’d be safe here, at home. She’d have the witch as backup, in a warded bunker loaded with more weapons than anyone knew what to do with. When he came home, he’d bury himself in her arms, finally ready to take on the future. A future filled with nothing but her and peace and quiet. “Have you decided on where exactly we’ll be going when this is all said and done?” Gabriel’s anticipation bubbled over, he wanted specifics on where his life would be headed in just a few days time. “Mexico? Maybe Belize again…” she mused, that coy little smirk still plastered on her face. “Oh I always knew you were perfect.” “I like the beach, and the food, and you like the tequila. Win win.” “Uh, correction. I like you drunk on the tequila. Something about it makes you throw inhibitions to the wind and I have a deep appreciation for it.” Sam rounded the corner and paused where Gabriel had moments before, the scene before him making him smile. Gabriel was hovered in towards Liv sitting on the countertop, her arms wrapped around his neck with the most serene expression on her face. It was a look he would have never thought possible for her. They were both smiling with their entire faces, completely enraptured by one another; a tornado could pass by and he didn’t think they’d even notice. He hadn’t seen a look like that on Gabriel’s face since before they’d outed him as an archangel, unbridled happiness tinged with a touch a mischief. He looked at her like she was made of a magic only he could see. They certainly did bring out the best in each other. Maybe the worst, too. A pang of guilt hit him in the stomach. Clearly, they just wanted to run off into the sunset together, but here they were being drug off into his and his brother’s mess once again. He knew there was no other option, and Dean would never forgive either of them for walking away now, but it didn’t change the fact that Sam knew this wasn’t their problem. It never had been. He watched as Gabriel leaned in and kissed her, soft and slow. It was the way you kissed someone that you knew you had the power to break, but never would. It was reassuring and absolute. It was the kind of kiss he craved to give to someone, to receive in return, but that wasn’t his fate. It never was and it never would be. “I’m hungry,” Sam heard Liv pout as Gabriel pulled away, and he figured it was time to make his presence known. “Hey,” he greeted, walking into the kitchen like he hadn’t just been watching them. “Sam,” she announced, her face losing some of the softness he’d just been witness to, “slacker here hasn’t even started yet if you’re looking for breakfast.” Gabriel groaned in jest as he trudged over-dramatically to the fridge, pulling out the groceries he’d sent Castiel to collect the day before. Liv snickered to herself, hopping down to the floor and fetching two frying pans so they could begin their task. Sam sat back and watched as the pair worked seamlessly together. Gabriel did most of it, Liv passing eggs and utensils as needed and he wondered how, after so many years apart, two people could still be so in sync with one other. It was like not a second had passed. When he moved around her, he brushed a hand against her lower back, the little motion always eliciting at least a twitch of a smile from her lips and he swore they passed things back and forth without even so much as a look. Their motions were almost second nature, so deeply ingrained it was more habit than effort. The sight of an all powerful archangel in his kitchen frying bacon and eggs was certainly not something Sam ever expected to be sitting through. He thought he might actually be sad when they all went their separate ways. “Never knew you could cook Gabriel,” Sam commented, the smell of bacon filling the room and he knew Dean would be roused by it soon. “Oh yeah,” the angel bragged as he switched his attention from the bacon to the eggs, “You get bored after a while, Sammy.” “He can play guitar, too,” Liv boasted further, turning and leaning her back against the counter, “and we moonlit as bartenders for a little while. Also good at that.” “Oh yeah? Bartenders huh?” Sam wondered, “why?” “Why not?” Gabriel noted, “We had fun.” There was so much more to them than Sam could have ever guessed. He hoped they’d stick around for even a few days after they returned, to tell their stories. The bunker could use a little happy every once in awhile. Liv came over moments later, setting a plate down in front of Sam and herself, taking a seat across from him. Sam had to admit, this had to be one of the best looking breakfasts he’d seen in awhile. “You gonna be all right?” She asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Me? Oh yeah. I’ll be fine,” Sam promised, and he watched as Liv looked to Gabriel for reassurance. “Do I smell bacon?” a gravelly, sleep-heavy voice called from the hallway. The three inhabitants of the kitchen all turned their attention to the doorway, the image of a bathrobe-clad, hungover Dean coming into view. Gabe’s chin tucked into his neck as his eyebrows furrowed, his reaction earning a stifled giggle from Liv. “Wow,” Gabriel commented, “Mark this under things I had no interest in ever experiencing.” Sam and Liv burst out into laughter as they watched Dean’s face wrinkle in confusion and offense, Gabriel standing true in his disgusted expression. Dean brushed past the angel, fumbling loudly as he poured himself a mug of coffee, pouring almost half of it out onto the counter. “Do you have no self-awareness?” Gabriel chided as he watched Dean leave the mess, “Or are you just that disgusting?” “Never took you as a neat freak, Gabe,” Dean teased, smirking as he sat down next to his brother, “send a plate of that over here, will ya?” Gabriel’s nostrils flared as he glared at the hunter, his eyes full of contempt. He couldn’t wait to be out of here. “Please?” Dean added sarcastically. Liv shook her head, these two would never get along. Luckily, they wouldn’t have to for much longer. She watched as Gabriel prepared a plate, haphazardly tossing food onto it in a manner very much unlike him. Even with this simple task, he was all about presentation. As he tossed it onto the counter and turned to lean against the stove Liv laughed again, all about presentation and a little petty. “I am not delivering it to you,” Gabriel stated matter-of-factly, “Not even in your wildest dreams.” “You two are going to be the death of us all,” Liv retorted, bringing her empty plate over to the sink, “behave.” Her hand skimmed over Gabriel’s chest as she whispered that last word just to him as she passed. She wound her way back to the bedroom, shutting the door behind her for one moment of privacy. She’d made up her mind, deciding to give Gabriel a reprieve from his anxiety and stay behind from the main mission. While everything was still screaming at her to not let him go over there alone, she knew she had to trust him. She had to trust the Winchesters and Castiel; they’d get him home safely. He’d get himself home to her, he said he would, and he wouldn’t break another promise. Right now, the focus was on Lucifer. While she knew they’d be headed off to destruction land as soon as they got their hands on archangel grace, that time wasn’t here just yet. She dressed in more suitable attire for hunting the devil, but kept Gabriel’s old shirt on, it just seemed right having it on. Typically, she only ever slept in it, but it seemed appropriate even if she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. She was left alone for thirty minutes, her thoughts running rampant, before a soft knock startled her from her worries. “Can I come in?” a familiar sweet voice sounded from the other side of the antiquated wood. “Of course,” she replied softly, if he was anything but an angel he probably wouldn’t have even heard. When he stepped into the room, he saw exactly what he was expecting. She was seated on the edge of the bed, head hung low, too far gone in her head to dig herself out alone. “Look, I know you’re pissed,” he began. “I’m not pissed, Gabe,” she cut off, snapping her eyes up to him, “I’m… panic-stricken.” He sighed, “I know. Anything I can do? To… ease your suffering?” Leave it to him to pull a smile in the most unlikely of times. Even if there was nothing except abandoning this fool’s plan once and for all. “It’s time to go,” he confessed as she remained silent, “I’ll drive. You just sit co-captain and look cute, yeah?” The pair made their way to the war room, meeting with the other four members of their unlikely team. Rowena and Castiel flanked the Winchester brothers, everyone trying their best to mask their concern and fears. “Okay, we got the plan, right?” Dean barked, his militant tone taking over, “main players are Rowena and Gabe. Cas you’re back up one, Liv, Sam, we’re back up two. We juice him, cuff him, throw him in the trunk. That’s it, on to the next.” Everyone nodded once, their stomachs collectively falling as they walked off towards the garage. Little did they know it was one step towards a path of total and complete destruction. TAGS: @idabbleincrazy @analisespn @nodistressdamsel @morganas-pendragons

