#i have weird soft spot for highway to hell now

[luminnara]

Goddamn, Shit-Sucking Vampires | Lost Boys x OC  CH 1

Summary: Vera is an unusually vicious bloodsucker who's never stuck in one place for very long...until a mysterious feeling pulls her right to the murder capital of the world: Santa Carla, California. Now, she needs to figure out why exactly she's there, where she fits in amongst the boardwalk's nighttime denizens, and how to cope with her own personal vampire-related problems. Poly Lost Boys/OC, starts just before the movie

Also posted on AO3

My requests are open!

Chapter one | Chapter two

Warnings: Blood, gore, smut, all that good stuff

Vera had been to a lot of cities, some of them twice, some of them three times, some even more, but none of them were quite as unique as Santa Carla. The boardwalk was crawling with lost souls, kids with nowhere else to go, and she was one of them; no family to call her own, no real friends, barely any possessions…Vera was a wanderer, a lone soul, a lost girl. She drifted from town to town, hanging around for a day or two if nothing interesting happened before moving on...and honestly, nothing very interesting ever happened. 

Sometimes she took the bus, if she had the money from odd jobs or pick pocketing her meals, but for the most part, she was left to her own devices. She traveled on foot when she had to, avoiding major highways unless she was feeling up to a fight. During the day, she took refuge under bridges if she was broke, or motel rooms if she had a little cash. If she felt particularly frisky, sometimes she even managed to seduce locals into helping out, but for the most part, she only had herself as company, traveling by night for no reason other than an insatiable wanderlust and nobody else to spend her time with.

Nothing had ever held her in one place. She had started traveling a long time ago, when she realized she had no reason to stay in her hometown. Plus...people started to grow a little bit suspicious when they noticed too many bodies cropping up. The world was changing, and for someone like her, it was best to stay on the move.

After that, it became a habit, and she got used to wandering and never having a place to call home. Did it ever bother her? Sometimes, when she was resting, it did. She could stop and look at the stars, with some kind of foreign aching in her chest, but it was rare that she thought about it. It had started up years ago, and she had forced herself to get used to it. She had never found any cure, and while she lingered around the east coast, it had finally dulled to a strange, quiet pain. A constant throb in her chest, next to her heart, some kind of strange tightness that she was happy to forget whenever she could. It was becoming more frequent, though, as she neared California, and she chalked it up to the fact that she had been alone and hungry for far too long.

She would have to do something about that soon. She hated feeling hungry.

Vera hopped off the bus when it stopped in Santa Carla, a coastal town that boasted a crowded boardwalk and just the kind of nightlife she needed. From the road, she could see the bright lights of a Ferris wheel and even a roller coaster, and she couldn’t help but smile. She had always liked fairs and carnivals. They were fun and exciting, and good places to pickpocket. Plus, the chaos made it easier for her to go unnoticed.

At the bus stop, she was greeted with boards and telephone poles covered in missing persons ads, and it was an oddly comforting sight. She would fit right in.

“Murder capital of the world, huh?” she said to herself, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. She had seen the graffiti on the back of a big WELCOME TO SANTA CARLA sign on the way in, and the flyers only added to the town’s reputation.

Yeah, this place was worth checking out.

The pier was bright, neon signs and carnival rides lighting up the night. Kids and adults alike were enjoying their summer, stuffing themselves with treats or screaming their way around the roller coaster. It all looked fun, she had to admit, and maybe once she had a chance to grab some cash she could hang around and enjoy herself. She could use a break from running constantly, and she was finding that the boardwalk was already making her happy. 

As she walked through the crowds, Vera spotted every kind of person, from middle aged parents toting along a family of four to dirty vagrant children to punks to a couple of weird kids lurking around the comic book store. There were pizza places, cotton candy carts, all sorts of dine in restaurants and bars...Santa Carla seemed like it had everything, but mostly, it was a good place for someone like her to spend some time. 

She sat herself down on a railing, trying to ignore the hunger pains she was feeling as she people watched. Beyond the homeless kids and the weirdos, the boardwalk was full of partygoers, and it looked like summer vacation was in full swing. There were a million smells in the air—cigarettes, weed, funnel cakes—but none of them really caught her attention. She let out a sigh, leaning her chin on her hand. She hated being indecisive about dinner. 

“Ugh, Surf Nazis,” a woman whispered to her friend as they ran by. 

“Gross,” the other wrinkled her nose.

Vera looked past them to the men that were shouting about their asses as they left and she snorted. 

“What’s wrong, girls?” One of them yelled. 

“Come back, we’ll show you a good time!” Another cackled, tossing an empty beer can over his shoulder. 

Vera rolled her eyes. Disgusting, pathetic creatures, all standing around a trash can as they smoked. They smelled awful, she realized with a wrinkle of her nose, and it wasn’t just from their smoke. They were nasty, leering at girls and laughing loudly with each other when the women they were bothering scampered away. 

Well, they weren’t her first choice, but at least she had found a meal.

She hopped off the fence and sauntered in their direction for a moment before turning, giving them just enough time to notice her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw them perk up, and before long, all four of them were following her through the crowd, shouting profanities as she made her way down to the pier. 

“Hey baby, where you goin’?” one yelled, jogging to keep up with her pace. 

Vera looked over her shoulder. “Down under the boardwalk...unless you’re chicken.”

She heard a chorus of hoots and whistles and grinned to herself. Men were so easy. 

“I call first dibs!”

“I wanna piece of that ass!” Another yelled.

They always did. Vera was a short girl, only around five feet tall, and stocky. She carried her weight in her legs, giving her thick thighs and a round butt that could never quite stay covered by the denim shorts she loved to wear so much. 

Boys liked the way she looked. They liked how she seemed so easy to grab, so soft, so touchable. As the Surf Nazis followed her down the rickety stairs to a secluded spot under the boardwalk, their hands were already moving, unbuttoning pants and reaching for Vera as if they were entitled to her. She smiled sweetly as she backed into the shadows, cooing for them to follow, grinning sickly when they obeyed. They always did, like lambs to the slaughter, never clever enough to recognize her predatory gaze and dangerous movements until it was too late. 

Sometimes, if they were lucky, they could catch a glimpse of her bra or panties before it was over, but tonight, Vera had little patience for the dirty fingers that tried to pull her shirt off and her shorts down. Their faces leered down at her, even in the darkness, grunting as they palmed themselves through their pants.

She gave them a second to enjoy it before her lips twisted into a sick grin and she reached for them, nails like claws and teeth like fangs. The air was suddenly filled with the sound of their screams, but the waves crashing against the sand drowned the grisly noises out. As she tore into them, she laughed, loving the way they were so terrified now that they had completely lost any sense of power over her.

 Boys always liked the way she looked, until she was covered in their friends’ blood.

-o-

David was having a boring night. 

His boys were under control for the time being, lounging on their bikes next to him. Paul and Marko were laughing loudly, occasionally punching each other just for the hell of it, and Laddie was reading a comic as he clung to Dwayne. Star had decided to stay home for the night, and nobody was complaining about that; at the thought of her, David growled to himself, grimacing at the reminder of the troublesome bitch. Max had wanted a daughter and a good mother for Laddie, and what had they ended up with? A mopey, whiny little cunt who refused to kill and feed like everyone else.

Feed...damn, he could go for a snack. He could practically taste blood in the air as he thought about grabbing a bite, fangs threatening to lengthen. He hadn’t even thought he was that hungry, but now that he was thinking about it, it was bugging him, and when David got the urge to feed, there were very few things that could stop him. The hunger would sometimes gnaw at him the way it did a newborn, and even Max was occasionally put off by it. It was something he expected from a younger vampire, like Marko, maybe, but David? His appetite could be insatiable, truly monstrous in a way that most others’ weren’t. 

The boys picked up on his hunger and he heard a few growls of agreement before he nodded for Dwayne to take Laddie back to the cave. The kid was never allowed to go with them when they hunted, and Dwayne was capable enough to grab something for himself if he didn’t catch up with them. Ever since Laddie had gotten his pesky little hands on their bloody wine bottle, they had been stuck with him, and if Dwayne hadn’t turned out to be so good with the kid, David would’ve been irritated beyond belief. 

It all worked out, though, and Laddie fit in well with the rest of the group. David just had to keep reminding himself to be patient. 

“Anybody catch your eye?” Paul asked as his brother took off down the beach with their youngest member.

“Absolutely fucking no one.” David sneered.

The tall blonde straightened up to sniff the air. “Get a whiff of that, though…”

David paused, mimicking Paul. He was right. There was a metallic scent on the breeze, the sweet smell of fresh blood. It made him thirsty, and as he led Paul and Marko down the boardwalk, it only grew stronger.

“Shit,” Marko mumbled as they started down the stairs to the beach. Once they had broken free of the crowd, the scent had hit them like a train, and even David was having trouble controlling himself.

“Careful,” he warned, voice coming out with a ragged, heavy breath. 

Murders happened in Santa Carla all the time, and not only because of the Lost Boys. It was a rough place, full of drugs and vagrants, and the violence only helped them blend in. Someone had probably gotten themselves in trouble under the boardwalk, and at this point David was just hoping that the killer was still around to sate his hunger. They never fed from corpses, so stumbling across them never yielded any good results unless they were in the mood to rip them apart for shits and giggles.

David was not in the mood.

He led Paul and Marko off the stairs and through the sand, hurrying now as the blood filled his senses. It was so fresh, and there was so much of it...this wasn’t normal, even for the murder capital of the world. What kind of sadistic human would cut someone up enough to spill so much blood? What the fuck was going on under his boardwalk? Sure, it was something he would do, but other than his boys, who could possibly be that brutal?

It was in the shadows of the pier that he finally got the answers to all of his questions. 

Just like the blood had, her scent hit him like a freight train. He could tell Paul and Marko were just as confused by the way they stopped and hissed, fangs already out as they looked down at the bodies littering the sand. It was a gorey scene, throats and stomachs ripped open, Surf Nazis gutted with their pants down. 

And in the middle of it all, she had the audacity to glance up at David, and then completely disregard him as she turned back to her final victim. She wasn’t worried in the slightest about the three males, and that pissed David off a little. When he would have snarled a warning at her insolence, he found himself distracted instead, head tilted and lips parted as he drank in her scent and checked her out.

She was wearing shorts that barely covered her bloody legs, ratty combat boots on her feet and an equally ratty denim vest over a ripped up black shirt. Her ebony hair was cut into some sort of shaggy mullet,  falling around her shoulders. It was long and wavy and glossy, but tousled and messy, no doubt thanks to feeding. 

He could only stare in shock at the black-haired girl that was feasting on a Surf Nazi. He couldn’t decide if he was angry at someone else hunting on his turf or happy to find a real female vampire, one that wasn’t stupid and whiny like Star, but the one thing he knew for sure as he took a step towards her was that he was just the tiniest bit turned on.

Paul and Marko could both smell the tiniest hint of their leader’s arousal, and it excited them. They weren’t used to supernatural girls, and the thought of getting a turn with her was enough to make the air heavy with the scent of lust as they followed David. 

Paul let out a low whistle behind him. “Shit, first time I wouldn’t mind bein’ a Surfer. I’d take a little of that sugar right now, know what I’m sayin?”

The vampiress lifted her head from her victim and smiled, drunk on blood and high off the hunt. “I don’t usually share meals, but I’ll give you the rest of this one if it gives me a free pass back outta here.”

Paul tensed to take her up on the offer, but David stopped him. “Free pass?”

The girl sat back from the still-whimpering Surf Nazi, blood running down her chin. “Figure you wouldn’t want me in your territory. Sorry. Didn’t realize anybody else was here, else I’d have been moving on already.”

David smirked. “No need, sweetheart.”

She furrowed her brow. 

“It’s feeding time, boys. Grab a snack.” David grinned, allowing Paul and Marko to surge forward and rip into the Surf Nazi. He watched with a twinge of annoyance as Paul turned from his meal and pressed his bloody lips to the girl’s, but that annoyance turned into surprise when she kissed back, albeit lazily. 

She smiled as her lips moved against his, a hand moving to tangle in his wild hair. Fire tore through Paul and he growled, pushing her down until her back hit the sand and her chest touched his as her breaths turned into frenzied pants. 

Hands ran down her sides, hard nails digging into her skin as Paul nipped at her lower lip. With a whine, she arched up against him, tugging at his hair until he snarled.

“Paul,” David growled a warning. 

Paul sat back up with an irritated grumble, licking his lips before plunging his fangs into the Surf Nazi and leaving Vera alone.

David had to admit, he had never met a female vampire that wasn’t stuck in limbo like Star. They seemed rare, or at least they were around California, but Max had always told him that girls of their kind were a special breed. He was already feeling a tug toward her, some kind of something pulling at his chest whenever she moved, and before he knew what he was doing, he was crouching down to suck up the last few drops of blood while his boys turned their attention to the killer.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” Marko asked, playing with a strand of her hair. 

“Vera,” she answered with the sweetest voice either of them had ever heard, practically a purr. 

Paul sighed, leaning in again. He was head over heels already. “What brings you here to our little corner of the world, Miss Vera?”

She blinked, and they were fucking mesmerized by those lashes and those hazel eyes. “Just passing through, boys. Don’t wanna step on any toes.”

Paul groaned. He wanted her to stay. She smelled amazing, and when she had returned the kiss he hadn’t even realized he was giving her, he felt jolts of electricity shoot through every part of his body. 

He wanted more.

“Damn, babe, you’re breakin’ my heart,” he said, holding her face so that he could lick blood off her chin.

“No fair,” Marko nudged his brother. “I want a taste…”

David looked up from the drained corpse, listening as his boys slurred with love drunk voices. Max had warned him about females, about those with foreign sires. They could trap you in a web of lust, keep you dumb and happy there for as long as they wanted, rob you blind and kill your entire family...but somehow, he got the feeling that Vera wasn’t even trying to fuck with them. There was no misty, foggy sensation that would signify magic, no eye contact, no focus. As he rose to his feet, he realized he was walking towards her of his own accord, the only spell being that strange, unspoken one that kept pulling him to her.

He had an inkling of what it could be, but he didn’t dare get his hopes up.

“Got a place to stay, darling?” He asked as he shoved his boys out of the way and knelt before Vera. 

She leaned toward him, a sweet smile on those bloody lips that told him she was confident enough in her ability to handle them all. She was calm, completely in control of herself, even when faced with three healthy male vampires. Her eyes were half-lidded, long lashes fluttering whenever she blinked. 

When her tongue slipped out to lick blood off her lips, David’s eyes widened at the sight of something he had never seen before. It was split in two, each side moving of its own accord easily. Paul let out an eager noise, Marko shoving him with his shoulder to try to get a better look. Vera just laughed at their fascination, pulling her tongue back into her mouth and smiling. 

David could feel her breath on his cheek as she took in his scent and he couldn’t help the shiver that went up his spine. He wanted to touch her, to kiss her better than Paul had, to fuck her and hear his name on her lips. He wanted to show her how strong he was, to impress her, to prove himself for some reason. He would kill a hundred surfers if he had to, if it would grant him her favor. He would sit out in the sun and burn himself if it meant he could be hers. 

He had never felt this way about anyone, and it was pissing him off.

Vera laughed to herself. She could smell his desire, and she knew that it was because of her. Just like those Surf Nazis, these vampires wanted her, but at least she liked this little pack. What’s more, that aching in her chest had stopped when they showed up, and she had a feeling she knew why. 

It was a little bit terrifying, though, and she wasn’t about to stop and think about it. 

“What are you suggesting?” She asked, brushing her fingers along his cheek, a smear of blood following. 

“Stay with us,” he breathed, blue eyes locked with hers. 

“Darling, I don’t even know your name,” she quipped, never shifting her gaze. 

“David,” he said with a slight growl as he felt himself getting lost in her eyes. 

“David,” she repeated, voice soft and breathy. Her hand moved to cup his cheek and he leaned into it, nose twitching as he smelled the fresh blood in her wrist. It was sweet, sweeter than any blood he had ever encountered before, and all he wanted to do was sink his fangs into her flesh and get a taste.

Vera heard a sigh and finally took her eyes off David. The other two were watching, just off to the side, staring hungrily at their leader and the new girl. 

“And what about you two?” She asked, hand sliding down to the side of David’s neck to keep him in check. She was confident enough in herself to handle him, but at the same time, he put her on edge. There was no way she was going to let her guard down around him yet.

That was the thing about female vampires, though; they had the uncanny ability to always put on a facade, and Vera was no exception. David made her nervous—they all did, honestly—but she wasn’t about to let them know that. 

“Paul,” the tall blonde said quickly, rushing forward as if he would die without her touch. He pressed his nose against her throat, breathing her scent as if he was starving. 

“Marko,” the smaller one followed, desperately reaching out to touch her hair. 

“Paul,” she purred, earning a growl. “...Marko…”

Another growl. 

They acted like they needed her, all three of them, but they were behaving themselves. She had no doubt that if she gave them the go ahead, she would be naked within seconds, but for the moment, they were listening to her. She had never experienced something like this before; usually, other vampires ignored her, or threatened her until she left their territory. These boys seemed to adore her, and she had to admit, she liked it. 

“Paul, Marko,” David said roughly. “Clean up so we can go home.”

With a groan, the younger two did as they were told, dragging Surf Nazi corpses into the ocean before wiping their hands and faces clean. 

“You’re their leader,” Vera said, more as an observation than anything else. “Are you their sire?”

David smirked as he helped her to her feet. “Depends on how you look at it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “There’s only one way to look at that, David.”

He melted when she said his name, leaning in to catch another whiff of her scent. It was sweet, like honey, sticky and sick, and all he wanted was to drown in it. “What have you done to me, Vera?”

