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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

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Maybe in Another Life - Dean x fem!reader part 4

In this universe, Chuck had won, Dean, Sam, and (Y/N) were the only ones left. They must find another reality to live so they can find a way to bring back their own. But after getting separated, (Y/N) must find her Dean while working with this universe’s hunters.

Also Season 15 spoilers

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2005

(Y/N) was a young hunter down on her luck. She was on her last twenty bucks and her last tank of gas. She wanted to get this hunt done so she could go down to Vegas to hustle a couple old men out of a couple hundred bucks. Selling pictures of her body wasn’t honest work, but it was work.

For right now, hunting was more of a duty than a pay bill, her parents had been killed by a vampire clan with (Y/N) narrowly escaping. So when she heard that the vampires who killed her parents were back in town, she wanted revenge. The only problem was that she had to team up with John Winchester. The guy was a complete hardass, military-like instructions. He had little to no respect for anyone, including his own kid.

After the hunt and telling Mr. Winchester the place on her body that he could place his dusty, crusty lips on, she was walking back to her car or as she liked to call it, the mansion. Behind her, she could hear a car pull up and John Winchester saying he would be back soon. She looked over her shoulder, seeing John getting in a car and his son, Dean watching the car leave.

His eyes then landed on her. Dean started jogging towards her car. This outta be good. The guy was a flirt... A good flirt, but a flirt nonetheless. But something told her that behind shell was a heart of gold and so much trauma, it reminded her a lot of herself. Alone in a dark world that kept getting darker.

“What’s wrong? Daddy dearest kick you out?” She asked as she opened the door and threw her bag into the passenger seat.

“Uh no, he went out on his own for a hunt.” He looked at the ground awkwardly, “I wanna apologize about him. He’s kind of-”

“An asshole?” She finished the sentence.

Dean slipped his hands into his pockets, “I was gonna say rough around the edges.”

“If by rough you mean sandpaper.” She looked at him, “Sure.”

Dean smiled, his bright green eyes sparkling, “I guess. Uh, where you headed?”

She sighed and looked at him, “I dunno. Wherever I can earn my next dollar.” She got into her car and closed the door, turning the key. And turning the key. The key, turning. Car not starting.

“Son of a bitch!” She slammed her hand against the wheel. Dean gave her a innocent looked, leaning down into her window.

“Did you know this model is notorious for just not working?”

She looked back at him, “I am well aware.” She rested her head against the steering wheel, “It was all I could afford at the time. And now I’m screwed.”

“Well...” He opened her door, “You could hitch a ride with me.” She turned her head, narrowing her eyes at him.

“What’s the catch? Because this.” She motioned to her body, “Aint free.”

Dean backed off quickly, holding his hands up in surrender, “Woah woah, sweetheart. I ain’t that kinda guy. Not that you’re not...” He looked her up in down, “Incredibly beautiful. But I feel like you deserve it after my dad said what he said.”

“You mean when he told me that the reason the vampires killed my parents was because I wasn’t strong enough at the ripe age of ten?” She got out of the car, grabbing her bag.

“Yeah, pretty much.” He smirked, “I also wanted to apologize for that over a slice of pie at that diner we passed on the way into town.” She hummed, tapping her chin as she walked to the back of her car, hitting it just right so that the trunk opened.

“I don’t have any money.” She said, “So I can’t pay you back until later.”

“I don’t have money either.” He shrugged, reaching into the trunk and grabbing a suitcase of all her worldly possessions, “I’m just really good at shooting pool.”

“Hey dad, it’s Dean again... Why aren’t you answering your phone? And what the hell was that voicemail you left me?” (Y/N) watched Dean grip onto the payphone tightly. They were sitting outside an apartment near Stanford university where Dean was going to talk his brother into trying to find their dad on a hunt that he hadn’t come back and hadn’t answered his phone. In the days since Dean and (Y/N) had been driving, they had actually gotten to know each other very well, they were becoming close friends.

After the line went dead, Dean got back into the Impala and cursed, gripping onto the steering wheel.

“Look, you don’t have to be apart of this if you don’t want to.” Dean looked at (Y/N).

She shook her head, “You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Dean-Bean.” She reached into her bag of cherry twizzlers, taking a bite, “Plus.” She said around the candy, “He may be an asshole, but he probably needs help.”

Dean chuckled, leaning over and taking a bite of the twizzler in her hand, “I appreciate it, sweetheart.” He winked.

“Awh.” She pouted dramatically, “I don’t get a fun nickname?”

“How about snookums?”

“Oh absolutely not.” She laughed.

“Honeybunches?”

“No.”

“Sugar booger?”

“The Spanish word for no is no.”

Dean shook his head, “Alright, alright. How about sweetheart when you’re sweet, and sweet-tart when you’re a little crabby?”

“I do not get crabby.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Really?” He raised his eyebrows at her.

She rolled her eyes, reaching down on the floor of the car in front of her and pulling a burger out of the bag, “Shut up and eat.”

2006

After the semi truck crashed into them, John, Sam, and (Y/N) were left with minor injuries while Dean was left in critical condition. He was in a coma, hooked up to a wall of machinery and a breathing tube in his throat.

(Y/N) had been confined to her room with a broken ankle, kept in touch by Sam who would come in to explain what was happening. Dean was in the space between life and death and John was going to summon the demon he had been searching for to get revenge against him for... well, for everything.

As she lay in her bed, tears in her eyes, she spoke to no one, but hoped he was listening.

“I don’t know if you’re hear right now, Dean. But...” She inhaled deeply, “But I want you to know that I love you.” She chuckled, “And I know you’re probably thinking that I’m only saying this because you’re having your out of body experience moment and you could die. The reality is that I love you. You put up that flirty, whore persona, but I know who you really are. Those nights when we’re alone and we talk about our lives together and depression backstories. I’ve never trusted anyone more. And I love you. So...” She looked around, “So please, don’t die on me. I don’t know if I can do this without you.”

Finally, (Y/N) had managed to get into a wheel chair in the night, the night that Dean woke up. The night John died in the basement of the hospital, giving his life for Dean’s.

Sam was passed out asleep in a chair next to Dean’s bed while Dean was wide awake, staring out the window.

“Hey...” She said softly, rolling up to the side of his bed. He glanced at her, a small smile pulled at his lips.

“How’s it goin’, hot wheels?”

She sighed, “You were literally in limbo this morning, but now we’re laughs?”

“Gotta get through the pain somehow.” He looked back towards the window. She reached out and took his hand, giving it a slight squeeze.

“I’m sorry about your dad.” She said, “My last words weren’t kind to him. If I would have known...”

Dean shook his head, “Nah, you had every right to talk to him like that. Especially after the last few days.” He looked down at her, “I heard you by the way.”

Her eyes widened, “No, you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“No, no, you didn’t.”

“You called me a whore.” He spoke in a hushed voice, taking a small glance at Sam before looking back at (Y/N).

“Well, you are.” She shrugged, “Kinda.”

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed, “Look... My point is... The feelings are mutual.” Her eyes widened.

“I was on death’s door, I’m not gonna deny what I’m feeling anymore.” He brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on her knuckles, “I love you.”

As they started searching around the town, Sam was finally able to get ahold of Dean.

“Dean? Dean, is everything alright?” Sam asked into the phone. Jack and (Y/N) head’s snapped back towards Sam on the phone. Her heart felt a little less heavy then. Dean was alive and that meant she hadn’t lost everything.

“Okay, we’re in downtown Hastings, we really need to plan out our next move.” Sam said. After a moment, Sam looked up at her, “Yeah, she’s still here.”

That was the other thing that made her heart feel heavy, call it survivors guilt. She came from a dead universe, just like all those hunters had, and she was still there.

It was scary being on an empty planet. You never realize how much noise the world made until the world had gone silent. Everyone in Hastings was gone. Everyone in Minnesota was gone. The whole world. They were all that was left. They made to an intersection on an empty street. Cars stopped or crashed where they were last operated. The soft puttering of the Impala made them pause. Dean parked it on the street corner, getting out and looking around the abandoned town.

Dean walked over to the group, closest to (Y/N), reaching down and holding her hand. She welcomed this touch, knowing it well. He was devastated, he needed something to ground to the world. He was shaking slightly, not enough to be detected by the human eye.

“Everyone's gone.” Sam said, “You see anybody on the way here?”

“No.” Dean answered, sounding like he didn’t believe it himself.

“I couldn't save anybody. Billie-”

“It wasn't Billie. It was Chuck.” Dean said.

“What?” Sam and (Y/N) asked together.

“Where's Cas?” Jack asked. It was only then that she realized that Cas was no where to be found. And when Jack said his name, Dean’s hand clenched down on hers.

“Dean?” Sam asked hesitantly.

Dean looked everywhere but the Nephilim, “He saved me. Billie was coming after us, and Cas summoned the Empty. It took her. And it took him. Cas is gone.” Jack looked like his whole world had fallen apart, and it had. His father was gone.

“This can't be happening.” Sam shook his head. Maybe in a state of shock.

“It is, Sam. I think everyone's gone.” Sam shook his head, bringing his phone out and making a call.

Dean dropped her hand, walking to the young boy, “Jack, I'm sorry.” (Y/N) stayed in his position in the street, looking around.

This was impossible. They had no option. No plan. It all seemed so hopeless. Maybe she couldn’t save them... She couldn’t save this world. How could she save a world that was already gone?

They made their way to a diner in town and made their way inside to regroup. The diner looked like everyone had dropped what they were doing - eating- and disappeared. Food was still on the table, the fryer was still crackling in the kitchen. On the television was what was supposed to be a football game, but all the screen showed was an empty stadium and an empty field.

“Hey,” Dean motioned to the TV, “It brings a whole new meaning to the term "sudden death." He turned the bar’s tap off so the stream of beer coming from the stout ceased.

“Do you think we're it?” Sam asked, “All that's left?”

Dean chuckled darkly, “Yeah. You, me, her, Jack.” He looked out to the window where Jack was sitting on a large cement planter. He asked for space to come to terms with the fact that Castiel was gone. He needed it. Honestly, they all needed it. She had lost Cas before, but losing him again was twice as hard. Dean had poured himself a pint. Alcohol had always been his vice.

Soon enough though, Jack made his way inside, staring at the hunters, “Hey. So, um, what now?”

“I did this.” Sam spoke up, “We could have just given Chuck what he wanted, you know, his grand finale. But I resisted. I pulled the thread. I thought we could beat this game, do it better. We tried to rewrite him, and the whole world paid the price.” Sam looked at (Y/N), “I’m sorry. But you’re mission to save us... I ruined it.”

“Sam, we can-”

“We can what?” Sam interrupted his brother, “There's nothing left, Dean. No one left to save. Everybody's gone.”

“You can't just give up.” Jack spoke up.

“What other choice do we have?” Sam snapped back.

Sam and Dean decided to hash it out with Chuck, agree to his ending of brother against brother. If it meant that they could get things back to the way it was, maybe they could try something new. They had dropped (Y/N) and Jack off at the bunker before leaving.

The two were left at the bunker, hoping the plan would work, but frankly their nerves were shot that hope seemed like a fever dream. (Y/N) had made food but both of them were too emotionally devastated to really eat.

As (Y/N) was cleaning up dishes, Jack walked into the kitchen silently.

“(Y/N)?” He asked.

She turned and gave him a soft smile, “Yeah?”

Jack came around, grabbing a dish towel and slowly drying off a bowl, “I was just wondering what I was like in your world.”

She hummed, “You’re pretty much the same. I think you ate a little more nougat though.”

“I feel like I was happier.” He said, drying a cup.

“Why’s that?”

Jack paused his drying and looked up at her, “Because I would have had you since the beginning. You have been so kind and warm to me. Even after all the things I’ve done.”

She looked at him, handing him a plate, “Jack-a-bug, you have powers that angels have had millennia to master.” She looked at him, “You’re still learning. When you’re learning sometimes you do things you didn’t mean to and you feel awful. But for how long you’ve been with us, with how much you’ve learned, I think you’re doing great.”

Jack nodded and then looked at her with a head tilt that reminded her so much of her friend in the trench coat, “Jack-a-bug?” He asked.

She let out a small laugh, “Oh yeah.” She shook her head, “That’s what I called my Jack. I had a lot of nicknames for you. Sweet boy, Dean two, Jack-a-bug. I’m pretty sure he hated it though.”

“No.” He said, “I like them. They make me feel... Special.”

She smiled, cupping his cheek, “That’s because you are. Not because you’re a Nephilim. Because you’re ours.” He smiled weakly, then excused himself to bed.

(Y/N) was sitting at the world map table, waiting for the brothers to get home. When they did, she stood up from the table, look expectantly. Sam only shook his head and went straight to his room. Dean however stood in the entrance of the room.

“What’d he say?” She asked. She had an idea of the answer, but she needed to hear it.

“Uh, he wants us to rot here.” He said casually. He walked into the room, cupping her cheeks in his hands, “So what do you say me and you play catch-up over some whiskey?”

“Dean-” She said, holding his wrists to take them off her cheeks.

“Sweet-tart.” He sighed, looking down at her, “There’s nothing we can do right now. Or maybe at all. Please.” He rested his forehead on hers, “Can we please just... Let’s just have tonight. No universe difference, no your Dean my (Y/N). Just be mine for tonight.”

“Okay.” She said softly, giving his hands a squeeze, “But if you call me sweet-tart again, I’m gonna drink your good whiskey that you hide in garage.”

He narrowed his eyes, a sly smile on his face, “How do you know where I hid that?"

She hummed and leaned up, rubbing her nose on his, "Who do you think put it there in the first place."

He chuckled, dropping his hands from her face to her hands, pulling her towards the garage.

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dameronology · 3 years

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insomnia {poe dameron} - 5

summary: as you & finn go about finding secrets on your commander, you have to decide what’s more important - your loyalty to the resistance, or your loyalty to poe {series masterlist}

warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of injury

enjoy!! i shall be going back to do the taglist in the morning because i am ✨exhausted✨

- jazz

Poe’s faced out to the front of the base, which meant they were often flooded with light. Being woken up by the golden sun beating down on your face quickly became one of your favourite parts of spending the night with him - aside from the obvious of his presence, of course. With your limbs tangled together under the sheets, his arms around your waist and face pressed into your shoulder, it was hard not to smile immediately after stirring. It might have been the first time in months that either of you actually got some sleep and not stayed up all night working. Things had a funny way of working out.

You woke up on Friday morning with a few butterflies in your tummy - not because of Poe, but rather because you were about to lie to him.

After confirming the plan for your little mission with Finn the night before, you were supposed to be leaving the base just after noon. The pilot in question hadn’t seemed too phased when his best friend and...well, whatever you were were both suddenly available at the same time. You’d said that you had a team meeting with the rest of Trident Squadron, and Finn had made up something about having plans with Rey. You felt beyond guilty at the prospect of keeping the truth from Poe but there was too much at risk. If he found out, he’d want to act on it immediately - too quickly and too irrationally. Of course, there was no guarantee of that, but if anyone could predict his behaviour, it was you and Finn. The even bigger if was lying in how much was at risk; Winslow being a double-agent to an external organisation could have proven to be the downfall of the Resistance. You had a duty and a loyalty.

‘Good morning.’ Poe pressed a soft kiss to the back of your neck, his grip on your waist tightening as he hugged you to his chest. ‘D’you sleep okay?’

You turned around to press to face him, a sleepy smile on your features. ‘Better than usual.’

‘Who woulda thought?’ He said. ‘So many sleepless nights, and all we needed was each other.’

‘The fact you have a bigger bed and nicer quarters sure helps as well.’ You teased.

‘So you’re using me for my status?’ Poe over-dramatically clutched his chest.

‘Even the notion is insulting, Dameron.’ You grinned. ‘Anyways, I hate to ruin the moment but I have to get ready for that...meeting’

‘I hate that Winslow makes you have meetings on Fridays.’ He grumbled. ‘It’s the one morning I have off.’

Okay, that hurt your chest a little bit. It was hard enough as it was to find moments alone with Poe, hence why you’d taken to staying in his quarters pretty much every night since you’d first kissed. It was literally the only time you had to yourselves, especially since you’d both started to fall into a normal sleeping pattern. Part of you missed the long nights you’d spent together in the hangar, when it had just been you and him and several cups of caff, or when you’d sneak into the Falcon and head out to Yavin-4. That’s not to say they were gone completely, but your relationship had changed, and so had the things you did together.

Still, you wouldn’t have changed how things had progressed for the world. He was starting to become everything to you.

‘It’s only this week.’ You ran a comforting hand through his hair. ‘Next week, I’m all yours.’

‘Every day?’

‘Every day that I can be.’ You smiled. ‘Depends on how badly you ruin your fleet on that mission on Monday. The less damage, the less time I spend fixing the fucking things.’

‘Then I suppose we just shouldn’t go.’ Poe heartily sighed. ‘I’ll message Snap and get him to pass the message on-’

‘- Poe.’ You groaned. His brown eyes creased into a smile, clearly entertained by the whole thing.

‘So you’re saying I shouldn’t ditch an important mission to spend more time with you?’ He teased. ‘Maybe I’m not such a bad influence on you after all.’

‘Considering that I’m laying in bed with you at 10AM when we know full well that the General wanted us in the hangar two hours ago is proof that you very much are.’ You reminded him.

‘Leia doesn’t care.’ He murmured, nuzzling his head into your shoulder. ‘She’s so here for young love.’

‘At the expense of us being late to everything?’ You raised an eyebrow.

‘I’m sure her and Han Solo did the same.’

‘Have you seen a young Han Solo?’ You teased. ‘I would have left the entire Rebellion if that man asked me to.’

Poe let out an oof, raising his head to glare at you. ‘So your type must be cocky, handsome pilots?’

‘You might be into something.’

‘I don’t blame you.’ He replied. ‘He was very good looking.’

‘I know - and I do really need to get going.’ You pressed a kiss to his jaw.

‘When will your meeting be done?’

‘It’s Winslow, so probably hours.’ You lied with ease. Maybe too much. ‘I’ll drop you a message when I’m done.’

Kijimi wasn’t that far out - you and Finn could have been back in a matter of hours. It all It all came down to what Winslow was up to and how long you’d have to follow her for. Perhaps choosing to use a meeting as your alibi hadn’t been the brightest idea, especially if you were going to be out all day. You already hated lying to Poe and the prospect of digging the deception even further made your chest tight. Things between you were good but they were still so fresh. So fragile. You didn’t want to fuck it up - but you couldn’t let this go.

You promised yourself that you would tell him if you found anything out. In fact, he’d probably be the first person. You were only keeping it from him for now because you had his best interests at heart, right?

‘Or, you could stay for ten more minutes.’ Poe pressed a kiss to your cheek.

‘Five.’

‘Fifteen?’

‘Fine.’

Finn didn’t look all too pleased that you were late - especially when you skidded round the corner of the air hangar, hair still dripping wet from the shower and boot laces untied. He was leant against the side of a jet, eyes glued to his watch and his brows furrowed. You were only twenty minutes late; Poe was very convincing, and when you paired that with the guilt you were already feeling, it hadn’t been hard to keep you trapped for the better part of thirty minutes. Trapped was a strong word, actually, because staying glued to him and partaking in some kind of bogus teenage makeout session had very much been a choice.

‘Sorry, sorry, sorry!’ You almost tripped over a strewn wire as you bolted towards him. ‘I lost track of time!’

Finn jumped at your voice, taking you by the shoulders as you neared him. ‘We need to move quickly. There’s a training session in here in fifteen minutes-’’

‘- how did you even get the jet?’ You asked, almost stumbling as he dragged you up the walkway of a semi-decent freighter. It was no Falcon, but it would do. ‘And what is he doing here?’

Threepio turned to look at you, as if to say I beg your fucking pardon?

‘We need someone to get Winslow on record if she says anything dodgy.’ Finn murmured to you. ‘But he thinks this is an official mission, so don’t say anything.’

‘Right.’ You muttered back. ‘How you doing, Threepio?’

‘My joints are rusting-’

‘- we don’t have time for this.’ Finn cut him off. ‘We gotta get going. You okay doing comms?’

‘Yes, sir.’

You both scurried onto the jet, taking your respective seats; you in the pilot’s seat (naturally) and Finn to your left, ready to take the gunner’s seat if necessary - though you both hoped it wouldn’t be. It normally would have taken two pilots to fly a ship this big but you had enough experience to manage, even if your heart hurt a little at the fact it would have been perfect to have Poe right next to you. The guilt of leaving him out - not only of your little adventure, but the knowledge of it too - had been slowly eating at you since you’d left his room. How bad was it to lie so early on in the relationship? Fuck, was that even what this was? The feeling of dread in your stomach had grown now, lingering in your gut and leaving your hands shaking and heart pounding.

Dropping your hands into your lap with defeat, you fell back against the pilot’s seat with a hefty sigh. The Resistance meant a lot to you, but maybe Poe meant more.

‘Finn, I don’t think I can do this.’ You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to fight back the tears that were forming in your eyes.

‘Hey, it’s okay.’ He put a comforting hand on your shoulder. ‘I know going against Winslow is hard but-’

‘- it’s not Winslow.’ You spun your chair to face him. ‘It’s Poe. I can’t lie to him.’

‘We’re not lying.’ Finn replied. ‘I mean...yeah, we are but only to protect him throwing himself into something that we don’t know is for certain. Once Poe has an idea in his head, that’s it. We need to be patient with this and that’s one thing he can’t do.’

It was a little harsh, but Finn was right. Poe was a brilliant pilot and an excellent commander but he sometimes short-wired between thinking and acting. It was a whole lot of the second without much of the first. Sometimes, it worked out - high risk and high reward and all that - but this time, you couldn’t risk it.

‘You’re right.’ You nodded. ‘Thank you - and sorry, I guess.’

‘Don’t be.’ Finn shook his head. ‘We should get this in the air before someone sees us.’

Knocking the engines to full blast, you pulled back on the yoke. There was a split second of nothing, before the jet suddenly shot forward, leering away from the docking station and out of the hangar entrance. It was shaky for a minute - after all, you hadn’t flown it before - but you managed to balance out the thrusters by the time the base was but a dot in the distance. Most of it was second nature to you, and you barely even had to think about it. You could have flown in your sleep.