#gabriel x oc #gabriel x ofc #gabriel #gabriel fanfiction #gabriel fanfic

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dhampir72 · 7 years

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Because people seemed interested in the self-indulgent now 25+ pages of 00Q whump I wrote today for no reason at all except to avoid my responsibilities... here is a sample. ngl inspired by @beginte‘s amazing fic Choice of Poison which is fantastic and something everyone should read

Full chapter now available on Ao3 here.

The day started as ordinary as Tuesdays in February tended to be: cold, wet, and a little dreary. Many people might have been tempted to sleep in, to avoid the morning chill and damp, but James Bond was not one of those people. He had just returned two days prior from an assignment in South America and the chilly temperature of London was just what he wanted after three weeks of blistering summer heat.

He managed to wake early enough to avoid the morning rush, not having to sit at too many lights on his way to Six. A good thing, too, because the car he had let was a new model Jaguar F-Type that didn’t deserve to idle at stop lights. It was a joy to be back on home soil after enduring inhospitable conditions in Paraguay, but even more so to drive the streets he had missed in a beautiful car with plates that told police to not bother pursuing him if he happened to be going too fast.

He pulled into the underground garage around half-past six, sliding the red sports car into a spot next to a rather plain Corsa with a banged up bumper. There weren’t many other cars in the lot due to the early hour.

Bond exited the car and locked it, shoving the fob into his pocket as he made for the northwest lift. The subterranean garage was new, acquired after some merger that Bond hadn’t given a care about when the memo had gone round. All he knew was that it was convenient to not have to find street parking.

Since Six had acquired the property, Bond had discovered quickly that he preferred the lift from the garage because not many people used it. Most everyone came in through the front door, as the Tube station was just a block or so away. That meant the entrance was always clogged with people, all the ordinary 9-5 personnel that had never seen a Double-Oh in their life (and probably never would). It wasn’t that Bond thought himself better than them, he just didn’t want to end up in those awkward conversations while waiting for the lift. Oh, you work in Finance? That’s interesting. I kill people for a living. Have a nice day. It never tended to go over well. And really, all Bond wanted was to get in and run the track for a few hours before the gym got too busy.

That was the boring thing about being in-between missions: not much to do but try to keep himself busy until the next assignment.

He rounded the corner and heard the ding of the doors opening.

There was just one person waiting and Bond thought maybe he’d just wait until they’d gone ahead, just so he could ride alone without forcing an awkward conversation. But then the person turned round as they entered the lift, tugging back their hood, and their eyes met.

It was Q, looking a little sleep-rumpled and damp from the rain, his keys in one hand, a thermos in the other. He wore that awful anorak--the one Bond swore he would one day put out of its misery--but as Bond came closer to the lifts, he saw that underneath, Q had dressed in a tasteful hunter green cardigan over a white button down. The top few buttons were undone, exposing his throat. It was strange to see him without a tie, but Bond rather liked the look on him, and had to fight to keep his eyes on Q’s face instead of that stretch of skin he’d never seen before.