She smiled and took his hand, raising it to lick blood off of his fingers. “Nothing on purpose, I promise.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t mind,” Paul suddenly grabbed her from behind, arms snaking around her waist as he buried his nose in her black hair, inhaling deeply and letting out a happy sigh. The feeling of her there in his arms, pressed up against him, was enough to make his fangs slide out again, and he couldn’t help but swipe his tongue up the side of her neck.

David snarled, snapping only inches from his brother’s face. “Behave.”

“You say as if you are,” Vera snorted, giving David a gentle push and easing her way out of Paul’s grip. “But you boys are all very sweet. I don’t mind the attention.”

“Oh, you have our attention, sweets,” Paul whistled as she turned and bent over to wash her face and hands at the water’s edge, giving them all a good view of her ass. A low rumble rose in David’s throat as he appreciated the sight, and Marko echoed it. 

“So greedy,” Vera mocked as she straightened up again. “Are you this nice to every bloodsucker that hangs out on your boardwalk, or is it just me?”

“Just you, that’s for sure,” Marko said, almost cackling.

“The others aren’t so delicious,” Paul cooed with that signature laugh. 

“Oh, aren’t you a charmer?” Vera said, walking back to them. Now that her arms and legs were clean of blood, they could see that she was covered in tattoos, and David wondered if she had them as a human before she was turned, or if she had found some way to make the ink stay in her regenerative skin.

Paul gave her a cocky grin and David rolled his eyes. His brother was such a flirtatious bastard. He was a lady killer, literally, even more than David was, but Vera didn’t seem to mind his advances. She seemed comfortable with Paul, taking it all in stride.

It made David just the tiniest bit jealous. 

“Come with us.” He said it more as an order than an offer, extending his hand out to her. 

“Unless you got somewhere better to go,” Marko joked. 

“And there ain’t nowhere better,” Paul snickered.

“There aren’t too many places to hide from the sun on a boardwalk,” Vera snorted. She was finally coming down from her high, the thrill of the hunt fading again and giving way to her less monstrous personality. “I was going to have to find a good spot anyways…”

Now that she wasn’t operating solely on instinct, she could take a moment and think about her situation. Three male vampires, none of whom had tried to kill her for stealing prey in their territory, seemed to be absolutely obsessed with everything about her and wanted her to go home with them. One had even kissed her and she had kissed him back, because it had felt so right. She allowed them to touch her, to taste her skin, to share her meal. They were stronger than her, and they outnumbered her, but she still felt like she was...in charge? 

David, the definite leader of the little pack, was looking at her hopefully. His face was stony, but she could see excitement in his blue eyes, and when she smiled, there was a spark of something in those irises. 

“Just don’t kill me in my sleep,” Vera joked as David took her hand and began leading her back up to the boardwalk. 

“No promises,” Marko leered as they followed.

“You look good enough to eat, babe,” Paul growled playfully, lunging forward to cop a feel of her ass. 

Vera only laughed, but David snarled dangerously at his brother, moving his arm to Vera’s shoulders and pulling her against his side. 

“Relax, you big angry beast,” Vera said with a grin, raising her hand to his chin and giving a teasing scratch. 

David huffed and Marko hooted with laughter. “Damn, she’s way more fun than you, David!”

“I dig this chick,” Paul snickered.

“You better share her,” Marko whined.

David smirked as they climbed the stairs back up to the boardwalk. Could he manage that? He only ever shared things with his brothers, but even then, he was terrible at it. Vera had some kind of magnetic pull on him, yeah, and his mouth watered at the thought of keeping her around, but Marko and Paul were both obviously into her...and she was into them. 

She was into all of them.

He needed to talk to Max. He honestly hated having to ask his sire for help or advice, and he avoided it whenever he could. Max had never been very nurturing, despite wanting everyone to act like a big family. It worked out for the boys, sure, but Max was…not a great father. A patriarch, yes, always seated at the head of the metaphorical table, but he was cruel and cold towards David, and he had been from the very start. He thought they all needed a stern hand to keep them in check, and David didn’t like that. 

Still, Max let them run free, and he knew more than David did about their own kind. He was helpful, sometimes, in his own way, and his son was going to have to defer to him. He had questions about Vera, about the pull he felt toward her, and Max was the only one with the answers.

As they returned to the boardwalk and joined the crowd of humans, Vera was pleased to see that the sea of people parted for the boys. They stepped aside, glancing with mixtures of emotions at the little pack. Girls looked dreamy, parents grabbed their children, Surf Nazis raised their lips in sneers. Was it because of their reputation, or did the humans somehow know that they should be afraid of the predators that stalked Santa Carla? She hoped it was both. She hoped that these boys were wild and rowdy enough to rule this boardwalk, and she hoped that they liked her enough to keep her around. 

She glanced up at the sky, a few stars twinkling despite the light pollution from the city. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t itching to hop on a bus or hitch hike to the next town. For once in her life, Something was occupying her mind, and the wanderlust was giving way to another, completely foreign feeling. The ache in her chest was gone, but it was replaced by a strange, burning, almost longing that she had never felt before. It was almost similar to the emotions she experienced during bloodlust, but she was in control of herself. Her fangs weren’t poking through, her eyes weren’t shining...she was happy and her hunger was sated, so where was this coming from? 

She was still avoiding the one train of thought that would bring her to the right conclusion. It was just too much to consider, especially with everything happening so quickly all of the sudden. 

They came to a halt when they reached their bikes, Dwayne already back from dropping Laddie off. From the looks of it, he had grabbed a bite on the way, jeans stained with fresh blood that the humans would just assume was from a fight. 

Vera stopped. There was another male here? She was finding it hard to believe that she had stumbled across a pack of four males without any females, but she couldn’t smell much in the way of estrogen on them. It was just odd; vampires didn’t usually live in bachelor groups like these, but she supposed it wasn’t entirely unheard of. It was just strange that they hadn’t found any girls they wanted to keep around for all eternity.

Most people got lonely eventually. Maybe these four were all actually lovers...but she hadn’t seen any marks that would mean they were claimed, and she hadn’t smelled or sensed anything that would lead her to believe that they were serious.

Odd.

The one leaning against the bike was tall, long dark hair falling around his shoulders and a curious, but serious, expression on his handsome face. She felt frozen under his gaze, uncharacteristically nervous, like a deer in the headlights. It was like he could see right through her, and she didn’t know if she liked that or not.

“Dwayne, this is Vera,” David said as he tugged her along. She found a way to make her legs work again and followed, letting a smile curl its way onto her lips when Dwayne bowed his head to her. 

“And she’s tough,” Marko said, bouncing over to his bike. 

“And she’s gorgeous,” Paul took her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss as he passed her.

“I can see that,” Dwayne said, his voice deep and smooth, a seductive smile on his lips. 

David narrowed his eyes, but tried to hide the movement with a smirk. “Keep an eye on her. I’m going to visit Max.”

“Oh, I’ll keep both eyes on her,” Paul winked as he beckoned for her to sit behind him on his motorcycle. 

David rolled his eyes, desperately trying to not make a scene. “Control yourself. I’ll be back.” 

He pressed a kiss to Vera’s head, inhaling deeply before leaving her side and stalking off down the boardwalk. He could already feel his sire tugging questioningly at his consciousness, curious as to why David was so eager to speak to him. His son had always been good at blocking him out, keeping his mind locked down unless he needed something or there was trouble that called for Max’s attention. The others were more open, but Max didn’t have as strong a link with them, and while David was supposed to be his prodigal son, he was so...secretive. Private. Closed off. For him to be willingly heading to the VideoMax store for anything other than annoying him or hitting on Maria out of boredom, something very important had to be going on, and Max was beyond itching to know what it could be. 

“Who’s Max?” Vera asked, joining Paul to perch on the back of his bike. 

“David’s sire,” Marko answered. 

“A grouchy old bloodsucker,” Paul grinned. 

“He runs the video store. He hates it when we crash.” Marko laughed. 

“But...that cashier is pretty cute,” Paul said, thinking of Maria. “I’d love for a bite of—”

He was cut off by the breath leaving his body when Vera wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his back. 

Marko hooted with laughter at his brother’s reaction and Dwayne let out a chuckle. Paul was absolutely speechless, and Vera wasn’t even making skin on skin contact with him. 

Until she felt him tense, smirked against his back, and slid her hands under his mesh shirt. 

If Paul could blush, he would have. He would have been a shade past tomato red. The feeling of her fingers running over his abs was all he could focus on for a moment, and all he wanted was to kiss her again, feel her again, maybe get a little tongue action...

“You’re supposed to behave yourself, Paul,” Marko taunted as he caught a whiff of the lust in the air and felt his brother’s excited thoughts.

“Yeah, yeah,” Paul snarled. “I don’t need this shit from you.”

“I’m just repeating what David said,” Marko said defensively. “You’re the one who can’t keep it in his pants.”

“Well, aren’t you just the perfect little angel?” Paul shot back. “I’m the one with a goddess on his bike, might I remind you.”

Marko scoffed, lip raised in a nasty little snarl. “Not for long, Paul!”

Vera smiled as they bickered. Paul’s arousal hung in the air, but she didn’t mind; in fact, she liked it, and she hugged her arms around him tighter as he squabbled with Marko. She was eager to get back to wherever it was that they called home, and she was eager to sleep surrounded by them and feel truly safe for once. She was used to being alone, and she wasn’t scared of it, but she was always on edge, always ready to run or fight. It made her a light sleeper, and the concept of not having to worry was more tantalizing than any of these boys were on their own. 

#goddamn shit sucking vampires #the lost boys #lost boys x reader #lost boys x oc #david lost boys #dwayne lost boys #paul lost boys #marko lost boys

[jeonggukkiepabo]

HWASAN [MYG] 🐉

SUMMARY: Yoongi, the only dragon hybrid to exist, has done a lot to escape the life he has been put into. He killed those who held him just to run away, to have the chance of living a life he’s been longing to have for years. Even after switching continents, they seem to be after him, hunting him. When he meets you, he knows you’re one of them and there’s only one way to survive - to kill you.

GENRE: smut  🐉 angst  🐉 action  🐉 fluff-ish

WORD COUNT: 11k

WARNINGS: enemies to lovers, mentions of murder and blood, violence, Yoongi rides a motorbike, cursing, blowjobs, fingering, Yoongi has claws and fangs, temperature play, his cum tastes different, choking, fighting for dominance, unprotected sex, breeding kink, Yoongi is stubborn but soft, fox hybrid!taehyung and i’m so soft for him

AUTHOR’S NOTE: It is finally here, my part of The Hybrid Collab! I can’t even tell you how excited I am to post this after months of planning. I think everyone agrees with me that the thought of Dragon!Yoongi is too much to handle. I had this idea in my mind for as long as Daechwita has been around now-it just took me a while to write it sksks.

I’d also love to thank  @spicykoreantatertots​ & @yeojaa​ for betaing this fic and helping me with it.  @kimtaehyunq​ Mags, tysm for designing this beautiful banner for me! Also; thanks for listening to my rambling and keeping up with me and this fic. It was so much fun cooperating your Taehyung into it, I love him. :(

NOW LET’S GET STARTED.

Running was all Yoongi had done for months now.  Running away from those he killed.  Running away from those who wanted him to get killed.  Running away from those that held him ever since he was little, that taught him how to fight and kill. Running away from those that made him a murderer. Running away from Kkangpae.

Yoongi hates running (especially running away), but he had no other choice. He had to leave his home country behind and never go back, finding himself a new place to live instead. He should feel guilty,  he regretted all his actions but by now, he only feels relief. 

Kkangpae treated him like a fucking animal, like a worthless pet. He wasn’t treated like any human being should be treated; he didn’t even have a real bed.

All because Yoongi was a dragon hybrid, the rarest hybrid species on earth. 

The lack of volcanoes in South Korea were the reason why Yoongi was highly valuable to the Kkangpae, because active volcanoes were one of the requirements for dragons to get born. As far as Yoongi knows, there’s only one volcano in South Korea: Ch’uga-ryong, a volcano that hasn’t been active for around five hundred years. 

Around that time, the dragon species became extinct due to a natural disaster that Yoongi didn’t know anything about - because he was still sleeping peacefully in his comfortable egg, buried deep beneath the lava. 

Yoongi’s mother, a purebred dragon, died during the catastrophe, and she was not able to protect the egg. Because of this, his body was not able to develop the way it should have. His egg was found hundreds of years later by scientists. They used newly invented technology to develop the preserved egg and mix human genes into it. Shortly after that process was complete, Yoongi hatched.

Yoongi has never met another dragon hybrid in his life. Maybe he was the only one in existence, maybe other scientists created them the same way as he was created. Even if they existed, they’re probably held the same way he was held - captured by some sort of underground gang and treated like shit.

Yoongi hated it, hated the way he wasn’t even a real creature, that he was built instead of born and that he was sold to Kkangpae to be their guard dog. Even though he was a dragon, well he was supposed to be a dragon, those fucking scientists pulled some weird Jurassic Park shit on him. Did humans even believe in dragons? To most of them he was nothing more than a myth, some creature from a fairytale.

Yoongi almost screams in frustration as his memories hit him once again. The night he decided to end it all, to kill everyone he finds comes back into his vision almost every time he closes his eyes. Because hell, he was a great fighter, the best assassin anyone could ever train and he never failed an attempt of murder. Ever since then, his nights are based on either nightmares or hectic rides on his bike, this is why he lives on coffee and energy drinks even though they're too sweet for his taste, they keep him awake. If he stops to sleep, the memories, the dreams will return in full force.

During that time, Yoongi tries not to stop in motels because:

1. he can’t afford them

2. he shouldn’t waste time on sleep if he can spend them driving down the highway on his motorcycle instead, getting as much distance between South Korea and himself as quickly as possible.

As a dragon hybrid, Yoongi has several magic powers that typical hybrids don’t have, simply because his body doesn’t work like other hybrid bodies; he is born a dragon. Most of his genetics are dragon-like even though he’s now trapped inside a mostly human body. The only features that give off his inhuman origin are his eyes, green and purple irises, swirling around like lava, never resting. Some scales are splattered around his skin, but almost all of them are well hidden under his clothes - and Yoongi is glad that he can hide that feature because of the weird looks he would get if he had scales on his face or hands; no thanks.

That, and the fact that he can extend claws from his “normal” fingernails, which is quite useful in fights… and during other situations. 

One of Yoongi’s biggest advantages is the ability of changing his body temperature to the extreme - whether it’s hot or cold. If he wanted to burn you, he could; if he wanted to feel cold as ice, he could do that as well. He used that power a lot back when he was a little dragon, not wanting to be touched by humans that didn’t have his trust - not that any human has ever earned his trust - so he easily increased his body temperature until those who touched him left with blisters all over their hands.

People always think that dragons have the ability to spit fire, but apparently dragon hybrids can't. All Yoongi was able to do was spit acidic saliva with the ability to burn through all kinds of fabric and material (he even melted a spoon once because he hated the soup he had to eat) and whenever he was really angry, smoke would blow right out of his nostrils.

Kkangpae should’ve known better than to train him until he was invincible. Until he was stronger than them, until he was able to ruin them one by one.

It didn’t even take Yoongi an entire night to kill those who had held him his entire life, which made him Kkangpae’s enemy number one. He obviously didn’t get to kill each member, but he managed to ruin the leftovers by killing their boss, his wife and brother. The golden three, no longer golden anymore.

Which meant one thing: running away. Leaving South Korea with nothing but his motorcycle and never, ever, coming back. Yoongi doesn’t know if he will ever get to settle down somewhere or even where to go next, he just knows that he will never be able to come back to where he originated.

He has been in the United States for almost three months now, after secretly hitching a ride on a very disgusting container ship. In the beginning, he didn’t know where his adventure would bring him, but he has seen some beautiful places here. Yoongi even visits some of the biggest volcanoes in the country (he hates the volcanic mountains in Alaska, though, because the air outside is colder than what he is used to and Yoongi hates the feeling of icy air after a nice long nap in the comfortable lava) to spend some time relaxing his sore muscles. He just left his favorite volcano ever, the Yellowstone in the Rocky Mountains, a week ago and he really misses napping there, but if Kkangpae would ever look for him in the US, volcanoes would probably be an obvious spot to check for a dragon hybrid.

Now Yoongi is here in a cute little suburb that he doesn't even know the name of. Small droplets of rain are blocking the view from his motorcycle helmet and his gas tank is on low, so he decides to stop by the next available gas station and grab some hot coffee on his way to the bordering highway. 

Yoongi didn't bring a crazy amount of baggage from Korea, because it's obviously difficult to ride a motorbike with an abundance of luggage. Instead he sticks to a simple black backpack with some clothes, money that he stole from Kkangpae, his phone, and an old notebook he uses to scribble down places he’s heard of during his trip. 

Even though the gas station is quite empty, Yoongi acts out of instinct and pulls his cap lower into his face, hiding his shimmering eyes and starts to fuel his tank, looking around to check if someone has recognized him. Nobody catches his attention, until a girl on another motorbike stops to get some gas as well. Yoongi scrunches his nose, thinking that his bike was the only one in a suburb like this - because to be honest, he spent a lot of money on it, on spraying it matte black (instead of the bright teal it had before he ran away) and a bigger engine. It isn’t one of the luxurious Korean brands, but a MV Agusta F4 LH44, an expensive ass bike that Kkangpae gave him for jobs out of their area.

This girl though, she rides a fucking Kawasaki Ninja, one of the fastest - and most expensive - bikes out there. He only has eyes for her machine, but once she pulls off her helmet letting her messy hair fall over her back and turns around to the gas pump, he inhales sharply.

She’s Korean. She’s fucking Korean and she rides a fucking expensive bike.

To Yoongi it can only mean one thing: Kkangpae. But, would they really send a girl after him, a powerful dragon hybrid? Probably not. The girl hums some unknown melody as she fuels her bike, looking around as well. Yoongi makes sure that she doesn’t catch a glimpse of his eyes as he turns around to pay. 