‘Right.’ You murmured to yourself, tapping in the coordinates that Finn had messily scrawled down. ‘Jumping to hyperspace in 3...2..1…’

You were both thrown backwards as the ship leapt forward, the passing stars in front of you vortexing into a blur of black and white as it spun into a maelstrom of time and space. It was pretty smooth, aside from Threepio complaining about how much he hated flying. You wouldn’t have expected anything else.

‘Kijimi isn’t too far.’ You said. ‘Forty minutes tops, maybe. I know the routes to avoid First Order fleets but I need you to be vigilant.’

‘Did the General not provide a list of First Order schedules?’ Threepio asked. ‘It’s a requirement for all missions. She wouldn’t have approved the mission without - oh no.’

‘You’re onto something, Threepio.’ You tried to fight back a smile. It wasn’t funny...but it kind of was. ‘But don’t worry. Nobody needs to know, okay?’

‘The General needs to know!’ He cried. ‘We’re doomed! Oh, we’re doomed!’

‘Finn.’ You groaned. ‘Can you shut him up?’

‘Shut me up?! I have a right to voice my opinion, especially on matters concerning illegal missions!’

‘I’m the captain of the ship, right? Technically?’ You glanced over your shoulder at him. ‘Is it not within your protocol to do as I say?’

‘Yes, but-’

‘- then it’s settled.’ You said. ‘Just man the comms system and everything will be fine.’

Threepio didn’t say anything after that, instead settling down into his seat, wired up to the comms system. Your main focus was on speed; on getting the jet to Kijimi as quick as possible and getting out as quick as possible. That was pretty much your main purpose, since Finn had sorted out the rest. Obviously, you were going to help him, but your main heist title was getaway driver. He was the brains, and by default, that must have left Threepio as the brawns. Maker.

‘Oh, we have incoming communication!’ The droid spoke up after a few minutes.

‘From who?’ You frowned.

‘Commander Dameron. I’ll pass you over.’

‘Threepi - oh, shit.’

You froze, immediately losing your words when Poe’s voice came over your headset. Maybe informing the droid of Poe’s ignorance to the entire fucking situation would have been a good idea, in hindsight. Heck, seeing who was manning the air traffic control back at base would have been even brighter. The one person you didn’t want to see you leave was the one person whose job was to do that literal thing. Weren’t you and Finn supposed to be good strategists?

‘What do I do?’ You mouthed to Finn with wide eyes. ‘What do I say?’

His eyes were like dinner plates too. ‘I don’t know!’

‘This is Commander Dameron. I need your I.D number and purpose for leaving the base, because I don’t have you on file as authorised.’

‘Shit.’ You hissed. Clamping a hand over the mouthpiece, you looked over at your comrade again, as if he’d come up with a magical plan in the three seconds since you’d last asked. ‘A little help?’

‘Lie!’

‘Right, thanks.’ You hissed.

What choice did you have now? Poe would recognise your voice. You had no option other than to come clean. You took a deep breath, before removing your hand from the mic.

‘My I.D number is 102156 and...we don’t have authorisation.’

‘Babe?’ Poe’s immediate confusion was like a tiny little knife in your chest, which went perfectly with all the ones that were already there. ‘Who’s we?’

‘Heeeeey, honey.’ You couldn’t help but cringe at your own words. ‘We is me, Finn and Threepio.’

‘What’s going on? I thought you were in a meeting-’

‘- I lied.’ You didn’t bother trying to come up with an excuse. ‘It’s a long story. I can’t explain it right now.’

‘You lied?’ The words rolled off his tongue with a tone of disbelief. ‘The hell is going on?’

Finn was sitting beside you, teeth clamped onto his fist as he cringed at the conversation. Easy for him. He wasn’t the one who’d just been thrown head first into piercing cold water by a clueless droid. You were the one who had to explain the deceit to a kicked puppy.

‘Like I said, I can’t explain it right now.’ You let out a heavy sigh.

‘You’ve stolen a jet without authorization and left base for the outer rim without asking. Do you know how serious that is?’ Poe’s tone was harsh.

You couldn’t help but scoff at that. ‘Poe Dameron, do not lecture me on breaking the rules.’

‘Fine - let’s look at it from this angle: you and my best friend both lied to me so that you could sneak out without telling me.’

Yeah, he had you there.

‘You’re making that sound like something way worse than it is.’ You shot back. ‘I will tell you everything as soon as we land, okay? Can you trust me on that?’

‘I don’t think I can.’

‘Look, Finn...knows something. He overheard something. We’re just going to check it out to find out if the thing we think we know is really the thing we think we know.’ You explained, grip on the yoke tightening. ‘We didn’t want to tell you in case it turned out to be nothing.’

‘You...you didn’t want to tell me?’ He sounded completely deflated.

‘Shit.’ You murmured. ‘Can you just trust me on this, please?’

‘The same way that you trusted me?’

‘It’s not that.’ You snapped. ‘It’s just...we didn’t want you to go running head first into an uncertain situation where you could get hurt.’

‘It’s funny, because you just described exactly what’s happened between you and me.’

With that, his line cut to silence.

So, in some ways the mission was a success.

To keep a long story short: Winslow was a rat. A huge, fucking rat. She’d been selling secrets to Finn’s former commander (who had some pretty cool armour) for months. With the right amount of bullying coaxing, Threepio had caved and recorded a conversation between them - you’d had to hide behind some crates to get within proximity to pick it up, but the audio was good enough to prove her guilt. That was the main thing. You’d done what you’d gone to do.

But at what cost?

Thanks to a shootout with some stormtroopers, Threepio was now missing his left arm and you’d lost your blaster in the escape. Finn had managed to sustain a blaster graze on his right shoulder, and you were probably in need of stitches on your forehead. All in a day’s work, really.

‘I’m gonna take Threepio down to mechanics then head down to medical.’ Finn gently said; he stuck out his hand to help you leap off the ship, shutting the door behind you. ‘D’you wanna come?’

‘Uh, no thanks.’ You shook your head. ‘I have work to do in here. The Y-Wings are still out, and Winslow will be on my ass once she’s also back.’

‘So...same time tomorrow to talk about what the fuck we’re gonna do about this whole thing?’

‘Sure thing.’ You said. ‘I’m gonna give Poe some space for tonight, but do me a favour...don’t tell him about what we found out. It’s better if it comes from me.’

‘Of course.’ He nodded with a smile. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘See ya, Finn.’

Him and Threepio headed for the door, leaving you alone with nothing but your thoughts and a few broken jets. The wound on your forehead had stopped bleeding enough, so you could leave it for a few hours. It wasn’t exactly wise, but it felt a little too late in the day for that. You’d been looking at wise in the rear view mirror a long, long time ago.

Sighing to yourself, you shrugged off your orange flight suit, tossing it in the cupboard and exchanging it for your tool box. It was coming up to midnight, so you’d been gone the entire day. Tired was simply the tip of the iceberg, and yet the idea of sleeping alluded you completely. You were used to working like this, and it would at least keep your mind off of Poe for a few hours.

He just needed time, right? That’s what you kept telling yourself, even though there was a feeling of dread in your gut that told you otherwise, that you’d fucked it up completely. You weren’t sure you could even handle that idea. Poe had become so important to you in such a short period of time that your brain - and your heart - couldn’t quite handle it. It was rare that you found somebody so special.

Tossing a rag over your shoulder, you pulled open the fuse box, barely masking a sigh at how fried they were. Maybe it was karmic punishment for what you’d done. Yeah, that was definitely it. You’d lied, and now the universe was coming back to bite you in the ass. On the bright side, Winslow’s days at the Resistance were limited now, which meant the same applied to the restrictions she’d placed on you. That was a nice thought; working with Finn, working with Rey, working with Poe.

Y’know, if he ever spoke to you again.

‘Caff?’

You glanced up from the fuse box, turning around to see the pilot, two cups of coffee in hand. Speak of the Dameron and thou shall appear.

‘Hey.’ You quietly greeted him.

‘How long have you been back?’ He asked, taking a seat on an upturned crate.

‘Couple hours, maybe.’ You took the cup from his hand. ‘I wanted to give you a couple hours to...stew.’

‘There’s nothing to stew about. You lied to me.’

‘I didn’t want to.’ You stressed, taking a seat beside him. ‘Can I at least try to explain?’

‘I...I don’t know if I want to hear it.’ His brown eyes moved up from the floor, holding you in a strangling gaze. ‘You broke my trust. You went behind my back with my best friend-’

‘- maker, Poe!’ You cut him off. ‘You’re making it sound like I slept with him!’

He grimaced, before dusting off his legs and standing up. ‘It’s the fact you lied to me with such fucking ease. About the meeting, about being busy-’

‘- if you would let me explain-’

‘- there’s nothing to explain.’ He snapped. ‘Lies are lies.’

‘Don’t act so high and mighty!’ You shot back. ‘It’s not like you’ve never lied before!’

‘Not to people I love!’

‘I - you fucking what?’

You both froze.

Had Poe just confessed his love for you? It sure sounded like it, but...it wasn’t a big deal, right? You were fine. He was fine. This was fine. Well, not really, because neither of you were sure if you were exchanging heartfelt feelings right now or y’know, breaking up, but...he loved you. Poe Dameron loved you.

On second thoughts, maybe you weren’t fine.

‘Winslow is dirty.’ You suddenly blurted. ‘That’s why Finn and I followed her. We wanted to be sure it was certain before we told anyone and now we have solid evidence on her.’

‘Winslow is dirty?’

‘Yeah. Selling secrets to the First Order.’ You nodded breathlessly. ‘Also, I love you too.’

‘You do?’

‘I do.’

‘Cool.’

Before you could say anything else, Poe grabbed you by the arm and yanked you towards him, knocking your caff to the ground. With an arm around your waist and the other on the back of your neck, he crashed his lips onto yours in a breathless kiss. You tangled a hand in his hair, smiling at the feel of the soft curls and the taste of peppermint and coffee. It was a little hard not to be obsessed with him.

‘I’m sorry I lied.’ You murmured, resting your forehead against his.

‘Just..promise me you’ll drag me along on all illegal expeditions in future?’ He whispered, breath tickling your lips.

‘Absolutely.’ You smiled. ‘I promise.’

He didn’t normally let go of things like that so easily - being lied to, in his book, was one of the worst things a person could do. But, now he knew the context, he was a little more inclined to understand your reasoning. And your declaration of love probably had something to do with it too, because with it had come the realisation that nothing else in the world mattered. There wasn’t a single thing more important than you.

‘Finn and I are meeting here in the morning to talk about what we’re gonna do.’ You said. ‘You’ll come, right?’

‘I think I need to be mad at Finn a little longer-’

‘- Poe.’ You groaned. ‘We’re good, right?’

‘We are.’

‘So you two should be as well!’

‘You just declared your love for me, followed by one of the greatest kisses of my life.’ He reminded you. ‘How could we not be good?’

‘I’ll get Finn to do the same!’ You grinned.

‘He did it long before you did.’ Poe teased. ‘But fine. I understand where you’re coming from, and I guess he’s in the same place.’

‘Exactly.’ You beamed.

‘I just have one condition.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Say it again.’

You bit your lip, before smiling wider. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

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yelena-bellova · 3 years

Text

Don’t Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Six: Little Damerons

Series Masterlist

Plot: Poe and Y/n take a trip for Poe’s birthday.

Warnings: extreme fluff, so much fluff, chocolate dipped cotton candy with sprinkles kind of fluff

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Life has been kicking my ass these past few weeks so writing has been on the back burner. It’s still insane but I found time to finish this one. It felt like the series deserved a nice piece of fluff consider it’s so intense 😂 Please forgive any typos, I’m lazy and tired and my brain is basically mush right now...

————

The first sound I heard upon waking up made me smile before I’d even opened my eyes. Bee’s beeps and squeals were moving around the room at a frantic pace.

“Thank you, Bee,” I groaned, “I got it from here.”  As it was every morning, Poe’s arms were locked tightly around my waist. It was of great difficulty turning myself around so I could face him. He hadn’t moved a muscle through Bee’s wake-up call and didn’t show any sign of changing that. I rolled over onto his torso and finally got a groggy moan out of him.

“Good morning, birthday boy,” I greeted him in a singsong tone, propping my chin up on his chest.

Poe rubbed a hand over his face and opened his bleary eyes, focusing them on me. “What if the birthday boy wanted to sleep?”

“As willing as I am to grant any and all wishes today, that one is a no-go,” I replied sweetly, tapping him on the nose lightly, “We’ve gotta haul ass if we’re going to make the most of a rare day off.”

I began to roll towards the edge of the bed but was apprehended. Poe pulled me back into his arms and maneuvered me to straddle him in one smooth motion. His hands found their way up his shirt I was wearing and rubbed circles into my back, sending a shiver through my body.  “I’ve actually got other plans for our asses at the moment,” he said, his gruff morning voice and suggestively raised brow making it nearly impossible to deny him, “Ten minutes tops.”

“You and I both know neither of us does ‘ten minutes tops’, Dameron,” I said, trying my best to ignore his hands wandering south and failing as a soft moan escaped me. “But I did say I was granting wishes today.”  Poe lazily smiled up at me as I slid my hands up his smooth chest and lowered my lips to his. He took me by surprise and flipped me over so I was trapped underneath him, the two us laughing into the kisses that followed…

————

A significant amount of time more than ten minutes later, Poe and I were far from Ajan Kloss in the cockpit of his new X-Wing. Ever since we’d planned where to spend his birthday, I’d been dreading the destination we were fast approaching. But there was no chance of me ruining the day with ghosts from the past.

“Coming out of hyperspace,” Poe reported as he performed the action, bringing us face to face with the planet. A shiver of panic ran through me as my blood ran cold. The blue waters only reminded me of blue blades clashing in a fit of desperation and rage. “You sure you’re okay with this?”  “Yeah,” I said firmly, trying to feel as confidant as I sounded, “I’ll be fine, there’s no way I’d miss this.”  Poe hummed in disbelief but kept us on course, steering us towards a greener portion of the menacing planet. I tried to center myself, I wanted to be fully in the moment for the day. It was too important to Poe and I’d been looking forward to it ever since we’d started dating. Anxiety ran through me again as we flew above the greenery, memories of wandering aimlessly above trees flooding my mind. As we got closer to our destination though, my stress began to lessen as the excitement set in.

Eventually, we were landing in a large clearing of land near a small house. I was the first to pop out of the cockpit and make it down the ladder with Poe following close behind. Our feet had barely touched the ground before a figure emerged out the front door of the house and made a gentle sprint towards us. Poe left my side to jog over to meet him, the two of them embracing upon collision and laughing joyfully. I watched from a distance, beaming as I watched the reunion between father and son.

Poe kept an arm on Kes as he gestured for me to come join them, “Dad, this is Y/n.”  Kes Dameron was, I had a feeling, the spitting image of Poe in thirty years. They could have passed for brothers with a significant age difference. As soon as I made it over, I was pulled into a warm hug. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to finally meet you, Y/n,” he said over my shoulder, “I’ve heard so much about you.”  “You as well,” I returned as we pulled back to get a look at each other, “Poe’s told me such wonderful things about you.”  “However many times he’s brought me up, I can promise you,” Kes said, his eyes flicking to his son briefly, “It’s nothing close to the number of times I’ve heard about the captivating Y/n Solo.”  I smirked and turned around to face a very pink cheeked Poe, “Captivating, huh?”  He stammered, “I mean, I may have used it once…”

Kes’ chest rumbled with laughter as he patted my back, “Come inside and I promise to embarrass him some more.”

He pulled me under one arm and his son under the other and we made our way into the Dameron homestead. It seemed that I stood to finally leave Yavin 4 with some pleasant memories…

————

We’d spent our day catching Kes up on our lives, it had been a while since Poe had last visited so there was a lot to fill him in on. The former comrade of my family gave me his sincerest condolences over the losses of Dad and Uncle Luke. It was so strange to think of my family and Poe’s having known each other, like there’d been a decades old string connecting the two of us together. Kes regaled us with stories from his days as a soldier and we told him a few of ours. I shared more than Poe, it was clear he didn’t want to worry his father too much with his particular brand of reckless. Kes eventually caught the lightsaber hooked to my belt and asked about my training.   “Before you leave, you have to go out to the backyard,” he said, “Your uncle gifted us with a Force after the war, someone like you needs to experience it.”  Once the skies darkened and we sat around the dinner table, Kes made good on his promise to embarrass my loving boyfriend.  “So Shara and I come running into the backyard and there he is,” Kes slapped his son’s shoulder, “Cockpit closed, lifting the damn ship into the air!”  I had my napkin covering my mouth as I laughed uncontrollably, the image of Poe as a child giving his parents a heart attack was completely believable. “Had he ever been up before?”  “Only with Shara and she never let him touch the controls,” Kes replied with a laugh, “He’d watched her enough times to know how to get it off the ground.”  Poe was a sport about each story from his early years, defending himself occasionally, though very few of them left him with an opportunity to do so. He’d been just as much trouble as a kid as he was now.

“I wish I could say I’m surprised,” I chuckled, “My dad never let me touch a thing on the Falcon until I was thirteen. And I didn’t fly her on my own for much longer.”  “Keep up, Solo,” Poe teased from across the table, “Some of us are doers.”  I smiled and shook my head at him, “I think you broke enough rules for the both of us in your younger days.”  “You calling me old?” Poe asked with a palm thrown over his heart in mock pain.  “Are you calling thirty three young?” I quipped back, swirling my wine in its glass, “I saw a couple gray hairs the other morning I didn’t tell you about.”

Poe’s cocky expression faltered briefly as his eyes widened before returning to normal, “You’re lying.”  Kes and I caught each other’s eye and shared a sly smile, both choosing to take a sip of our alcohol and leave Poe in suspicion. His confident exterior was broken by the tentative hand that ran through his jet black curls.

I’d convinced the two Dameron men to let me clean up after dinner so that they could spend some uninterrupted time together. They didn’t get to talk as much as either of them wished, that was a reality of war. Some went months without speaking to their loved ones. I felt unbelievably lucky that my mother was only a few minutes away at any given time of the day.

As I’d finished, Kes and Poe entered the kitchen. Seeing them side by side, it truly was astonishing how similar they looked.

“I think I’m going to head to bed and let you two have some time to yourself,” Kes announced, patting Poe on the back before making his way over to me, “I’ll be up early tomorrow so I can see you off.”

He wrapped me in a fatherly hug and I sunk into it, I couldn’t remember someone as quick to welcome me into their life as Kes Dameron. In a single day he had practically initiated me into the family as one of his own. Though nothing could ever replace the holes left by the fathers I’d lost, it was comforting to be around a dad again.

We bid our goodnights and with Bee charging in our room, it was just Poe and I left. He slung an arm around my neck and I laced my fingers with his as we walked back to the living room.

“So have you had a good birthday?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

Poe laughed under his breath, “Are you kidding? This whole day has been perfect. And Dad loves you…”  “I love him,” I replied as we made our way to the sofa, “But I feel bad for him.”  “What do you mean?”  “Judging from his stories, the poor man has spent every day worrying about you since you were in diapers,” I answered as Poe fell back on the couch, keeping our hands locked.

“Every parent worries,” Poe stated plainly, “Are you saying you never worried Leia and your dad as a kid?”  “I didn’t pull half the shit that you did,” I chuckled, “I hope that particular Dameron gene doesn’t carry over to our kids.”  As soon as the words had left me, I wished I could have retracted them. Poe’s eyes eyebrows lifted in surprise as he gripped my hand. “Our whats?”  “Our…nothings,” I scrambled for a sufficient denial, “I said nothing.”

“No, you said-“  “No I didn’t,” I faked a yawn and attempted to pull my hand away, “It’s late and we have to leave early so we should get to bed.”

Poe tugged me by the hand so that I had no choice but to land next to him on the couch, “Oh no, I want to hear about these kids we’re having.”   My cheeks felt red hot to the touch as I rubbed my free hand over them and groaned. While I’d thought of mine and Poe’s future in daydreams, we’d never actually talked about it. Why should we? We’d only been together for five months. Even if we’d practically been a couple before that, it felt like a conversation for further down the line.  “It’s nothing, really.”  Poe pulled me closer and wrapped an arm around me, I settled against his chest and prayed that he let the subject go. “Well, if it’s nothing then it shouldn’t be so hard to talk about.”  “I just think about what our lives might look like after the war sometimes,” I explained timidly, fiddling with a loose thread on the sweater I wore, “We could retire somewhere like here, build a house…”  “Sounds nice," Poe said, “We’re married in this scenario, right?”

I looked up at him and caught the mischievous gleam in his eye, “I don’t know, are we?”  Poe shut his eyes and nodded, “Oh, definitely.”

“Alright,” I smiled, trying to hide my glee at the thought, “We’re married, living in our house on a planet we’ll decide on later and the war is over.”

“Sounds perfect,” he replied, rubbing his thumb back and forth against my shoulder, “And our army of kids are wrecking all sorts of havoc in the backyard.”  My body shot up at his words and I stared down at him, “Who said anything about an army?”

“I think we should have at least ten,” Poe answered so straight faced that I couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not, “We could totally handle it.”

“Says the man who’s job in the child making process takes ten minutes. Who do you think’s giving birth to these ten children?” I shrieked, sending him clutching his chest and into a fit of laughter.

“Okay, fine,” he finally said after regaining his composure, “Ten’s not the magic number. But can we agree that it’s higher than two?”

I grabbed the two fingers he was holding up and settled back against his chest, “Agreed.”  “So we have an undetermined number of kids waving around lightsabers and trying to fly their old man’s X-Wing.”

“No,” I strongly objected, “No lightsabers or piloting till they’re old enough.”  “C’mon, we both know that at least one of them is going to be a Jedi considering your family. Might as well start them young.”

Of course there was no guarantee but it was safe to assume that yes, at least one of our kids would probably be Force sensitive. “Well, I hope at least one of them takes after you. I don’t think I could handle more than one little Padawan running around using the Force to throw things at their sibling’s heads.”  Poe snorted, “Knowing us, they’ll be a handful. But they’ll be great.”  “Damn right they will,” I agreed, rubbing a hand over Poe’s chest as I tried to conjure up an image of our children in my mind, “They’ll probably have your hair.”  “And your y/e/c eyes.”  “They’ll run their mouths like you.”  “But be the first to protect their family like you.”  “They’ll be reckless.”  “They’ll be stubborn,” Poe stated before inhaling deeply, “The galaxy better watch out, the Solo-Dameron-Organa-Kenobi kids will be unstoppable.”

“Okay, we’re definitely gonna have to drop a few names,” I made note of.