Q held out his arm to keep the doors from closing, but Bond didn’t even bother picking up his pace, taking his time as he made his way closer. Oh, yes, he definitely liked the sleepy, not-yet-done-up button business Q had going on this morning. Bond wondered why he was just seeing it now after two years of working with the other man.

“Surprised to see you in so early,” Q said, once Bond was within earshot.

“You know me. Early bird gets the worm.”

“That is nothing at all like you, Bond,” Q said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as Bond entered the lift. “What did you do?”

“Didn’t know you drove,” Bond said, changing the subject in hopes that Q would be irked all day, wondering what he had done. The truth was that he had done nothing at all, but it was fun to tease Q into thinking he had done something troublesome.

“Another quip about my age? That they shouldn’t assign driver’s licenses to people under the age of thirteen?”

“You said it, not me. Corsa?”

The look Q gave him told Bond that he was right.

“Cute. Bit of a bump on the back end. Maybe you need a booster seat?”

Q rolled his eyes, and then held out his arm to keep the doors from closing again. Bond glanced out into the parking garage to see who he had stopped the lift for and saw a white man in a grey suit. He looked like an ordinary office-worker, but he wasn’t carrying a bag or briefcase and didn’t have a badge anywhere in sight.

The hairs on the back of Bond’s neck stood up.

“You know him?” Bond asked.

“Isn’t that whatshisname from Accounting?” Q asked, adjusting his glasses with a frown. “Hm, no...it’s not. I must need a new prescription…”

Bond moved himself in front of Q, blocking him from the stranger’s view.

“Everyone that has access to this level has to be vetted. I’m sure it’s fine--”

But Bond was already reaching for the Walther under his arm, just as the man raised something to his mouth. At first, Bond thought it was a cigarette, but then he realised it was longer, like a reed. Bond’s body knew what it was before his brain, allowing him to side-step the thin projectile that came whizzing by his left ear. Thinner than a sewing needle, it wedged right into the cushioned wall of the lift behind him.

“What the hell…?” Q began, just as the man lifted the blow dart gun to his mouth again.

Bond shoved Q to one side of the lift before diving for the control panel on his side, jamming the door closed button with this thumb, urging the doors shut and the lift down before the man could get closer. Any other time, Bond would have confronted the man, using the unauthorised weapon under his arm, but he couldn’t take the risk when MI6’s Quartermaster was with him. Who was to say there wasn’t an accomplice?

The doors closed with a too-cheerful ding! and Bond immediately turned to Q, assessing him for injury. He seemed fine, just a little rumpled from Bond’s rough shove. His keys and thermos were on the floor at their feet, the cup’s contents thankfully unspilled, but their placement a testament to how the event had shaken them both. Bond was just counting them both as exceedingly lucky, but then a queer look came to Q’s face, somewhere between concerned and shocked. At first, Bond thought it must have been the realisation of the encounter--an attempt on one or both of their lives or a kidnapping job gone wrong--but then he saw the needle-like dart in Q’s throat.

“Shit,” Bond said, and went to Q before his knees could give way.

“I’m okay...” Q said, as Bond eased him down onto the floor.

He was nothing but bird-like bones under his oversized coat, under Bond’s hands, his weight barely anything at all in the crook of Bond’s arm. All of this and the way his knees folded beneath him like paper and the rapidly-paling pallor to his skin, told Bond Q was anything but okay.

He was just about to say this--witty, smart, maybe even a bit sarcastic--when the lift shuddered to a halt somewhere between B2 and B3 and the lights went out.

#00Q #my fic #i dunno i just wanted to write a story where q gets poisoned and trapped in an elevator with bond #and of course there are feelings #because there are always feelings

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starberrycupcake · 7 years

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The Sing-Off || Berrington

Date: October 25th. Around 4:00pm. Location: McKinley High School Auditorium. Who: Rachel Berry and Hunter Clarington ( @cockyclarington ) Notes: Following their conversation of who is the better singer, the two challenge each other to a sing-off which ends on a very strange note.

Hunter Clarington:

Hunter didn’t have any desire to drive all the way from Westerville to Lima but he wasn’t about to let one Rachel Berry show him up or call him a coward for not showing up. The two had already agreed to a sing-off that would be self-judged amongst themselves. Hunter knew he would obviously win; he was the captain of the Warblers and he had won dozens of all different kinds of competitions related to what he did and some little girl and so-called “leader” or a public school glee club wasn’t about to prove him otherwise.

He dismounted his motorcycle and parked it somewhere close to school, noting that the parking lot and campus were both mostly empty since school had already let out a couple hours prior. Hunter made his way into the campus and eventually found his way to the auditorium where Rachel told him to meet up. When he entered, he saw a single person standing in the middle the lit stage. “Thought you might chicken out,” Hunter laughed as he called out to Rachel, making his way down the stairs to approach the stage.

Rachel Berry:

Rachel had already had more than enough of arguing back and forth with Hunter Clarington over who might be the better singer. Clearly she had him beat and was far more superior despite his talents-- which she could admit that the Warbler was definitely talented. But she was Rachel Berry, she had been training vocally since she was almost two years old. No one in the entire state of Ohio could beat her at a single sing-off, she was one hundred percent confident in her abilities. That’s why she had no problem whatsoever agreeing to Hunter’s little challenge. She would prove herself to him and maybe he would finally give her at least some of the respect she deserved.