But the girl is right behind him, he can feel her body temperature on his sensitive skin and as he walks past her, he can smell something vaguely familiar. That’s when he decides to pull off a classic Joe Goldberg, waiting for the girl some streets down the road and follows her as inconspicuously as possible.

The girl comes to a quicker halt than Yoongi is expecting - simply because he didn’t like to stop more often than necessary -, but he’s quick to park his bike and follow the girl into the establishment she walks in. Bread, Sweets and Treats, says the small sign and Yoongi cringes. Who would come up with such a name? Is the owner inspired by this one Korean band that has a track with a similar name? Yoongi shakes his head to get rid of the distracting thought, instead putting his cap back on and stepping into the café.

She is nowhere to be seen, probably sitting in some booth further back, but as soon as Yoongi attempts to stride through the café, the girl behind the counter smiles at him.

“Hi, I’m Yura! What can I get you?”

He really wants to reply with “nothing.” But the smell of coffee lingers in his nose and who would Yoongi be to decline such a chance? “Just one regular coffee, black, please.” 

He pays quickly, just slapping some notes onto the counter as he looks around once more.

“There’s a few empty tables in the back, go and sit down, relax a bit and I will be there with your coffee as soon as possible!”

That finally gives Yoongi the chance he’s been waiting for, strolling through the café to find the mysterious girl and once he has an eye on her, he sits down three tables to her right. She’s on her phone, taking sips of some hot beverage but takes nervous looks around the café from time to time and Yoongi wonders if she has seen him as well.

“Your coffee!” The barista smiles at Yoongi and places the hot mug in front of him. “Are you sure that you don’t want anything else? You look quite tired and I bet some pastries can help with that!”

Yoongi tries to crack a smile, but he knows people are most likely afraid once they lock eyes with him, but it seems like that his eyes aren’t anything that scares the friendly girl as he mutters a soft “I’m fine, thank you.”

He dares to take another look to his left, a silent gasp leaving his lips. There, on her right arm, is a tattoo of a dragon crawling up to her elbow. The symbol of Kkangpae, inked right into her skin. Yoongi’s assumptions were correct, she is one of those bastards and the only reason she’s here must be to kill him. But Yoongi isn’t one to have that, he’ll be quicker.

Patience is key, he reminds himself as he slowly sips his coffee, keeping an eye on that girl as he thinks about that one night again.

Things happen quickly then, the girl stands up and leaves to go to the restroom, but as soon as Yoongi plans to follow her, an elderly lady goes in there as well.

He sighs, pulling off his cap just to run his hands through his hair before quickly putting it back on, covering his eyes as much as possible. The hunter's knife in his boots feels heavy, ready to be used, but Yoongi doesn’t want to make a scene right here. It would cause more trouble than being effective - and he couldn’t find out more about Kkangpae’s plans in the middle of a café. On the other hand, Yoongi can’t risk losing her, that’s why he acts out of instinct once she comes back from the bathroom.

She makes her way past his table, Yoongi stands up quickly to follow her - and once she’s near the exit, he jumps onto her, slamming his full body weight against her smaller frame and smashes her into one of the tables, the wood breaking under their combined weights. His claws are out and he can feel his skin burning up during his rage as he snarls a low, “What’s your name? What are you doing here and where are the others?” at her. 

She must be a tough one though, because even if she’s scared, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she glares up at him. “Why would I tell someone that attacks me in the middle of a coffee shop my name? Fuck, get off of me, you freak! What even are you?”

Yoongi smirks, pushing her even further into the remains of the table. “Min Yoongi, I think I ruined a bit of your family business.”

Now, her eyes widen in shock as she tries to get out of his burning grip around her throat once more. “You don’t have to kill me”, she whispers. “I don’t belong to them. Not anymore. After you killed my father and my uncle, I knew it would be the best to get out of it as well, trust me!”

Yoongi laughs, head thrown back - and it looks kind of funny, because there’s a little cloud of smoke coming out of his nose - before looking back down at her. “I’ve learned one thing in my life and that’s to never trust anyone. Especially not when they’re wearing that cute little dragon tattoo on their arm. Sorry, but I guess you have to die too.”

An annoyingly high-pitched scream causes Yoongi to lose his guard for one second, giving the girl the chance she needs to break free from his grip. "Stop it, please," one of the baristas pleads, trying to calm some of the nervous customers down. Yoongi looks at him for a second, smirking as he sees the obvious features only mouse hybrids have.

The dragon hybrid snarls, showing off some of his sharper teeth as he grips his target again. "Don't you dare make a scene, mousey. It's been a while since I had one of your ancestors for lunch, you know? And I haven't eaten in quite some time." Then, he turns around to the girl. "I'm sorry love, but this situation is getting a bit out of hand." He uses his foot on her chest to keep her in place as he grabs his favorite knife that's been sitting in his boot the entire trip, just waiting to be finally used.

Fate isn't on Yoongi's side today as another one of the baristas yells at him, running past some other tables to get to where Yoongi is standing. Yoongi groans, pressing the heel of his foot deeper into the girl's chest. "You stay there, little one, okay?" She doesn't answer, just grits her teeth to compensate for the ache in her body. The mouse hybrid freezes on the spot, staring at the scene in front of him. Then, Yoongi turns around to the new voice. "What do you want now, I'm busy and I really need to go after this, so would you let me do my job, please?" The irritation isn’t easy to miss, but Yoongi's patience has always been rather low and he prefers to get over this before the rest of Kkangpae arrives as well. "I don't belong to them anymore, fucking hell!" The girl yells once more, nails digging into Yoongi's jeans-clad calf.

“I’m the manager,” the other barista slash manager says, “You have two seconds before I call the police. Get the hell –“ Yoongi gets ready to leave yet another snarky remark as a rather lean looking guy pushes her behind his frame. 

“I’ve heard rumors about your existence, I was skeptical about it – but anything is possible from where you came from.”

Yoongi’s eyes scan the stranger, thinking about how high his chances are to win another fight when he realizes that he’s one of the rarest hybrid breeds, not a regular fox but a canadian marble fox - which are often held for their beautiful fur. He has been living with one of those in the Kkangpae mansion, the fox hybrid was more likely the opposite of Yoongi’s reason to be there: Yoongi was being held to fight, the fox was a lapdog, bought to look pretty in the leader's wife's lap.

The man in front of him has similar ears, grey with black tips and his amber eyes remind him of the old fox as well. Yoongi tilts his head in visible confusion as he locks eyes with the man.

“I’m not one of them, my name’s Y/N! I’ve heard that you killed my father, my uncle and his wife so I used the chance and ran off, I didn’t know I’d see you here as well, Yoongi! Please, just fucking listen!”, the girl, Y/N, pleads with tears brimming in her eyes. 

“Yoongi, is it? Listen. You can’t do that here, I know what you did to those who held you, but this isn’t the right place!”, the fox hybrid chimes in again. Yoongi’s head moves up and down, he doesn’t know who he should listen to, but he came for this one mission: killing Y/N.

“Shut up, all of you!” He screams out of frustration, the knife starting to melt in his hands because of the unbearable heat radiating from his body. Yoongi drops the now useless weapon to the floor, the weight of his boot no longer suffocating the girl beneath him. She coughs a few times, trying to suck in as much oxygen as possible, trying to relax her wildly beating heart, but Yoongi doesn’t care about her right now. Instead, he locks eyes with the fox hybrid. “Who are you?” His voice is low, quiet, actually, because Yoongi doesn’t trust it enough to speak up.

“I’m from the Kim lineage”, the hybrid says with raised hands, probably to prove that he’s no danger to Yoongi. “Trust me, I know a lot about our individual histories.” Yoongi breathes through his nose, another tiny cloud of smoke leaving his nostrils as he finally steps back from Y/N. “Kim, as in Kim Jiho? That can’t be it. You’re related to him?” 

He eyes the other man skeptically, not really sure whether to believe him or not. He doesn’t even look at Y/N who’s been standing but not running away yet. 

The other hybrid's answer shocks Yoongi, his eyes widening as he sees the frown on his face, combined with soft ears flopping down sadly. "That's my father."

The woman behind the Kim hybrid whispers something into his ear, causing the man to nod as he looks back at Yoongi, but aIso at Y/N. "Let's just take this outside, we can talk out there." 

Yoongi's eyes flicker between the hybrid and Y/N, then he nods slowly whilst pressing out a low "fine". Just as Y/N starts walking past him he grabs her wrist and pulls her closer, whispering into her ear. "If you try to run off, I'll be right behind you, ready to rip your guts out." As if to prove his point, Yoongi heats his skin up once again, burning Y/N's wrist before smiling sweetly at her and following the fox hybrid out of the café. 

The hybrid, who introduces himself as Kim Taehyung, offers refuge to Yoongi and Y/N at his secret bunker in the nearby mountains. He uses the space to hide during emergencies. It isn’t anything special, it is a literal fox burrow with furniture which totally confirms the impression Yoongi has on Taehyung’s style: simple, yet elegant.

Yoongi is even allowed to eat some of Taehyung’s self grown variety of exotic fruits that he is extremely proud of. He smugly offers a dragon fruit to Yoongi who only raises his brows, a challenging glint to his eyes as he grabs some of the lychees instead and pops them into his mouth. “But you’re supposed to peel them!”, Taehyung screeches, his furry ears twitching in disgust, but Yoongi only smiles and eats one more, swallowing the entire fruit just to see Taehyung’s reaction once more.

“My saliva is acidic, I don’t need to peel them. I’ve been eating worse things, trust me.”

After Taehyung shows Yoongi and Y/N around the bunker (it even included a shower and a functional bedroom), he decides to call it a night and leave the two alone (not without them promising Taehyung to not kill each other, he would “check in the next day” to make sure of it) and heads over to his own little cabin nearby. Once Taehyung leaves, Yoongi pulls Y/N onto the worn out couch to actually sit down and talk.

“Okay, so you say you’re running away from Kkangpae too, right? Why?” Yoongi raises the eyebrow that was cut through by that ugly scar. 

Y/N swallows, trying not to stare at Yoongi’s distracting eyes. “I was born into it, I didn’t choose that life, Yoongi. Just like you I was just a part of their game. I’ve seen people die since I was a kid. I’ve never been allowed to have friends or sleep somewhere else because my father was too ‘worried’ something could happen to me. That’s why one of his coaches trained me in different kinds of martial arts from the time I was able to walk.”

She looks at the hybrid again, shaking her head in disgust.

“Of course I knew what was going on with them, why they were behaving like that and I knew that my father and uncle were the leaders, so there wasn’t any chance for me to get away from it. I tried, really, but once I found out that they got killed... I didn’t know you did it, because the second I heard it, I ran. You can trust me, Yoongi, even though my last name might be occupied by all your prejudices.”

Yoongi listens the entire time, not interrupting her as he tries to understand what she was saying. “I’ve seen you when you were a teen”, he mumbles. “I age differently than humans, but I think you were just around 15 years old when you kicked that one security guy in the balls. That was kind of badass, not gonna lie,” Yoongi smirks at her, eyes glistering mischievously. Y/N rolls her eyes at that. “He liked my dress way too much. One more reason not to wear those weird things at all.” Yoongi hums. “I bet you look great in those, but I do like your leather pants too. Anyways, what leads you to the US? It’s not the most… unusual choice to run away to. Wouldn't a country like Greece or Egypt be better? They must be looking after you too. I tried hiding in volcanoes but it was too obvious.”

The girl shrugs her shoulders, shivering now that the evening starts to settle in. “I don’t know, to be honest. All those countries sound nice and fun, but I don’t speak their language. America is huge, too. I wasn’t planning on staying in this town, but now that I met you, I mean… We could run off together, maybe? I can fight and I know how to use a gun and I’ve heard of your… powers, too. You might know how they fight, but I know how they think. Us teaming up would be useful.” She shuffles around, unsure about how Yoongi would react. 

“Are you cold?” 

“What?” 

This wasn’t the reaction Y/N was waiting for. “Are you cold? You’re shivering. I’ve never used my powers in this way, but maybe I could help you,” 

Yoongi shrugs as he slowly touches her arm and attempts to heat up his own skin in a way that wouldn’t hurt the girl. Y/N flinches at first, but the temperature heating up her body is too comfortable to deny.

“Oh god, this is amazing,” she leans her head against the headrest and closes her eyes. “I haven’t been this comfortable in a while.” 

Yoongi nods, he understands that. The bunker is the first place he might be able to actually sleep. “I’ve been sleeping in volcanoes, like I said, but I haven’t really slept since I left the last one. Not that anyone could come in it and try to kill me, but after two days of sleeping and soaking in lava, it got boring.”

“I wouldn’t even mind bathing in lava as long as it’s this comfortable”, Y/N whispers as she drifts off into a deep slumber. 

Once she’s asleep, Yoongi removes his hand slowly and looks around to find a comforter to throw over her relaxed body. Then he decides that he finally deserves the luxury of a real shower, with real hot water (that he heats up even more), before snuggling into the bed and closing his eyes for at least a few hours.

The next few days went by like nothing, Yoongi and Y/N weren’t really ready to go outside and face the world, so they stay inside the bunker to plan their getaway. They go out twice, practicing their fighting skills and helping Taehyung to pick some fruits (because Yoongi felt bad, he ate the entire mango stash in one night).

This evening, Yoongi prepares some food that he finds in the cupboards, some pasta and a canned sauce that he heats up in his hands, not bothering to put it onto the stove. He’s at the point where he decides that Y/N deserves his trust, that she won’t kill him and he’s pleasantly surprised to have someone like that in his life. 

Y/N steps out of the shower, towel wrapping around her delicate body as Yoongi plates the food on the makeshift table. 

“I swear to you, my muscles are still sore from your training yesterday!” She huffs as she searches her backpack for fresh clothes. “Can I grab one of your shirts? One of us has to do laundry tomorrow, I’m going to ask Taehyung how he’s doing it when he’s out here. But for now, I need something comfortable because I can’t squeeze my tired body in leather pants and a tight tank. So, please, Yoongi?” Y/N smiles her sweetest smile, causing Yoongi to groan out, defeated.

“And what am I supposed to wear tomorrow? My old stinky one that I sweat into during training?” He raises the scarred eyebrow at her as he sits down in front of his own plate, starting to eat already. 

Y/N pouts as she grabs one of his last clean shirts and runs into the bathroom. When she comes back, she’s wearing that shirt - and only that shirt. Yoongi almost drops his fork.

It’s not like those movies where the girlfriend wears her boyfriend’s shirt and it looks cute and stops above her knee, no. Yoongi isn’t the tallest, Y/N’s actually almost the same height as him - with more curves than Yoongi's lanky body. Instead, his ‘oversized’ shirt ends just a bit below her ass. Yoongi would bet that if she bends down, her entire peach would be on full view for him.

“Aren’t you going to wear any pants?” Yoongi mutters. To be honest, he hopes she won’t opt for pants because… he’s just a man and even his dragon instincts think about sex from time to time.

“Is it bothering you?” Y/N asks as she plops down besides him, starting to eat right away as well. 

There isn’t much space between them and Yoongi can see her hardening nipples under the shirt that once belonged to him. He shrugs. “Nah, but don’t come ask me to heat you up just because you’re freezing your ass off again.” 

She quirks an eyebrow. “Would it bother you? Heating me up?” 

“Probably.”

Y/N pouts and turns away slightly after she throws a blanket over her legs, continuing to eat her pasta. “How long are we going to stay here? We planned to leave for Italy, but when? It’s getting colder each day and I don’t like that winter’s coming.”

Yoongi stands up to go and wash his plate, not sure about the answer to Y/N’s question.

“There’s nothing holding us here. We could go and leave tomorrow, but we could also stay for a few more days, try to get enough sleep and take advantage of this bunker. I mean, would we get the chance to have such a perfect hideout again? Let’s use this opportunity for as long as we can.” 

Inside, Yoongi knows that he wasn’t ready to leave just yet. He wasn’t ready to face the world, not ready to be on the run again. “How much money did you take with you? Wherever we decide to stop by next, we should think about a way to earn money.”

 “I left with my card and packed some money from the family’s safe before I realized it isn’t that smart to run away with my credit card that could be tracked. I withdrew some more money and gave the card to a homeless lady,” Y/N shrugs as she dries the plate Yoongi has washed before placing it back into the cupboard. “I think I still have around 10 grand in my backpack, I really don’t know. I didn’t need a lot of money, most of it was needed for gas and coffee.” 

“You’ve been travelling with 10 thousand in cash? That’s kinda stupid. What are going to do if someone tries to rob you? Ugh,” Yoongi can feel the smoke leaving his nostril as he paces through the room, feeling restless out of sudden. 

Y/N giggles. “Are you worried? Min Yoongi, the baddest dragon alive is worried about a girl that grew up with Kkangpae and definitely knows how to protect herself.”

Yoongi scrunches his nose, already feeling his skin heat up - but not in the magical way he’s used to. Nope. Min Yoongi is being shy. 

“You are worried! How cute! Are you sure you’re a dragon and not just a little lizard? One of those that live in the fields and kids go and pick them up to have them as a pet in some shoeboxes?” Y/N steps closer, gently bumping her hip against Yoongi’s before patting his head with a giggle. “Who knew that the bad boy that’s one of the most powerful human beings is getting soft over a girl.”

Enough’s enough. Even though Yoongi never had the chance to fall in love, to be in a relationship or build a real friendship, he has had more than enough experience in other things, having shared ruts and heats with countless other hybrids that has some sort of place in Kkangpae. He turns around, his instincts taking over him.

Puffing out his chest a bit, standing completely straight so he will hover over Y/N, Yoongi steps forward, breath fanning over her face. “Did you just call me a fucking lizard?”

His eyes are going wild right now, the purple and green swirling around even faster than the usual soft flow of colors. He growls, stretching his neck from side to side as he starts to feel his fangs growing, soon poking out of his lips. 