“I disagree, I think it conveys strength,” Poe objected, stroking a hand up and down my arm, “Hey, I’ve got a question.”  I hummed for him to continue, “How come you don’t add Kenobi to your name?”

We’d had so many conversations about my fateful visit to Ahch-To, but my family’s name was a sore spot that I hadn’t talked to him about yet. I had no way of finding out my father’s last name or if my grandmother had given my mother her last name of Kryze. Kenobi was the only name I could claim. “I thought about it but it’s not safe,” I answered quietly, “If it got out that I was the granddaughter of Obi-Wan, everyone in the galaxy would be after me even more than they already are. Believe me, I wish I could but it’s not realistic.”  

Poe squeezed me tighter on hearing my explanation, not saying a word because there was really nothing to say. Neither of us could change the fact that I was a wanted woman. Nevertheless, it killed a part of me to not be able to take pride in bearing both of my family’s names.

“So I’m guessing you’ve thought about our future too considering how many details you’ve been providing?” I asked in an attempt to lighten the mood of the conversation.

“Maybe once in a while…” he teased, “On long fights back to base or sometimes before falling asleep at night. It gives me something extra to fight for on the tough days.”  I traced the sharp outline of his jaw as I watched him speak. The thought of Poe flying his X-Wing with one of our kids on his lap or me teaching one of them how to levitate objects made my heart beat fast in excitement. But for every dream I had, there was an equal amount of doubt. I knew that the reality of our lives were that even after the war, we’d probably never have a peaceful existence. And if I shifted the focus to myself, I held my own fears about raising children.

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s even a good idea though…” I admitted, lowering my gaze, “I’ve never had any sense of normalcy in my life, I doubt I’d know how to provide it for our kids.”

“Normal is overrated, and are you kidding me? You’d be the best mom in the galaxy,” Poe said, pecking my hair softly before stroking his hand over it, “We’ll make all of it happen, might take a while but the Damerons will have their day.”  “The Damerons…” I repeated back to him, a smile spreading across my face, “I like that.”  We laid there in the quiet a while longer, soaking in the peaceful silence before our lives descended back into chaos. The one day leave for Poe’s birthday had been a gift to both of us, a 24 hour oasis in the midst of the raging storm we were caught in. We spent our days strategizing, fighting in the skies and undergoing intense training. But here we could just be…soft. We could be what we would’ve been had there been no war. I fell asleep that night on Poe’s chest, dreaming of a free galaxy and curly haired children chasing playing with BB-8 as Poe and I watched.

————

Kes hadn’t exaggerated, the Force tree my uncle had gifted him and Shara was extraordinary. I didn’t even have to try to feel connected to the Force, the second I’d stepped foot in the backyard it had overwhelmed me. There wasn’t enough time for me to properly meditate underneath it, but I still used the little time I had left to center myself. I could feel the Force flowing through every part of me, it was like nothing I’d ever experienced before.

“I’m glad you got to see it,” Kes’ voice called from behind me, “It’s something special.”  “Sure is,” I agreed, opening my eyes but still unable to turn away from it, “Is Poe done checking the ship?”

Kes came to stand next to me, admiring the tree too, “Almost, he sent me to come get you but you take all the time you want.”  “I wish I could,” I smiled sadly, finally turning to face the man, “But we can’t be late getting back to base. There’s so much going on, we’re lucky we got a full day off. Well, I don’t need to explain wartime to you…”

“Oh, I know exactly what you’re talking about. I saw my share of action during the Rebellion…” Kes paused, staring off into the distance as he relived a decades old memory. He snapped back after a few seconds, shaking his head and returning his gaze to me, “Well, I’m just glad I got to see the two of you for however long I could. I worry about both of you.”

“You worry about me?” I asked with a quirk of my lips.  Kes’ expression shifted further into its somberness, “Of course I do. I know how dangerous war is but I also know how dangerous it is to be in love during war. There wasn’t a day during the Rebellion where I wasn’t worried about losing Shara. I know both of you know that feeling well.”  I nodded, not trusting my voice at the moment. The thought of something happening to Poe was quick to make me emotional.

 “I’ve lost the love of my life, the last thing I want is for either of you to have to go through that. The two of you…You’ve got something very few people are lucky enough to find. Something that deserves to live on long after this war is over.”  There didn’t seem to be a right thing to say in response. Poe and I’s worry for one another never waned, it was like a constant white noise in both our minds. There was no guarantee of seeing the next day during war. It was a reality we lived with every day whether tucked away in base or on mission off world. How many couples were casualties of war? Too many to count, my parents having been one of them. But the belief that Poe and I wouldn’t lose each other was something I clung to each day. The future we both fought for was one where we didn’t have to worry about losing one another.

“It’s a constant fear, losing him,” I mused as I stared out at the clear sky, watching the rising sun, “But I don’t regret being with him, not for a second. He’s worth all of it.”  “I know he feels the same way,” Kes smiled softly and patted my arm, “From what Poe has told me, you’ve pulled your share of stunts.”  I swiveled back to face Kes and raised a finger, “If he’s talking about what happened above Batuu, I’d like to play up the fact that I took out eight TIE’s singlehandedly.”  The former rebel soldier cocked an eyebrow, “Impressive, but no…He told me about Crait.”  “Crait…” I sighed, finding the ground much more interesting to look at.

“Even before he told me I’d heard about it. You were the talk of the city and I imagine everywhere else.”  “Yeah, apparently news travels fast…”  Crait seemed like a lifetime ago. It was no longer the actual fight between Ren and I that bothered me, though I’d admit to still questioning why he hadn’t killed me occasionally. It was the legend status I’d achieved without trying to. The over exaggerated tale of my heroics had spread across the galaxy quicker than I knew what to do with. Not only was I one of, if not the, most wanted woman in the galaxy but even the Resistance had begun treating me differently. Seemingly everyone except my mother and friends treated me as if I was some deity. I was glad no one else knew about my being a Kenobi or the attention would become too much to handle.

“I hope you’ll see that more as a symbol of what I’m willing to do for the cause rather than my personality. What I’m willing to do to protect the people I love,” I said, staring at him with all the conviction in the world, “That includes Poe.”  “I know, and that dedication is what makes the Resistance, and Poe, lucky to have someone like you.”  I could hear Bee’s squeals, only making out my name and knowing that we needed to head out. Kes and I turned to each other regretfully before he put an arm around my shoulders and we began to make our way out of the backyard. I turned my head to get one more look at the Force tree and silently promised myself that the next time I came, I’d spend a proper amount of time underneath it.

Poe was beginning to load Bee into the X-Wing when Kes and I rounded the corner of the house. Even though we were headed back to base where as soon as we landed we’d be thrown back into our responsibilities, he still looked relaxed. He hadn’t put on his commander’s hat yet and was simply Poe Dameron at home with the people he loved. He reminded me of the day I’d gotten back from my last stay with Dad, when we’d flown back from the transport station. We’d both been so carefree and at ease and I’d wished then what I was wishing now…for the war to be over.

“Any more Poe stories you want to send me off with?” I jokingly asked Kes, we were still far enough away that Poe wouldn’t hear me.

“There was one I wanted you to hear, he’d never forgive me if I told him but…” Kes chuckled and waved his hand dismissively, bringing our walk to a halt. “It was the day he arrived at the Resistance base. We’d talked after Leia recruited him about how excited he was about having command of his own fighting wing, meeting the other pilots…Pretty much everything he spoke about had something to do with an X-Wing. That night he called me and you could’ve paid him any amount of credits to talk about anything flying related and he wouldn’t have cared. The first thing he said to me after ‘Yeah, everything’s fine’ was ‘I’m pretty sure I met my future wife today.’ And for the rest of the call, not one mention of any ship. Just about this girl who had shown him around base and ate dinner with him and who he tried to be extra funny around just to make her smile. I made sure to make note of what he was saying so once I finally got to meet this Y/n he spoke so highly of, I could tell her that there hasn’t been one day that boy’s known you where he hasn’t been in love with you.”

My grin was practically idiotic by the time he’d finished telling his story. Poe had only mentioned that he’d fallen for me the first day we’d met and he’d never mentioned anything about telling Kes about me. I gazed over at Poe, standing atop the ladder next to his ship and my heart swelled. Just as it did when he returned home from a mission and we’d embrace outside of his ship. Or when we’d climb into bed together at the end of a long day and his arms would instinctively wrap around me. Or when I’d work late nights in the command center and he’d send Bee in with a sweet note stuck to the droid’s body. I didn’t think it was possible to fall any more in love with him, but every day he showed me it was. He spotted us and waved me and his dad over. After a tearful goodbye with Kes, Poe and I were on our way back to base.

When we were in hyperspace, I tilted my head to press a kiss to the side of Poe’s mouth. He smiled at me, “What was that for?”

“I just love you,” I shrugged.  “Well, then I guess it’s a good thing I love you too,” he replied, taking my chin between two of his fingers and locking our lips together.

————

A/N: I’ve been getting notifications every few days that people have been liking chapters which causes me to skim over some of them. I really can’t believe I started this series back in May as a way of coping with quarantine boredom and here we are six months later and I can see the end in the distance. I’m so glad that you guys enjoy it and it can distract you from the nightmare that is this year for just a few minutes. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this one! Happy Thanksgiving to my American readers!! 🦃🦃🦃

Taglist: @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @springfox04 @constantdisgrace @holybatflapexpert @seninjakitey @tammythompson-singslikea-muppet @leilei-draws @eternal-fandoms @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @imaginecrushes @eternallyvenus @thescarletknight2014 @simplybarnes @captain-america5 @breyasficletblog @caseymcflurry @stumbleonmywords @april-14-blog @i-ievu @ultrunning @desperatelytryingtosavemyself @caswinchester2000 @meraki-loki @lovinnholland @wishing4wishes @fruitloopzzz @bbuckysbeardd @justanotherblonde23 @ace-fiction @abysshaven @thisshitfucks @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @itsfangirlmendes @superbookishhufflepuff

Star Wars Permanent Taglist: @paintballkid711 @katrynec @caswinchester2000 @theliterarymess @softly-sad @angelicadameron

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron series #poe dameron x solo!reader #star wars imagine #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #poe dameron

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itstittycitybaby · 4 years

Text

From the Ashes we are Born (Part 12) V x fem! reader

a/n: lmao here we are finally. decided to just get this edited and shit so i can have something out. ohhhh yall gonna hate me for how i ended this lmao

warnings: NSFW 18+

V’s blood was boiling as he sat his hat on the table. It hit with a soft thunk from the force of it. Stiffening, you carefully took off the precious ruby earrings that dripped from your ears. “Honey,” you said softly, carefully making your way towards the vigilante. “Is everything okay?” V just grunted as his daggers clattered onto the table. He knew he shouldn’t be upset, let alone jealous. He trusted you and it frustrated him that he was being bitter and insecure. “It’s nothing, my dear.” Crossing your arms, you rolled your eyes and sighed. “V, if you want me to help you, you gotta be honest with me.” “Trust me my darling, everything is alright.”

V wanted to leave. He wanted to be alone with his fault and reflect on tonight. He would talk to you later, but how could he when all this emotion was bubbling up inside of him. Your brows furrowed as you backtracked to tonight’s events. Let’s see drinking, dancing, mingling, dancing with Prothero. Oh, OH. A chuckle bubbled from your throat at the realization. V turned to you cocking his head. He knew it was foolish and he was acting like a child. He wasn’t upset with you at all, you were just doing what you were told. But the hungry gaze in the Commander’s eyes was one he knew all too well. “Is it wrong to feel flattered,” you asked as you stood next to your very tense boyfriend. “I’m afraid I do not understand,” V replied, voice guarded but curious. Grinning, you reached up on your tippy toes and gave his mask a peck. Smirking, your voice became low. “I’m yours V. I only want to be yours.” You glanced at his hands and looked back into the mask, asking for permission with your eyes. V didn’t say a word. He was afraid of making things awkward. Instead, he nodded and tried to relax by loosening his posture. A smile crossed your lips and following it was a mischievous glint in your eyes. V tried not to think too much about your scheming.

Gently, you grabbed his left hand. You pulled his glove slowly, giving him time to interject if he felt uncomfortable. “Good boy,” you cooed softly, smirking at the choked sigh you got in return. Lifting up his hand, your lips kissed the back of his hand. V let out a sigh as your soft lips graced his knuckles and fingers. Each finger was given attention and love. He didn’t understand why you loved his skin so much; it was ugly and a constant reminder of the pain he endured. But you didn’t see it that way. Instead you saw the beauty that V had and cherished every moment you shared with him. V was horrified at the mischievous grin on your lips. What was his little minx planning? Kissing up to the tip of his thumb, you sent him a flirty wink before giving his thumb a small lick and sucking it gently into your mouth. Oh, you were going to be the death of this man. “Jesus,” V murmured darkly, his voice almost turning into a growl. A shiver ran down your spine as your hot and wet mouth kissed and licked his fingers. You sent him another wink before you pulled away. Your spit glistened in the light and V felt his pants tighten. His hands cupped your cheeks. V’s right hand still had the tough leather glove and his thumb brushed across your lips. Your body tingled with anticipation at the idea of what V could do to you.

The tension crackled in the air. It felt dangerous and you couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous. Though, you knew if you changed your mind V would stop. But you didn’t want to. The fear was intoxicating and you were excited. Your eyes bore into his mask, daring for him to make a move. “What am I going to do with you mademoiselle,” V’s voice rumbled. Your face pulled into thought. V could tell it was a facade and the faux innocence made him crazy. His darling was a brat. It made him grin underneath his mask. “Remind me who I belong to,” you purred, your eyes filled with lust.

His arms snaked around your waist, tugging you closer to him. An idea popped up in your head. V saw the cunning twinkle in your eyes and the way your lips pulled up into a smile. “Oh, to know what exactly my lovely little minx is planning.” Giggling, you gave his mask a quick peck on the cheek. V’s arms loosened a bit as you leant up to give a kiss on his lips. Taking this as your chance, you wiggled out of his grasp. V tried to grab your wrists but you quickly dodged his hands. For once, you were faster. V’s head cocked to the side as the two of you danced around the table.

You laughed at V’s attempts to reach over to you from his side of the table. It was futile. Cheekily, you sang, “Try and catch me if you can!” V was stealthy and quick, but you were more agile. Though, you knew the masked criminal would catch up to you in no time. Mulling over your thoughts, you dashed out of the kitchen with V on your trail. You were going to be the death of him.

It was dark in the shadow gallery. The lights had been shut off by no other than V and you were on the run. You bit your lip to try and stop yourself from giggling as you crept throughout the sanctuary. V’s footsteps had faded away a while ago, but there was no way you’d lost him. V was sneaky and silent. His skills were venomous and cunning. There was no way you had much time left before he found you. The amount of times he made you jump from sneaking up behind you were too many to count, but this time, you had the dark on your side tonight.The silence hung thick over you as you maneuvered around the gallery. Has it been five minutes? Twenty? A whole ass hour? When you managed to bump into something you’d scurry away from the scene, hoping V wouldn’t find you. “Ow,” you said softly as you ran into the table for the 30th goddamn time.

The sound of a chuckle made the hairs on your neck stand up. Excitement and fear settled in your belly as you made a run for it. A yelp escaped your throat as an arm snaked around your stomach pulling you close. Your back met V’s chest and his arms held you in front of him. “It seems I’ve caught you, mademoiselle,” V’s voice purred. You shivered as his breath traveled down your spine. You couldn’t see him but his mask was off. His voice wasn’t muffled and his breath actually hit the air. You held in a whimper once you felt the tent in V’s trousers hitting your ass. “Is there a dagger in your pants or are you happy to see me,” you asked teasingly. V barked a laugh, his arms squeezing you tighter. “My darling seems to have a talent for cracking jokes at the most interesting of times.” “Sorry,” you giggled. “No matter,” V replied, kissing the top of your head. It was silent for a few moments; your heart pounded in your chest and your ears were ringing. You were waiting in anticipation for something to happen. Wiggling in his tight grip, you turned to face him. You leaned a bit back so as to not accidentally brush across his face. Strands of his hair shone in the moonlight. V’s face was still covered by the shadows but you could make out the area of his nose and lips. Slowly, you placed your hands on his shoulder. You tilted your head and inched your lips in front of his. Although you were tempted to kiss this man senseless, you wanted V to decide.

Heavens, V thought to himself as his lips met your soft, delicate ones. His hands crept up to your stomach and lay low from your breasts. Your teeth nipped at his mouth and softly sucked his bottom lip. A whimper left your lips as V’s delicate, but firm fingers softly rubbed circles around your nipples through the material of the dress. V let out a purr; his tongue caressing yours and the roof of your mouth. You pulled back, breathless. The image of V with lipstick stained on his lips made you smile. When V’s thumbs gently rubbed against your nipples you let out a small mewl. You felt your cheeks flushed and you squeezed your thighs together. This didn’t go unnoticed by V. “Is there something you want, my beloved?” His voice sounded gruff as the words left his lips. V’s voice alone, made heat rush down to your cunt. “I-I,” you stammered, your cheeks flaming with heat. God, how you hated V’s teasing. You inhaled sharply as his thumbs brushed across your nipples again. “Sorry,” V said, his tone sounding very far from apologetic.

V’s breath hit your ear as his lips kissed your left earlobe. Tilting his head, V whispered, “If there is something you want you will have to tell me, my devilish little minx.” All thoughts jumped out of your brain as his lips nibbled your ear. “V..,” you said breathlessly. “Hm,” he asked, his lips kissing your neck to your shoulder. You squirmed as your cheeks started to heat up. V tutted, giving your ear a sharp bite as a warning. You softly hissed from the dull pain. “P-please...fuck me.” V’s held tilted as he brought one of his hands to caress your cheek. “Maybe some other time, my dear. But tonight you are to be cherished and worshipped.”

#v for vendetta x reader #v for vendetta #x reader #reader insert #smut

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thewidowsghost · 4 years

Text

Fox - An Avenger’s Reader Insert

Chapter 1

(Y/N)'s POV

My whole life changed a month ago, when my mother told me of my father's identity. Being a seventeen year old in 2002 was a little hard, but finding out that my father is Tony Stark is another.

Then today, four weeks later, I get a phone call.

"Hello, is this (M/N) (L/N)'s daughter?" the woman on the phone asks.

"Yes, this is her, why?"

"We need you to come into the hospital, now," the woman says.

"I'm on my way," I tell the woman, "But why?"

"You're mother got into a car accident on her way home from work, it doesn't look good," at this, my eyes widen, and I sprint out to the car my mom had gotten me for my fifteenth birthday so I could learn how to drive.

I drive as quickly as I can over to the hospital without breaking any traffic laws, knowing that if I got pulled over, it might be too late.

Once I get to the hospital, I sprint into the lobby and up to the front desk. "I'm (M/N) (L/N)'s daughter," I say, not out of breath at all for some reason.

The woman at the desk smiles sympathetically at me before asking me to sit down to wait.

I sit down, and start fiddling with the zipper of my black leather jacket.

"Come with me," a new voice says, and I look up to see a male in a white lab coat, clearly a doctor. I stand up and follow him down the hall. "It's not looking good for her," the man says gently, stopping and turning to me.

"Just..." I falter for a moment, "... let me talk to her before..," I stop and furiously rub my eyes.

"O-okay," the doctor says before opening the door. I walk in, taking a seat by my mother's bedside.

I grab her hand, squeezing it lightly, before her eyes open a little, "(Y/N)!" she murmurs lovingly, meeting my (E/C) gaze. "Open my purse," she orders, shifting her gaze from my eyes to her purse, sitting in a chair on the other side of her bed. I get up, and grab her purse. "In there is a dog tag, it has your father's address, and his personal assistant's number," Mom says and I turn back to her, after pulling it out. As she had said, there was an address just on above a phone number. "When you get home, I need you to call that number and meet up with Pepper Potts, you need to find your father before it's too late," Mom orders before taking a huge breath. "Also," she gasps slightly before continuing, "I have abilities," she says, "which you also have," she says shocking me before the beeping noise gets louder until it begins flatling. I grip Mom's hand tightly, tears running down my face. A doctor and two nurses rush in, one of the nurses coming over and gently pulling me away, but I resist, continuing to look in my mother's dying face.

Closing my eyes as the beeping goes silent, the nurse beside me becomes more persistent, and I stop resisting, letting the nurse pull me out of the room and back down the hall to the lobby.

"Do you have anywhere to go?" the nurse asks me once we enter the lobby. Glancing down at the dog tag still clutched in my hand, I nod silently before walking out of the hospital and walking over to my car. I pull my phone out of the middle console and call the number on the dog tag. It rings for a moment before someone, presumably Miss Potts picks up.

"Hello, this is Pepper Potts," the woman on the phone says.

"Hello, this is (Y/N) (L/N)," I say into the phone. "Can I schedule a meeting with you sometime today?" I ask, my voice shaking slightly.

"Let me check just one second," Miss Potts says, going silent for a moment. "I can schedule you in at 4:00 this afternoon."

"That would be great," I say, glancing down at the clock, telling me that it was currently 3:00.

"Alright, I'll see you at 4:00," Miss Potts says.

"Thank you," I say, then Miss Potts hangs up the phone.

I think back to what my mother had told me, 'You have abilities.' What could that possibly mean?!

I start the car, drive back home, walking around the house for a while.

3rd Person POV

While (Y/N) was walking around her house, she didn't realize that it was beginning to downpour around her house, and only her house. At 3:30, (Y/N) leaves her house, the rain clearing up instantly. She gets back in the car and drives to the Stark Industries headquarters. Walking into the building she goes to the front desk, reminding the seventeen year old of earlier this morning. Shaking her head slightly, she walks straight up to the desk.

(Y/N)'s POV

"Hello, I'm here for a meeting with Miss Pepper Potts," I say, and someone places their hand on my shoulder.

"And I am right here," a woman says and I turn around to see a woman with auburn hair and blue eyes. "I am Pepper Potts," Miss Potts says, and I offer my hand in a polite shake. She accepts and shakes my hand. "Should we go up to my office?" she asks and I nod silently.

Once we get in Miss Potts's office, she signals for me to sit on the other side of her desk.

I silently sit down before I look up at the auburn haired woman.

"Um, I don't know how to say this without sounding like I'm insane," I begin, looking down at the dog tag still sitting in my hand. "Tony Stark..." I falter. "He's my father," I tell Miss Potts and I look up to meet her blue gaze, but she doesn't really look shocked.