After the final bell for the day rang, the brunette hung around in the auditorium to wait for her challenger. Pacing back and forth across the stage, the sound of her heels clicking against the surface harmonizing with her vocal warming runs that echoed through the auditorium. She stopped in the middle of the stage to take a deep breath when she heard the doors open and and unfamiliar voice spoke up. Raising her eyebrows she came closer to the edge of the stage, rolling her eyes as the taller man came in. “Oh, please, chickening out isn’t in my vocabulary. Rachel Berry never backs down from a challenge.” She retorted. “I honestly am surprised that you drove all the way out here just to preserve your ego-- once again I’m impressed.”

Rachel cracked a small smile as Hunter got closer to her, smoothing out her sweater before turning on her heel to head towards the man sitting ready at the piano with her sheet music in front of him. She wasn’t messing around and she was always ready for a performance. “I will go first, obviously, and you can sit here-” She said as she picked up a stool that was sitting next to the piano, placing it at the head of the stage. “- and marvel at my greatness.” She patted the seat with a small smile.

Hunter Clarington:

“Yeah, I guess I’m not surprised you don’t know when to forfeit a losing match when you’re met with one,” Hunter shot back to the girl with a laugh. Once Hunter got closer to the stage and saw the girl up close, his confident smile dropped when he observed her outfit. Now Hunter was no fashion guru but even he could tell the girl’s fashion sense was probably as bizarre as her personality. It almost looked like Rachel got dressed in the dark. “What are you wear--” Being cut off so suddenly as she moved across the stage to present the barstool for him to sit upon. Wordlessly, Hunter made his way onto the stage and took a seat, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Rachel expectantly.

Up close to the girl he could definitely see the appeal. When she wasn’t speaking she was actually a little bearable and maybe if she was dressed like a normal human being she wouldn’t be too hard on the eyes. “So what are you singing today? Something dated and boring?” He rolled his eyes and stared at the girl with his steely grey eyes. “I’ll try my best not to fall asleep.”

Rachel Berry:

Rachel’s eyebrow quirked as she watched the taller man take a seat as she instructed, pleased that he had followed her request. She halfway expected him to be defiant and stand or sit in the audience. “I will be singing something old, but not boring for your enjoyment today. I know how to win a battle like this and I’ve pulled out my go-to song.” She spoke with determination as she made her way back to the middle of the stage to take her place in the spotlight.

Clearing her throat, she turned to Brad and gave him the nod to begin. As the beginning notes to Don’t Rain on My Parade played to an almost empty room, Rachel closed her eyes and took a breath to steady herself. She wasn’t so sure why she cared so much what man thought, but she felt an unexplainable need to prove herself to him. To prove she was good- more than just good.

Rachel was outstanding and she really needed all of the validation she could get. When she opened her eyes and began to sing the first line of her song, she took over the stage. It was hers and she would show him it was hers-- when Rachel sang, the entire room was hers.

Hunter Clarington:

Hunter recognized the song as soon as the music started. He had at least enough respect within him to actually pay attention to Rachel as she sang through the song with ease. It was obvious the girl was well-practiced and he might’ve been impressed if this hadn’t been her go-to song. Still, Hunter had to admit the girl had pipes. As the song continued, Hunter could feel himself becoming more invested in the performance and he began to understand that very much like him, Rachel had that star quality that made her stand out.

He did his best not to make his true feelings known through his body language, keeping a mostly stoic face as the only move he made was to cock his head to the side halfway through the song. The song itself was over with relatively quickly and when both the piano player and Rachel were finished, Hunter clapped, somewhat slowly. “Bravo,” he said, pouring on as much sarcasm on as possible. “And exactly how many times did you have to practice that song before perfecting it?”

Rachel Berry:

Rachel might as well have been performing in front a full house in the Richard Rodgers theatre in New York City-- the way she owned the song and the stage was that of a seasoned veteran and she knew when she hit that last note that she had nailed the song and the win. When she belted the last note, she held it out for a bit longer than probably necessary to be somewhat of a show-off. She finished off her performance with a nice little curtsy before turning her attention back to the man in front of her, raising an eyebrow. “Well?”

As Hunter slow clapped for her, the sarcasm in his voice caused her to roll her eyes. “I’ve had this song perfected since I was a child, it’s hard-wired in my system.” She explained before ushering him to stand up. “C’mon, Hunt , it’s your turn. Hope you’re not too intimidated by the high bar I just set for you.”

She took his place on the stool once he was up and taking the spotlight, crossing her stocking-covered legs. “Brad can pick up anything you start singing, so go on.” She waved her hands before placing them folded on her lap. She was actually looking forward to hearing the warbler sing-- she hadn’t had the pleasure of doing so live.

Hunter Clarington:

Hunter huffed when Rachel called him by that nickname; it was irritating because even the people he called his friends seldom called him by any nickname that wasn’t “Captain”. He looked over to the piano player and going over his song selection. While he knew Rachel was all about show-stopping numbers and songs that complimented her vocal range, Hunter wanted to go for something that would pierce the audience.