Y/N smirks, tilting her head to the side, looking up innocently at the fuming dragon in front of her. “Too bad you can’t change forms, huh?” She doesn’t even get to add another snarky comment to her sentence as Yoongi’s body presses her against the rough wall, his shirt sliding up her body as he cages her in.

“You’re acting like an ungrateful bitch, Y/N. Even got to wear my shirt like you’re someone that actually means something to me, yet you’re being bratty and annoying. I don’t hesitate to get rid of people that act up on me, you should know that by now.” 

His hot breath fans her face and Y/N tries her best not to squirm under his intense glare. Then, she smirks. “You wouldn’t kill me.” 

“Mhhm, you’re right, I wouldn’t. Still, you’re being bratty and I don’t appreciate such behavior.” Yoongi looks at Y/N, eyes still intimidating her. 

“What are you going to do about it? Spank me?” She laughs, knowing that situations like this only happen in those new adult novels, not during an escape.

“I should, but maybe you won’t be able to keep up with it. In the end, you’re just human whilst I’m nothing more than a cute little lizard, huh?” Yoongi looks at his hands, claws forming where his fingernails once were. “I don’t remember lizards being able to hurt you, though. Wanna try?” His smirk is dangerous, but so alluring that Y/N just nods, not knowing what the night will bring for her.

Once they move to the makeshift bedroom, Y/N’s knees start to get weak. Yoongi feels the change in her aura, smirking to himself as he stops right behind her, hot breath blowing on her neck. 

“Is there anything you don’t like, Bambi?” His fangs gently poke the juncture of her neck, not enough to actually draw blood but to make her twist under his touch.

“I don’t think so, I mean… I guess I like… Yoongi, can you stop that for a second, please?” She turns around in his grip, cheeks blushing and lips parted. Yoongi cooes.

“This turned on already? Can’t even form sentences? Alright, I’ll sit down then and you’re going to tell me what I’m allowed to do to you,” Yoongi smirks as he slumps on the mattress, manspreading to give Y/N the best view of the bulge in his pants.

Y/N rolls her eyes and sinks down between his legs, a dangerous smirk now lingering on her lips. “Maybe I’ll just show you what I like and you can take over from that? Figured you’d be one that prefers to be in control. I’ll go by the traffic light system if I’m not okay with anything - or I’ll kick you in the balls, so don’t worry.”

Yoongi doesn’t even bother to answer as Y/N presses her mouth against his clothed dick to kiss it lightly. His hips buck slightly as she wraps her lips around him and starts sucking on the side of his bulge through the fabric. She smiles as his cock grows harder under her lips, but Yoongi is quick to pull her off. “I really appreciate your effort but are you down there to drool all over my pants or are you going to suck me off? I promise you my dick is human, not one of a lizard.”

She pouts, playing with the hem of his joggers. “Where’s the fun in that? But fine,” Y/N rolls her eyes and pulls them down slowly, her nails gently scratching the skin of his stomach while doing so. As the waistband of his pants go past his cock, she is not even surprised that Yoongi isn’t wearing any boxers underneath them. 

“Predictable,” she mutters mostly to herself, but Yoongi grabs a bunch of her hair to push Y/N back on his, this time naked, length. 

It costs her a lot of self control to not retort him with a snarky remark, as she continues to remove his pants slowly. Yoongi growls, but she just smiles up at him and grabs his heavy dick to stroke it two, three times. Then, she leans down to gently lick his balls, still not using her mouth on his dick.

Yoongi twists and groans, trying his hardest not to grab her and shove his entire length down her throat until it’s sore, but this woman is testing his patience. One of his hands is still on the back of her head whilst he uses the other one to lean back a little, just to get a better view.

“Are you done playing now, Petal?” Yoongi’s grip on Y/N’s hair tightens, his claws digging into her head - and Y/N can’t keep in the silent mewl that leaves her lips at the burning pleasure. “Be a good girl now, will you?” His voice is almost alluring her to do as he pleases, but Y/N wouldn’t be herself if she follows his orders. 

Their eyes meet and Yoongi has to admit that she looks perfect. Even though she isn’t wearing any make up right now, hair still damp from her shower and eyes already clouded with lust, he wouldn’t want any other person to be in her position right now. 

She stares at his cock again, her own panties dampening at the thought of having it inside her. Y/N’s tongue pokes out to play with his tip, tasting him and getting a feeling for the heaviness on her tongue as Yoongi pushes her down in one swift motion. A gurgling sound escapes from Y/N’s throat, but she does her best to swallow his huge length, using her fist to stroke whatever can’t fit. 

“Oh, shit,” Yoongi groans and throws his head back while trying to keep his eyes on Y/N at the same time. Her eyes are closed, lips beautifully parted around his cock and saliva already drips down her chin, even though Yoongi hasn’t even really moved by now. “You’ll let me fuck your mouth, right, angel?” 

She nods as good as she can with a mouth full of dick, looking up at the hybrid in front of her. Yoongi hisses as he pushes his hips forward, losing himself in the feeling quickly as his thrusts get faster and sloppier. The sight of Y/N not only sucking him off but also wearing his shirt sends him close to edge quickly.

Y/N pulls off to take a deep breath and to wink at Yoongi before sinking down again. 

"God, you're so good, Petal. Wanted to fuck that bratty mouth for so long now. Imagine your father seeing you like that, he'd die from the shock, his little princess on her knees to please the housedragon." 

She moans at his words, fingers sIiding under her, Yoongi's, shirt, but the man is quick to grab both of her hands to cross them behind her head. He grabs her wrists as he plunges himself down her throat once more before he spills his hot load into her mouth with a loud growl a bit of smoke that comes out of his nostrils.

As Y/N pulls off, her eyes show the disbelief she must be feeling. "You… You taste like…" 

"Cinnamon?", Yoongi smirks, his eye color now much calmer than before now that his inner dragon is somewhat sated - for now.

“Yes, I was expecting anything, a double penis, maybe some weird forms or scales, but not cinnamon flavoured cum. Not that I mind, though. Tastes like that gum I used to have when I was still in school.”

Yoongi hums, stepping out of his pants now that they won’t be used anyways, his shirt following too.

“Now it’s your turn, petal. Let me see you,” he gestures with his fingertip, swirling in a motion for her to turn around, finally giving Yoongi the view that he had been curious about ever since Y/N came out of the bathroom with his shirt on. She isn’t wearing one of those expensive lingeries that are nothing but lace, no. Expensive, yes. A sporty looking string is disappearing between her round buttcheeks, the rather thick waistband of it covered with the Versace logo. Yoongi hums, that’s definitely what he had expected Y/N to wear, it looks comfortable but still seductive.

Y/N smirks over her shoulder, lifting the hem of her shirt teasingly but letting it fall down again to cover her butt. “Maybe you need privileges to undress me, Min. I mean, I’m somewhat of royal blood, aren’t I?” She gracefully sinks down onto his lap, arms wrapping around his neck.

A chuckle leaves Yoongi’s lips as he tilts his head. “Do you want me to call you princess now? Because I didn’t know you were into that. Does babygirl also do the thing for you? I bet your blood’s blue too, I’d love to see that.” 

Yoongi traces his finger tip over her thigh, his claw teasing the soft skin there and Y/N’s eyes follow it curiously. He presses down a bit, just enough to break the first layer of skin and draw a little bit of blood - enough to prove both of them that Y/N’s blood isn’t blue. “Oh, too bad, not a real princess,” Yoongi pouts. 

Y/n raises her eyebrow. “Did you just cut me?” 

“It’s not a cut, just a little… poke?” Yoongi wipes over the blood before bringing his finger to his lips and licking the drop off with a smirk. “Doesn’t taste royal to me, rather muddy. But maybe that’s what you get from living with Kkangpae for so long. Guess mine tastes like dirt too.” 

Y/N laughs, not even shocked about the fact that Yoongi seems to  be bothered about her blood on his tongue. The melodic sound of her laugh makes Yoongi smile too, an actual, honest smile that shows all his teeth and fangs, causing Y/N to coo. “And suddenly you don’t look scary anymore.”

Her eyes wander down his body, inspecting every inch, maybe to find something more dragon-like, maybe to just remember the skinship for much longer. “Oh,” She breathes out, “You’ve got scales.”

Yoongi looks down at his stomach where some scales are shimmering in the bedroom light. “Yes, I do have scales. I’m a dragon, remember?” 

And to Y/N, they’re beautiful. They’re not huge, not as dry or disgusting as lizards look like, no. Those scales must come from a line of beautiful dragons. They match his eyes, shimmering purple and green whenever they hit the light. But they’re not only on his stomach, they are also winding around his sides and up his back. 

Y/N’s fingers follow them as she orders Yoongi to lay down on his stomach to get a full view of them. 

The scales grow larger on his shoulder blades, probably where his dragon wings imaginely would be and Y/N can’t help but kiss the rough texture. Goosebumps erupt on Yoongi’s entire body, skinship like this was never a real thing for him. 

“Feels good,” he whispers into his arm, slightly ashamed. Y/N continues to pamper his skin in kisses and licks, biting the rougher areas here and there until Yoongi grows impatient and turns them around, growling playfully. 

“Like I said, my turn now.”

Yoongi always has a thing for taking his time to please his partner, he isn’t one for quick fucks without foreplay. So, he kneels between Y/N’s parting legs, palms caressing the smooth skin that is covered in a few fresh cuts and old scars from practicing her fighting skills, but Yoongi definitely didn’t mind them. His shirt has moved on its own, not even covering her panties anymore but ending somewhere above her belly button by now. As soon as his fingertips glide over the curve of her hips, Y/N shudders with a quiet mewl. “Yoongi.”

“Mhm, ‘m here, you look so good, Petal,” Yoongi whispers while kissing her ankles, her calves, and the sensitive area of her inner thighs. “Truly like a flower. You know that there’s a flower called Dragon’s Breath? It’s bright red and can survive in the heat like a champ, even their leaves are red. But I don’t think it’s scent comes close to yours,” he hums in front of her clothed core, tongue poking against the wet spot on the fabric. “Bet you taste even better, Petal.”

“Yoongi, please,” Y/N whines, getting rid of the shirt by herself, the heat simmering inside her body is almost overwhelming. Yoongi looks up from the space between her legs, eyeing the swell of her breasts with a growl, muttering compliments again and again. He sits up the slightest bit to gently remove her panties - claws nowhere to be seen by now, even his fangs are gone and Yoongi’s just Yoongi, even though the arousal is visible in his eyes again. 

He lies down, cock rubbing against the rough sheets causes him to hiss quietly, but his mind is somewhere else within seconds. How couldn’t he with Y/N’s soaking core in front of his face? 

She can’t see his mischievous smirk as he swiftly controls the temperature of his skin, cooling down his fingertips as he slowly and teasingly traces her folds. 

Y/N yelps. “Yoongi! Shit, what’s that?” 

Yoongi laughs, holding up his unoccupied hand to her face, showing her how cold his fingers are by holding them against her cheek whilst the other hand works magic on her clit. 

“Unbelievable. Warn me the next time,” she mutters as she sinks back into the pillows. 

Yoongi’s hot breath fans the sensitive area before he broadly licks right across the flesh, enjoying the way her body jumps out of surprise again. “Oh, oops.”

Then, he finally pushes one finger in, tongue pressing right against Y/N’s clit as he starts doing what it feels like he was born to do. Yoongi eats her out with no mercy. Ignoring her squirming body and needy whines, he only concentrates on the places that bring the loudest moans out of her, massacring those until she’s close - to stop with a smug smirk. 

Y/N could reach her high by just looking at his face, red and breathless, but also wet from her juices, lips glistering in the light. Two of his fingers are still inside her, teasing her G-spot just as his lips start sucking the life out of her clit again. 

Y/N’s hands are buried in his chaotic mess of hair, pulling on it but also pressing him further onto her core until his tongue slips inside her as well. She doesn’t warn him, too scared of missing another orgasm, but Yoongi also doesn’t look like he’s about to stop this time, eager to pleasure the woman underneath him. Y/N screams as she reaches her high, hips bucking up from the bed, Yoongi’s head going with it, just so he can make sure that every second of her orgasm will be remembered forever.

He kitten licks her folds as she calms down; stroking her thighs, kissing her stomach while whispering praises. “Fuck,” she rasps out, her stomach still heaving heavily. 

Yoongi crawls up next to her with admiration in his eyes as he leans over to kiss Y/N for the first time. She can taste herself on his tongue, but who cares? The kiss is more gentle than Y/N expects. Yoongi seems to be switching moods from hungry to loving within seconds, but that’s probably his inner dragon wanting to devour her whilst Yoongi just wants to take his time to make the night special. Y/N is the one to pull away, looking at him with dark eyes. “Get inside me, please.”

The hybrid smirks, tilting his head as he asks “How do you like it?” 

“I’ll show you,” she remarks as she pushes Yoongi to lay flat on his back. She climbs into his lap and sinks down onto his cock in one abrupt motion without even bothering to tease him. 

The pleasure is overwhelming; Yoongi stretches her so, so good and Y/N feels so, so warm and tight around Yoongi that he loses all of his control over his body. His eyes are bright purple now, pupils forming into slits that remind Y/N more of a snake than a dragon. His skin burns up, almost too much for her to bear, but the hissing noises Yoongi releases are enough to hold on through it. 

“Fuck, sorry, wait a second,” Yoongi tries to push her off so she can cool down a little bit, but Y/N just shakes her head. She shushes him with a gentle kiss, careful of the fangs that now poke out between his lips again. “Don’t hold back, it’s not hurting me. Be yourself, Yoongi. I trust you.”

Yoongi curses under his breath as he tries his best not to move, letting Y/N adjust to his size and the circumstances of his inhumane origin. He’s never fucked a human, and even though they’re not that much different from hybrids he knew that he didn’t want to hurt her. 

“It’s not only the temperature,” Yoongi groans, “I tend to bite and mark my partners. I don’t know how your body would react to it, though. I sometimes say or do things that my human side would never say.” 

Y/N smiles at him, fondness blooming in her heart as she starts swaying her hips slowly, not breaking eye contact. “Like I said, Yoongi, I trust you. I’m sure that you’re inside your inner dragon, that you won’t hurt me and even if I tell you to stop; you’d be able to. Now, c’mon, don’t tell me you’re getting all shy while your dick is inside me?” 

She tilts her head with a playful smile as her hands glide down Yoongi’s toned chest, teasing his perky nipples and playing with his beautiful scales. It was still hard to believe that the rarest, most powerful hybrid was right here with her, laying underneath her, sharing this moment with her.

“Now come on, Yoongi, wake up the dragon and give me what you’ve promised.”

Yoongi didn’t need to be told twice, hands landing a firm grip on Y/N’s hips as he plants his feet firmly on the mattress before quickly pistoning up inside her. Y/N cries in pleasure, but Yoongi almost doesn’t hear it, too lost in the feeling of her tight pussy around his cock. He’s still trying to be careful, keeping his claws under control so he won’t actually tear her apart. 

“‘m gonna make you cum so good, Petal. So, so good.”

Then, he flips them around in one swift motion, hovering over her frame as he looks down at her like only a predator could. “Mine,” he snarls as he licks into Y/N’s mouth, hips moving slowly but so powerful that her body pushes up into the pillow with each thrust. “Say it, Petal. Say you’re mine.”

Yoongi grabs her face so she can’t break eye contact - not that she would, who could look away from such eyes? They’re hypnotizing and Y/N is sure that she will do just about anything for him right now.

“I’m yours, Yoongi. It’s just you and me right now,” she breathes out as she grabs his hair, pulling his head closer so she can connect their lips once more.

Yoongi’s hips start to stutter, his orgasm approaching, but he didn’t want it to end just yet. Of course, dragon stamina is different, but where would be the fun in that? Orgasm control and denial is a thing that Yoongi enjoys here and there, teasing himself whilst masturbating, not letting him or his partners come and delaying their pleasure for as long as he possibly can. That’s why he pulls out quickly, leaving Y/N’s core clench around nothing. 

“The fuck, Yoongi?” Y/N whines and glares at the man in front of her, eyeing his sweaty body.

He laughs and presses a quick kiss to her lips before he sits back on his heels, staring at her body as well. Her chest is heaving, fine pearls of sweat dripping down the space between her breasts and her legs are slightly shaking - all of that is enough to boost Yoongi’s confidence as he quickly pushes two of his fingers inside her, pumping them at a rapid pace. His teeth - and fangs - nibble on her nipples, pulling them slightly, almost crossing the border of comfortable pain as he fingers her through her second orgasm of the night. 

“Do you want to kill me?” Y/N sighs as she catches her breath, knowing that Yoongi is not done with her for tonight. 

He laughs again, fangs shining in the light and tiny droplets of sweat fall out of his hair as he shakes his head. “I could, but where would be the fun in that? Or are you one of those girls that like the thrill of almost being killed? I could choke you if you’re into that.”

“Oh, I am into that, but not after orgasming two times and knowing that there will probably be two more coming. Is that one of your kinks? Choking?” She tilts her head in an adorable way - too adorable for the position she’s in right now. 

“Mhhm,” Yoongi hums whilst tracing the sensitive skin on her stomach. Y/N jumps slightly, shooting Yoongi a playful glare before quickly jumping onto him. She sits down on his abdomen, leans over and closes her hands around his throat. “Do you like being choked too?” 

“Can you handle me fighting back against it?” The challenge shimmers in Yoongi’s eyes, knowing that Y/N is nowhere as strong as he is, but he loves playing. He doesn’t mind if she wants to be on top, he enjoys losing control once in a while, but his dragon usually hates it, fights against it.

Y/N loosens the grip of one hand to slowly rake her fingernails down his chest, leaving visible lines. “I’ve never said no to a good fight, Yoongi.”

The hybrid growls, hands balling to fists as Y/N tightens the grip on his neck once again. 

“This is so hot, you’re so hot,” He whispers, eyes closed and lost in the feeling.  