"This was bound to happen at some point," Miss Potts mutters, and I look bewilderedly at her. "I guess we need to get you to meet Mr. Stark."

I run my hand through my (H/C) nervously, looking back up at Miss Potts when she asks, "Where's your mother?" Gulping, I shake my head sadly.

"She, uh, passed away about an hour ago," I say, and Miss Potts looks sympathetically at me before standing up and coming around the desk, wrapping me in a hug. I relax after a moment in Miss Potts arms.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Miss Potts says softly.

"Thanks, Miss Potts," I say softly.

"Call me Pepper," Miss Potts says and I look up into her blue eyes.

"Thanks, Pepper," I say, and she smiles.

"Let's go meet your dad, huh?" Peppers says, and I nod. "You have a car?" she then asks, as if it's an afterthought.

"Yeah," I tell her.

"Okay, you can park it in the garage and we'll take my car," Pepper says and the two of us make our way down the stairs and past the woman at the desk who says goodbye to Pepper.

I jog on over to my car and pull it up to the garage, Pepper standing beside her car. "Let's go, I'm to meet Mr. Stark in about half-an-hour," Pepper says and we get into the car, me in the passenger's seat, and her in the driver's.

We drive for about fifteen to twenty minutes until we arrive on the coast of Malibu where I can see a huge cliffside mansion about a hundred yards away. Pepper drives up onto the driveway and parks in front of the entrance to the mansion.

"This is where –" I begin, looking up in awe.

"Yep, this is Tony Stark's mansion," Pepper says, and the two of us get out of the car. "Come on, (Y/N)," Pepper says and I follow her through the entrance of the mansion.

Word Count: 1317 words

Let's go! The first chapter in my Avenger's book is now out.

Since this is an Avengers Reader Insert, there will be slight cursing and some violence. I will try to mark where extensive violence is in this book for people that wouldn't like to read it.

Anyway, I've gotta start on the next chapter, so I'll see y'all soon

Love,

Kaitlynn ❤❤

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maroonmorons · 4 years

Note

Not sure if this is fluffy enough but: the team being on a call/hanging out together & buck (accidentally/on purpose) getting punched in the face. He gets a nose bleed/ busted lip & everyone is like super worried cuz blood thinners, especially eddie who coddles him a lot, & buck pretends to be a bit miffed at first, like guys i'm fine!!, but he's actually super happy & feeling loved cuz his family still loves him even after all that shit went down. HE'S A CINNAMON ROLL THAT DESERVES ALL THE LOVE

sorry if my heart a little slow [buck/eddie, T, 1.8k]

The thing is – once they’ve had decent calls for severalshifts in a row Buck forgets how quickly a call can go bad.

They didn’t even have to lose someone on the call for it togo bad.

No, instead the call just had to start moving too quicklyfor them to be able to keep up with it.

Tonight it’s a four car pile up thanks to a drunk driverswerving into oncoming traffic. Luckily no one is DOA on the scene. Theambulance has already left with the mother and son who were in the first carstruck.

That leaves their crew to deal with everyone else, includingthe drunk driver.

Buck thought the drunk driver was secure – well the trick tothat was that the drunk driver had been secure. Until the assholeregained consciousness.

He was belligerent immediately, shoving Madison off andtrying to climb to his feet.

Eddie and Buck look over in the same second but Eddie getsthe jump, roughly two feet closer than Buck is.

Trying to stuff his concern down somewhere below his gut,Buck turns back to the middle aged man he’s treating. He applies anotherbutterfly bandage to the man’s split brow.

Behind him he hears a solid blow and then a body falling tothe ground.

Madison screams and Buck can feel it happening.

Like a projector just getting warmed up - click, click,clickclickclick; the call starts moving too fast.

By the time he’s whipped his head around Eddie’s on theground, one hand on his jaw.

The drunk absolutely looms over him, looking eight feet tallin Buck’s eyes.

Buck might as well be in quicksand.

He remembers enough to look back to the man he’s treating.

“I’m gonna-”

The man waves him off immediately. There’s a deep frown onhis face but Buck knows it’s not directed at him or any of their crew.

Buck shoves back to his feet, glad to see Eddie’s regainedhis feet as well.

Still, it’s one of those nightmares Buck has routinely. He’smoving but not fast enough. He can’t move nearly fast enough to keep up withthis call.

The drunk swings again and Eddie ducks, leaning down tothrow his arms around the guy’s middle and try to take him to the ground.

Sadly, the key word there is try.

Buck knows Eddie can handle himself. The man was street fightingin his free time for fuck’s sakes.

This dude however is tall and truly thick all the way downhis body. He’s got to be over six feet and at least three hundred pounds.

The alcohol his parietal lobe is currently soaking inprobably doesn’t hurt his chances in a fight either.

Buck finally gets over to them, bless his long legs, and launcheshimself at the guy too.

The drunk just grunts in response; he feels as movable as abrick wall.

“Can one ofthe cops get over here,” Eddie grunts, the toes of his boots still digging intothe asphalt. “Maybe with a taser?”

“I-I’m on it,”Madison manages.

Buck stands, rearranging himself. Maybe attacking the centerof gravity is the problem. He wraps his left arm over the drunk’s shoulder,bringing his forearms together behind the broad back to get a good grip. With agrunt of his own, Buck shoves his shoulder into the drunk and tries to topplehim.

After a moment the drunk wavers and Buck redoubles hisefforts, adrenaline pumping steadily through his heart.

But instead of falling back, the drunk just tilts over tothe side. He brings up the arm Buck isn’t wrapped around to shove at Buck.

It barely takes fifteen seconds for the guy to successfullydislodge Buck and send him stumbling off the edge of the road.

Buck’s not exactly angry, nor is he exactly embarrassed.

He catches himself in the dusty silt and turns on one heel.

Unfortunately, he’s in such a rush to get back to help Eddiehe doesn’t think about the fact that he had stumbled off the road.

The toe of his right boot catches on the edge of the asphalt.He’s got too much momentum built up already – or maybe it’s the fact that hisleft leg is just that much slower than the rest of him – but in any case hefalls face first onto the road.

It happens too quickly for him to even put out his arms. Ifhe’d been watching it happen Buck might have even laughed.

But his face catches most of his fall, first his nose andthen his chin.

“Buck!”Bobby yells.

I’m fine, Buck wants to say. He tries to push himselfup, unsurprised to feel hands on his shoulders already helping him.

“¡Dios mío!Are you alright, Buck?” Eddie demands.

“I’m fine,”Buck does say then. “Where’s the drunk? Is he down?”

“The copsare taking care of him,” Eddie says. He clicks his tongue in disapproval as heturns Buck’s face carefully from side to side.

Buck realizes his face is wet then.

“Is itbroken?”

“Might be,”Eddie says tightly. “Come on, let’s get you up.”

Bobby and Madison are already crowding close enough to brushagainst Buck’s shoulders on either side of Eddie.

“Are youokay, Buck? I’m so sorry I didn’t have the guy.”

“Madison,what? No one could have had that guy, it’s not your fault.”

“It’s noone’s fault,” Bobby agrees. “We’re just lucky the cops were here with theirtasers. The 121 is arriving on scene. Madison, let’s go help them. Eddie, areyou good to get Buck cleaned up?”

“I’ve gothim,” Eddie confirms.

“I’m okay,”Buck protests. “Eddie’s the one that got punched in the face.”

“Eddie’snot the one on blood thinners.”

Damn blood thinners.

…

Peculiarly, things only seem to get worse once they get backto the station.

Hen all but runs to Buck’s side.

“Buckaroo!Are you okay?” She’s already reaching up gently to tilt his face into betterlight. “Are you sure you don’t need the hospital?”

“Hen, I’mokay, I promise. My nose isn’t even broken. Everything stopped bleeding andEddie bandaged my jaw up. It’s not even going to scar. Probably.”

Chim’s joined them by then, squeezing Buck’s shoulder firmly.

“Our residentdaredevil,” he says. There’s a certain amount of fondness in his tone and itmakes Buck feel like blushing. “Are you okay though?”

“Guys, I’mfine.”

“You’re notjust saying that?” Hen double checks. “You know you’re not gonna get benchedjust for a minor injury right?”

“We justwant you to be okay,” Chim agrees immediately.

“I promiseI’m okay,” Buck reaffirms.

He feels like one of those little baby dolls with a stringin its back – just repeating the same thing over and over again.

“Eddie’s the one that got punched in the face,” he adds. “AndCap cleared me. I’m all good.”

“Eddie’sfine,” Hen dismisses, even rolling her eyes.

“Dude wasstreet fighting for fun,” Chim reminds Buck.

“C’monguys,” Buck whines, “I’m alright.”

“Good,” Hensays with a decisive nod.

“Is dinneralmost ready?” Chim questions as he starts toward the stairs. “I’m starving.”

Hen makes no move to join him.

“I’ll meetyou guys up there,” Buck tells her gently. “Gotta finish up down here.”

But Hen just shakes her head.

“I’ll doit. Go help set the table – or just sit down. You can’t hold the whole world onyour shoulders, Buck. Honestly.”

“But I’m-”

“I know youare.”

“C’mon Hen.”Buck whines quietly. “I don’t want you guys thinking I’m weak.”

“No one herethinks you’re weak, Evan. We just want to make sure you’re taken care of.”

Hen’s eyes are impossibly warm as she looks directly intohis and Buck feels about four feet tall under the weight of her words.

Seemingly unaware of his internal conflict, she continues.

“Because we love you.”

It’s not as if Buck doesn’t know that. He does.

Still, he feels shaken to hear Hen say it directly to him.

His stubbornness abandons him like the tide going out andBuck manages a tiny smile.

“Okay,” heagrees on a whisper. “I love you too.”

Hen hugs him again before giving him a gentle push backtoward the stairs.

…

While Buck had been allowed to help set the table he’sforbidden from cooking or from helping clean up.

Instead, he’s settled (forcibly) on one of the sofas withEddie.

Eddie even slings both socked feet into Buck’s lap as if tokeep him from getting up any time soon.

His jaw is already starting to bruise but he doesn’t seemconcerned over it and neither does anyone else in the station.

“How’s yourjaw?” Buck questions.

“How’s yourjaw?”

“I’m fine,”Buck stresses. “F, I, N, E – fine.”

“Well, I’vebeen hit harder. I’m fine too.”

“Don’tremind me,” Buck grumbles.

After a moment of tense silence, he forces himself to lookon the bright side.

“At least my nose isn’t broken. I don’t think my Owen Wilsonimpression is any good.”

Eddie arches a dark eyebrow.

“Why wouldyou need to do an Owen Wilson impression?”

“How elseam I gonna find someone to marry me with a fucked up face?”

Eddie huffs.

“Shut up,Buck.”

Buck pouts.

“What? Peopleare fine with hooking up with me but it’s not like anyone wants more. I can’tget any uglier Eddie, I’ll die with twenty four cats.”

“Anyuglier?” Eddie demands, his voice growing much louder than the conversation warrants.“What are you talking about, Buck? You’re at least a ten. At least.”

“Okay,first of all – you have to say that because you’re my best friend. Secondly, Idon’t know if the opinion of a straight man is worth that much to my ego; even thoughI appreciate it. Thirdly, once I’m old and retired you’re gonna have to call meevery two days to make sure the cats aren’t eating my eyeballs.”

Eddie’s mouth moves with no sound coming out for several seconds.

“I probablyshouldn’t say that because you’re my best friend,” he finally settles on. “AndI’m not straight.”

He frowns then, as if deciding whether or not to tackle theeyeball statement.

Buck takes pity on him.

“They’d bestarving, Eddie. Everyone knows they eat the eyeballs first because they’reeasy to get to and squishy or whatever. It wouldn’t be their fault. But, I wantan open casket so you need to make sure they aren’t chowing down, alright?”

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes andmuttering under his breath in Spanish.

“Why don’twe just get married in ten years if we’re both still single?” he asks after blowingout a large breath.

“Well,sure, but there’s no way you’re still gonna be single in ten-” Buck cutsoff, blinking twice. “You’re not straight?”

Eddie pulls the throw pillow out from behind his back andpulls it over his face with both hands.

“Eddie, you’re not straight?!”

172 notes · View notes

buckleysjareau · 4 years

Text

everything is blue

When Evan Buckley is ten, he discovers nail polish.

In which Buck paints his nails, Eddie is flustered, and May is matchmaker.

read on ao3

When Evan Buckley is ten years old, he discovers nail polish. At twenty-eight years old, thinking back, he feels like an idiot because who doesn’t know what nail polish is?

Maddie always had some bright color on her nails and ten year old Buck wanted to have bright nails more than anything. He sneaks the nail polish from his sister’s room at three in the morning, thanking God he’s always been good at keeping quiet, and he picks out a sky blue polish. Watching Maddie, he figured it would be as easy as she made it look, but the nail polish is all over his nails and fingers by the time Maddie finds him.

“If you wanted me to paint your nails, you could have just asked.” She whispers.

Buck jumps. “Please don’t tell mom and dad.”

Maddie tiredly smiles. “Lips are sealed.”

“Throw away the key?”

“Throw away the key.” She holds out her pinky and smiles when his small pinky links with hers. “Here, let me help.” She guides Buck to the toilet, sits him down, and grabs nail polish remover from the cabinet.

“You still want this color?” Maddie smiles as she holds up the Essie bottle.

Buck grins. “Yeah, it reminds me of summer.”

When Maddie finishes his nails, he’s beaming. He’s wanted to have pretty nails since he saw Maddie’s glitter polish collection.

“Alright, Evan, time for bed. You better get up tomorrow when I wake you up for school.” Maddie warns.

Buck just rolls his eyes. “Yes, mom.”

The next day, things go from good to bad within a second. He’s reeling, so happy and loves the color of his nails and he feels like nothing can take it away. Until something does take it away.

That something being Logan Hawk. He’s always had a problem with the sixth grader, he thought he owned their grade school and even at ten years old, Buck wanted to punch the asshole out of him but because he’s little wimpy Evan he won’t.

“You a queer or somethin’, Buckley?” Logan grabs Buck’s hand and examines the blue on his nails. “Huh? Use your words, queer.”

He doesn’t remember doing what he does next, and he hates that he doesn’t remember it. He’d love to remember finally punching Logan Hawk. He does however remember his parents coming in to take him home for being suspended.

He remembers the entire ride home, his dad’s yelling loud enough to hurt Buck’s ears. Madeline is going to pay for letting you use her nail polish. Doesn’t she know it’s only for girls? No son of mine is gonna be a queer, you hear me? As soon as we get home, wash that shit off your nails, Evan. If not, there will be hell to pay.

That was the first and only time he’d painted his nails. Now at twenty-eight, a little more than drunk, he doesn’t hear Logan’s voice or his dad’s as he feels the need to paint his nails a pretty color. Or colors, more than one color would be exciting.

He picks up his phone and dials the one person who he knows isn’t at work and would have nail polish. “Hey ‘Thena.”

“What’s up, Buckaroo?” He hears the amusement in her voice and grins.

“Will you come over and paint my nails?”

“Paint your nails?” She tries to clarify.

“Yeah, I really want to paint them but I have none and I’m really shit at it. Can you bring nail polish?”

“You’re lucky I love you, Buckaroo.”

Buck feels like there’s sunshine coming from his heart and lighting his whole apartment. “Awwwww, ‘Thena, I love you too.”

The phone hangs up and ten minutes later, Athena is letting herself in with the key he gave her after he’d fallen down the stairs trying to get to his bed in his cast. She’s got a small bin in her hand, full of colors and glitter, and Buck is beaming.

“Should I be concerned that it’s only eight at night and you’re this drunk?” Athena raises her brow and crosses her arms and Buck thinks it’s so motherly, he wants to cry.

“I’m not that drunk.” He pouts. “Can I see the colors?”

Athena snorts. “Knock yourself out, kid.”

He sets aside a silver nail polish and continues to look. He does the same thing with the pink, and when he finds the exact shade Buck used when he was ten, he grips it in his hand and places it near his chest. Athena’s looking at him weird, but really, Buck couldn’t find it in him to be embarrassed about it.

“Can you do these three colors?”

“I sure can. Can you get me a paper towel and some tissues?”

Buck does as she says and gets comfortable on the couch when he gets back.

It’s quiet for a minute as she carefully does the first coat of pink. When she’s done, she reaches for his other hand. “Don’t touch those, they’re not dry.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” He snorts.

Athena fondly rolls her eyes. “So what’s with the sudden urge to have your nails painted?”

“It’s not sudden. I’ve wanted to paint my nails since I was ten. It didn’t go well the first time I did it, so I haven’t since. But a school bully and my asshole of a father aren’t here to tell me I can’t. Fuck toxic masculinity.” Buck is honest when he’s drunk, he’ll spill his deepest darkest secrets and not remember doing it the next day. He hates that but, here he is, still drinking and still spilling secrets.

“Well, I’m sorry it didn’t go as well the first time, but I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to trust me to paint them for you.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Buck whispers dramatically.

“You can tell me anything.”

“I love Eddie so much it’s starting to hurt.” He pauses. “Do you think he’ll like my nails?”

Athena smiles. “He’ll love your nails. Maybe you should end the hurt and ask him out?”

“He’d never say yes to me.” He sighs miserably. “But, hey, let’s not focus on my breaking heart. Let’s focus on happy things because my nails already look good.”

Athena’s about to respond when her phone cuts her off. “May’s Facetiming. Probably to ask where her nail polish is.” She laughs.

“Answer, answer, I wanna tell her she has amazing taste in nail polish.”

“You’re a child, Evan Buckley.” She rolls her eyes but answers the phone. “Hey, May.”

“Where did all the nail polish go?” The tinny voice has Buck laughing. “Is that Buck?”

“Hi, May! I’m holding your nail polish hostage, is that okay?”

He sees May laugh. “Normally when someone is held hostage, it’s not usually okay with the other person. But, yes, it’s fine.”

Buck holds up his right hand, which is completely done. “Look how pretty.”

“I see you used my sky blue Essie.” She grins, holding up her own hand with the exact shade.

“I wore that shade when I was ten!” He giggles. “I was so happy to find it in here. You should paint my nails, too, one day!”

May giggles. “I’ll be there. I gotta study, bye Buck, love you mom.”

Buck wakes up the next morning to his alarm. The night before rushes back to his mind and he looks at his newly painted nails. He loves them, but now sober, he hears Logan and his dad. He can hear Eddie saying something bad, even though if Buck were being rational, he knows he never would.

He notices a note on his bedside table, a glass of water and two Advil next to it.

Remember what you said. Do what makes you happy. - Athena.

He hates that Athena knows him so well, but he holds the note to his chest and counts to ten before getting up to shower.

The drive to the station is silent. He looks down at his nails every so often and holds onto the feeling of not caring. He gets to the station and smiles at Hen as he walks to the locker room. He changes, grabs a cup of coffee and sits down at the counter before anyone notices his nails.

“I like the colors.” Bobby grins. Buck lets out a huge sigh of relief.

“Me too.”

“You painted your nails?” Hen raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Actually, Athena did.”

Clash.

They all turn towards Eddie, who dropped his mug filled with hot coffee, as he stares at Buck’s nails.

“What? Can’t a guy paint his nails?” Buck’s entire face is red under the stare of his best friend.

“I- I- uh- you- I love your nails.” He's stumbling with his words and Buck is as big of a mess as he is so he refuses to talk. He smiles and grabs a broom, starting to sweep up the broken glass as Eddie continues to stare.

“Eddie, take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Chimney snorts.

Eddie doesn’t have a chance to quip back before the bell rings. A pileup on the 405, two major injuries, no fatalities. People really need to learn how to drive.

When they arrive at the scene, Buck follows Eddie to the first car to check on the driver.

“Sir, I’m Buck and this is Eddie, we’re here to get you out.” He starts. “What’s your name, sir?”

The man is about to reply before his eyes land on Buck’s nails and suddenly he feels self conscious.

“Only pansies and girls paint their nails. Go help someone el-”

Eddie cuts in. “Who says nail polish is only for girls, huh? Is there a rule book somewhere that says it in writing?”

It makes you happy, don’t let them ruin it for you. There doesn’t have to be a reason to be happy because your nails are painted. I am happy.

Athena’s voice repeats in his head as Bobby walks up.

“Is there a problem?” He has the jaws of life in his hand, so Buck figures Eddie must have asked for it when Buck spaced out.

“No, sir.” The asshole answers.

“Good.”

No one else bothers Buck about his nails after that. It’s been a week and Eddie is acting weird around Buck, ten times more clumsy than usual. May says it’s because he’s so flustered around him that he’s acting this way. Buck calls bullshit.

“What’s Eddie’s favorite color?”

“Red.” He answers before May can really finish the question. She rolls her eyes but takes out the red nail polish. “May, I’m gonna match the firetruck.”

He can hear Bobby laugh from the kitchen and sees him peeking out. “I think Eddie would love that.”

May hums in agreement.

“You know, I’m not painting my nails for Eddie.”

“You’re not painting your nails, I am.” May laughs when Buck grumbles. “I wasn’t painting my nails for Darius but this red here got me a second date, so trust it.”

Buck rolls his eyes. “Still mad I didn’t get to give him the shovel talk before Bobby.”

“That would have been one too many shovel talks though. Between mom, dad, and Bobby? He would have walked out for sure if you gave him one.”

Buck snorts. “If he walked away because of an extra shovel talk then he deserves the shovel talks.”

“Alright, alright, we’re not talking about Darius and me. We’re talking about you and Eddie.”

“Were we?”

“Yes.” Bobby, Athena, and May say in unison.

“That’s funny because there is no me and Eddie.”

“Whatever you say, lover boy.” May quips as she paints the pinky. “All done.”

“You staying for dinner, kid?” Bobby asks as Buck stands.

“Wish I could but Eddie and I are taking Christopher to the skatepark.” He rolls his eyes when he receives identical looks from Athena and May. “Has anyone ever told you how creepy it is how much you look alike?”

“Every day.”

Buck can’t really point out why he felt so nervous driving to Eddie’s house. Eddie had no issue with Buck wanting to paint his nails, he wasn’t mad, he was just...acting weird.

So why does today feel life changing? He’s hanging out with Eddie and Christopher like he does every weekend. There should be nothing different in the way he feels but there is and Buck can’t tell if it’s his anxiety or something is going to happen.

He knocks on the door when he gets there. He never usually knocks but somehow this time, it seemed appropriate to knock instead of walking in.