“My selection for today will be Empty Chairs at Empty Tables. I’m sure you’ve heard of it since you’re all over the Broadway scene like a cat in heat.” Hunter readied himself in the middle of the stage and waited for Brad to begin playing the music. It was a song Hunter felt very akin to; not in the literal sense because none of his friends were dead but because in the past moving all of the time had left Hunter with next to no friends from his previous homes or schools. It was song he felt he could pour his heart and soul into as a soloist and he didn’t need to crank his energy up to 11 like when he was on stage with his fellow Warblers singing a Top 40 hit. His voice came out smooth, his whole body like a well-oiled machine that did exactly as he wanted it to do. He knew this song would blow Rachel out of the water.

Rachel Berry:

Rachel sat up straight on the stool, keeping her composure as she nodded her head. She was also pleased by the song choice Hunter had revealed, she wondered just how big his musical repertoire might be. “Very good,” She commented before the music began and Hunter opened his mouth. As Rachel listened to the other’s smooth voice filling the empty auditorium, she was actually taken aback of how in control of his voice Hunter was-- he had to have had some sort of training in his lifetime. It was very rare to find someone so technically good without training. Hunter’s voice went all through her as his voice became larger with the swell of the music, the shorter could feel chills rising on her her skin- causing her to rub her hands on her arms as if to coax the little bumps back into her skin.

He couldn’t know how impressed she was.

Rachel began to focus on Hunter more, giving him a once over as she all but drowned in his voice; she noticed for the first time that the man was not bad-looking. He was actually really good-looking, he was surely almost a whole foot taller than her and the way his school uniform hugged his body was a good show of the muscles he had hiding under there. She wouldn’t say it out loud, of course, but he was more than just good-looking. More than just being aesthetically pleasing, his voice was melting her right here. Sure, a nice-looking man was enough to make her heart beat a little faster- but a nice-looking man who could sing? That was enough to make her knees weak.

Hunter Clarington:

Hunter was so absorbed in his song and performance, he barely paid any attention to Rachel and her reaction. He sang through the song without any flaws, feeling proud of himself for nailing the higher notes of the crescendo before coming back down for the final verse. When the song finished, Hunter took a deep breath and looked to the girl for her opinion.

“So? Still think I’m just all talk? Just remember that I’m only one guy-- the Warblers are like me, plus twenty-something mini-me’s that can sing just as well.” He smirked and put his hand on his hip, his whole persona exuding confidence. He knew he just rocked that song and no one was going to convince him otherwise. “I think we can both agree here that I’m the winner of this little challenge and you can go ahead and admit such to me whenever you want.”

Rachel Berry:

When Hunter was finished singing his song, Rachel shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. She clapped her hands gently and slowly as she stood up from the stool, a smile tugging at her lips. “While I do admit that you are extremely talented, I do not admit defeat in this challenge.” Rachel wasn’t one to give in so easily-- not to mention, regardless of how good Hunter was, she was clearly the winner.

She shook her head gently, crossing her arms as she took a step closer to the taller, her brown eyes traveling up to look at his. “I clearly won this challenge, and I promise -- to preserve your huge, fragile ego -- I won’t tell anyone you lost.” Rachel shrugged one shoulder as she wrinkled her nose. She liked teasing the other face-to-face much better than what they had started out doing. Hunter seemed more bearable when he was in front of her.

Probably had nothing to do with how handsome he was-- especially now that she’d seen his talents.

Hunter Clarington:

Hunter’s ego was stroked when Rachel Berry admitted that he was talented but he didn’t need anyone to tell him what he already knew. What upset him was even though he had literally just brought his A-game and with his whole being knew he was the better of the two, the girl refused to admit defeat. “Talk about the pot calling the kettle black-- Your ego is too big that you can’t even admit I was better than you?” It was so incredulous that Hunter almost found it funny.

Turning to the only other person in the room, Hunter called out at the piano player for an answer. “You-- Who of the two of us was the better singer?!”

The piano player wordlessly threw his hands up in defense, making a quick exit as if he didn’t want anything to do with either one of the teenagers. Hunter huffed when he wasn’t given the answer he wanted, turning back to Rachel on an empty stage. “So what are we going to do now if both of us can’t agree on who was better?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He waited for an answer and looked the woman up and down, this time ignoring the weird sweater and taking note the curves of her body. Mentally undressing her, Hunter liked what he saw and given the appropriate scenario, could even see himself doing very inappropriate things to her if she kept her mouth shut-- or occupied-- long enough.

Rachel Berry:

Rachel raised her eyebrows as Hunter continued to insist that he was better than her, he was relentless and it amused her. Had she not been so confident in herself she might’ve doubted that she was better than him in this specific challenge-- but she knew she killed it. Glancing towards Brad when the taller tried to drag him into it, Rachel held back a laugh as the piano player took his exit. “Oh, please, Brad has been listening to me sing since I was fifteen-- asking him will do you no favors.”

The shorter mimicked Hunter’s stance, crossing her arms over her chest with a shrug. “I guess we’re just going to have to have a rematch with actual judges.” She began as she took as step closer. “Since you can’t seem to come down off of your giant high horse to admit that someone might, in fact, be better than you.” The irony of her statement was lost on Rachel. “I am willing to bet you that if we did this again in front of actual people who were voting on who is better-- I would win by a landslide.” She rambled on and on, right up on top of her own high horse, determined to make Hunter see that she was clearly the winner-- also mostly attempting to keep herself nice and worked up so she couldn’t admire how nice he looked in his uniform any more.