Then, Y/N lines herself up with Yoongi again and sinks down slowly, gasping slightly because the stretch is still there, but it feels so good. “God, move, please move,” Yoongi rasps and who would Y/N be to deny him such a thing? She uses both of her hands to sturdy herself on his chest whilst quickly bouncing up and down his cock. The noises that Yoongi makes are music to her ears, he’s usually so quiet, but now he doesn’t even try to hide the pleasure he’s feeling.

He groans, grunts, hisses and even moans whilst his hips buckle up to meet her thrusts. “Fuck, I’m going to breed you so well. You’re mine, Y/N. Gonna be my mate, huh? Gonna carry my chicks, all beautiful and round.”

Y/N’s eyes widen at Yoongi’s confession, but she can’t deny the arousal that floods through her body with his words. “Yes, Yoongi. Fuck, yes, breed me.”

By now the biggest roar leaves Yoongi’s chest as he pushes Y/N off, to grab her hips and position her on all fours in front of him. A harsh slap lands on her ass as he pushes in again, pressing her face-down into the pillows. “I will, Petal. You could never want anyone else after being mine. Nobody else. Just me.” 

His hand finds its way into her hair, wrapping it around his wrist as he pulls her head back, having her at full mercy. 

They’re both a loud mess by now and Yoongi is fucking thankful for the bunker, because imagine if they’d go on like this in Taehyung’s cabin instead - the entire forest would be able to listen to them. 

It’s gross and sweaty, wild and not gentle, but both of them enjoy it way too much. 

Y/N can’t even warn Yoongi before her third orgasm washes through her body and the tight clench combined with her sinful moans sends Yoongi over the edge too - spilling his thick load into her with one last thrust. 

“Shit,” he groans as he collapses on top of her, pressing kisses all over her neck. “You were so good, Petal.” 

Y/N smiles, nuzzling back into him and closes her eyes to enjoy the comfortable post-sex silence. Yoongi hums quietly, giving the two of them time to cool down - he helps her by reducing his body temperature again -, then he pulls out. “Ew,” he mutters as his cum gushes out of her. 

“Creampies are hot whilst you’re still busy with fucking, but afterwards it’s just a gross mess. Wanna take a shower?”

Y/N’s way too lazy to shower right now, she’d die for a hot bath but the bunker didn’t give her any chance to fulfill that dream, so she just nods. “Mhm, yes, but you’ve got to carry me, you big lizard.”

Yoongi furrows his eyebrows before sighing in defeat. “Guess I’ll need to show you my dragon once again.” He lifts Y/N up easily and carries her towards the bathroom, just to have her at his mercy once more. And this time, Y/N doesn’t argue about him being a true dragon. 

Days and nights go by quickly whilst Yoongi and Y/N grow closer each passing minute. 

They spend their days together training, teaching each other self defense tricks and talking about which places they want to travel to next. 

They do sleep together now, not fighting over who will get the bed and who will have to stay on the couch. Some nights are a bit colder, which gives Yoongi the opportunity to hold Y/N close to his chest while slowly heating himself up to a comfortable temperature to sleep in. In general, you could say that Yoongi and Y/N act like a couple - though they don’t talk about their feelings right now.

Yoongi has never been in love and neither has Y/N, Kkangpae hasn't given them any chance to find a suitable partner to spend their lives with. So how would they know if love is what they are feeling?

What Yoongi does know is that he’d protect Y/N with his life - and vice versa.

Cuddling on the couch has become a thing for Y/N and Yoongi and he hates being unsure about the whole situation, he didn’t want to label them, but he is itching to know what’s going on between them. So one evening after dinner, he blurts out “Are we in a relationship? Like, are we a thing now?” 

Y/N jumps slightly in Yoongi’s embrace and looks up at the hybrid, unsure. “I… don’t know? I guess you could say so, we do a lot of couple things, I mean last night when you ate my..-” 

“Oh, yes, I remember. That was fun!” 

Yoongi smirks at the memory of last night’s bedtime adventures, Y/N trapped underneath him, her legs wrapping around his head as he ate her out slowly and teasingly, before he just pulls her on top of himself to sit on his face. Now he has not only her pussy in front of him, but also her ass - and what kind of man would Yoongi be to not use this opportunity?

“I mean, I would… I would like to be in a relationship with you, Yoongi. I trust you, I really like you and I feel like we’ll be spending the rest of our lives together anyway,” Y/N looks at her hands and bites her lip in anticipation, fearful about the man’s answer.

“That sounds like you’re choosing to date me just because I’m the only man around you, Petal.” 

He gently grabs her face, giving her no chance to break the eye contact. This time, the green in his eyes is more prominent than the purple - a rare sight, but Y/N is still in awe. “I want you to choose me because you actually like me, Y/N. Not just like, but maybe even love me. I know we haven’t known each other for a long time, there can’t be love between us for now, but I can say for myself that I am really close to loving you. I want to spend the rest of my life running away with you, not just because I have to.”

Y/N pouts, eyebrows furrowing as she looks at Yoongi. “I didn’t mean it like that, Yoongi. But if you’re asking this charmingly, yes, I’d like to date you too, you big baby.” Yoongi growls playfully, showing off his fangs - which he knows that they don’t scare Y/N at all, but he’s proud of them, so he shows them off here and there - and pressing a gentle kiss onto her lips. 

Feelings change kisses. Kissing somebody that you’re now dating is even better so the new couple spends minutes kissing each other carefully and lovingly. Yoongi is just about to get Y/N on his lap as the door bursts open and an out of breath looking Taehyung stands in the living room.

“Yoongi… They’re here… Rats, but they smelled weird,” the hybrid pants as he looks at Yoongi. 

The dragon just stares at Taehyung intensely, before nodding. “Thanks, man. Really. For your help, for letting us stay here, take care of yourself, okay?”

All of them know that it’s now the time for Y/N and Yoongi to leave, not coming back ever again because Kkangpae would always have their men here from now on. 

“Thank you, Tae,” Y/N bows slightly with red cheeks, still embarrassed that they got caught. 

“Good luck, guys.” Taehyung sends them a hurt smile, knowing that he and Yoongi could actually be friends if their lives were different, but now it was time to say goodbye so Taehyung turns around and leaves as quickly as he came.

Yoongi sighs as he stands up and starts gathering their things. “Time to pack. You’ll do the bedroom and I’ll collect our stuff from here, okay? I think the next stop will be South Africa, it’s a long trip but it’ll be worth it, Kkangpae would probably never search for us there.” 

And so, they do end up in Kenya almost two weeks later, the US long forgotten as their lives go on. 

The trip is actually fun, Yoongi and Y/N riding on their motorbikes - Yoongi is even allowed to ride hers for a short amount of time - taking the ferry instead of the plane and sleeping at random places in the countries they passed.

Kenya is beautiful, the temperature is perfect for Yoongi and he finally gets the glow a true dragon should have. He doesn’t look as pale anymore, random scales growing here and there on his arms and neck and Y/N has never found Yoongi to be more beautiful. He seems truly happy.

The couple even started to go out, visiting different National Parks and trying to find some volcanoes for Yoongi. Y/N knows that she could never go near an active volcano, but Yoongi swears that he needed them at least once every two months to keep his dragon alive - though Y/N thinks he wants to take a long nap in the lava again.

During their time at the Masai Mara National Reserve they met another hybrid, a rare persian cheetah by the name of Hoseok. He greets them with open arms and is friendly enough to show them around. 

Hoseok also gives them a perfect description of how Yoongi would find the only active volcano in South Africa on Marion Island. That’s where the couple is right now, Y/N swimming in the turquoise water around the island whilst Yoongi takes, to no surprise, a nap in the lava. 

They’re genuinely happy, living more relaxed and peaceful than ever before and once Yoongi wakes up from his nap and sees Y/N still swimming around, playing with little fish and looking as beautiful as ever, he just knows that he made the right decision. She’s the one he wants to spend his life with, have kids with and die with.

They have a good feeling that Kkangpae won’t find them here. This can be their home from now on. Though, they wouldn’t mind the chance to discover more of the earth, travel around and meet new people. 

But South Korea isn’t on their list, that’s for sure. 

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[fallingstarnovel]

Chapter Five

The rest of the day just kept going and going. Someone called the paramedics for the cut on his leg, and he had to be taken to hospital to get stitches. The nice woman who ran over to him took his student ID and went over to the exam room to explain that he couldn’t make it. He had no idea if the university would let him re-sit the exam later. He sure hoped so.

"I have to sit my exam," he said anxiously as he waited for the paramedics to arrive. "I can't fail my module. My grade average is already ruined."

The lady shook her head. "You're just going to bleed all over the carpets, and the shock will hit you soon, and then you'll fail anyway. Now give me your ID."

He meekly gave her the ID.

The police questioned him, and he tried to explain what happened, but it sounded weird and muddy to his own ears. How could he explain what happened when he didn’t even know if it was all a hallucination or not?

After all, stress made people do and see weird things. He hadn’t seen Ruth again after that first time. And there was no way he could say to the police that he was rescued by an angel who called himself Ruth.

Maybe he hit his head. Maybe he was hallucinating.

He asked the doctor at the hospital to check his head for injuries, but she said he was incredibly lucky and was completely unharmed. Even the cut on his leg wasn’t too deep.

One taxi ride home, and he was sitting in his living room. Alone.

There wasn't really anyone he could talk to about this. He didn't want to bother Aliya, because she thought he was the fun, good vibes friend, and he didn't want her to think he was a bother. Obviously he didn't have anyone at home he could call. His housemates had all abandoned him. Not intentionally, but still.

Evan sat by himself in his quiet living room in his empty house and kept his hands to himself, and wondered.

There was only one person left, right?

> hey ruth so um...

> weird question. did today happen

Which part? <

> the part where i almost got flattened by a truck?

Oh. Yes. <

Are you feeling alright? <

> yeah um a bit shaky and just weird uhh

> you know when you just Feel Weird

> i'm feeling it

Make sure you eat something sugary and wrap up warm. Do you want to call? <

Ruth was always so nice. The familiar guilt was building at the back of Evan's brain, reminding him that he needed to stop being such a burden on other people, but technically this wasn't him looking for support.

He just wanted to confirm that this guy was actually an angel, not a hallucination. That was all.

He did see those glowing white wings and that sunny halo lighting him from behind like some kind of Renaissance painting, but that could just have been random neurons firing in his brain. Right? He needed to check.

> that would be nice

> call me whenever

A minute later, his phone started vibrating. He answered quickly.

"... Ruth?"

"Evan. Are you sure you're okay?"

Evan looked down at his injured leg, which was bobbing up and down rapidly. It hurt, but he couldn't stop it from happening even if he tried. He felt cold. "Hmm. Still a little weird."

"Go get some food. I'll still be here," Ruth said gently, and Evan obediently got up and went to the kitchen to make himself a jam sandwich.

"Ruth..." he said hesitantly, putting his phone on speaker. "Now. Correct me if what I'm saying sounds insane. But did you..."

"Did I...?"

Evan shut his mouth. It sounded too insane to say "hey, bro, did you grow a pair of wings today?". "Nothing. I just wanted to thank you for saving me again. This is like, the third time, right?"

"I'm not keeping count," Ruth replied earnestly. "I'm just glad you're safe."

So, so nice. Evan felt even more guilty. He didn't know what he had done to deserve this kind of kindness. "Well, anyway, I was really lucky that you were around."

"Maybe. I don't really believe in luck."

That was definitely something an angel would say, right? Angels flew around doing good deeds with big white flappy wings, didn't they?

"What do you believe in?" Evan asked without thinking, before catching himself. "Wait, I'm sorry, that was weird. You don't have to answer."

"No, it's alright," Ruth replied. He laughed, and his voice was low and melodic, pealing like church bells on a Sunday morning. "I believe... I believe that we hold a lot more control over things like luck and fate and coincidence than we believe. I would go so far as to say that we make our own luck."

Could angels make luck? Maybe they had a lucky energy field around them. That would make sense. They were supposed to be good. Evan hummed thoughtfully.

"What happened today... do you think that maybe... it was because of the bad luck curse mark?"

"It's very possible," Ruth said.

"Shit. Really? But it almost killed me! That was more than bad luck! If you hadn't saved me, I would have died!" Evan heard his own voice getting a little hysterical. He was allowed to be hysterical. He almost got turned into meat paste. "What if it happens again? What next? What if I'm walking along and a piano drops out of the sky and kills me? What if I choke on a peanut?"

"Don't eat any peanuts," Ruth said, which made Evan burst into incredulous laughter.

"Seriously?"

"No. But if you're scared... I can come with you next time you go out. To keep you safe. From falling pianos."

Was Evan scared? He wasn't sure. But for some reason, hearing Ruth say that eased some of the tense feeling boiling in his stomach.

There was a comfortable silence. He felt like he had a little more space to breathe now, somehow.

"Thanks, Ruth. I feel a lot better now after talking to someone. And eating this sandwich."

"Are you going to be okay by yourself?"

Evan snorted. He had to be okay by himself. It wasn't like there was anyone here to take care of him. "Yeah, I think I'll manage to tuck myself into bed with a hot drink and a blanket."

"No, really," Ruth said, "if you need someone. Any time, anywhere. You have my number. Just give me a call, and I'll answer."

"... Sure. Thanks."

"It's alright."

Evan sighed. "I'll be okay. For real. You don't need to worry about me."

"I will anyway. Good night."

"Good night."

After they hung up, Evan once again wondered what happened that night when Ruth brought him home. It was mortifying to imagine what he might have said and done when he was black out drunk, but clearly it wasn't a deal-breaker for Ruth, because he was still around. Being nice.

Being angelic, even.

Evan cleaned himself up for the night. He did his usual check of the house, making sure the windows in the empty bedrooms were closed and all the doors were locked, before settling into his bed.

He switched off his light. On the ceiling, a galaxy of glow-in-the-dark stars lit up with a soft green glow.

There was so much he had to worry about. There were exams to rearrange. He got blood on his lucky socks. He had to book an appointment with the neurologist to check for damage. He still had a bunch of group projects he needed to work on.

When he closed his eyes to sleep, all he could see was the side of the truck tipping sideways, hundreds of pounds of steel that would have smashed him into tiny little chunks of meat.

He opened his eyes again.

He was fine. He wasn't mincemeat. He wasn't in the hospital morgue. He was in his own bed, safe and sound, with only a slight scratch on his leg to show for it.

Evan rolled over and tried to sleep, but the accident played in his mind again.

That black cat had shown up at two accidents now. He couldn't remember if seeing a black cat was meant to be good luck or bad luck – he had heard both from different people. Was it trying to warn him about the accidents coming up? Or was it a terrible omen of death?

It was probably just a cat.

But then again, he thought Ruth was just a normal guy until recently.

When Evan went to sleep, he dreamed he was saving endless black cats from being run over by runaway trucks on a busy highway. Eventually, he dreamed of soft whispers and someone carrying him high, high up in the sky, tucked against someone's chest as the stars passed overhead one by one.

Over the weekend, Evan usually did chores. Today he needed to go food shopping, so he picked up his bags and left the house.

It was a long walk. He didn't realise how sore his leg was until now. It hurt every time the fabric of his trousers rubbed over the bandages on the cut on his leg. But he needed food, and nobody was going to buy it for him, so off he went.

He passed by the burned out church on the way there. He didn't know how it burned down, but it obviously happened a decade or so ago. The windows were empty and the church was completely hollow inside. In between the rubble, weeds and long grass were poking up. It was surrounded by tall buildings on all sides, hemming it into a claustrophobic box.

Evan wondered why it hadn't been knocked down and turned into flats yet.

After he finished getting all the food he needed, Evan had just left the shop when he recognised a familiar face across the car park. It was his lecturer, the one who always rambled for ten minutes at the start of class about different things he was interested in. He was an older man with grey hair and a goatee, like some kind of mad scientist. Evan supposed that when you were clever enough to teach atsrophysics at university, you were allowed to look however you wanted.

The lecturer spotted Evan. His eyes widened, and he walked over.

"It's you," he said as he got closer. "The student that almost got hit by a car."

"A truck," Evan corrected him politely. "Hello, Professor Bridgers."

Professor Bridgers' eyes widened even more. "Ye gods. A truck? How the hell are you still standing here?"

"It missed, sir."

"It missed! You're lucky!" The professor shuffled his shopping bag to his other hand and gave Evan an appraising look as if searching for hidden injuries. "Not a scratch?"

"Well, the storm grate scratched my leg when I was pulled out..."

"Storm grate? Pulled out? Your leg is hurt and you're walking on it?" The professor held out an imperious hand. "It's bad enough you had to miss your exam. Let me carry this home for you. You shouldn't be walking on an injury, or you'll end up missing my lectures, and I cannot abide a student skipping class because he was stupid enough to walk on an injured leg."

No matter how much Evan protested, the professor insisted. He ended up handing over his shopping bags, and together, they started walking back to Evan's house.

As they walked, he took a surreptitious glance at his lecturer. When he taught his classes, the professor dressed up in formal shirts and ties with extravagant waistcoats. Well, Evan thought he dressed up, but apparently that was just how the man dressed normally too.

Today his waistcoat was bright pink and covered in embroidered rainbow sheep. Evan rather liked it.

"Suppose they're sorting out your resits and whatnot in the administrator's office," the professor said suddenly. Evan nodded.

"They said they were going to arrange it for next month instead of the summer due to exceptional circumstances."

"Generous of them. They're probably used to lazy students making up hangoveritis symptoms – not used to boys being run over on their front door step."

Evan laughed. They lapsed into silence as they passed by the burned out church again. Feeling a little awkward about walking in silence with his teacher, Evan decided to make some conversation.

"Do you know how that church burned down?"

"What, you don't know?" the professor barked. Evan shook his head. "Really? Was the most interesting fire of the century. It was taken out by a meteor."

Evan stood stock still. He stared at the professor in shock. "What?"