“Since when do you knock?” Eddie asks in lieu of his normal greeting.

Buck only shrugs in response. “You guys ready?”

“Not quite. Chris still needs to finish his homework.”

They’re walking into the kitchen when Buck spots a lot of dark blue stains on a dish towel. He looks over and sees the nail polish and Buck can’t seem to function. He just looks back and forth between Eddie and the nail polish.

Eddie looks sheepish. “Uh, yeah, I tried to paint my nails. Not as easy as Shannon made it look.”

Buck doesn’t answer. He feels like he lost all ability to function.

“Buck? Did I break y-” Buck’s lips are on Eddie’s before he gets the chance to finish his sentence. Eddie is kissing back, cups Buck’s jaw in his hands and Buck mirrors his movements. His heart is beating out of his chest, he can’t believe this is happening, thinks maybe it’s an amazing dream and he’ll wake up and be ten years old again but he prays to stay in this dream as long as possible.

They break apart for air.

“Wow.” Eddie breathes. “If I knew painting my nails would have gotten you to kiss me like that, I would have done it way sooner.”

Buck feels like he’s about to choke on his own spit. “I- you- what?”

“I you what?” Eddie smirks. “By the way, love the red.”

“I guess May was right then.” Buck sighs. “Since we’ve got time, maybe painting someone else’s nails is easier than painting your own?”

“What was May right about?”

“That the red would get me a date?” He smiles innocently.

“Funny. She said the same thing when I borrowed the blue from her.” Eddie laughs and the two look at each before laughing, realizing May set them up. “She gave me the shovel talk, you know.”

“That girl is a carbon copy of her mother, I swear.” Buck laughs. “So how about that date?”

“I’ll pick you up Friday at eight.”

“Don’t be late.” Buck winks.

“Are you talking to yourself?”

“Rude!”

#evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 #buddie fic #may grant #my fics

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agrestenoir · 5 years

Text

linearity is over-rated

Summary: How “I love you” follows the story of Marinette and Adrien over the years. A non-linear love story told in 25 parts.

“Where do you want to start?”

“At the beginning.”

As a hello, Marinette crawls under the covers and sticks her cold feet against the back of his knees. He squirms in response, trying to pull away, and there’s a rustle of sheets and muffled grunts. “Hi,” she tells him, all bright blue eyes and tousled black hair. “I love you.”

Adrien hits her in the face with his pillow. She simply laughs and laughs and laughs.

With a hoarse voice, under the blankets, he reaches across her bare waist to pull her closer, simply staring at the morning sunlight slipping through the window to wash over her soft, pale body.

“I love you, you know that?” he says, lips pressed against the back of her neck.

In his arms, she stirs, casting a simple smile over her shoulder. Blue eyes stare at him without the mask, and it’s all so new and beautiful and still so breathtaking. “Of course, I do,” she tells him in response. “I always have.”

A scream that rips through the Paris sky, wind rushing past as they fall to their deaths from thousands of feet up: “If I never get the chance to tell you, I love you, Ladybug!”

Ladybug tightens her arms around her partner, squeezing her eyes shut because she doesn’t want to see what happens next.

Over a cup of tea, Marinette watches Adrien ponder over his pastry at the little table in her parents’ bakery. “When do you feel like it’s the right time to say you love someone?” The question is something he’s been holding in for days now.

With a sigh, she thinks bitterly of Kagami, all dark eyes and rare beauty that moves with a grace Marinette never could muster. She thinks of the look on Adrien’s face when he sees her, of the soft smile that adjourns his face when her name pops up on his phone screen, the laugh that falls from his lips when he’s talking to her.

“If you mean it,” she says, “then it’s always the right time.”

Over a beer bottle, she’s drunk and screaming at him. “You think it doesn’t kill me when I see the way you look at her? Of course, it hurts!” Marinette throws the empty bottle onto the floor between them, glass shards bouncing across the hardwood. “I love you! I love you! Of course, it fucking hurts!”

The words hold him at gunpoint, and Adrien doesn’t dare move.

On a sunny Tuesday afternoon, the late sunlight glowing in his hair, Marinette runs a hand through the golden locks and wonders if this is what angels look like. “You’re so beautiful,” she tells him softly like a whisper caught on the edge of the wind. “I love that about you.”

“The billboards must render you catatonic then,” he teases, green eyes sparkling. She squawks and tackles him in retaliation, but he ducks around her, tight and quick, so good at it because it’s a dance they’ve spent ten years learning.

As a thank you, the words fall from his lips without a second thought. “God, I love you.”

His partner of a month quirks an eyebrow over the rim of her coffee cup. “It’s just from Starbucks,” Ladybug says, but it doesn’t matter.

Chat Noir’s already gone.

As an apology, he stands in the doorway of her apartment with an intense expression, bangs flustered against his skin from the rain outside, still dripping puddles on the hardwood floor of the hallway. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to leave, I just…” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I love you so much, Mari.”

It’s not what she wants to hear, but it’s enough for now. With a heavy sigh, she reaches forward and grabs his wrist, tugging him back inside. “You forgot your umbrella,” she tells him, like it makes all the difference.

When baking chocolate chip cookies, Adrien stands in a puddle of flour, trying to figure out how long to put them in the oven. From the corner of the kitchen, Marinette covers her mouth with her hand, unable to hide her giggles, because the smartest boy she knows can’t even master the basics of baking.

Her mother, Sabine, pops her head in and smiles at the sight. “So this is the one, huh?” she whispers to her daughter, quirking an eyebrow high.

Marinette shrugs helplessly. At sixteen, she isn’t sure what she’s found, but she’s pretty sure it’s love.

Not said to her, Adrien holds Kagami’s hand between his, intertwining their fingers in a loose grip, as they hide in the corner of the ballroom as the New Year festivities reach a crescendo. “I know we’ve been together for a long time, and I do love you,” he tells her quietly, a book end to one of the best parts of twenty. “But….”

“It’s Marinette, isn’t it?” she asks him, dark eyes heavy.

Adrien can only shrug. “I love her. I’m sorry.”

With a sigh, Kagami gently pulls her hand from his. “It’s okay,” she says. “I think I’ve known for a long time, actually.”

She lifts up onto her tip-toes and presses a soft kiss to the corner of his lips as a goodbye, but even as she pulls away, Adrien catches sight of Marinette sitting on the opposite of the room. She’s holding a bottle of Coors Light with a white-knuckled grip, blue eyes steely as they watch him and Kagami. When she sees Adrien staring, she pushes herself to her feet and walks away.

“Go,” Kagami mumbles under her breath. “Go get her. It’s what you want.”

Like he does with most other things in life, Adrien follows Marinette.

With a shuddering gasp after their first time, Chat Noir falls beside her in the darkness, trying to catch his breath. “God, you’re amazing.”

In the darkness, she can’t see who he is or what he looks like (which was the whole point in the first place), but she wishes she could with a visceral urge that reminds her of something innate, like remembering how to breathe or how to speak.

Ladybug doesn’t know if she’s falling or if he’s already caught her, but all she knows is that she loves him.

When they lay together in the fresh spring grass, Alya nudges Adrien’s side with her elbow and flashes them a wicked smile. “So when are you gonna tell Marinette you’re in love with her?”

Marinette glares at her from the other side of the picnic blanket as Adrien simply laughs and thinks of Ladybug instead. “Marinette?” he says, confused. “No, she’s just my best friend.”

But as he muses over it later that night before sleep takes hold, he figures that loving Marinette wouldn’t be the worst thing in life.

Not at all.

In a letter, scrawled hurriedly in the margins of her latest design, are the words: Mrs. Adrien Agreste. A smile sprouts across his face as he catches sight of it, and a warm blush blossoms over the apples of his cheeks.

“I love you too,” he tells her as he hands her the sketchbook. “But you know I’m taking your name, right?”

A whisper in the ear as Ladybug stands over Hawkmoth, sweat-tangled hair falls out of its updo, and blood-streaked hands grasp the collar of his shirt. “I loved him, and you tried to kill him.” She bears her teeth, eyes wild. “I’m going to destroy you.”

Loud, so everyone can hear, Adrien stands on her balcony and screams out into the Paris evening air. “I am in love with Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I’m not afraid to say it!”

The twenty-one-year-old has her hands wrapped around his waist, desperately trying to tug him back inside to her bedroom. “No, stop it! I hate you, you asshole! I’m still mad at you, Adrien Agreste!”

The rain still pours, and she’s getting drenched, but the horrors of the night are simply washing away. Soon, she forgets why she was even mad at him in the first place.

Over and over again, till it’s nothing but a senseless babble, she chatters in his ear, “I love you, I love you, I love you!” He struggles not to drop her, confusion etched across his face, because he doesn’t know what it means to come home and have his wife freak out (albeit in a pleasant, perfect sort of way).

“Are you okay?” he has to ask.

Tears glimmering in her blue eyes, she kisses him firmly on the mouth. “I’ve thought a lot about this,” she says. “And we’re going to name her Emma.”

The pregnancy test lays discarded on the bathroom counter, the pink plus sign shining for all the world to see.

When the broken glass litters the floor, Marinette is on her hands and knees picking up the remnants of the vase and roses, unable to meet his heavy gaze. “If you have to leave, then do it.”

Adrien chews on his bottom lip, all chapped and broken, dark shadows under his eyes like never-healing bruises. It’s been that way since his father was arrested three months prior, and no matter what she does, she can’t make him whole again. She can’t make things okay.

“I love you,” he tells her, and she knows what’s coming. “But I need some time, Marinette.”

“Just go,” she says again, gesturing to the front door of her apartment. Outside, it’s rain and lightning and thunder, echoing the storm brewing in her heart. “I can’t be everything, Adrien. Just go find what you need, and leave me alone.”

There’s silence that lingers, thick but fragile, until the sound of the door closing reverberates through the room.

Adrien’s gone. Marinette sits on the floor and cries.

From very far away, Adrien’s voice sounds over the laptop. “Okay, tell Mama I love her, Emmy. Daddy has to go back to work now.”

Emma giggles in response, and there’s the pitter-patter of little footsteps as she runs back to the camera. “Mama says you gotta come home soon.”

“I know, baby.” Adrien smiles softly. “I miss my girls too.”

Emma shakes her head. “Nooo. You miss Hugo too, right?”

“Hugo?”

“My baby brother!” His daughter jumps up and down with unbridled excitement. “Mama’s gonna have another baby!” Suddenly though, her eyes shutter, and she leans close. “But you can’t tell Mama I told you, Daddy, because it’s supposed to be a secret.”

Adrien is silent for a moment, and then… “MARINETTE!!! COME BACK TO THE LAPTOP, RIGHT NOW.”

With no space left between them, the words tumble out, easy and free, “I can’t remember the last time I told you I loved you.” Chat Noir glances at Ladybug with a puzzled expression, unsure how to proceed. “Is that weird?”

His partner sighs and settles against him, the warm Paris night bustling around them. “Probably because it means something different to you now.”

“How so?” he asks.

“Well you’re dating that girl now, right?” She shrugs and shakes her head because there’s not much else to say. “You’re in love with her now.”

“Doesn’t stop me from loving you though,” he tells her honestly, green eyes piercing. She stares at him in bewilderment, and he only laughs. “I mean… I may not be actively pursuing your heart and trying to date the hell out of you anymore, but I just want you to know that you’re still the most important person in my life.”

“…You too, Chat Noir.” Her voice is soft and smooth like glass, and just as easy to break if he wanted too.

“Ladybug, that’s never going to change.”

As they huddle together, the storm raging outside, fifteen-year-old Ladybug shivers against his side and bites out, “Don’t get any funny ideas, chaton.” Despite her rough words, she snuggles deeper against him as they ride out the horrid weather.

“As if you’d ever let me touch you,” he grumbles with a smile, and Ladybug can’t help the bark of laughter that falls from her lips. “But I swear you’ll fall in love with me someday, Ladybug.”

“Keep dreaming, Chat Noir.”

“Gladly.”

Over her shoulder, she glances back and him and quirks a brow high. “I love you, but you’re being ridiculous if you think I’m getting into this school.”

Adrien groans and falls back on her bed, her university results clutched in his hand, still sealed in their respective envelopes. “Mari, when are you going to realize how awesome you are? You are singlehandedly the best person I know, so why can’t you see it yourself?”

Marinette simply smiles in response and snatches the letter from his hand, still not opening it. “Careful,” she tells him. “You don’t want Kagami to hear that.”

Adrien doesn’t know what his girlfriend has to do with things, but he pushes Marinette to open the letter from Esmond anyway.

She’s accepted. He’s not surprised.

Muffled, from the other side of the door, his voice comes through. “Come on, Marinette, please let me in. I love you.” She shudders at his words as they echo through their shared bedroom, too afraid to flip the lock and let him in. “I didn’t mean to take the shot for you, but when it’s your life at stake, I’ll do anything. You know that.”

She doesn’t answer because her heart is screaming in her chest, banging against her rib cage like a wild animal desperate to let out. Marinette doesn’t know what she would even say to him though, too caught up in that flash-second of him freefalling and getting hit by the akuma. It’s been two years since Gabriel Agreste was arrested and Adrien almost died, but the newest Hawkmoth, just as clever and chaotic as the last, has a habit of bringing back those dark times.

Adrien bangs against the door again, but Marinette still won’t open it. When his life means everything to her, she can’t speak her peace without their being some sort of repercussions.

So she lets him keep screaming, and she keeps crying, because they are both two souls willing to put their lives on the line when they mean the universe to each other.

It’s a hard hand to deal.

Through a song, his hands dance across the piano keys. “My mom played this at her wedding,” he tells her, eyes distant and lost in a memory. “It’s one of the first songs she ever taught me.”

“It’s beautiful,” Marinette muses, just listening to the soft notes fill the air. “What’s it about?”

“It’s a love story,” he says. “It’s always a love story.”

Without really meaning it, as the flour explodes in her face, streaks of white dusting her skin and hair, Adrien erupts into laughter. “Oh my god, you suck at baking too,” he says breathlessly, body shaking. “God, I love you.”

Marinette stills, smile frozen on her face as the weight of it crashes over her. “You love me?” she asks.

He stares at her in confusion. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

The smile on her face grows larger, and all she can think is how much she wants to hear him say it again.

In a blissful sigh as she falls asleep, the sound reaches Chat Noir as he pauses in the doorway of the bathroom. “I love you,” comes Ladybug’s voice.

Suddenly, the bruises on his hips and the marks on his neck ache like something furious. He bites his bottom lip and tries to pretend like he didn’t hear a damn thing. They promised that the sex didn’t mean anything, so the thought of Ladybug without barriers letting that pass makes his pitiful heart jump into overdrive.

What does it even matter if you won’t say it to my face? He closes his eyes and shakes his head and wonders if it’s finally time to move on.

He calls Kagami in the morning.

Broken, as Ladybug clutches the sleeve of his jacket and begs him not to leave, the words fall from pale lips, stammered and rushed. “You can’t just end it like this.”

The winter swells around them in a swirl of blistery air, snow clutching onto the red of her suit and the curls in her hair, and she stands like an ethereal angel, but the sight just breaks his heart. “You know how I feel about you.”

“Chat Noir,” she whispers. “Please don’t go.”

“I’m always going to be your partner,” he tells her. “But I can’t be anything else.” He licks his lips in thought, trying to salvage their fracturing relationship. “There’s a girl outside the mask who’s not afraid to love me, and I could see something real happening with her.”

“Please.” There’s tears now, and he’s at a loss for words.

“Ladybug…”

“Just don’t leave me. Please.”

A taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at his lips, he stands in the living room with his hands on his hips. “You think just because I love you that I’m going to your stuffy office party? That’s not how this works, my lady.”

Marinette squeals and snatches one of the pillows off the sofa and throws it at him. “I married you, you ass, it’s in our fucking wedding vows. You don’t have a choice.”

He catches the pillow effortlessly. “Look, my father dragged me to one too many of those when I was a kid. I’m not sitting through that torture again.”

“You said in sickness and in health,” she reminds him with a heated glare. She skips around the couch, coming closer to Adrien. “That includes company parties where I have to listen to Chloe Bourgeois for hours and hours. You’re stuck with me.”

“I will never—OH SHIT!” He doesn’t catch his wife this time, as she leaps into the air and tackles him to the ground.

When they’re dead, Paris mourns Ladybug and Chat Noir. Marinette and Adrien watch on television from their dark living room, Hugo and Emma asleep between them, with heavy hearts as the city grieves the loss of their heroes.

“Did we do the right thing?” Adrien asks her, eyes haunted with the ghosts of the last battle.

“I don’t know,” she tells him softly, voice hollow. On screen, people cry, and her own tear drips down her cheek like candlewax, thick and slow. “What I do know is that I love you, and I never want to lose you.”

Outside, it’s raining.

It’s always raining.

Slowly, the words dripping from his tongue like honey, he spells out the truth she’s waited desperately to hear. “You are my best friend, Marinette, and my partner, Ladybug... and I love you.” He runs a hand through her hair, eyes softening as he presses his forehead against hers. “I just want to be with you.”

Outside, fireworks erupt as it strikes midnight, and Paris rings in the new year with a joyous applause. Inside, they find sanity in the spaces between their shared heartbeats, hot and heavy breathes warming pink, cool skin, as they take comfort in the feeling of finally being together.

Too quick, mumbled into his scarf, she asks him to say it again.

A light pink dusts the tips of his ears as Adrien clears his throat. “I said, ‘I love you, please marry me.’”

Flabbergasted, she can only stare at him. “But we’ve only been dating for a year.”

Instead of answering, Adrien simply shrugs, that stupid scarf falling off one shoulder with the movement. “So? We’ve basically been together since we were fifteen anyway.”

Marinette is silent, and he fingers the frayed ends of his sleeves, refusing to look at her. There’s a short pause, the span of a single heartbeat, and then she’s dragging him close by the scarf to kiss him.

In awe, the first time he realizes it, Ladybug stands on the Eiffel Tower with a proud smile, Paris safe and the world becoming something new. Her blue eyes burn with something bright, dark hair whipping in the wind, and she’s all red and black, just like his heart as it pounds harder and harder for this girl he just met.

“I love that girl,” he says like a promise.

In a way she can’t return, Chat Noir leaps in front of her as Hawkmoth strides forward with his rapier, the thin metal piercing through his armor, gleaming red with his blood under the afternoon sun.

Ladybug’s eyes widen with horror as she stares up at him, too shocked to comprehend what she’s seeing. “No…” she whispers, voice cracking.

“I love you,” are the last words he manages before he collapses, broken body barely breathing.

Ladybug’s screams echo through the city. Hawkmoth continues his rampage.

On a post-it note, his messy handwriting adjourns the neon green paper on their fridge. Holding their sleeping daughter in her arms, she lets a soft smile stretch across her face as she reads it: Have to jet to London for a meeting. Be back soon! Love you both <3

“Silly daddy,” Marinette whispers to the toddler. “I was gonna tell him about your new brother today.”

Before they jump, Chat Noir grabs her hand and yells out above the explosions as Hawkmoth continues his attack on Paris, the Eiffel Tower shuddering beneath them. “If we survive this, I’m gonna marry the hell out of you someday!”

Ladybug shakes her head. “You don’t even know my name!”

“Doesn’t matter if we’re gonna die anyway!”

She squeezes back and screams, “For what it’s worth, it’s Marinette!”

As a goodbye, Adrien smiles that awful broken, cracked thing. “I love you… but there’s so much that we have to deal with, and I don’t know if I can right now.”

“I’ve loved you for years,” Marinette tells him, eyes glinting angrily form her spot on the sofa. “As Marinette, as Ladybug…”

“But there’s Kagami.” He ducks his head from view, glancing at the exit instead. “She doesn’t know yet, and with everything that just went down, I think I need a little time to… process.”

She sighs and crosses her arms against her chest, smiling bitterly. “I can’t believe the two people I love are the same person… and I can’t have either of them.”

He doesn’t say anything to that. He just walks away.

And when she tells him, with that soft, sad smile, wrapped in the sheeting the first morning after. “I’m going to love you forever,” she says to him, asleep and blissfully unaware. “Just try to stop me.”

#miraculous #ml fic #adrinette #ladynoir #ml #my writing #my fic

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vincess-princess · 4 years

Text

ex malo bonum

behold, the dumpsterfire of a fic i’ve been obsessing over for the last week.

Fandom: Motley Crue Characters, pairings: demon!Nikki Sixx, demon!Tommy Lee, demon!Mick Mars, fallen angel!Vince Neil, Nikki/Vince, elements of Tommy/Vince and hints of Nikki/Tommy Rating: Explicit Warnings (please pay attention!!!): violence, non-con, drug use mention, alcohol mention, self-harm tendencies, suicide attempts, murder Summary: Vince thought he knew where fallen angels go and what they become. But he never expected to go through something like that. A/N: I’m not religious at all and my entire knowledge of Christian canon comes from Jesus Christ Superstar and Bulgakov’s Master and Margarita. I was making up lore on the go and I dare assume almost all of it is completely wrong. If you’re offended by this, please don’t proceed!

As always, huge thanks to @polska-tankietka for editing this, love ya!

Chapter 1.

Word count: 2677

Warnings (for this particular chapter): violence, suicide attempts mention, alcohol mention, drug use mention

“Did it hurt?”

“What?” Vince blinked and looked up from his shot of whiskey. He was already on his fifth, but was only slightly tipsy (must have something to do with the quick regeneration thing). The shitty bar where he was drinking himself into oblivion was dimly lit, and he had to squint to make out the face of a stranger standing behind his shoulder. The stranger’s voice was pleasant, but there was something… unsettling in it. Off-putting. Hostile.

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” he repeated smugly. His hand crawled onto Vince’s shoulder and clutched it. A hot, blinding spike of something that felt like electric shock went down Vince’s spine, and everything became so clear he wondered how in the world he hadn’t seen it coming. In his defense, they were faster than he thought.

“It did,” Vince raised his head and looked the demon straight in the eyes, curving his lips in disgust. “A lot.”

The first was a car, a truck going down a busy highway with a very convenient pedestrian bridge over it. Vince figured out the right moment and jumped, his white Heaven robes flapping like wings behind his back. When he woke up they were no longer white, but a dark red, the color he would have assumed to be his blood if he had found a single injury on his body. But there hadn’t been any.

He had to change his clothes after that, partly escaping humans too curious for their own good, partly no longer wanting to be reminded of what he had had and what he had lost.