Hunter Clarington:

As the annoying little girl in front of Hunter continued to go on and on about how much better she was and the fact that they would need to a hold a rematch just to determine what Hunter already knew had the man feeling exhausted. Attempting to hold a sane conversation with Rachel was already difficult and now it was damn near impossible because the lady would not budge on her opinion. Hunter was beginning to second-guess his decision to come all the way down here and as Rachel continued to drone on about either her talent or his apparent new contest they were going to hold with each other, the more he noticed things about the girl he didn’t notice before. He noticed the way her brow furrowed when she spoke and he took note the shape of her lips. That gave him an idea.

“Hey, Rach?” He interrupted, knowing that calling the girl by a nickname would be sure to get her attention. Without waiting for her to stop talking, Hunter leaned in and eliminated the space between them, planting a firm kiss against her soft lips. He quickly placed his hand against the back of her neck, pulling her in until she was pressed up against him.

Rachel Berry:

As Rachel continued to speak and come up with a solution to crown her as the winner of the sing off, she paused only briefly when Hunter said her name, her eyebrows raising. “Wha-oh!” She mumbled as Hunter leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. Rachel was caught completely by surprised and he stomach jumped into her throat-- she had no idea why Hunter was kissing her or why she was letting him kiss her.

Rachel’s eyes fell closed as her head tilted upwards to have a more comfortable angle, leaning into Hunter as she kissed him back. The things that she felt in that moment were conflicting and highly confusing. Half of her brain wanted to push the other away and slap him for thinking he could just kiss her like that, but the other half enjoyed the feeling of the man’s lips against hers way too much. The feeling that sparked on her lips when they kissed was something she hadn’t felt in a while, it spread through her quickly to warm her entire body.

Hunter Clarington:

Hunter was well-practiced when it came to kissing and it didn’t fail him here in this moment. Kissing the girl back with fervor and deepening the kiss just a little bit more before suddenly pulling away was sure to leave her wanting more. As he pulled back, he licked his lips and grinned at Rachel who so obviously hadn’t expected to be kissed. It was extremely gratifying to have stunned her into a glorious silence. Hooking his finger under her chin, Hunter helped to close her stunned, open mouth. “Hah. Finally got you to shut up-- I win.” Hunter stated, puffing his chest out subconsciously. He offered Rachel a charming wink then, truly feeling like he’d won.

Without being told to leave or explain himself, the Warbler let himself out of the auditorium the same way that he’d entered, now feeling like this had made the drive down here worthwhile. His lips still tingled even after he left, having been surprised that Rachel would not only kiss him back but that she would be good at it. He decided it was best not to give it a second thought, focusing more on the drive back home than how good the kiss felt.

Rachel Berry:

Rachel was a bit disappointed when their kiss came to such an abrupt end, she would’ve probably went in for another if she hadn’t been so stunned that it happened in the first place. Her brown eyes fluttered open and she looked up at Hunter he was standing in front of her with a cocky grin on his face. She let the taller close her mouth, the skin under her chin where he touched her felt as if it had caught on fire.

The brunette just stood there speechless as Hunter winked at her, causing a flutter in her stomach that she would later regret. She stood frozen in the middle of the stage as she watched the Warbler leave the room, the door slamming shut behind him startled her into reality. Shaking her head, Rachel brought her hand up to brush her fingers over her lips- still feeling as if she was on fire. What had just happened? She didn’t know if she liked the way it made her feel or hated it- but it was certainly something and it was certainly going to get her in trouble.

#askthegleeclubbers #Rachel Berry #Hunter Clarington #Huntchel #Berrington #Para: Hunter #Para #001 #Hunter

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greenappleeyes · 7 years

Text

Secret Lives (Part 2)

Words: 2.6k

Summary: You and Steve become closer after you insist he stay with you at your motel instead of sleeping at the Gas-n-Sip.

Warnings: Smut (pretty vanilla, some dirty talk, unprotected sex,) some language, fluffy

A/N: Tag list is at the end, let me know if you’d like to be added.

—————

Your motel room was definitely not the Ritz, but it was clean, had decent water pressure, and a small kitchenette. To you, it was nothing fancy; to Steve, after all he had been through, it was more than he felt he deserved.

The first night wasn’t nearly as awkward as it should have been. You both continued to talk, sitting in your own beds, until the silences became longer and longer. “Do you work tomorrow?” you asked him sleepily.

Without opening his eyes he sighed in the way someone does when they really, really don’t want to go back to work. “Yes. I need to be back to open the store. It’s quite a walk, so I will have to be up…”

You cut him off, “Don’t be silly. I’ll give you a lift and pick you up when you’re done working.”

He wanted to argue, but he was too thankful for the gesture. The extra sleep and not having to walk a couple miles sounded too wonderful to pass up. “Thank you, Y/N. You are very kind.”

—————

The second night was bound to be much more awkward than the first and it was entirely your fault. While he was at work, you thought it was a good idea to open an over-shaken carbonated beverage on your bed. The resulting explosion of foamy liquid soaked through all the bedding and deep into the mattress. As you were attempting to clean the mess, Steve called to inform you that he was finished with his shift.