"How old are you? You look about twelve. Were you old enough when the meteor fell over the city? Small thing or we wouldn't be here today. Was the luckiest set of coincidences in the world. Broke up as it hit the atmosphere, most of it burned up, but one teeny tiny little fragment landed right smack bang in the middle of the church. The heat of the explosion caused a raging fire." The professor looked thoughtful. "Lucky it was in the middle of the night and not a Sunday morning. Wouldn't have left a single survivor in there."

"This meteor..." Evan said slowly. "Was it about twelve years ago? And it made a huge noise... you could see it for miles..."

"So you do remember it," Professor Bridgers commented approvingly. "That's the one. Just before I started teaching. I was on the team that had to report to HQ that there was a non-zero chance the huge ball of rock rapidly approaching our atmosphere would wipe out half of Europe. Took us all by surprise. We tend to track all the asteroids that pass by in case they orbit around again and fall into our field of gravity. Plenty of near misses in the last few years. But that one came out of nowhere. Turned my hair grey overnight."

"Near misses?"

"Oh, plenty. Well, I say near, but that's still thousands or even millions of miles away from us. But near compared to... everything else."

Evan stared at the church for a long time, until the professor got impatient and started walking away, and he had to jog to catch up. He kept looking behind himself at the blackened walls and the empty windows.

"Professor, what do you think would happen if a bigger one hit us and it didn't break up in the atmosphere?"

The professor was silent for a moment. After a while, he said, "well, you better pray you're one of the lucky buggers standing under the blast site of where it hits."

"What? Why?"

"Bigger asteroids do more than destroy churches, my boy. You should already know this. Think about the dinosaurs."

Evan thought about the dinosaurs, and pressed his lips together. He felt stupid for forgetting. "Oh. I see."

When they got to Evan's house, Ruth was standing outside the front door, patiently waiting. He raised his eyebrows when he spotted Evan and his professor walking side by side, shopping bags piled into the old man's arms.

"Ruth? What are you doing here?" Evan asked, dumbfounded.

"I was worried about you," Ruth replied, as easy as breathing. It made Evan's face turn pink. "You shouldn't be walking on that leg."

"Finally, someone sensible," the professor said, handing the shopping bags over to Ruth.

Evan turned and thanked him over and over. The professor waved it away and walked off, but not before making a joke that if Evan got a bad mark on his resit exam, he knew where he lived.

Ruth stared after him as he walked away. "I told you you could call me if I needed help."

"I just ran into him and he wouldn't leave me alone," Evan said jokingly. "Look, I'm fine. Thanks for checking in on me."

Ruth turned to stare at him then. His eyes were unreadable, until he finally spoke up.

"I'm going to cook you dinner tonight."

"What? I can cook! My arms still work!"

"You should be resting. You had a terrible shock. Now let me inside."

Laughing and rolling his eyes, Evan decided to let Ruth inside, if only because he didn't have anything else planned for the evening.

Evan sat to the side as Ruth bustled around the kitchen. He pulled random things out of the drawers and started digging through Evan’s shopping bags, pulling out different vegetables and ingredients he had bought.

Evan watched him, feeling strange. Ruth had waited outside for him to come back. He didn’t even know where Ruth lived, and yet here he was, surprising him because he was worried, and now making a meal for him like it was nothing.

He couldn’t help but feel disconcerted. It wasn’t normal to be this nice. Nobody cared this much about a person they only just met. Evan rarely trusted people who were too nice to him - he didn’t understand why they would go out of their way to treat him well.

After all, he wasn’t anything special. He was a failing student and a lazy kid. He wasn’t especially interesting. In fact, Evan would describe himself as distressingly pedestrian.

There had to be some other motive at play here. Maybe Ruth was casing him out as a potential robbery victim. Maybe coming to his house and making friends with him was a long con, designed to lower his guard until - boom - Ruth whipped out a gun and demanded all his money in the bag, right now.

Well, maybe not.

Maybe Ruth was just lonely too. Maybe they were both two lonely guys who wanted an excuse to hang out together.

He just wanted to know what Ruth wanted from him.

“You know...” he began hesitantly. “You said that you liked helping people. I was just wondering... is that really why you keep hanging out with me? I just don’t want you to feel obligated to follow me around or anything...”

Ruth looked up from where he was chopping carrots into rough chunks. He gave Evan a winning smile, his dimples popping and giving him a very cute expression. “I don’t feel obligated. I like it. As long as you don’t mind me following you around sometimes, then it... it makes me happy."

"Following me around makes you happy?" Evan laughed in disbelief. "You must be the only person on Earth who can stand the sight of me. Give it a few weeks and see how you feel."

That cute dimpled smile froze. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," Evan said, immediately feeling awkward. "Just kidding. Um, are you sure you don't want help cooking?"

Ruth had begun to chop potatoes. The trouble was that he was cutting them into lumpy, uneven shapes, unpeeled, and he had left all the little eyes and marks in the skin.

It was an unconventional way to chop potatoes.

"No," Ruth said eventually. He kept throwing glances sideways at Evan. "Why did you say that? Before, I mean."

"Just forget it, really. I was just joking around."

Ruth put a large pot on the stove top and lit the heat. Evan noted with some consternation that he didn't actually add any oil or water to the pot.

"Um, Ruth... what are you making...?"

"It's a surprise." Ruth shuffled in front of the pot to hide the contents. "Don't worry about it."

It didn't take long before the smell of burning carrot filled the kitchen. Evan opened a window before the smoke could set the fire alarm off. Just as he turned back, he saw Ruth pour a whole packet of pasta into the pot.

Speechless, he pretended he didn't see anything. It was incredibly difficult to remain silent. Ruth still wasn't adding any water. What kind of experimental god tier cooking technique was this?

"Stop peeking," Ruth said quickly. His face had turned pink and there was sweat starting to bead on his forehead.

Perhaps this wasn't a god tier cooking technique after all. In fact, Evan was beginning to suspect that Ruth had no idea what he was doing.

No, he had to have more faith! This would turn out great!

He forced himself to look away from the cooking process. "Alright, I won't peek, I won't peek. Just let me know if you need any help...?"

Ruth shook his head, making his curly hair bounce wildly around his face. "It's all under control."

The smoke alarm went off.

Extra:

[ruth voice] you let this man carry groceries for you??? you IGNORE ruth and solicit weird old men for help with your household tasks?? oh, pasta for evan! pasta for ten thousand years!

Previous Chapter | Contents | Next Chapter

#chapter

[diminished-fish]

highway hypnosis

You're sitting in the backseat with your headphones on, trying to tune out your family. The landscape out the window is flat. Brown. There’s too much sky and not nearly enough cloud to fill it all. The view hasn't changed in hours. How is it possible that the horizon hasn't gotten closer?

You're bored. You want to sit on your feet, flop on your side, stretch your arms above your head and arch your back until your spine pops, but the seatbelt won't even let you fidget properly. 

You wish you had more than the one mixtape. This one’s alright, but it’s far from your best work. The rest are buried in your duffel which is in the trunk and there's no way Mom’s going to pull over so you can dig them out, we just stopped so your sister could pee because she forgot to go at the truckstop. 

Now you're thinking about that weird old lady that ran the diner and you wonder how the hell she ended up out here, alone and hours from any town. But she seemed so happy in spite of that, and that seriously was the best plum jam you’ve ever had in your life, and the wall behind the register was plastered in crayon drawings, so that's at least two things she's doing right, and... did... did she wink at you on your way out the door? Or is boredom starting to color in the grey spots in your memory. 

The tape ends. You eject it, flip it over, catch a few snatches of whatever weird more-static-than-music local radio station your mom’s tuned into— then side B starts and you tune them out again. 

Your sister passes you a bag of trail mix. You accept it without looking at her and are halfway through it before you realize she picked out all the M&M's before handing it to you. You don’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction, you just keep munching down peanuts and raisins and sunflower seeds and think of ways to get back at her at the motel later. Maybe you’ll short-sheet her bed. Or offer to make a trip to the vending machine so you can shake up her can of Coke. Shaving cream on the alarm clock? That one might make Mom too mad to be worth it. 

You cross your arms and slouch down in your seat. It’s stuffy. The AC in this car’s never worked, so you crack your window. Your sister punches you in the arm, sticks a finger in her ear and mouths ‘wub-wub’ at you. She scowls and opens her window too. You point at your headphones and mouth ‘can’t hear you,’ then toss the empty trail mix bag at her. You shut your eyes. 

Side B is calmer. Silly and happy and almost shoe-gazey as it nears the end, comes in for a soft landing. You realize it’s the perfect continuation of side A. You don’t think you did that on purpose. Your subconscious must be smarter than you give it credit for. Maybe you are a genius. A real musical savant.

The tape ends. You eject it, flip it over— 

“Hey,” your sister says. You open your eyes. She’s staring at you, the wind making a mess of her hair. There’s a comic book open in her lap, some obscure sci-fi title you’ve never heard of. She reads the weirdest shit.

You push one headphone speaker away, hook it behind your ear. Mom is fiddling with the radio dial again. She’s stuck in static.

“What,” you grunt.

“Did Nellie ask you about the bugs too?”

“The… What?”

“The bugs. Behind the diner.”

“Who the hell is Nellie?”

“The lady at the diner,” she says. You say nothing, your brain searching for any recent mention of bugs. Your sister clicks her tongue in annoyance and plucks at the collar of her T-shirt. “Nametag. She didn’t ask you about bug hunting?”

“Uh. No.”

“Huh. She said if I was bored I could take a jar out back and look for crickets. Kinda wish I had.”

You try to recall the last time you ran around in a field looking for bugs. Third grade, maybe. “I don’t remember hearing crickets,” you say.

“You didn’t remember her name either,” she says with a shrug.

You scoff and roll your eyes, snap the cassette deck of your walkman shut.

“What are you listening to?” she asks.

“Mixtape.”

“Your mix?” 

“Yeah.”

“Mm. Can’t be worse than…” she nods at the front seat.

Your older sibling is in the front passenger seat, grappling with an enormous paper map and grumbling something you can’t quite hear over the wind. Mom is still turning the radio dial, and for a second, she lands in an eerie space between two stations; a tinny commercial overlaps with the twang of a song you almost recognize, then both fade back into the static. You look past them, out the windshield at the blur of the highway. The landscape changed during side B. Nothing drastic — some scrubby trees and grasses, a few splashes of silvery green and dusty yellow, the suggestion of hills on the horizon. It’s not exciting, but it is decidedly different. 

“Do you have your headphones?” you say. Your sister frowns in confusion. You hold up the walkman and tap the second headphone jack. “You can plug in if you want.”

“Oh. Yeah, one sec.” She rummages in her backpack, resurfaces with a tangled mass of cord. You watch her work to free the headphones from the knots and decide you’ll just short-sheet her bed later. The shaving cream thing is too much work.

She slips on the headphones, hands you the cord, and picks her comic book back up. You plug in and turn to stare out the window again.

You press play.

#road trips #my writing #i didn't actually mean to write this #it started as a description on a spotify playlist and i ran out of characters real quick #but decided to keep following the thread and this was actually really fun and nostalgic #and i like it #man i miss road trips #MAN i miss my siblings

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter eleven: the end of the world

The next morning was a cold, gray, and soggy one, but Sam had no intention on returning to Louie's apartment for another round that day: she had already packed her things in the back seat and she nestled down in the front seat with her arms folded across her chest and the lapels of her jacket pulled up to her ears. She had no hood or something to cover her head but she wished for one. She didn't want to be seen. Louie himself meanwhile, locked the door behind him and he headed down the steps. She looked on at him as he rounded the front end of the car and opened the door. She sighed through her nose as he climbed into the front seat.

“You okay?” he asked her in a low voice, and she nodded her head.

“Look—I was thinking about this last night before I fell asleep, too,” he started, “neither of us mean to inflame or kick up any old wounds with anyone. We're just—fooling around, messing around, you know?”

She gazed out the window right as he said that. She had nothing to say to that.

“If either of us made you uncomfortable—and I can tell we did—we didn't mean to. I didn't mean to, and I know Alex didn't mean to, either. And for that, I want to personally apologize to you for it.”

Sam never moved from her spot in the seat next to him. She couldn't hardly stop thinking about any of what went down the night before, such that it almost brought a tear to her eye.

“Also—I, uh—” he stammered and then he cleared his throat, “—hate to tell you this, but I'm kinda out of money.”

She turned her attention over to him and frowned.

“What do you mean you're out of money?” she demanded.

“I'm out of money,” he repeated, “well, for now anyway. Remember what I said yesterday, I had enough for breakfast and a cab?”

“Oh, right, right.” She hesitated. “So what's this mean?”

“Well, I have a full tank of fuel to start with,” he stated, to which she frowned and scoffed at that.

“Louie, we're not driving back to Elsinore from here—it's too far.” She was scorn.

“But the train already left, though,” he pointed out. “It's kind of overkill to fly on down to Elsinore, too.”

She sighed through her nose again.

“Don't really feel like driving through the valley, either,” he added.

“Yeah, it's boring as hell,” she said in a soft voice.

“Boring as hell and still hot as fuck, too,” he said, “at least here we have a bit of leeway with the San Francisco fog. Seven hours of nothin'.” He paused for a second. “We could take the coast.”

“That's longer, though,” she pointed out.

“Nicer, though,” he insisted.

“True. It's way nicer, actually.”

“Bet you've missed the Pacific Coast, too,” he said.

“I have—it's one of the many things I haven't been able to do like at all. Especially when I was growing up out here.”

“Really?” Louie was genuinely taken aback by that.

“Yeah.”

“Well, let's—” He set his hand on the ignition key and turned it. “Let's.”

Sam strapped herself in and Louie shook his head of hair about a bit.

“One thing I really wanted to do with Zelda,” he started again as he pulled on the parking lever, “when we were together was go on a road trip with her somewhere. I always considered driving from Providence down to some place like D.C., or go all the way down to like West Virginia. The two of us on a trip together and just hanging out together.”

“What kept you from doing it?” she asked him.

“Touring and making albums—and dealing with record company horse shit in her case—and in my case it was living a double life. There was no way I could do it, not with my other life in full swing.”

They pulled ahead and began up the block, around the cemetery and towards the block on the other side.

“So—I haven't really taken the Pacific Coast Highway much from my place so just kind of—like—bear with me here,” he sputtered.

“It's okay, it's okay.”

Louie glanced over at her at one point as they rolled up to a stoplight.

“You know—and I'm being perfectly honest with you here, Sam—I'm a little intimidated by you,” he confessed.

“You?” she asked him.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I dunno,” he replied with a shake of his head, “but there's just something about you that completely intimidates me. Like it's hard for me to maintain composure when I'm near you.”

“There's no reason to be, though,” she promised him.

“But I feel it anyways, though. It could be because you made a bold move in moving across the country and back again, but I can't really say for sure.”

“Funny you say that 'cause you did that,” she pointed out.

“True. But see, you weren't living a double life like I was.”

“I mean, I kinda am now,” she assured him.

“How so?”

“Joey doesn't know about Bill. He also doesn't know that I'm hanging out with you guys, either. For the record, Bill doesn't know that I'm hanging out with you guys, either. It's like a triangle of sorts with me come to think of it.”

“A delta,” said Louie.

“A delta?”

“Yeah. You know the Greek letter delta?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah!”

“Apparently in the realm of science, it's symbolic of change. Like change in temperature or heat.”

“How do you know that?”

“I dunno if she's shown you this but Morgan—you know, Morgan from the Cherry Suicides—has this old chemistry textbook back at her place. She found it in the garbage believe it or not.”

“Something wrong about that,” Sam declared.

“Oh, yeah. Unless it's actually trash, books do not belong in the trash. But yeah, she found it and I just happened to prop it open one day, and I read a tidbit in a chapter about equations at one point.”

“Huh. Bill has a bunch of old books at his place—mostly old literature, but it's worth a peek, though. I keep meaning to crack them open but I'm not sure where to begin.”

The light turned green and Louie lunged ahead on the street. The clouds hung even lower over them as he merged lanes and they headed for the 880 Freeway. To the right of them was the stretch of gray waters that made up the very Bay itself.

“If you ever come back up here this way,” he started again, “you know you're in a car on the P.C.H., you've got to cross the Golden Gate Bridge at some point. There's just—something majestic about it, even if you've lived here your whole life like the five of us. Well, four of us, anyway, unless Chuck was telling a fib about where he was born. This will take us right by Santa Clara and down to the interchange in San Jose, which'll in turn take us all the way down the coastline to the City of Angels.”

Sam nodded her head and she peered out the windshield to the gray overhead. To think that the assumption with the California coast was all bright sunshine and infinite beaches: it made her laugh the more in which she thought about it.

“What's even the deal with him, anyway?” Louie asked her out of the blue.

“Who, Bill?” She looked over at him with her eyebrows knitted together and he took a glimpse over at her.

“Yeah.”

“Well,” she began, “I mean, you were sitting right there when I called Chuck and told him what was going on.”

“Pff, how could I forget? But what I'm asking is—is there like a time limit with him? Like you signed a marriage contract plus a prenup but surely someone over at the school has to figure that out at some point because it's totally illegal. Setting you up like that and forcing you into something that you had no desire to get into and then threatening a whole bunch of bullshit with you like locking you in your room and forbidding you from going out and visiting people.”

“Well, when I first came out here and I spoke to Marla over the phone—you know, she's been trying to get a job and she finally did with Belinda up in Albany. But she went to the school and she told them that he was still on the payroll. He got fired, Louie, but there was some weird glitch of some sort so he still got paid and he got paid a lot of money, too. So he was able to afford that large house and care for his daughters, such that he enlisted them in a private school.”

“So he loses his paycheck, he's fucked, basically,” he followed along.

“Yeah. Unless he got something to help him out when we weren't looking, he's probably got to pull the girls out of school and sell the house.”