“Drowning your sorrows in whisky, huh?” The demon pulled up a chair and plopped down on it, his hand sliding from Vince’s shoulder down onto his arm and staying there, grazing over the skin with his claws occasionally, oh so carefully. Vince didn’t pull his arm away from the grip, although every fiber of his being protested to the touch. He could reach that one pocket of his jacket with another hand just as easily. “If I were you, I would celebrate.”

“You aren’t me,” Vince retorted indifferently, turning away from the demon and focusing on his almost empty glass.

“Not yet, sweetie.” The demon grasped Vince’s chin with his fingers and turned his head back to face him. Vince shook his fingers off his chin with clear revulsion. “What a pretty thing you are. You know that? Have you already come across the human concept of beauty?”

“No,” Vince said listlessly. He couldn’t care less about the small talk, but the demon’s intentions still weren’t clear to him and asking directly felt weirdly untimely.

“You will,” the demon promised, moving closer to Vince, almost breathing into his ear, and Vince couldn’t help casting a quick look over him. Despite the lack of light, the demon’s eyes looked unnaturally green. “They’re completely obsessed over it. Starving themselves to death, wasting their entire salaries on beauty products, painting their faces until they are unrecognizable, squeezing their bodies into uncomfortable clothes. It’s so much fun. How did you manage to get such a good-looking body, though? All the angels I met looked like middle-aged accountants at best. Heaven is really obsessed over its employees’ purity.”

“Random distribution,” Vince murmured and downed his shot. The demon waved to the barista and showed him two fingers. A few moments later two shots of whisky were sent their way.

The second time, it was the height. Vince stood atop a twenty-story building and looked down at the busy street beneath, and everything was so little and insignificant. He didn’t have his wings anymore, but he could feel the rapture of flying one more time.

Vince woke up in the hole on the pavement the shape of which resembled that of his body. He had only a few scratches and not a single bone broken. He kept touching those scratches for the next hour until they healed.

Last time there were no injuries. Progress.

“I’m paying, baby.” The demon pulled a wallet out of the pocket of his leather jacket and slid two dollar-bills the barista’s way. “Enjoy your downfall. Did you already get the concept of money? Those humans turned pieces of metal and paper into their literal gods. They’re ready to die for it. How many of them, you think, are ready to die for an actual God, like real Jesus Christ, nowadays?”

His name out of the mouth of this despicable creature was like a string snapping in Vince’s chest, badly cutting his insides. “Don’t you dare speak His name,” he hissed, jerking his arm away from the demon’s grasp and moving his chair farther down the bar counter. If his gaze could kill, the demon’s body would already have been sprawled on the floor under the counter.

“Or what?” the demon stretched out his hand and wrapped his fingers around Vince’s elbow again, dragging him back in place. The chair legs gritted across the floor loudly, and Vince felt like all the eyes in the bar were on them now. The demon’s claws, painted in chipped black nail polish, were digging deep into his skin, but this time Vince didn’t try to wrestle away from his grip. This creature isn’t worthy of your anger, he reminded himself. “You’ll tell him and he’ll punish me? Funny. He no longer needs you, honey. That’s why he got rid of you. Threw you out like a toy he got fed up with.”

“Shut up,” Vince bit his lip and looked away. Every word slashed his soul like a sword, leaving deep, bleeding, unhealable cuts. “Stop that. Just-“ too early, a warning flashed across his mind, but he shook it off. The demon was clearly mocking him, and Vince wasn’t going to put up with that. “just tell me what you want from me.”

The third time, there were drugs. He tried regular pills from the pharmacy first - he heard they can cause death when consumed in excessive amounts. He woke up in the public toilet of some fast-food restaurant, in the puddle of his own vomit, with people banging on the door and shouting. Then there were other drugs, which people buy not in clean, white pharmacies with smiling women in doctor’s robes, but in dark alleys and night clubs. People didn’t want to give it to Vince without money, and he could no longer use any of his previous powers, so getting them was one hell of a job. All of which was in vain, because Vince only got a short and sharp sting of pleasure across his body before descending into darkness, and then woke up, this time in a hospital, surrounded by dumbfounded doctors.

“Nothing much,” the demon smiled sweetly and almost gently tucked a stray golden lock behind Vince’s ear. The demon’s own hair was pitch-black and wild, framing the sides of his face and falling onto his forehead, but still not managing to hide the uncanny gleam in his eyes. “You’re a pretty little thing, and I like pretty little things. Let’s hook up, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Hook up?” Vince frowned, and the demon laughed sincerely.

“Sweet innocence. Don’t worry, you’ll learn. It won’t take long. You’ll enjoy it. It’s one of the things humans do all the time, to have fun or kids or both, or aiming for one and getting the other.”

Vince gave him a long, hard look, for the first time this evening. He foresaw that – well, not exactly that, but something of a kind – and the blade dipped in holy water was now warming in the pocket of his jacket, reacting to the demonic presence. Killing a demon was hard and usually disapproved of by the authorities – the privilege of killing belonged only to high-ranked angels, ones who could withstand the temptation of sin inevitably coming with it. It was even harder for a fallen angel devoid of the Lord’s blessing. But it was possible.

His human vessel was shorter and weaker than that of the demon. But he had the blade. He had the advantage.

“Checking me out, huh?” The demon traced his fingertips along Vince’s jawline. Vince didn’t flinch back. “I gotta say, I am extremely lucky with my current vessel. It gets me all the chicks.”

“My human form is male.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re pretty, you qualify. Blond too. Love blonds.” The demon grinned, his teeth slightly sharper than human’s, a little bit too many of them. Devil is in the details, Vince recalled.

“Why don’t you get any other human then? Why me?”

“Honey, what demon wouldn’t want to bang a freshly fallen angel? It’s not every day that we have visitors from up there. You reek of Heaven, blondie. There’s still a lot of it in you. I wanna know how it feels.”

The demon licked his lips, eyeing Vince up as though he wanted to eat him whole. Vince shuddered but didn’t look away. He wasn’t afraid of him, after all.

“Sweetheart, I’m not gonna wait for you to come to terms with it. Don’t test my patience.”

“What if I refuse?” Vince carefully moved the untouched shot away, barely brushing the glass with the tip of a finger. The demon didn’t comment on it, but his gaze lingered on the rejected whisky a little longer than necessary.

“Then there will be a very loud and unpleasant scene that will surely feature in every newspaper by the end of the day. I feel like you still don’t fully understand,” the demon leaned closer to Vince and almost whispered in his ear, “I will get you anyway. You can only choose how, by force or by your own will.”

Vince closed his eyes, suppressing the urge to grip the handle of the blade through the jacket. He knew, of course, that demons couldn’t be trusted with a conversation, let alone an agreement. He shouldn’t have answered him in the first place. On the other hand, in this case. the demon wouldn’t have left him alone and would have forced him to answer. He couldn’t get rid of him with God’s power – he was no longer able to use it, neither could he deal with him with the help of simple, brutal force. Because he, as any angel, was against violence in general, not because the demon was half a head taller than him and had claws and sharp teeth.

Maybe it was better to just submit. Maybe the demon would be too distracted during this “hook-up”, whatever he was going to do to him, and wouldn’t notice Vince pulling out the blade. Maybe.

Submit and just let him do whatever he wants? something whispered quietly to him inside his head, something the invisible presence of which Vince could feel but only now got to hear. So you would let the forces of evil run amok because you’re not supposed to beat them?

Yes, Vince cut the something off and turned to the demon.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “It won’t take long, will it?”

“It will take as much as I need, angel, and by the end you will beg for more,” the demon promised complacently and pulled him up from the chair. “Come on. My car is in the parking lot.”

“Isn’t that kinda… uncomfortable?” Vince raised his eyebrow, for a second actually trying to imagine two whole people trying to find enough room on the backseat.

The demon burst into laughter, but the grip on Vince’s arm remained tight. “That’s the point, baby! Quick and dirty, exactly what you angels deserve. Come on.” He headed to the door, dragging Vince along.

Once they were outside, Vince lingered a little to inhale crisp, fresh night air - most of the Earth smells were still new to him, and some of them were quite pleasant. The demon interpreted it differently.

“Nervous? Don’t worry, all virgins are. You at least will probably be the first fallen angel to get rid of his virginity so quickly. Some never even get to experience it.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re ugly as hell, haven’t you heard me? I’m telling you,” he turned to Vince and poked him in the chest, “I’m telling you, this vessel is gonna be your best asset on this Earth. Everyone likes beautiful people. It’ll make your life down here easier. Actor, singer, model, hooker – choose whatever you want. Oh, here’s my car.” The demon pointed at a black, relatively small car in the farthest slot of the parking lot. “Seems small, but I can assure you, it fits our needs perfectly.”

“Your needs.”

“Eh, stop playing Virgin Mary. Mary Magdalene had a much better time before Jesus showed up. The girl was going places.” The demon grinned at the sight of indignation on Vince’s face. They approached the car, but instead of opening the door the demon backed Vince up against it, grabbed his collar and pulled him into a sloppy kiss.

Vince didn’t get to know what it felt like. A belt wrapped around his throat and yanked his body backward, hitting his back against the car roof and pinning him down to it. Vince’s hands flew up to the belt, scratching on it in a fruitless attempt to loosen it, but the assaulter was strong, stronger than him. And a demon as well, because the mere touch of his hands sent another spike of hot, buzzing electricity down Vince’s spine.

“Hold him!” The demon who brought him here tried to grab his wrists, got a kick in the stomach and had to take a second to drag himself off the ground. The second time he tried to grab him Vince was prepared.

The demon gasped and recoiled, his hands jerking up to his chest where the blade was now buried, barely audible sizzling coming out from the wound. The one behind Vince’s back almost rushed to help him, loosening his grip, but was stopped by a fierce glare of then-green eyes, now a solid black. Instead, he grabbed a fistful of Vince’s hair and banged his head on the car roof so hard it dented - the head or the roof, Vince didn’t really understand, because the world blurred in front of his eyes.

The next thing he remembered was lying on the cold pavement, hot blood dripping onto his eyes. A stray lock was hanging in front of his face, all smeared in blood as well. His hands were tied by the same belt that had been wrapped around his neck. Two demons stood above him, both black-haired and tall, their eyes now pitch-black, both radiating rage so intense it heated up the air around them.

“Fucking bitch,” the one from the bar spit out. “Who do you think you are to use this?” he raised the blade carefully by the handle. It was still covered in his blood, which oozed slowly from the cut in his chest and stained his shirt. Apart from that, it didn’t seem to cause much harm. “You’re no longer the warrior of God, blondie. You’re the same as us now. Wanna see?”

He kicked Vince in the side to roll him onto his back and then drove the blade right into his shoulder. Vince thought he knew what it would feel like: he had tried cutting himself before.

He didn’t expect it to burn, the same way it did in the demon’s flesh.

The demons didn’t even let him scream out his pain. They put something sticky on his mouth and threw him onto the backseat. The new, taller one, whose face Vince hadn’t managed to make out, got behind the wheel, and the green-eyed one sat at the back with Vince, his hand gripping his arm firmly, claws digging into his skin and leaving deep red marks.

Vince didn’t notice the pain. Tears streamed down his face silently while he was frantically, desperately searching for that connection he had always had deep inside his soul, the connection to Him.

He searched, and searched, and found nothing.

#motley crue fanfiction #vince neil #nikki sixx #supernatural au #angel/demon au #ex malo bonum #motley crue slash fanfiction #tommy lee #(an honorable mention)#tw: alcohol #tw: drugs #tw: suicide attempt #tw: violence #please stay safe babes!#damn this fic just went and took over my life and i'm so for it #haven't written dark stuff in a while and damn did i miss it #vince is gonna suffer a lot #sorry baby :(#i still love you #my last updates got not so many notes and considering the number of warnings on this one there will probably be none #but please if you read it let me know if you liked it #this fic is important to me on some whole different level than wilwif #not that wilwif is not important: it is and just as much #just......they're so completely different #yes i will go back to wilwif once i finish this if anyone cares #i just need to get this one out of my system #anyway im shutting up #also will post it on ao3 #AH SHIT I FORGOT #tw: dubcon

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1000roughdrafts · 5 years

Text

Family Secrets: Chapter Three

Stuck in the Past

Summary: You decide to give everything a rest and drown your sorrows in whiskey, but you can’t help but reminisce about the past. The past that included your uncle Bobby and papa Rufus, leaving your desperate for answers and revenge.

Warnings: slight angst, eludes to sex but nothing is described

W/C: 2.1k

Masterlist/Schedule

Previous Chapter

The bar is practically empty, as they usually are on weeknights, but somehow that settles you. You don't want to be around a crowd of people, but just the few is enough to keep you from feeling alone. There is an abundance of liquor and a few brews on tap placed in front of a long mirror you can see your reflection in from where you sit.

No matter how hard you try to disguise yourself in a smile, the tears are stained on your cheeks. Wrapped around your shoulders, flowing down your back and hugging your hips is a coat.

There isn't a hood, but folds just behind your neck. The chunky coat embraces your sore arms and the sleeves are long enough to cover just below your wrists and aching thumbs. It has a broken zipper, eight buttons and slips for a tie that has long since disappeared.In no way hidden underneath the tattered and torn piece of cloth is a shirt you'd received as a gift. You close your eyes and let a tear go at the memory.

"My God, you're gettin' old," Rufus laughed as he patted you on the back. You turned to him, eyes gleaming as your whole body lit up into a smile. He matched your eager expression as he danced over to the bar, giving Bobby and Jolie a nod as they sauntered over your way.

Placing his hand on your shoulder, Bobby smiled, "my girl." His forgiving face looked deep into your eyes, "what can I say?" With a faint smile and a tear at the corner of his gleefully green eyes, he turned his body to be in line with yours. "You've grown into such a talented and beautiful young lady and I am more than proud to call you my niece."

As you've never been great with accepting compliments, you blushed and looked at the ground. Before you knew it he was pulling you into a tight hug, and after just a moment he pulled away keeping you close with a gentle grip on each of your arms.Your eyes caught with Jolie's, who was on the verge of tears as well.

"You're coming with me, why are you sad?" you laughed.

"I know, I know. I just get emotional when Bobby does. It's not a sight we see often, you know."

"All right, all right." Rufus returned with four shot glasses filled to the brim and spilling of the sweet caramel colored liquid. "Enough of this sissy shit," he said, holding out his hands.

Bobby was the first to take a glass. You and Jolie exchanged a smile and in unison grabbed yours. "That's it! Now, on the count of three," Rufus smiled, looking at you before your happy little family took down the shots. "Oh! Before I forget." He flipped the glass upside down on the table and bent to grab what looked like a grocery bag. "Now, I know it ain't much, but happy birthday darlin'."

Nearly jumping at the surprise, you sat your empty glass next to his. "Oh, papa," you tilted your head. "You really shouldn't have." You looked over at Bobby who was reassuring you to take the bag, "we don't even know when my actual birthday is."

"Oh, shut up and open it," Jolie chortled.

"It's from both of us by the way," Bobby interjected with a finger in the air.

"Like Hell it is," Rufus scoffed, and shook his head before looking at you, "he practically just signed the damn thing. It was my idea."

"Oh, whatever," Bobby disagreed, but they both quit their bickering when they saw you'd pulled it out; an oceanic blue tank top with straps about half an inch wide, that read "Blue's the name, gankin's the game" in snowy white letters. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of it, but it had become your new favorite and most cherished item.

"Look at the back," Bobby said with his eyes crinkled into a smile. You let out an even louder cackle at the words "raise 'em Hell, Uncle Bobby & Papa Rufus."

"What was the inspiration behind this?"

Looking at each other, their faces melt as if they'd prepared for any questions except that, "uh, you know." Bobby shrugged, "just a little something to remember us by."

"Woah there Uncle Bobby," Rufus uttered a fidgety laugh, "don't go on scarin' her now."

Bobby focused on you and corrected himself, "you're an adult now, so it's 'bout time you and Jolie run off on your own. You know, raise 'em Hell and all that. Give all them bad guys a run for their money," he smiled, patting your head softly. "You have that badge and all the knowledge we've crammed into that clever little mind of yours. Now it's time to put it to good use."

He dug around in the pocket of his old vest, "here's that FBI card with my number, in case anyone wants to play it tough. Don't be a stranger, darlin'. This ain't goodbye, but we're gettin' older. We ain't gon' be here forever, and you need to know how to make it on your own."

"Speak for your damn self. I'll decided when I'm gettin' old," Rufus grunted. "Another shot anyone?"

You are suddenly ripped from the bittersweet memory by the whisper of a handsome man in front of you, "ma'am? Did you want another drink?"

The bartender's eyes are soft, reminding you a little of home; whatever or wherever that is, and if it even exists.

"Just one please," you sigh. "Oh, and don't call me ma'am," you say with a strained smile.

He chuckles gently, "you doin' okay? You've been staring into that mirror for the past twenty minutes it seems." He flips a tall glass in his hands and begins to pour into it a mixture of soda and a sweet, caramel liquid.

"Just lacking a proper nights sleep is all." You know your lies can be spotted a mile away, but it will never stop you from trying.

With a wink, he slides the glass in front of you, spilling a few droplets onto his hand, "well, let this be your last and go on and get your rest, then."

"Actually," you scoot forward, "I was kind of hoping you'd be inclined to spend a little time with me after your shift."

He wipes his hands on a torn cloth without removing his summery eyes from yours. A touch of intrigue sits on his lips that you desperately want to taste. You almost start to regret your forward invitation until he leans onto the counter, dropping his voice to a musical whisper as your faces are inches apart.

"You sure that's something you'd like to do?"The subtle implication of a warning intrigues you further, "why do you think I wouldn't? I asked, didn't I?" You don't lower your voice, nor do you move. You only lift one eyebrow in fascination.

"Do you usually answer a question with another question?"

The air between you gets colder as he steps back to fill another customer's cup.Unable to answer as he speaks with other guests, you ogle over his swift movements. He's got the kind of eyes anyone could fall in love with if they weren't careful, and the kind of arms that carry woes away. Maybe that's why you could find solace in him, even if just for a night.

His eyes flicker to yours and you don't feel the urge to look away, only a warm sensation that radiates from you in a smile. Before long, he's back to wiping the glasses in front of you.With his eyes glued to yours, he speaks out softly, "you seem like the type that doesn't often get rejected. Am I right?"

"Well it doesn't sound like you're rejecting me, though. Am I right?" you smirk.

He lets out a laugh, "I'll tell you, it's difficult to resist that beautiful smile of yours, and not to mention your quick wit."

"So you like a girl with some sass," you joke, flirtatiously resting a hand on his wrist, attracting his attention to your touch.

"You could say that." With a break in between breaths, he places his hand on top of yours. "You also seem like the type to have all the answers. The person people go to when they're in need of a friend."

"I can assure you, I am not that person." You look into your half empty cup and unintentionally contort your face as the rest of the brash liquid slides down your throat. "I'm kind of in need of someone like that."

He laughs to himself while shaking his head, "all these questions and I've failed to ask you the most important one."

"What's that?" You lean back, bracing yourself.

"Your name, darling, what is it?"

"As I know it?" You smile, "Blue."

In the early morning hours as you return to your motel, there is a thick coating of anguish and heartache burning the inside of your eyelids. With blurry vision you scramble for your broken phone and hope for the best.

He answers within seconds. "Howdy, you've reached Garth."

"Hey," your voice cracks through the word. "It's me."

"Why, Blue? I thought I'd never hear from you again. Shoot, none of us did," his tone elevates.

"I know, G. And I'm really sorry about that." You want to explain everything to him, but you struggle to find the words.

"Hey, no bigger than a minnow in a fishin' pond. Glad to hear you're alive. You doin' okay?"

"Not really," you force yourself out of your car and head into the room. "You hear about Bobby?" Of course he has, your thoughts scream. Everyone except for me probably has!

"Yeah, I tried reachin' out, but kept gettin' this older lady," he chuckles gently. "Man was she mighty confused. Some folks at the Roadhouse said you gon' changed your number and skipped town. No one has heard from you since," his voice falling pensive with each word.

“I did and I'm sorry about that, too." You drop yourself onto the bed and try to ignore the aching in your muscles.Your rib cage tightens as you hold back the tears. "I just couldn't do it anymore. After Jolie..." you sigh, "after you told me about Rufus. I - I had to leave and just not think about hunting for a while."

It was a cold night in Whitefish, and even colder after the second phone call. You'd been sitting on the couch for hours waiting for Papa to return. The first call was from him, saying it was just a short thing, "just gotta bury the Okami at Bobby's and he'd be back for dinner."

But nearly two days had passed without any word, and you had begun to worry. All kinds of questions and conclusions were forming in your anxious mind in a way that was difficult to sort through.

When the phone finally rang that rainy night, you scattered to answer it."Garth?" you impatiently spat out.

"Hey there, think we can meet up? I got some... news."

"Just tell me, G. Is it about Rufus? What happened?"

"You at home? I can be there in a flash."

"Seriously, Garth, it's no better in person or on the phone. Just say it," you let out a long breath, "please."

He was choking on the words, struggling to complete a sentence until you heard a faint gasp and then, "he's gone," he said through tears.

"What do you mean 'he's gone'?" You jumped from the couch and began pacing. Anger took over your entire being, from your mind's eye to your words. "He went to bury a damn Okami, so how in the Hell does that turn into 'he's gone'?"

"He went to help with a hunt, and... I'm really sorry. If you need anythi-"You couldn't let him continue. If you heard one more 'I'm sorry' out of anyone you were going to punch a wall.

Coming back to the present, you realize you have more to apologize for that you thought. "I'm so sorry, G."

Giving into the tears, you squeak out, "I dropped everyone because I was so damn selfish. The thought of anyone being in more pain than I was just didn't seem possible. Bobby and Rufus... they were everything to me, my whole life. I thought losing Rufus was bad enough, Bobby's been dead a damn year and I had no idea 'cause I gave up hunting and kept on being selfish."

The words are coming out choppy between the gasps and tears, "I have no one anymore, G."

"That's not true. You're not alone, B. People care 'bout you, been worried sick 'bout you. I'm one of 'em. If you need anything, and I mean it - anything -you just holler and I'll be there."

"Garth, I'm trying to find my family." You sniffle, switching the phone to your other ear, "I want to kill the sons of bitches that took me away from them, but I need your help."