In the car, you broke the news about your bed to him. “Sorry Steve, it might be a little more cozy tonight.” You looked at him sheepishly and he simply cocked his head to the side and let you explain. “I kind of ruined my bed. So we will need to share tonight.” You paused for a moment and became even more embarrassed. “If that’s ok! I… um… I can sleep in one of the chairs. I’m shorter than you so I’d fit better. And I can't…”

He smiled and cut off your rambling. “It’s ok. The bed is large enough to accommodate both of us comfortably.” You we so often caught off guard by how he phrased things. He was clearly an educated man; he knew countless historical facts and spoke multiple languages. Yet, he often didn’t understand certain slang terms, colloquialisms, or even pop culture references.

—————

Sitting up on the headboard, watching TV and chatting with Steve turned to be a lot less awkward than you had initially thought it would be. You both sat comfortably on your own sides, but your eyes often drifted to him. He was wearing a light button up shirt and jeans that made it easy to see some of his muscle definition. You also found his perfectly defined jawline to be quite the distraction. You somehow managed to keep yourself subtle and looked away before he noticed you were staring.

When you were trying to not look at him, he was looking at you. He had found the human female form attractive prior to losing his grace, but was able to control any urges he might have had. Now, not only was he human but he was no longer a virgin. His time with April weeks earlier had given him a taste of giving in to those urges; which proved to make them stronger.

You were dressed like a typical hunter. Plain tank top layered with a flannel shirt, tight jeans, and boots. You had lost the boots and flannel shirt in an attempt to get more comfortable. Unfortunately, it also had an effect on Steve. He found it hard to not stare at your cleavage when you folded your arms under your breasts; or when his eyes would widen as they would drift to your ass when you’d bend over.

He felt ashamed of himself for thinking lustful thoughts about you after the kindness you had shown him. He never realized how lonely being human could be and you were his first, as far as he knew, normal friend. Of course he has Sam and Dean, but they didn’t exactly fit in his new life; and he clearly didn’t fit into theirs after Dean had asked him to leave the bunker.

You may not have known each other for more than a couple days, but he already cared about you. He didn’t want to jeopardize his friendship with you by acting on his lustful thoughts.

—————

It took the motel staff an entire week to get the mattress taken care of, not that you minded. Having him close by was comforting to you. It was also incredibly frustrating when he started sleeping without a shirt. That first shirtless night was a torment to you. But he had shown no interest in you, in a physical way, so you continued to keep yourself composed.

You rarely let yourself get too close to people. This life didn’t typically allow for a lasting relationship; your choices being one night stands or settling for another hunter. Either way, it was more about a physical connection than anything else. It felt different with Steve, somehow. He didn’t want anything from you beyond companionship; although you could tell he liked to be close to you, even letting his fingers brush over yours on occasion. His light touches never lingering, but they were still a comfort.

It caused a strange feeling for you. On one hand, you were happy that he just enjoyed your company without constantly trying to turn everything into a sexual situation; like every other man you had ever met. On the other hand, he was gorgeous. But it was more than that, for once you really liked a guy. The fact that he never tried to make a move on you actually made you like him more.

He had begun to feel more deeply for you as well. It proved difficult for him to entirely keep his hands to himself. Every touch was deliberate and light; enough for him to feel the smallest connection to you, without you noticing what he was doing. On more than one occasion, he would gently brush hair behind your ear as you slept. In those moment, it took all his willpower to keep himself from placing his lips on yours.

—————

Then, the week was over and you had your bed back. You both felt like you were miles away from one another. You both desperately wanted to be in each other’s arms that night, but were both still too stubborn and worried about rejection.

You were the first one to break. After a long 3 days of him working 12 hour shifts at the Gas-n-Sip, then falling asleep rather quickly all the way over in his bed; you had missed him. You wanted to have another one of your lengthy conversations about any random topic, but you knew he was tired and needed his sleep. You laid awake until you heard him shifting around in his sleep. The shifting turned to thrashing as he groaned and whimpered in his sleep.

You were no stranger to nightmares, and this one sounded like a doozy. You weren’t even thinking of the fact that you had gotten warm and were only wearing a tank top and panties at the moment or that he might find the gesture more creepy than comforting.

Quickly, you crawled into his bed and ran your fingers gently through his hair. “Hey, Steve.” you whispered. “Wake up, it’s just a nightmare.”

He jolted awake, terrified. He never had dreams or nightmares as an angel; so he never got the chance to get used to them. When he looked up and saw you, he didn’t think, he just acted. He reached up and yanked you down to him, holding on to you tightly. His heart was racing, his breath was ragged, and tears stung his eyes. He never felt as helpless as he did in those first moments after a nightmare.

You laid there with him, rubbing soothing circles on his skin and speaking softly into his ear until he calmed down and finally spoke. “Thank you. I’m sorry that I woke you. Sometimes these… nightmares are overwhelming.”

“It’s ok. I get them too. I’m just glad I could help.” You felt a little bad for enjoying this embrace as much as he was. Until you remembered that you both were not very clothed. You started to pull away, feeling a little self conscious. “I..”

“No.” he said suddenly, hugging you even tighter. “Please stay. I’d rather not be alone right now.”

“Ok. I’m not going anywhere. We can just hang out for as long as you want. You don’t work tomorrow, so we can sleep in.” Without thinking you moved to place a chaste kiss on his cheek, accidentally catching the corner of his mouth.

You pulled back quickly and started to apologize when moved his hand up to the base of your neck to still your movement. He glanced between your eyes and lips for a second before hesitantly moving towards you.