“And what happens to you if and when that happens?” he asked her.

“I—” She froze. Louie glanced over at her with his eyebrows raised. “I—don't know. Oh, wait!” She snapped her fingers.

“What's that?”

“My mom's moving down to the Southland soon. Where exactly is another question, though. She might be going out to Catalina or she might be going to San Pedro, I dunno.”

“Or you can go back to Joey,” he pointed out. “You know, make things easier on your mom. It's another cross country, for sure, but I feel it'd be more beneficial to take that risk again and go with him rather than put extra pressure on your mom like that. But that's my opinion, though. You do whatever you want.”

“There should be a way to null it, too,” she added.

“Yeah, being in a car with another dude,” he joked, and that brought a laugh out of her.

Within time, signs for the interchange came into their view and Louie took the next exit which looped around and met up with the Pacific Coast Highway. Right as they matched up with the pavement, the clouds over them swirled about like the old feathers or the wisps of paint mixed into the wash for a watercolor project. She looked out to the low hills off to the right, all of them different shades of green and yellow. All of them still that rich green despite the late summer. All of them still rich dark green despite the yellow dead grass everywhere. The clouds overhead beckoned rain but at the same time waned away from the coast line.

Such a strange position to be in as was the state of California, but that pocket there, the hills that followed her and Louie all along the highway on that lengthy seven hour drive, reminded her of that special place.

The quiet place. The spot that she and Charlie had found together and the place where she and Joey visited during their final days together.

“This is almost like the precious part of California,” she noted aloud.

“Nah, the eastern Sierra is the precious part of California in my opinion,” he said. “There's something lonely and ancient about the eastern Sierra Nevadas.”

“This whole area here reminds me of a place that Charlie and I found together when they were making the Stormtroopers of Death album,” she followed up.

“Really?”

“It was like this little nook in the trees down the street from the studio,” she explained as she returned her attention to him. “We called it 'the quiet place' because you go in there and it's like completely untouched in comparison to everything else. You walk down the street and you have to duck underneath the trees as you're going in there.”

“Sounds like something you keep a secret,” he remarked.

“I told Joey about it, though,” she told him. “I imagine upstate being covered in places like that.”

“Places you go to that no one else knows about,” he followed along. “This part of California and the eastern Sierra is like that, too. Lots of nooks and crannies and what have you. Like there's a place outside of Salinas—I'll have to show it to you when we get there. It's closer to Monterey Bay, though, which means we'll have to leave this highway, though.”

“It's okay—it'll get us over to the ocean.”

“The ocean makes everything better,” he remarked.

The highway took them down past Morgan Hill and then Gilroy: at one point the road turned towards Monterey Bay; off in the distance loomed those cold dark gray waters that seemed to stretch on forever. The view enlarged as they came closer and closer to the next turn off and the 156: Louie told her it would take them to Highway 1, which would in turn take them to the place he had in mind. At that point, the clouds increased and everything grew dark despite it being almost ten o'clock in the morning.

“While we're over here, you don't mind spending a little money for breakfast, do you?” he asked her at one point.

“Not at all. I was just gonna ask you if you're hungry at all.”

He showed her a grin in response, and then he pointed out the windshield to the next sign up ahead: the town of Castroville as well as the turn off to Highway 1.

“So anyway, this place���it's over by the Salinas River, which eventually heads out to the ocean,” he explained. “When I first met Zelda, and I was waffling on if I wanted to go with her or stay with my concurrent girlfriend and our baby, I always came here. It always helped me clear my head to drive down here when the baby fell asleep and Zelda was back in Rhode Island. I remember staying down here for a full afternoon once. Like I didn't get back home until well after the sun went down. Needless to say, I almost got in trouble for that.”

She laughed at that, and he gave his long smooth hair a little toss back from his face and the side of his neck.

“And the highway will take us all the way down the coastline, too. Take us down to Big Sur and all around the coast, all the way down to San Simeon and Cambria, and then Morro Bay, and then that'll take us over to San Luis Obispo and that's where we meet up with 101 again.”

“And that'll take us all the way back to L.A., too.”

He nodded his head at that, and then Sam cleared her throat.

“I don't think I get Alex,” she confessed.

“A lot of people don't,” he assured her with a straight face.

“It's funny, he said the exact same thing to me,” she recalled. “Word for word.”

“Well, because it's true! A lot of people don't get Alex. That kid is a bundle of contradictions, many of which are not for the faint of heart. I've only known him for a few years but can confirm that, though. And what's mind blowing to me is he's completely aware of it, too. I remember the first time I got into an in-depth conversation with him a few years ago when Testament first formed and we were still Legacy. Sam, I never had such a worse headache.”

“Well, like. For example, when we were in Germany and he and I spent a whole day together—”

“And he missed the train?” he finished for her. “Chuck told me.”

“Yeah, he missed the train and he got upset with me when I tried to grab his attention and get him to come onboard. Then the fireball happened and he realized the error of his ways and we patched it up. And then, you know last night, he opened up the wound over Cliff with me.”

“The fireball happened and what exactly did he do there?”

“I put my arms around him and held him close to me,” she explained. “Wept like a baby right into my chest.”

“He probably liked to feel your chest,” he pointed out.

“What makes you think that?”

“Sam—he's nineteen, soon to be twenty. When I was nineteen, that was all I ever thought about were touching and feeling boobs and clits. We're horny bastards at that age, and I would imagine that he is especially, too. Alex is bit of a nerd—it's the whole thing about how girls don't really talk to nerds.”

“But he's a guitar player, though. I would imagine the girls getting all hot and bothered to guitar players.”

“Not Alex and not our crowds, no. He's like the thinking man's guitarist. I'm sure you've seen him before a television.”

“Oh, yeah, he's all over news reports whenever they come on. Well, I was with you guys in Boston and he and Greg were right before the TV in the room there.”

“Oh, yeah, that's right! But still—at the end of the day, even with his large brain and social scientist parents, he's still a guy. And he probably wanted to feel something soft and warm and comfy.” Louie glimpsed over at her. “You said he was scared, right?”

“Yeah. It was right when that big fireball went up. He just—came over to me and burst into tears at the sight of it. I held him so close to me and I let him weep into my chest.”

“Well—if you see him next time, really pay attention to his behavior towards you,” he advised her. “If he's actually sincere with you, then it's probably because he's confused and his inexperience is showing. If not, like if he gets close to you again, then don't bother with him for a second longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I'm saying is he either wants you for you or he's using you,” he explained. “I wish I could tell you more about it, but I'm not Alex, though. I can only tell you what I know from being in between two women for a couple of years.” He shook his hair again and then raked his fingers through one side: outside, the signs for Castroville emerged from the scraggly shrubs on either side of the road.

“I imagine him being soft and sweet, though,” he confessed in a low voice, such that it took her aback to hear that.

“Is—there something about him that you see with him?” she sputtered out as she took a glimpse over at him with a bewildered look on her face. Louie bowed his head and cleared his throat.

“Let me ask you a question,” he said as he leaned his head closer to her.

“Okay.”

“Does it bother you at all—” She could tell that he chose his words with care. “—when a guy finds another guy attractive and it's obvious he's not gay at all?”

She opened her mouth to say something to that, but no sound came out.

“Take as much time as you need to answer that, too,” he assured her, “—I asked Zelda this once and she really had to think about it.”

She thought of all the times that she made art while in class, and she thought of the time that she drew Marla in her journal. It wasn't until she really got to know Marla as well as Belinda when she began to see them as a couple of beautiful women. Indeed, as she thought about their willingness to help her out even while she had posted up out on the West Coast, the more she wondered if the whole thing extended further than their smooth New Yorker skin. Further than Marla's colorful hair and further than Belinda's soft doll like features. There was something more to Alex, much like there was something more to Louie in the seat there next to her, and there had to be something more to herself as well. More to them all, and the fact that she and Louie both had a quiet place, a place where they went that fell on blind eyes, was enough to give her a clue.

The hidden spots and everything in between. It was only the beginning.

And thus it only made sense to her to realize that it resided with everyone, including Alex himself.

“No,” she replied after a long while. “No, it doesn't bother me at all.”

“Okay,” Louie proclaimed as they rolled into Castroville. “Sometimes I look at Alex and I think, 'god, he's a really beautiful boy. I imagine being the perfect cuddler, like he must be adept to snuggling and feeling soft underneath a bunch of blankets.' Not necessarily sexy, although he does have a nice chest and thighs.”

“Nice arms, too,” she said in a soft voice.

“Yeah, he's got those really lanky strong guitar player arms.”

“Hey, you've got nice arms, too, Lewis,” she declared.

“Drummer arms.” He shook his right elbow about: his muscles were tight and sinewy.

“Reminds me of Joey's arms,” she said.

“Oh, yeah, that's right! He's a drummer, too.”

“Drummer and a hockey player.”

Louie took the first exit off into that small town and Sam volunteered to buy the both of them cups of coffee and a couple of scones for themselves: she took a chocolate one where he took a peach one for himself.

Within time, they climbed back into the car and Louie guided her over to the spot in question, right down by the Salinas River and where it widened out before it reached the ocean in small narrow fashion. It was there that the shades of yellow that followed them out of the Bay Area returned to that rich dark green that reminded her of New York. The space in the forest outside of the studio where she and Charlie ventured to together, and then she and Joey visited under a blanket of pure white snow.

“We all have a quiet place,” she declared.

“We really do,” Louie said as he sipped on his coffee.

“We all have a house and a home, even if it isn't physical,” she said.

“Yeah, we all have an attic. We all have secrets. We all have things that we show to everyone.”

“We all have things that we've buried—skeletons in the closet,” she muttered.

“And we all have a quiet place,” he added with a raise of his eyebrows.

He took the next right turn, one that brought them down the Salinas River and away from civilization. All the while, the ponderosa pines stretched high up into the sky around them, all up into those low dark swirling clouds that enveloped them in a blanket of coziness. Soon, the pavement gave way to gravel and broken pieces of pavement itself; and every so often, Sam spotted a series of shrubs all over the places, shrubs with little light pink and pearly white flowers.

“The rhododendrons are still in bloom I see,” Louie remarked.

“I don't think I've actually seen those before,” she confessed; the whole scenery made her think of the hole in the wall back in Ithaca. “They only grow here on the coast and in northern Nevada, we have all manner of pines and trees but nothing like this, though. Nothing as delicate and fluffy as those, though.”

“You guys get oleanders down in the Southland. I've seen those a number of times, they're quite lovely.”

“Oh, yeah. Only drawback with oleanders is they grow like weeds down there. Which is absolutely amazing to me because they're very poisonous.”

“At least it's not strychnine,” he told her. “Strychnine or—better yet deadly nightshade.” And Joey entered her mind right as that final word left his lips. “I don't even know if strychnine grows out here,” he continued.

“Yeah, I don't know, either...” Her voice trailed off at that. She thought about Joey and what he was doing right at that moment. They were still touring over in Europe and they were about to drop their brand new album in the meantime as well. If nothing else when she got back to Lake Elsinore, she had to pick up a copy of that.

She would have to search about for that familiar lettering: she knew it when she saw it.

“There should be a garden somewhere,” he continued, “one full of poison plants.”

“The most dangerous garden in the world,” she declared.

“We should literally call it that.”

“'We'?”

“'They', I should say,” he corrected himself; before them, the little road led to that wide part of the river. Big lush ponderosas as well as oak trees with large wide green leaves the size of dinner plates and tall narrow trees with high canopies surrounded them.

“I was just gonna say—do you really wanna go there, Louie?”

“Unless you wanna.” He tugged on the parking lever and switched off the car. “I ain't gonna do it unless you want to do it.”

“We gotta be careful, though,” she pointed out.

“Oh, absolutely. That's something that's just not for the faint of heart. The quintessential declaration of 'you can look but don't touch'. Might wanna throw in a 'for the love of god' in there, too. 'You can look but for the love of god, do not touch.'”

“'Welcome to Shelley and Clemente's poison garden,'” she declared with a gesture of her hand, “the most dangerous garden on Earth. We've got everything from strychnine to belladonna to oleanders to—whatever else we can find. Have it all together under one umbrella. You and me—we could retire off the profits.”

“You think people would actually pay money to see that?” he asked her, stunned.

“Yeah. People pay money to see the weirdest shit, Louie.”

“Case in point!” He gestured to himself.

“You guys aren't weird,” she assured him.

“Yes, we are. We're as weird as weird can possibly be.” He sipped on his coffee a bit more and then he unbuckled his seat belt. “Anyways, this is where I come to clear my head. I call this place 'the end of the world' 'cause it's far removed away from anything. It's only ten miles back to Castroville but—still.”

They both climbed out of there in unison; Sam peered up to the gray sky overhead and she took in the smell of the salt as it filtered in through the trees before them. The Salinas River flowed right next to the small stretch of gravel and partially collapsed pavement.

“This is like the perfect place for a poison garden,” she told him as he led her to the soft dark river bank.

“Oh, yeah, this lush soil here. Look up the plants and see what kind of environment they thrive in.”

“I do know oleanders like heat,” she told him, “it's why they're everywhere in the L.A. area and in the south, too.”

“Have a special greenhouse for those guys,” he continued as he held his cup of coffee close to his chest. “Kinda clean up the pavement behind us a bit so—Skolnick can drive around on it on his—golf—cart.”

“Shelley and Clemente's poison garden—featuring Alex Skolnick's golf cart.” She laughed at that and he laughed with her.

“Can you imagine Alex on a golf cart?” he asked her, and then he held out his arms, “'oh! Oh god! Oh god here we go!'” And he lowered his voice to where he almost matched Alex's tone.

“Four wheelin' on a golf cart,” she laughed some more.

“Hey, Alex! Take it easy, little man!” Louie lowered his voice to a near whisper. “There's stuff in here that'll kill you faster than you can say your middle name!” He shook his head and chuckled some more, and then he took another sip of his coffee.

“So what's the quiet place like?” he asked her as they neared the river's edge.

“In upstate?”

“Yeah.”

“It's about like this, without the river, of course. There was another spot that Joey and I went to when Stormtroopers were in Ithaca a few summers ago—right by the water's edge at the one lake—one of the Finger Lakes that's there. It kind of reminds me of that, like I'm getting the same feeling as that.”

They stopped at the water's edge and Sam leaned out a little bit for a view beyond the trees. The stretch of rich black and gray that was the Pacific Ocean, a mere stone's throw up ahead of them. Even though Louie had a different opinion, Sam couldn't help but feel that there was something prehistoric about this part of the river; something precious and untouched.

“Sometimes, when it's a bit sunnier out,” he started again, “I'll kneel down to the waters here and search around for insects and rocks and stuff. There's a lot of bizarre life here that's endemic only to this part of the river and as far as I know, the whole state.”

“Kind of like a 'keep it forever' sort of thing,” she noted.

“Exactly, right. Keep this whole place hidden away from the world so as to protect it from everything and everyone. Eastern Sierra is the same way. Exact same way.” He sipped on his coffee once again.

“C'mon, I think it's gonna rain—I feel it.”

They returned to the car and sure enough, as Louie fired it up again and they made a turn back at the dead end and proceeded back up the pavement, the first large drops of rain pattered on the roof and the windshield. It would be some time before they reached the Highway 1 once again, but once they did, Sam wondered as to how far they could go without seeing another sliver of civilization between Monterey Bay and the next spot on the coast.

To the left of them stood the high sea cliffs in all their withered and eroded glory, strong and high over their heads, much stronger and higher than the buildings back in New York City or Los Angeles or even San Francisco itself. To the right stood the ocean: the gray and black waters that went on forever into the horizon. Empty and cold, and cradled by the clouds over them. Everything gray and black.

Every so often, Sam peered down to the waves down below as they crashed on the rocks. She looked to the left once again: every so often in the cliffs, a minute ponderosa jutted out from the cracks as if it gasped for the fresh oceanic air. The coast line seemed to stretch on for infinity before them. She glanced over at Louie and the serene expression on his face.

He was her drummer in that moment.

She turned her attention back out to the ocean beyond them as they went around a corner. Maybe it was the lack of anything discernible on the cliffs or the fact that the ocean appearead so endless beyond them, but something about all of this made her squirm in her seat.

Louie's occasional peers down to the gages behind the steering wheel didn't help, either.

An eternity in such a small pocket of the coastline. They really were at the end of the world.

A sign emerged on the side of the road but she had no idea what it read.

“We probably should've stopped for gas in Castroville,” he told her at one point.

“Why, are we low?” she asked him as her heart skipped a beat.

“Sorta. I hope. I don't really know the economy on this thing—I don't really pay attention to that sort of thing.”

They rounded another corner and Louie drummed his fingers on the steering wheel: that time they had a full view of the ocean. The grand view of the waves as they welcomed her to the end of the world, and they were about to run out of gas as far as she knew right then.

Another sign emerged from behind the guard rail and that time she saw that they were ten miles from the central part of the coast.

“Mother fucker!” he spat under his breath.

“It's okay—we're almost to San Simeon,” she told him.

“Yeah, I know—I'm still kicking myself, though. We'll probably gonna coast there the rate we're going at right at the moment.”

“Seriously?” she demanded, shocked.

“Yeah!”

She closed her eyes and she thought of Joey over in Europe. The only thing that seemed worse than losing Cliff to a bus accident that was far beyond her control was her being stranded on the Central California coast and not being able to tell anyone. But then again, they were close to the next piece of civilization.

“As long as we don't drive into the ocean, I think we'll be fine,” she told him.

“We don't drive into a—poison garden,” he muttered as they went around yet another bend in the road: the cliffs soon began to lower away to the sight of more ponderosas and scraggly shrubs.

“There's no poison gardens here,” she assured him.

“You sure? 'Cause like—there's a bend here—and another here—it's like this.”

They rounded a corner as it wound around the coastline: the road dipped inward into a gentle curve and they doubled back to the next crevice in the landscape.