Next Chapter

Tags <3: @waywardblueshun @81mysteriouslyme @lilulo-12 @drakelover78

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ffxivmingxiajiang · 5 years

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Prompt 14: [Scour] Clean the Trail You Laid

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

SHB spoilers! Fic below the cut.

“So, let me get this straight,” Mingxia said as Bethana briefed her. “You want me to help clean out the Exarch’s basement.”

“Yes. I suppose that’s one way of putting it.” Bethana replied.

“Two questions,” Mingxia said, glancing at the enormous glowing structure. Bethana nodded, signalling her to continue. “When was the last time it was cleaned?”

“To my knowledge, nobody here has witnessed or participated in cleaning any part of the Tower. Perhaps the Exarch has, but that is something only he would know.” Bethana answered.

“I will assume it hasn’t been cleaned since it arrived. Makes sense, you had other things to worry about. Second question, am I expected to clean it out alone?” Mingxia asked. She hoped not- she’d been in there before and just one floor of the tower was enormous. Having to clean out the basement alone would be a long, if not impossible task, even for her- and she liked cleaning things.

“Goodness, no. Others have already been recruited to aid in the cleanup. Even with magic, trying to clear out any part of this building would be too much for a single person.” Bethana said. “Do you have any other concerns?”

“No, I think that’s it,” Mingxia said.

“Good. We’ll be starting tomorrow morning at eight. Meet us here and I’ll show you in. We’ll provide cleaning supplies, but you’re free to bring your own.”

“Sounds good. See you tomorrow.”

The next morning, Mingxia showed up in the appointed spot armed with her staff, some scrubbing brushes, soap and a bucket. There was a small crowd of people gathered from all over whatever was left of Norvrandt.

“Here for the cleaning?” someone asked to her side.

“Mhm,” she replied.

“Alright, that looks like everyone. Come on in- watch your step and be careful of monsters.” Bethana opened the doors and sent them down the lift to the lower levels.

To say it was a mess was a massive understatement. The thick layers of dust notwithstanding, the “basement” was about three levels deep, and it was absolutely crawling with Allagan experiments, monsters, and all manner of contraptions littered here and there and everywhere. Scattered about on random surfaces were Ironworks notes, Allagan experiment notes, assorted small reminders, the remains of somebody’s lunch (ew) and user manuals. Mingxia gripped her mop a little harder. This...this was a disaster. Thank goodness Bethana or the Exarch had the foresight to hire multiple people.

The cleaning effort began something like a dungeon run, but with six times as many people. All of the rampaging wildlife had to be cleared out just to get started doing anything. One of the chimeras nearly ate a colleague. Somebody slipped on a dragon pat. Another person nearly fell over the side of the level from tripping over the arm of a shabti. Mingxia was almost turned into a pancake from one of the larger mobs falling over after it was slain- much like how she was nearly flattened by certain large monsters in the Source. Dead bodies had to be hauled out, boxes had to be labelled and restacked, the documents collected and sorted, and generally the entire two levels had to be wiped down. She had absolutely no idea what anyone was going to do with this stuff, but hey, it might be fun to show it to the Exarch.

“Oof, how much more of this basement is there?!” a dancer asked as they slipped through another three translocation arrays. “This place is huge! It’ll take us days even with twenty-four of us working together-”

“Wicked white, what IS that thing?!” Someone shouted, pointing at a huge automaton at the end of the path.

“A defense protocol gone wrong! Come on, we gotta shut that thing down!” Mingxia charged forward, brandishing both staff and mop at it.

It was utter chaos. Temporal distortions that she had to pass off as an outlandish freeze ray, explosions galore from BOTH parties, and at one point she must have flung her washbucket at the giant automaton, since when she found it again it had crumpled. Everyone was screaming, be it in horror, surprise, awe or barking orders and warnings. But finally, the huge machine turned off and slumped over.

“All that trouble, just for a bath,” Mingxia grumbled as she climbed onto it and started scrubbing it down. Others joined her, and cleaning the huge robot was a juggling act of passing supplies and catching teammates who were falling from the taller parts of it. Some of her colleagues asked her about the Tower, and, choosing carefully, she told them stories about a kingdom like Ronka, of the ruins they left behind, and the untold mysteries that even those from their (her and the Exarch’s) homeland had yet to solve.

Bells later the whole troop of them exited the building exhausted, but satisfied. Somehow the basement was now sparkling clean. When the Tycoon shuddered back to life, it was decidedly less hostile than before. Mingxia stood before the tower, reminiscing on the first time she’d set foot in the structure.

“You need not have gone to such trouble, but thank you.” G’raha Tia came up beside them. “Now it is as magnificent within as it is without.”

“Our pleasure,” one of the dancers said tiredly.

“Well, we couldn’t leave you with a pile of musty tomes and rampaging beasts to clean on your own, now could we?” one of the healers added. “You’ve done so much for us, least we could do is help with housekeeping.”

“Besides,” Mingxia said with a smile, “It was pleasant, revisiting the memories stored there, and hearing what stories laid untold there.”

#ffxiv #ffxivwrites2019 #shb spoilers #the twinning #5.0 spoilers #crystal exarch #Mingxia #g'raha tia #cleaning the basement

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eliniei · 5 years

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Those Hard Days - Chapter 15

Summary: Rae’s brother always made sure she was tough as nails. But when her father flips her world upside down, will she find that there’s a limit on how strong she can be?

Warnings: Rape/Non-con (non-graphic, fade-to-black), child abuse, underage drinking, underage smoking, drug use, violence, major character death

A/N: Really, I couldn’t help myself posting this chapter in the same day as the previous. It’s a good place to stop for the week :P

AO3: here Fanfiction.net: here

Masterlist

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Chapter 15 - Brave

Twenty minutes later, Rae sat on the Curtis’s couch wearing a camisole and a baggy pair of pajama pants, borrowed from Sodapop. She hugged her knees to her chest and avoided Curly’s eyes. He was sitting in the chair across from the couch, watching her in silence, chewing on the inside of his mouth. Ponyboy had dragged himself in a few minutes before, yawning, after making sure Johnny got home safe, and dropped into bed. Darry was already asleep, but Soda had volunteered to make them some hot chocolate.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asked, rubbing his temples.

"Well, Curly, I wasn’t sure,” she told him.

“And you’re sure now?”

“Well it sure sounded like her voice-”

“So you don’t know for sure?”

“It’s still…fuzzy.” He sighed, loudly, through his nose. “I’m...I’m pretty sure, Curly.”

“Alright, fine. You’re prob’ly right.”

“Why she would do this?”

"Who the hell knows. The older she gets the more out of control she is," Curly said, rolling his eyes. “Not like mom’s doin’ shit to straighten her out.” Soda came into the room, holding two mugs of steaming liquid and they both snapped their jaws shut. He handed one to each of them.

"Drink up. I'm goin’ to bed. Make sure to wash those when you’re done," Soda ordered and made for the room he shared with Pony. Rae took a sip from her mug and set it on the table next to the couch.

"I think she’s been doin’ more than just grass," Curly admitted, once he’d heard the door close, and set his hot chocolate down as well. “She was prob’ly pretty blitzed. Heroin. She tries to hide it, but most of the time it’s pretty damn obvious. Brumly’s been pushin’ it for a while now and she’s been gettin’ real friendly with-”

"Yeah, what a great excuse to beat the shit outta someone," she muttered, cutting him off. "If your mom ain’t gonna do shit, maybe you an’ Tim should put a leash on that girl yourselves.”

"Hey, she’s still my sister," Curly hissed, annoyance lacing his words.

"Yeah, and she hit me hard enough to knock me out and almost broke my fuckin’ nose!" Rae let her legs go and her feet slid to the floor. Her back bristled as she sat up. “She can’t be allowed to just do what she wants, Curly. She’s fourteen and she’s high on heroin? One of these days she’ll fuck with the wrong person and she’ll end up dead!” Frustration boiled up inside of her- and even maybe a little jealousy. Curly was gripping the arms of the chair, tightly.

“Don’t ya think I know that? Who d’ya think’s been turning her in so she’ll get sent to rehab?” His voice wobbled a little. After all these years, she’d never seen Curly cry before. Realization struck her.

Of course. Why wouldn’t he defend his sister? She’d defend Dally to her dying breath.

The fight instantly left her and she mentally kicked herself for feeling the way that she did. Rae leaned her head against the back of the couch and took a deep breath to calm herself down. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as she stared up at the ceiling. She was getting real tired of these God damn mood swings. “I’m sorry. I just wish I knew why.”

“You’re right, okay?” he started and sighed. “You’re right. Maybe we should’a kept more an eye on her instead of lettin’ her run wild. Maybe we’ve given her too much freedom, knowin’ what she was doin’ with it.” She heard him stand up and move over to her. He sat down on the cushion beside her. She lifted her head and he stretched his arm out to lay across her shoulders.

“I ain’t feelin’ like myself, Curly,” Rae sighed, leaning into his body. “Ever since…” She trailed off, not knowing how to continue. He nodded, knowingly. “I don’t know. I’m so mad all the time. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“You’ve been through a lot in the past few weeks,” he reminded her.

“I know, but…” She heaved a sigh. “You don’t hate me, do you?”

"I don’t think I could ever hate ya," he said and kissed the top of her head. She blinked the tears from her eyes and sat up to face him. His crooked smile appeared and she leaned in, pressing her forehead against his. Curly threaded his fingers in her hair and Rae felt a chill run up her spine. He grasped the back of her head and brought her lips against his. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, excitement running through her veins.

He gently laid her back on the couch, only disconnecting their lips for a few short breaths. She let it happen, feeling the exhilaration all the way in her fingertips. She grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him harder.

Before long, though, Rae felt his hands wander down to the tie of her pants. She felt a tug, the string trying to be undone. The heat turned to ice in a second and her stomach soured. She turned her head away from his mouth. He started leaving a trail of small kisses down her exposed neck, not sensing her discomfort. Her hands started to shake, her breath becoming short.

“Curly?”

“Hm?”

“Curly, please-.” She pushed against his chest.

Instantly, he was up, looking down at her, eyes wide with worry and fear.

"I-I don’t think I can-," she stuttered. The look he gave her-

"I'm- I’m sorry," he breathed. She sat up, slowly. "I'm-"

"It’s okay,” she told him. “You stopped. It’s fine. I just-”

"But I shouldn’t have even-"

"Don’t worry." She put a shaky hand on top of his and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Just not yet.” He nodded, turning his hand and tightening his fingers around hers. She gave him a small smile.

"I’d-I’d better get home. Tim’ll be wantin’ his truck back and I gotta go all the way back to the school to get it." He reached out and stroked her cheek with his thumb, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He leaned in and kissed her carefully, like she was a porcelain doll that might break if handled roughly. At this point, maybe she was. “Goodnight.”

"Be careful," Rae whispered when their lips separated.

“Always am.” He got up and went for the door, looking thoughtful and upset. Her heart squeezed at the sight of his face. He paused just outside and gave someone outside a solemn nod, then rushed down the steps and into the dark. A few seconds later, Dally walked in, watching Curly leave, over his shoulder. He turned to Rae.

"Hey, kid," he said. Rae smiled, softly.

"Hey, Dal." He slipped his jacket off and laid it over the arm of the chair. She offered him the seat Curly had just been sitting in. Her brother dropped down onto the couch.

“Did ya’ll have a good time tonight?” She shrugged.

“It was alright. Pretty fun until some drunk asshole knocked me over and ripped my dress.”

“Soc?”

“Who else would get away with pullin’ that shit in public?”

“Good point,” Dally conceded. They were both quiet for a few seconds. “So anyway- I’m real proud of ya.”

"Proud?" Rae asked, turning to him. “For what?”

"Most broads wouldn’t say no." Rae looked over to the large front window.

“Were you outside the whole time?” she asked, cheeks turning to fire.

“Not the whole time.” She groaned and covered her eyes with her hands. He smirked. She fell over into his lap.

“Ohhh,” she groaned. “That’s so embarrassing!” He moved her hands and looked down at her.

“It was real brave.”

“Thanks, Dally,” she said, smiling up at him. Then he flicked her on the forehead hard enough that her skull made a thunk. “Ow!”

“Just don’t let it go to your head.” She scoffed, but examined his face closer.

“You look tired.”

“That ain’t very nice. And I just went outta my way to-”

"I know it’s my fault, isn’t it?" she concluded. Her brother frowned. “I know it is.”

"What makes ya think that?" he asked, looking down at her.

"You’re always stuck lookin’ after me,” she answered. “Instead of doin’ the things ya wanna do.”

"Don’t you ever think that," Dally ordered, his voice sharp. “I can’t say it ain’t hard at times-but kid, if I didn’t wanna look after ya, I wouldn’t.” He shrugged. “Besides, I can still look after ya- and do plenty of things I want.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a large wad of cash. “Speakin’ of, I made a killin’ at the rodeo tonight.” Rae sat up and watched him flip through the bills, counting them quicker than she could.

“Damn,” she squeaked. When he was finished, he put the money back into his pocket.

“Anyway, it’s late. Get to bed,” he said with a nod in the direction of the free bedroom down the hall.

“What about you?” she asked her brother as she made to stand up.

“I’ll take the couch.”

“Why? It ain’t like we never slept in the same bed before.”

“Go to bed,” he ordered, firmly.

“Fine,” Rae pouted, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. She’d always loved when they were kids- camping in each other’s rooms, the comfort she felt when he was next to her. It was really something she could use right about now...

She padded across the living room and headed for Soda’s abandoned room. Across the hall, she could hear his snoring through the closed door of Ponyboy’s bedroom. With a sigh, she went to the empty room and dropped into the bed.

Rae turned on to one side and clutched the quilt tightly around her body. Exhaustion flooded her body as she relaxed, and she closed her eyes, thinking back to when she and her brother were younger.

Rae and Dally sat on the floor in the front room of their New York home. Her big brother had a busted lip, drying trails of blood dripping down his chin, and a dangerous look on his face. Their mother knelt down in front of them and reached out to clean his face with her handkerchief, but jumped at the loud yell that came from outside the open door. She dropped the cloth on the floor.

"Let’s go, woman!” Rae could see her mother’s hand trembling.

"I’m sorry," she whispered and stood up, smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt. “Please, Dallas, take care of your sister.” He nodded. Their mother smiled, sadly, and then went to meet their father outside. This was their usual exchange.

The two siblings sat perfectly still until the car roared to life and pulled away from the curb. Dally wiped his chin with the sleeve of his shirt and looked at Rae.

"Okay?” he asked.

"Okay,” she answered, lip starting to quiver. She was lucky- she’d escaped the wrath of her father’s fists, but only because Dally had taken it all for her. She saw her brother’s fists clench. Tears formed in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered.

"What are big brothers for? I promised mom I’d always take care of you." He helped her to her feet. "Come on." He lead her to her room and put her to bed. She refused to let go of his hand, though, so he climbed in with her. They pulled the blanket over their heads and he told her ghost stories until Rae’s eyes started to droop and she curled up next to him, soaking in the comfort of his presence. Her small body stopped quivering and soon enough, she felt sleep overcome her.

Rae felt movement in the bed behind her. She cracked open her eyes but the room was dark, except for the light of the streetlamp barely filtering in through the blinds. She laid still and felt a body lay down next to hers.

"I'm sorry for not keepin’ my promise,” she heard Dally murmur. She wondered if he was thinking of the same night, or if he even knew she was awake. She pressed her back against his. Warmth spread over her- warmth and safety. Rae felt him relax against her and she listened until her brother’s breathing evened out. With a smile, she closed her eyes and let herself doze off again.

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ekbirchelps · 6 years

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The Magenaza Epic: Solstice Rising

Serafa vs the Lilit Part Two

read Serafa vs the Lilit Part One here

Jesse runs. Blasted coward—though I really can’t blame him. The rumors about what a lilit can do to you with their teeth and talons alone are enough to make most folks quake beneath their sheets—their venom, deadly enough to take down a full-grown ox, is just honey on the cake. Venom that’s about to kill me, if I’m not careful.

I manage to get off two whole shots before the lilit gets to me. The first hits her in the shoulder, spurting black blood in the air like a dirty fountain. The second—damn, the second time I miss completely. The lilit knocks me into the dirt—BANG, the gun goes off a third time—nails jabbing into my skin, knees digging into my midriff. My shoulder takes the brunt of the fall, but I barely feel it as I twist my head to avoid the stab of the lilit’s fangs. The gun digs into the flesh of my midsection, trapped beneath both my and the lilit’s bodies. The scent of fresh blood and sickly-sweet venom sting my eyes and nose as she pins me down, her weight forcing all the air from my lungs.

I thrash like a fish on a hook, grit coating my mouth and bare skin, blood thundering in my veins, the lilit’s ravenous breaths filling my ears. Out of instinct more than anything else, I wrench my body around and smash my unhindered fist into the lilit’s temple. I bring up the gun as she lists, but I’m not fast enough. She grabs the gun before I can pull the trigger, cursing incessantly in her own language.

“No!” I jerk my knee into her midriff, but she doesn’t let go. Then scorching pain explodes in my wrist, a piercing, fiery blast of agony that shoots up my arm and erupts in my gut.

“Augh!” Abject panic gives me the strength to rip my wrist out of the lilit’s mouth. The revolver goes flying. The lilit screeches, her cry stabbing my ears like a corporeal thing. I scramble backward, panting, clutching my aching wrist to my chest. Utuma’s horns, my arm hurts.

But the lilit isn’t coming after me. She’s crouched on the ground right where I’d left her, hand covering her bloodstained mouth. Her red eyes flash with something I wouldn’t expect to see in a lilit: Curiosity.

“What are you?” she murmurs, bewilderment softening the hard edges of her voice.

“You ain’t the only she-devil in Areva.” I lunge for the gun.

“Abomination!” I barely register her cry before she tackles me. Her teeth sink into my neck, and for a moment, all I can manage is a strangled gasp. Then white hot pain claws it’s way up my throat and out my mouth in the form of a bloodcurdling scream. Pain seizes me like a living, moving thing, twisting down my throat and turning my stomach inside out. I twist my head and retch, bile burning the back of my throat.

“Get off!” I choke, bucking under the lilit’s weight. But my muscles have crumbled to sand and the lilit presses down on me, heavy as a behemoth. Then her weight is gone. I jerk, trying to sit up, but pressure biting into my neck slams me back down. Then the ground moves beneath me, an endless sea of dirt and stone and weeds poking me through my jacket, raking through my hair and creeping into my mouth. Dizziness spins the sky and ground so violently I'm reminded of the time I rode a wild bull on a dare.

You need to move! my brain orders. My limbs do not obey. They don’t respond even as the lilit heaves me over a pile of stones and into a cave. At first, the place is pitch black. Then my eyes adjust to the dim light of the cave—which, now that I can see, seems more like a glorified hole than anything else. I smell the putrid stench of rotten flesh and gag, cheek pressing against the cool, gritty floor.

I feel rather than see the lilit’s triumphant smile. She leans in close, her red eyes glowing in the low light. “You might be a she-devil,” she growls, nails digging into my back, “but I am a hulgal. Now lie still and die, just as your kind should have long ago. I have another mortal to catch.”

Then she’s gone.

I flip onto my back with a pained grunt, squinting up at the dappled cave ceiling. My head spins. Warm blood slips down my neck, tickling my skin, but I don’t have the energy to wipe it away. My skin feels heavy but my insides hollow, like the lilit sucked out my innards and left nothing but a brittle shell behind. Any moment I expect the ground to fall away and drop me into oblivion. Perhaps I’ll plummet all the way to Kurkita and meet the lilit’s kin. The idea of crashing into the realm of the hulgal makes me giggle, then groan as the movement tugs on my neck.

I vaguely recall Jael mentioning the time it takes for lilit venom to kill—is it sixty counts? A hundred? I can’t remember. My mind has slowed down to the speed of iced honey. But that doesn’t stop me from feeling the venom’s scorching sting burn its way through my muscles, setting my very bones ablaze.

Come on, Sera, I tell myself. You’re not gonna some let dirt-dwelling bloodsucker take you down, are you?

Maybe, I think in reply. I mean, Jael’s gonna kill me anyway for losing her gun—

The gun.

I never thought crawling could take so much effort. Every move I make seems as though it’s through a sea of hot sand. My wrist and neck shoots bolts of pain through my chest, stealing away my breath. Exhaustion tugs at every fiber of my being, begging me to lie down and rest, just for a moment. Shamyrin help me.

Then I hear her voice as clearly as though she were sitting next to me. The sound of it is the first rays of sunlight at dawn, soothing my wounds, breaking through my exhaustion, whisking away the haze settled over my mind. A blurred face hovers before me, so familiar I almost believe she’s here, crouching right in front of me. The ache contorting my heart has nothing to do with the lilit.

My little spitfire, we are creations of the almighty immortals. Divine power flows through our veins. Do not think there is anything you cannot do.

“All right, Mama,” I grind out, wiping sand and sweat from my brow. “I can do anything.”

I can do anything.

I'm not sure how, but I plow forward, one leg dragging after the other, my shaking, bloodstained hands pulling me forward finger by finger. Then the sun shines down on me once again, its glaring rays smothering, blinding. I blink rapidly to adjust my vision and glance up at the through narrowed eyes, fighting the urge to collapse under its oppressive heat.

Focus, Sera. You gotta stand up. Annoyance pricks me. This time, the voice in my head sounds a lot like Jael.

"Watch me,” I mutter. “I’m gonna do more than stand.”

Hands planted on the hard, rough ground. They’re splattered with black blood and dirt. What’s the difference between the two? I remember Jael asking. One supports life. The other takes it. One leg up. Pause to keep myself from vomiting. Then the other leg.

C’mon, Serafa! I’ve seen corpses with more life in them!

“Shut up!” I growl, and stumble to my feet.

Nausea wrenches my gut, and I lean over with a pathetic moan, head down, hands on my knees, waiting for the spell to pass. I’m up. I ain’t dead. Black spots dance in my eyes, but I blink them away, scanning the terrain for the telltale glint of a metal barrel.

A terrified scream pierces the cloud inhabiting my mind, granting me a brief moment of clarity.

Jesse. The lilit’s caught him already. I twist around, movements too sluggish and stagger over to a boulder and crouch behind it, waiting for the lilit to reappear. As I peer over the boulder, a flash of light catches my eye. The revolver. It lies at the edge of the canyon in which the lamb is still trapped, its barrel gleaming in the bright morning sun.