Your lips touched gently at first. It was as sweet and tentative as you would have expected from him. What you didn’t expect was him threading his hand through your hair, tightening his grip on your waist, and deepening the kiss. As his tongue moved against your bottom lip, you wondered where he had been hiding this kind of passion and quickly granted him access.

His kiss was dominant, but needy. He rolled you over so he was mostly on top of you; keeping his hips away from yours. You giggled as you assumed he was trying to be polite and hide his obvious arousal. He moved away from your lips and kissed along your jawline, mumbling into your skin. “Mmm. So soft, so tempting. I tried to resist, but I can’t anymore.” He placed open mouthed kisses along your neck as he continued to mumble. “So beautiful. So kind. Mmm… perfect.”

You thought you were going to melt; literally melt. His words were so sweet and his actions were so hot. You moaned his name as nibbled on the sweet spot of your neck. You were overwhelmed by him, but yet you needed more. He had yet to place his hands on your body, keeping one in your hair and the other propping him up slightly.

“Steve,�� you whispered breathlessly, “touch me.”

He chuckled into your skin, “Y/N, I am touching you.” He then bit gently on your neck before running his tongue over your pulse point causing your to cry out again.

“Please, Steve. I need more. I need you.” You never knew you could sound so desperate. Under any other circumstance, you would have been mortified. But you don’t care right now, he had you wound far too tight to think about anything other than him.

Hearing your pleas spurred him on as he slowly brought his hand down from your hair. He stared at you as he traced his finger down your neck, across your collar bone, and down your chest. He stopped just as he reached the top of your breast and looked you in the eyes again. “Are you sure you want this?” His confidence seemed to have dissipated some.

You grabbed his hand and shoved it over you breast underneath your tank top. “Yes. I am completely sure.” He massaged your breast and kissed his way down your chest. You mewled as he pulled your tank top out of the way and ran his tongue around your erect nipple.

Your hips bucked and your thighs rubbed together in a failed attempt to gain the friction you desperately needed. You couldn’t take it anymore, so you pushed him off you and rolled to straddle him. You could feel his hard member pressed against your core between the light layers of clothing. When you pulled your top off completely, fully exposing your breasts to him; he grunted as he sat up pulling your hips into his and wrapped his mouth around your nipple again.

You ground yourself down on him causing him to let out a loud, pleasured groan. Leaning down to place your lips right next to his ear, you whispered,“I need you inside me, baby. I need you, now.”

He growled and bucked his hips up into you before throwing you backwards and hooking his fingers in your underwear before pulling them down your legs. Normally, you would have been self conscious and closed your legs. But tonight, you were too turned on and wanted to give a good show. You spread your legs wide for him and rubbed two fingers through your wet folds, throwing your head back and moaning at the feeling.

He shifted slightly to pull his boxers down just far enough to free his achingly hard cock. He moved your hand away and rubbed himself through your wetness. “Is this what you want? Tell me how bad you need it?”

When his tip reached your clit, you gasped. “Please! Oh fuck, Steve…pleeeohhh fuck!”

He slowly pressed himself inside you before you could even finish begging for his cock. He grabbed your knees and pulled you wide open before him so he could watch himself sink into you. Once he was fully seated inside you, he groaned. “So beautiful. You take me so well, don’t you? I knew you would.”

You bucked your hips involuntarily and moaned at his words. Before you could beg him to move, he pulled back and slammed into you. He immediately set a harsh pace, causing him to have to hold your hips tightly to keep you from flying off the bed. All you could do was grab the sheets and hold on for dear life.

He knew that if he kept his hard and fast pace he’d never last long enough. He let go of your hips to stretch down over you and wrapped his arms under your shoulders. You instinctively hooked your ankles around his waist and ran your fingers through his hair before pulling him in for a deep kiss.

You could tell that he was he was getting close, so you snaked your hand between the two of you and rubbed your clit; occasionally splitting your fingers to rub on either side of his shaft where he penetrated you. The extra friction was enough to get you where you needed. You moaned into his ear, “Come on, baby. Fuck! Come with me.”

A few hard thrust later he felt your walls clench around him as you came screaming his name. He quickly followed you over the edge shouting, “Fuck! Y/N!” His sudden use of profanity reignited your fading orgasm causing you to cry out again.

He rolled off you and pulled you close again. He looked at you and gave you a sheepish smile. “I may have gotten carried away. I apologize for my roughness… and language. I didn’t cause you any discomfort, did I?”

“Discomfort?!” You laughed loudly. “Oh my fuck, no. That was amazing, Steve. You were amazing. Unexpected? Maybe. But still incredible.”

He pulled you close and kissed your forehead, smiling. “Good, I’m glad it was enjoyable. It was rather unexpected, wasn’t it? I had not intended on laying with you tonight, but I’m happy it happened.”

“Me too.” You said with a yawn. “Me too.”

He settled, getting more comfortable. “Sleep now. We have a big day of not leaving this bed tomorrow.”

————— Tag list: @splendidcas @grunge-crybabies @love-charmer-sketch @hamartiamacguffin @heavenlyrainyparis @crowleysminion @mysteriouslyme81 @bitchasaurus @smoothdogsgirl @aly-birleanu

#castiel #castiel x reader #cas x reader #castielxreader #castiel fluff #castiel smut #castiel series #Steve!Cas #Steve!Castiel #supernatural #castiel fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #GreenAppleEyes writes

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