She emerges from a crevice on the other side of the basin, dragging a thrashing Jesse behind her. Black blood oozes down her side, courtesy of the bullet lodged there, but she seems alarmingly unfazed.

“Your friend surprised me,” she says. “I haven’t tasted blood like hers in many, many years.” Her shrill, raucous laugh makes my skin crawl. “Didn’t do much to save her though. Abominable blood won’t make her taste any less sweet to me.”

Jesse curses as his head bounces off another stack of rocks. “Let me go!” he begs, his voice cracking. “Please, I’ll--I’ll do anything!”

So she hasn’t bitten him yet. Maybe she used all her venom all on me. Either way, he’s going to be dead if I don’t make a move. She makes her way toward her cave, snarling under her breath.

The lilit and I both ignore him. I set my sights on the gun, shifting to allow myself a better vantage point. I reckon at least twenty paces lay between me and my target—will I make it before the lilit can get me? And if I do make it, will I trip and go flying into the canyon?

There’s only one way to find out. I have to move quick, before the lilit discovers I’m not in her cave.

“Abomination!”

Too late.

What happens next probably takes about five counts. But to me, it seems like an eternity.

I tear out from behind the boulder like my tail’s on fire and bolt hell-for-leather toward my salvation. The roar of blood and panic in my ears drowns out the lilit’s furious screech. She sees me. Primal energy stoked by terror and animal instinct surges through me like wildfire, driving me forward like a bullet from Jael’s gun. Run, run, run. The word thuds in rhythm with the pounding of my heart. I don’t dare look back, but I can feel her behind me, sprinting, gaining, looming. My entire being resonates with the anticipation of her claws ripping through my flesh. Shamyrin save me.

A desperate gasp bursts from my lips as I launch myself at the gun, its proximity to the gorge’s edge no longer a concern. My hand grips the handle. I turn, finger on the trigger.

"No!" That's the last word I get out before the lilit tackles me. A second before I fall, I catch a glimpse of her: Eyes narrowed, fangs bared, talons outstretched---a predator Mavet herself would be proud of.

Bang.

Her body crashes into mine. Frenzied hands clutch at me, but I don’t feel them. I'm weightless, falling, falling---

My heart leaps into my throat and I let out a stifled shriek as I tumble into the canyon, the lilit’s claws still embedded in my skin.

This is a day late and a dollar short, but it’s better late than never I guess. Feedback is always welcome!

@firewritten, @creativityflows, @eternalwritingstudent, @weaver-of-fantasies-and-fables

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theunrealinsomniac · 6 years

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Prompt 15,16,45 & 47 :D

Holy shit lol, okay, I’m gonna do these as separate little drabbles cus … well cus i can lol. I’m assuming these are all NaruSaku so …

15 - Don’t die on me - Please

Naruto spat blood onto the ground near him, some of it covering his raw and ruined shoulder. That final attack had come at far more of a cost than he’d expected. Or knew how to deal with.

Sasuke knelt by his friend’s side and tried to hide the dread in his chest as he looked at what used to be Naruto’s jounin vest, the left side of it torn away like some kind of monstrous hand had ripped at him.

‘Son of a bitch,’ Naruto bubbled, the blood filling his mouth from his position on the floor. ‘Tell me you got that snake bastard.’

The last Uchiha’s Sharingan flared, the ebbing flow of chakra around them suddenly visible again. He nodded once. The foul chakra that had belonged to Orochimaru long since extinguished.

The two halves of Sasuke’s old … sensei didn’t sound right and he’d die before calling the repulsive serpent master. Regardless, Orochimaru’s body lay in pieces from the joint attack, his final act of defiance being to drive a fang into Naruto’s heart as a serptine arm had launched out towards the blond.

‘Don’t move.’ Sasuke kept a firm grip of Naruto’s shoulder, trying his best not to excaberate the wound. And failing.

Naruto hissed. ‘Is he dead?’

Sasuke nodded again. ‘And so will you be if you aren’t still. Sakura is on her way.’

As if saying her name summoned her, Sakura dropped into the ravine they had fallen into and landed hard on the side of the small creek. ‘Naruto!’

Naruto coughed as he collapsed onto his back, too fast for even Sasuke to reach down and ease him down.

‘Sasuke move!’ A pink blur all but threw Sasuke out of the way as he was summarily dismissed by the third member of their team. ‘Stupid man, why didn’t you wait for back up?! Why do you never wait for backup?’

‘Sorry Sakura-chan,’ Naruto forced out. ‘Got the bastard though didn’t we Teme?’

‘They’ll throw you a parade when we get home,’ Sakura hissed sarcastically as soft green chakra glow covered her hands and she ran them over his prone form. ‘Okay, nothing broken, Kurama’s already started to heal what he can … but that poison … Sasuke, come over here, I need you to brace him.’

Sasuke moved, his hands on Naruto’s shoulders, keeping the stupid idiot still as those sharp blue eyes zeroed in on Sakura.

‘Okay Naruto,’ Sakura started, positioning her grip better around the large fang before looking him dead in the eyes. ‘This is gonna hurt and if I can’t get the poison out … just don’t die on me. Please,’ she finished, her voice catching on the final last word.

Naruto just nodded, his gaze never leaving Sakura.

The noise that came out of the blond was agonising as Sakura slowly eased the fang out of him. Sasuke had never heard him scream like that and it was all he could do to not look away.

Once it was out, flung away so hard it embedded in the ground at the end of Sakura’s ever impressive throwing arm, the pinkette went to her task, her fingers going to the gaping wound in Naruto’s chest, eeking out the poison in globs and it was at that point that Naruto had started shaking.

Sakura had the poison out and Naruto’s wound started to heal with the combined help of Kurama and good old fashioned medic-nin jutsu.

The blond fell asleep with a touch of Sakura’s chakra as she bandaged him up, the whole process being more or less pointless as the Kyuubi would have him healed up in minutes.

‘I know the idiot has already apologised Sakura,’ Sasuke muttered so only she could hear. The dozing moron’s head resting on Sakura’s lap after all. ‘But I am sorry we didn’t wait for you.’

‘It’s fine,’ Sakura said, her eyes glued to the rising and falling of Naruto’s chest. ‘It’s just lucky you caught up to him before he found Orochimaru and tried to take him on alone. I know he’s strong enough to crush that monster in a straight up fight … but he’s never exactly been the tactician he needs to be to take out someone as crafty as that.’

‘Good thing he has us to pick up his slack in that regard,’ Sasuke said.

Sakura didn’t appear to hear him though, her fingers playing idly with the ends of his fringe.

‘Stupid moron,’ Sakura murmured at long last, her hand resting over his heart. ‘Stupid, brave moron.’

Yes, Sasuke had to agree.

16 - I never meant to hurt you

Naruto let the keys fall onto the counter as he stumbled into the empty house. Too empty.

The shopping, left on the counter from when Mubeki had stormed out the house last night, still hadn’t been packed away.

He guessed she hadn’t come back before …

That was fine, just meant he had something to do when he allowed himself to stop and think for a minute. He gave it a cursory sniff to make sure there wasn’t anything off.

Eyeing the newspaper next to them, reading the headline Two dead as Konoha Hospital is latest target of Oto terrorists!

Turning the newspaper over, he draped his coat over his chair at the breakfast island and slumped down into the sofa.

His hands went to his face, scraping down with the heels of his hands and tried to will away the dagger sharp tears in the corners of his eyes. How could this happen?

How could she have left him?

The question rattled around his head for the twentieth time since he’d started walking home from the hospital.

It was unfair, the question, he shouldn’t ask it. Sakura didn’t leave him because she wanted to. She didn’t have a choice.

He clicked the answerphone message button on the home phone and waited through the autotone woman’s voice, that Sakura had always hated, telling him he had two new messages and one saved one.

First message - from Tsunade on Tuesday twentieth of October at eight-seventeen pm. ‘Hi Naruto, I’m just letting you know that I’m still okay to look after the kids for another week if you need it. Though they keep asking where Daddy is, it might be a good idea to pop round tomorrow, if you can manage it. I understand it’s still hard but you know Sakura wouldn’t want this. Anyway, call me. I’m worried about you.’

Naruto leant over, pressing the delete button and grit his teeth against the sob that was coming.

Second message - from Dr Aburame on Tuesday twentieth of October at six-thirty-six pm. ‘Hello Mr Uzumaki. I was just calling to remind you about your wife’s insurance forms. I hate to push but you need to sign them and return them soon. The longer you leave it the worse it will get. I can have them to the hospital lawyers and HR quickly and this nightmare can start to end. Please look after yourself Mr Uzumaki, Dr Uzumaki would not want you to dwell on what can not be changed. Hopefully I shall see you soon.’

Another quick delete and Naruto felt himself tense before the saved message was even played. The saved message beeped in and Naruto closed his eyes.

First saved message - from Sakura on Sunday twenty-first of September at nine-fifty-two pm. ‘HI babe, I tried your cell but you weren’t answering. I don’t know if you were in work or out but … well I thought best to leave a message on our machine just in case. I … just wanted to say, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all those horrible things I said, I know you love me I never should have said you didn’t anymore just to get a rise. That was cruel of me and if I could take it back I would in a heartbeat. I didn’t mean to hurt you I was just so angry and scared … let’s just forget it all happened and start fresh. If that’s what you want. It’s what I want. Please call me back when you get this. I’m going to start my rounds in an hour but I’ll be free by the time you get out of work. I love you Naruto, I always will.’

The tears fell hard as he clung to the phone, pressing the replay button as he curled into a ball around it and listened to the last call Sakura had ever made to him over and over again.

45 - Do you trust me?

Sakura was having a weird day.

No seriously, it was just flat out weird. It had started weird, it had continued to be weird and she was pretty sure it was going to end weird.

When she’d come through to her kitchen in her student apartment, it was clean. Which while not unwelcome and honestly not even that much of a problem normally … there was always a certain level of clutter on the counter.

A chopping board or a plate left on the side and not the sink. Something. But today? It was so spotless you’d have thought they had a professional cleaner who had come in while they’d all slept and left with nothing but the scent of lemon pledge.

Maybe the boys hadn’t been back yet and so Ino had slipped out and ransacked the kitchen with cleaning supplies? She liked having Naruto and Kiba living with them, it left their apartment always quite alive with fun and laughter … and the fact that both men had a tendency to lose their shirts and were in the sort of shape that made grown women drool … she assumed, she of course would never allow herself to be so crude.

Though she had to throw a tshirt at Naruto once because he seemed to not get that he had to wear clothes when she was around.

She was actually kind of annoyed with herself for that. She was a medical student, she’d seen more naked men and women than the rest of her housemates combined … but there was just something about Naruto in nothing but his pyjama bottoms that made her all gooey. Sure he was cute but she couldn’t be that attracted to him could she?

So yes, the kitchen was clean, that was weird. Her classes had gone rather mundane though. Except for Shizune, the assistant of Tsunade’s anatomy class let her pet teacup pig loose and it had put nearly all the girls in the room torn between listening to the lecturer and fawning over the cute piggie.

Then for some reason she’d allowed herself to be dragged out to a house party. Which was where the weirdness continued.

‘Sakura!’ Ino hissed as she pulled the woman aside as she entered after a man with bright blue hair and a shark tattoo on his neck. ‘You gotta see this!’

Sakura was pulled through to the backyard and found something that she wasn’t quite sure how to process.

Naruto and Kiba, shirtless again for Kami’s sake, were doing shots in the middle of a large semi circle. It was a competition of some sorts which … well to be honest wasn’t too much of a surprise.

What was surprising though … was that after the shot they both did Kiba managed to one up Naruto, if that’s what you wanted to call it, by sticking his tongue down the unsuspecting throat of a nearby girl with lavender hair and almost supernaturally pale eyes, who’s cheeks burst into pink fires as she slowly came back to Earth to hold onto Kiba.

Who was grinning winningly at the woman before smugly staring Naruto down. As if daring him to match him. Which he obviously would, there were tons of gorgeous and willing women gathered around as if they’d known this was coming.

So the weirdness intensified when Naruto turned, sweaty and shirtless and filled with surety and intensity that sent sparks up her spine when their eyes connected.

He was in front of her before she was aware what was happening and his words were muttered much softer than she’d ever expected.

‘Do you trust me Sakura?’

She nodded. Did that mean he was going to … oh Kami, she could feel her cheeks burning way before his hands cupped her cheeks and soft lips captured hers in a much more delicate kiss than the one Kiba had given the woman who was still trying to remember her name.

Fire, not electricity, burned somewhere below her navel and Sakura leaned into Naruto, her mouth opening readily as the kiss deepened as his hands went from her face to her hair, to the small of her back as he pulled her in and she almost crumpled against him when the kiss broke.

‘Ha! Nowhere near as intense as our kiss Naruto! You lose!’

Sakura wanted to argue that that had been way more intense and she was about to try and pull away when Naruto captured her attention all over again with two simple words/

‘Worth it,’ he murmured before kissing her again, his arms going around her as she returned the kiss with as much fire as she could drag away from her belly.

Like she said. Weird day.

47 - You’re cute when you’re angry

Naruto had really done it this time.

A vein was popping in Sakura’s head. He could see it, it was so obvious he was sure the children he would now never have could probably see it.

‘Do you have anything to say before I knock your block off Naruto?’ Sakura growled, water from the lake he had cannonballed in to right by her … he’d only wanted to say hi instead of shout it!

Okay, he could do this! He could stop his teammate from decking him halfway across the training fields. She’d understand he’d just been excited to see her, yeah, they’d spent so little time together recently during the peace after the war had ended. Between her time at the hospital and his time being groomed for the Hokage chair by Kakashi and Tsunade … well it had been a while.

‘I’m waiting Naruto,’ Sakura snarled as she started stomping over to him, trying to shake the last droplets of water of her gloved fists, the water having made her long pink hair slick against her head like she’d just gotten out of the shower. Water making her already lovely skin glisten in the summer sun.

She looked divine and he wouldn’t even pretend she didn’t. Actually … it gave him what would hopefully be his ticket out of a walloping.

‘Erm … you look cute when you’re angry?’

He held up his hands, Sakura pausing mere centimetres from him when he’d shouted out his lacklustre defence.

Once he’d noticed he wasn’t faceplanting the nearest wall, he dared to crack open an eye as Sakura was stood, crossing her arms in a huff, the summer sun making her cheeks red as she looked away from him and frowned.

‘Just don’t do it again you moron.’

‘Course,’ Naruto said tentatively. ‘Are you okay Sakura? Your face is red, maybe you should could stand under the shade of the waterfall? Help you cool off? It’s actually why I’m even here, it was so hot after training I had to get out of my smelly clothes and go for a dip.’

Sakura’s eyes ran over him and she glanced away, her face getting a little redder. ‘No I’m fine, I ‘ll just take a cold shower when I get home. A really cold shower, yeah, that will do it. Bye Naruto.’

And with that Sakura turned around and walked away. Having not kicked his ass.

Which he counted as a win, before he went back to the waterfall and let the cool water wash over him.

He hoped Sakura wasn’t coming down with sunstroke, she had looked really red when she was leaving.

#narusaku #narusaku fanfiction #make the writer write #writing prompts #Naruto Uzumaki #sakura haruno #ask theunrealinsomniac #thanks for asking!#long as fuck post lol

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defensemechanism · 4 years

Text

From the moment he laid eyes on you he knew you were going to screw up his whole life.His eyes roamed over your thick thighs, wide hips, and expressive face. He saw you shoulder check Dwight and cleared his throat to cover his amusement at your daring. Dwight grimaced, his skeletal hand clenching into a fist. However, rather than hit you, the scrawny fuck aimed a kick for the back of your knee sending you sprawling onto the concrete.

“Oof!” Your eyes widened as your belly hit the floor.

A memory beckoned from some distant corner of Negan’s mind...the smell of wet grass, a big beautiful woman underneath him, the taste of her skin, and the hot sticky heat of early summer in Virginia. Damn, how long ago had that been...twenty-No, thirty years ago?

He had lost his virginity to a curvaceous beauty he’d met over the summer of his sophmore year in college. He’d been different back then, a young man still clinging to the naive hope of being discovered and going pro.

Life before the apocalypse, fucking surreal. He pushed the uncomfortable revery away in favor of the task at hand.

His eyes appraised your form as you kneeled for him.Negan didn’t think he had any sentimentality left,but apparently, he was wrong, because he didn’t even know your name and yet he was taking a shine to you already.

“Well, tie me to a pig and roll me in mud, You are gorgeous for a heavy girl.” He was surprised to hear himself speak.

His mouth hadn’t asked his brain for permission. Being the biggest and baddest around could have that effect on a person. He laughed it off. The Saviors laughed too. Your jaw set stubbornly.Normally, the discomfort of others didn’t matter to him, but he had his heart set on getting between those thick thighs of yours and was counting on you choosing matrimony over becoming a Savior. He wouldn’t force you to become his wife, but maybe if he laid on the charm he could give you a nudge in his preferred direction.

“Now that you all know who I am, why don’t we get a little better acquainted?” Negan stopped directly in front of you.

“What’s your name, Dollface?”

Y/C/eyes glared up at him haughtily.

“Y/n.” You replied through gritted teeth.

“And who’s the leader of this outfit?”

“God.”

He furrowed his brow at your response.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, God, The Son of man, Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ?” You said blithely.

“Didn’t you get the memo? God is dead.”

You glared at him, but didn’t deign to respond.

His eyes scanned the six members of your group with interest.

“You there, do you agree with Miss Sassypants?”He inquired, tapping an elderly man on the chest with his bat.

“God is Good!” The man proclaimed, loud and clear.

“All the time!” Your voice was the only one to answer.

“All the time!” He shouted.

“God is good!” You repeated. “Amen!”

“Amen!” He echoed.

Negan laughed out right at that, then punctuated the reaction with a swing of his barbed wire bat.

A chill ran down your spine as the wood instrument disturbed the air mere inches from your nose.

“Whoa! Guess I oughta be more careful. I almost wrecked that pretty face of yours, only missed you by that much.” The tiny bit of space he demonstrated with his thumb and pointer finger was an exaggeration, but it got his point across.

The air was pregnant with malicious promise and for a moment silence reigned. Further down the line, a lithe man started to stand, calling all attention to him. A Savior rushed toward him, but Simon got there first. He kicked the man’s legs out from under him.

“If Negan tells you to kneel your dumbass better kneel.”

“Geo!” You hissed, shaking your head.

“I-I’m their leader, their, earthly leader.” He stammered.

You gasped.You had been fully convinced he would sell you all out and inform the Saviors that your leader had gone scavenging a few days ago and had yet to return.

Negan clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Did I ask you?” He turned to Simon. “Did I ask him?”

“Nope.”

You watched as Negan swaggered over to him.

Geo stared him down.

“Geo, Don’t.” You tried, but the man seemed resolute.

“If anyone has to suffer here, it should be me.” There was no fear on Geo’s face, but his voice trembled.

Negan took a deep breath. He looked as though he was going to answer for a second, but rather than speak, he brought Lucille up passed his shoulder and swung her down with all his might.

“I agree.” He called out to the empty factory at large. “If anyone-”

The bat arced down swiftly through the air and bashed into Geo’s head again with a wet crack.

“-should pay” Negan grunted from effort as the bat struck again.

“It should be the idiot that chose to steal from me, ran from me, and then turned around and lied about it.” Brains, blood, and, skull fragments splattered everywhere.

A scream tore from your throat.

“Will you shut the fuck up?!” Simon’s voice boomed.

You clasped your hands tightly to your mouth. Tears of shock rolled down your face, blurring your vision. You looked away from the gruesome scene.

“I gotta say, that was mighty satisfying.” Negan drank in the sight of the corpse.

A chill ran through your bones.

“Who did you say the leader was?”

Fear gripped you, making you shiver as though you were freezing. It took a minute for you to comprehend his question.

“We split the work, Geo and me.” You tried out the lie.

He stared at you.

You cleared your throat and repeated your answer.

“You?” His nose wrinkled in disbelief. “Really?”

You nodded.

“And Geo...”His voice trailed off as he thought on it.“Now, wait a minute, was that old shit for brains here?”

You nodded solemnly.

“Well then.”

You let out a shuddering breath as he walked slowly toward you.

“Seems you have a choice to make, uh, what was your name again?”He reminded all present of their supposed former leaders’ insignificance.You would have thought it was an impressive strategy if you weren’t so damn scared he’d seen through your fib.

“Y/n.” You muttered.

”And who are you, Y/n?”

Your heart raced.The time for plans of escape had run out and as you echoed the Savior’s motto.You tried to hold onto the comforting thought that it was Geo’s corpse lying there behind you and not Shane’s.

“I am Negan.”

His name coming out of your mouth excited him.

“Again.”

“I am Negan!” You shouted.

He gazed speculatively at the rest of your group.

“And you are?” He gestured at the terrified group of people.

”I am Negan.” They cried out.

He nodded accepting the answer.

“Anyone here know what it means when someone asks for the ‘B.L.U.F.?’ ”

You shook your head, ‘no’.

He sighed. “Simon?”

”It means, the Bottom Line Up Front.”

”So let me give you the B.L.U.F,” He moved like a predator, stalking rather than pacing. “You work for me. You live to serve me. You’ll die if it pleases me. Got that?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He looked down his nose at each of you in turn.

“What are you all starin’ at me for? Go out and find Daddy somethin’ good.” He commanded.

You started to stand, but using the bloody end of his bat he tapped your shoulder.

“Except for you.” He winked at you.“I have a proposition for you. Keep in mind that you only have two choices: You can choose to accept a demotion from leader to Savior, or You can retire and be provided for...”

“Provided for?” Your eyebrows rose. “What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch.You’ll become my wife and have all your basic needs met, including plenty of one on one time with yours truly.” He grinned.

“Savior!” You stated firmly.

His grin faltered.

“I would like to become a Savior...Sir.” You threw the title in for good measure.

He frowned, disappointment evident in his gaze.

“Very well. Simon, I expect you to start training her a.s.a.p. The sooner she understands. The sooner she becomes useful.”

Simon reached out and grabbed your upper arm.

“Come on. It’s time ta go.” He ordered pushing you toward the closest exit.

You were herded by a couple of Saviors to the cab of an old pick up truck .

“Pay attention now. I’m not as patient as Negan is.” Simon warned getting into the driver’s side.

You scooted to the middle of the seat.To your surprise Negan sat beside you on the passenger side.

“Hope you don’t mind ridin’ bitch.” Negan smirked cheekily.

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