“Sit—” He pointed to the left. “—down—” He pointed to the right. “—sit—down—sit—down—poison garden.” He pointed straight ahead at that last part and she chuckled at that.

Sure enough, the car sputtered a bit right outside of San Simeon: Hearst Castle rose up off in the distance but they had no time to visit right at that moment.

“Told ya we'd have to coast,” he told her as he guided the car to the gas station right there at the edge of town. The engine sputtered again and died right as they coasted into the first spot near the driveway. He let out a low whistle and leaned back in his seat.

“That was close,” she remarked.

“Yeah, I'll say,” he breathed, and then he turned his attention to her. “A twenty'll get us to the heart of Lost Angles and it'll get me up the Grapevine and into the Central Valley.”

“You're not gonna hang out there with me?”

“I can't,” he told her. “We're supposed to make a new album ourselves.”

“Oh, yeah, that's right!” She handed him a twenty dollar bill, followed by another which would ensure him a ride back home to the Bay Area.

Once they were filled up, they returned to the road.

“I don't know if Hearst Castle is even open,” Louie confessed.

“I don't, either. It's getting kind of late in the day, too.”

“Yeah, exactly!”

Some more coastline and they found their way down into Solvang and then San Luis Obispo where they were met with the Pacific Coast Highway yet again, and they moved away from the end of the world. So much that she wanted to show to Joey. And so much that she wished Cliff could see again, especially that one stretch of the highway where everything felt so finite and endless at the same time.

They wound their way through the low foothills and yet another unknown pocket of California, until they skirted the outside of Santa Barbara followed by Carpinteria.

The waves down below thrashed even more as they wound along the cliffs towards Ventura. At that point, the sky began to darken with the setting sun on the other side of the blanket of clouds overhead.

“Part of me wants to go down to the beaches here,” Louie confessed to her. “Like—take a walk on one of the beaches here. Yet another thing I wanted to do with Zelda when we were together.”

“We don't have towels, though,” she pointed out.

“And it's cold, too!”

“Right!”

The highway led them into Camarillo and then the heart of Los Angeles, where it ended and became the 210. At that point, night was about to fall over them, and the feeling of dread washed over Sam herself. She knew that Bill would be furious by the mere sight of her walking through that front door without any sort of explanation.

Louie drove them down to Corona and then the hills which cradled Lake Elsinore away from the rest of the region. The clouds had finally dissipated and gave way to a violet and orange sky overhead. Such a great length of time to be in that car with him and a part of her wished they had more time.

More time together. More time to relish over the idea of the poison garden.

But that time was all they had right then and there, much like that stretch of highway that overlooked the ocean.

She guided him to the house by the lake and within time, she recognized the neighborhood in question.

He pulled up to the curb and she sighed through her nose at the realization. Her head spun a bit from having driven such a great distance but at least they could come to a stop on a steady piece of ground. She looked on at the house, with its windows dark and the shades pulled despite the fact that it wasn't that late in the evening.

“Do you need any help?” he offered her, to which she shook her head. Instead, she sighed through her nose again and she climbed out to fetch her things out of the back seat. She decided to give her mother a ring later that night when Bill and the girls had gone to bed, that is if they already did. She hoisted her overnight bag over her shoulder and she held her purse close to her body as she reached the driver's side window. He rolled it down so she could speak to him one last time.

“Louie?”

He leaned closer to the window with his eyebrows raised.

“Thank you,” she said to him in a soft voice, and he showed her a sweet smile.

“It's my pleasure,” he told her with a wink. “Poison garden.”

“Poison garden,” she echoed him with a smile on her face.

“Also—”

She stopped and he gestured for her to come on closer to him.

“Don't worry, I'll—I'll talk to him,” he vowed to her.

“Who?”

“You know. The little man.”

“Oh, him!” She stopped right in her tracks. “What for?”

“Just to see if he's alright. One thing I've noticed about him when he fucks up something—he's real hard on himself. So if it's kinda messed between the two of you, I'll check in on him. I'll check in on him anyways.”

“Good plan,” she told him. “You be safe going back up, alright?”

“You be safe, too. Poison garden!”

Sam stepped away from the car and she turned back to the house, still in one place. Louie drove away right then and he disappeared around the corner. Another seven hours and he'd be back up there. She returned to the front door of the house and she opened it with ease. Silence.

She knew that he wouldn't do it. Sam shook her head and she bowed upstairs to her room.

#fanfic #fanfiction #chapter 11 #book four #souls of black #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #testament fanfic #testament band #testament #louie clemente #oc tag #long reads #friendship #also on ao3 #also on wattpad #slice of life #writing #text

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Wake-Up Calls and Watermelon (SPN/CM)

Criminal Minds / Supernatural crossover! 

Word Count: ~2140

Warnings: Irresponsible use of pink feathery handcuffs, but don’t worry, Sam is there to give a safety lecture. Kiddie pools, kittens, an emotional support cyberterrorist, and so much fluff. Ridiculous escapism at its finest. Everybody needs a smile these days, right? 

A/N: Four mornings on the Wayward Sons World Tour. This is part of the Rockstar AU, but it can be read on its own, as can most of that series. There’s no real plot, just shenanigans and silliness. 

Thanks to @stunudo​ and @fookinghelljensensthighs​ for pre-reading and inspirational photographs, respectively! 

Wayward Sons World Tour, Day 4: somewhere between Miami and Orlando, FL

Something is meowing. 

Rossi frowns to himself and opens his eyes, staring up at the ceiling of his bunk. 

Something is meowing on his bus. 

His first thought would ordinarily be Penelope and one of her assorted stuffed animals or weird talking figurines. Spencer could also potentially be the culprit, depending on what sort of chemicals were in his system. Last time Rossi checked, though, both of them were on the other bus, where the shenanigans are supposed to happen. This is the quiet bus, where the grownups sleep. 

The mysterious something meows again. 

Bad enough that he’s slumming it sleeping on a goddamn tour bus. Now there’s a goddamn petting zoo on board. Rossi sighs and gets out of his bunk to investigate. 

“Who’s the cutest kitten in the entire world?” Morgan is sitting on the ground in the front, smiling adoringly at a tiny ball of black fuzz he’s cradling in his palms. “Who’s the sweetest little furball I’ve ever seen, hmm?” 

“How on God’s green earth did you find a kitten at —” Rossi glances at the clock on the microwave. “—nine in the morning in the middle of Florida?” 

Morgan looks a little guilty, but Rossi can’t tell if it’s because he has a kitten or because he got caught using that ridiculous high-pitched voice. 

“We’re at a rest stop so the drivers can get a couple hours’ sleep, and Hotch and I were stretching our legs, and they were in a box close to the highway,” Morgan explains. “He was the only one who was still alive. I couldn’t just leave him there.” 

The door opens, and Hotch comes in, carefully carrying a small dish of water. He’s followed by Sam Winchester, who has an upside-down drum that’s padded with a towel. 

“You gotta be kidding me,” Rossi mutters, watching the three grown men surround the kitten and coo at it. Morgan tucks it into the drum and it curls up happily, meowing its appreciation. 

Sam’s phone rings, and he digs it out of his pocket and answers: “Yeah? No, we got water, we just — no, Dean, Jesus. Just the hoodie. Did you find it?” He pauses and scowls, stepping away from the others and lowering his voice. “No, that’d be way too big for it, are you kidding me? That collar was specially made… no! Leave the fucking leash, Dean, it’s not like we’re taking the kitten for walks.” He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay, bring the feathery thing, just — oh for fuck’s sake, leave that bag alone before you find something you really don’t — Dean. Yeah. Cool.” He grimaces and hangs up. 

“Do I want to know?” Rossi asks, with a new sense of respect. 

“No,” Sam says firmly. He turns back to Hotch and Morgan and announces, “Dean’s bringing some stuff we can use as cat toys, and a big hoodie with a pocket so you can carry it around.” 

“Sweet. Thanks, man,” Morgan says, flashing a bright grin. He’s all googly-eyed. 

“What should we name it?” Sam asks, crouching down and rubbing under the kitten’s chin with one careful finger. 

They all take a moment to consider. The little ball of fluff is purring, and even Rossi has to admit that it’s goddamn adorable. 

“What kind of drum is that?” Hotch asks Sam, who grins. 

“Pearl.” 

“Pearl!” Morgan echoes delightedly. “Who’s the prettiest little black pearl, hmm?” 

“I guess we need to find a pet store,” Rossi sighs, and settles in to get to know his grand-kitten.

***

Wayward Sons World Tour, Day 7: Atlanta, GA

“Wheels up in fifteen,” Hotch is shouting, banging on the hotel room door. JJ groans without opening her eyes and tries to pull Emily closer, rubbing her cheek against the soft worn cotton of Emily’s shirt. 

“What the fuck,” Emily mumbles. 

“Oh, seriously, what the fuck,” comes Penelope’s voice. The fact that it’s coming from somewhere above JJ is what makes her frown and open her eyes. 

She and Emily are on the floor, lying in a sort of nest, which upon closer inspection seems to be made up of an inflatable kiddie pool filled with blankets. 

Penelope is peering over the edge of her bed at them, squinting blearily, last night’s hot pink lipstick smeared down her chin. She appears to be wearing a plastic coconut bra over her shirt. 

“Huh,” JJ says. She pulls a lei off her neck. “Did we throw a tiki party last night?” 

“That would seem to be the case,” Emily says slowly. She rolls over and wraps her arms around JJ. “Five more minutes.” 

“Solid plan,” JJ answers, snuggling in. The kiddie pool is surprisingly comfortable. 

“Not if we have to pack up and get our sorry asses on the bus in fifteen minutes,” Penelope reminds them. 

“Fuck.” 

“I smell like… like daiquiris and regret,” Penelope sighs. She wrestles the coconut bra off and flings it across the room. 

“You can have first shower,” Emily says generously. 

JJ hears Penelope pad across the floor, and then there’s a surprised yelp from the bathroom. 

“Is Spencer in the tub again?” JJ mutters. 

“Yes, but oh my god, you guys, you need to come see this,” Penelope says, giggling. JJ groans, head spinning, but manages to get up. She hauls Emily to her feet. 

JJ pokes her head through the bathroom door and snorts. Spencer’s wearing one of those cheap fake grass skirts over his jeans and there’s a top hat perched on his head. He’s got his arms wrapped around a tacky pink flamingo lawn ornament. 

“Em, get your—”

“On it,” Emily says, already reappearing with her phone to snap a picture. 

Spencer stirs with a pathetic sort of whining noise. 

“Next time I suggest coconut rum,” he slurs, without opening his eyes, “...remind me I’m a moron, ‘kay?” 

*** 

Wayward Sons World Tour, Day 10: near Dallas, TX

“Get your hooves out of the toaster!” Cas says urgently. Dean starts awake and almost falls out of the bunk. He really needs to give up trying to sleep with Cas on the bus; these things were not meant for two people. 

Cas mumbles something about Mufasa and opens his eyes groggily. 

“Fun dreams?” Dean asks, voice raspy with sleep. He cuddles close and presses a kiss to Cas’s pulse. 

“There were wildebeests in the kitchen,” Cas croaks. 

“Sounds like a good time. Coffee?” 

“Mmm.” 

Dean rolls out of the bunk and stretches. The door to the back lounge is open, and he can hear music; he looks inside curiously. 

He remembers Sam saying something about a Doctor Who marathon. Geek.

The DVD menu is up on the little flat-screen, playing the theme music in a loop. Sam’s sprawled out on one of the couches with popcorn in his hair, and Penelope and Charlie are leaning against each other on the other couch. 

Someone snores loudly, but it doesn’t seem to be any of those three. Dean looks around, momentarily confused, until he spots Spencer, who has wedged himself under the tiny table. He’s curled up with what looks like Charlie’s favorite purple hoodie as a pillow, and Pearl is kneading happily at one of his arms. 

“Time’s it?” Sam asks quietly. He sits up, and something pops audibly as he stretches his shoulders. 

“Coffee time,” Dean whispers back. 

He wants to make a snarky quip about how they’ve clearly been partying hard, but Sammy’s looking around the room with such a fond little smile on his face that Dean can’t bring himself to say anything. Instead, he just leads the way through the bunk area, out to the front, where Cas is watching the coffee drip slowly into the pot. 

Dean wraps his arms around Cas and nuzzles into his neck. It’s a good morning. 

***

Wayward Sons World Tour, Day 14: Chula Vista, CA

Penelope is just about to get up for a gloriously self-indulgent shower (and if she uses all the hot water while the others are hitting snooze, that’s fully their problem) when there’s a knock on the door.

She peers through the peephole. It’s Dean, aka not at all who she expected. 

“Hey, sorry to bother you,” he says gruffly, when she opens the door. “Um… Spencer said he knows how to pick locks?”

Ooh, this is gonna be fun.  

“He sure does. What’s up?” 

“Um… we need to pick a lock,” Dean tries, and Penelope laughs. 

“Nice try. Gimme the dirty deets.” 

Dean sighs. “Jack is maybe handcuffed to the bed.” 

“No way,” Penelope says gleefully. “Okay, I will wake the boy wonder, hang on.” 

She ushers Dean into their room, shushing him and pointing to JJ and Emily, who are still asleep, before poking Spencer. 

“Are you sleeping in a kiddie pool?” Dean asks. 

“Mmph,” Spencer assents, rubbing his eyes. “M’comfy.” 

Penelope shrugs at Dean as if to say, what can you do? 

“So there is a bit of a situation I was hoping you could help with,” Dean says. “A lock picking situation? It’s, um, a pair of handcuffs.” 

Spencer doesn’t bat an eye, bless his heart. He just shrugs and unfolds himself from the kiddie pool, picking up his wallet from the desk. 

Penelope grabs a robe and her glasses, because while she wouldn’t ordinarily show her face while she’s still in pajamas, there’s no way in hell she’s missing this. Dean looks like he’s about to protest. 

“She’s my emotional support cyberterrorist,” Spencer tells him. “She’s coming.” 

“Excuse you, former cyberterrorist,” Penelope says, as dignified as she can manage while wearing a fuzzy zebra-patterned robe. “I prefer to think of myself as your fairy godmother.” 

“No teasing him,” Dean says sternly, but leads the way out the door. 

“You really trying to tell me you found the kid handcuffed to a bed and nobody is going to tease him about it?” 

“Well,” Dean amends, with a smug grin. “Nobody but his family is allowed to tease him. Don’t worry, though, we took pictures.” 

“Yeah, okay. That seems fair.” 

Dean leads the way into the Ceiling Fires’ suite and points them to one of the bedrooms. 

Penelope can hear Sam’s voice when they get to the open door: “I told you, they’re single-latch. You pull on those the wrong way, they’ll cut off your circulation and — oh, hey, guys.” 

Not only are they handcuffs, they’re handcuffs adorned with pink fluff. They’ve pulled a blanket up to Jack’s chest, but he’s clearly naked under it, and he’s blushing so hard he basically matches the handcuffs. 

“Good morning,” he says politely. 

Penelope gives him a cheerful wave. “Don’t mind me. Spencer’s here to rescue you.” 

Spencer is unfazed. He pulls a tiny flat case from inside his wallet and pulls out a couple picks. Sam and Dean are both watching him like hawks. Mother hens. Overprotective mother hawks? Something like that. 

It barely takes a second before the lock clicks open. 

Jack breathes a sigh of relief and rubs his wrists. “Thank you. Seriously.” 

“You gotta teach me that,” Sam says to Spencer. He grabs the handcuffs and lifts them between two fingers like they’ve personally offended him. 

“It’s easy once you understand the principle of it,” Spencer tells him, showing him the picks. “See, this pushes the tumbler—” 

“Where’d you go?” comes a low British voice from the main room, and then Harry motherfucking Styles is wandering through the door, wearing a turquoise silk kimono and holding a half-eaten slice of watermelon. “What on Earth are you doing with those? I have my leather — oh.” He looks from Penelope to Spencer, blinking. “I… don’t know you, do I?” 

“Shit,” Dean mutters. “When did you get here?” 

“Wee hours.” He takes a bite of watermelon, tongue-first, and chews slowly. 

Penelope is staring. She should really stop staring and say something cool. 

“You look sorta familiar,” Spencer offers, with a little wave. “Did you sell me E at a warehouse party in Boston a couple years ago? Cause I gotta say, that was a weird night.” 

“Pretty sure that wasn’t me,” he says pensively. “But stranger things have happened.” 

Harry goddamn Styles is licking juice off his fingers and dimpling in her general direction and this cannot be real life. 

“The watermelon is a little on the nose, don’t you think?” Penelope blurts out. Sam snorts from somewhere behind her. 

“They were all out of kiwis, I’m afraid,” Harry drawls. “You want some? More in the kitchen. Bananas, too, and—”  

“Hey, guys?” Jack interrupts, from where he’s got the covers pulled up to his chin. “Um… would you mind taking this outside so I can put some clothes on?” 

There’s a chorus of apologies. Spencer asks about coffee as they all start to filter out the door, and Penelope heads to the kitchen to eat watermelon with Harry Styles, because apparently this is her life now. 

.

.

.

#supernatural #criminal minds #spn x cm #crossover #cm fic #supernatural fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction

[pogues-never-say-die]

Heartlines

Welcome to the 3rd installment to my JJ playlist series - where I write whatever my little heart desires based on songs I’m listening to right now!

This piece is based on the song “Heartlines by Broods”. Both versions are amazing but I was specifically listening to the acoustic version while writing this which you can check out, right here.

Also this is technically a series so moments referenced in this might have been featured in previous pieces. There’s not a solid flowing timeline happening right now so feel free to read the other pieces whenever, but they might help you understand the history between this version of Y/N and JJ.

I have Rome and What Have I Done (Which is Rome from JJ’s POV with a little extra). I would read them before reading this but you don’t have to!

So here you go - don’t forget to give me some feedback if you want more and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

CHARACTERS: JJ Maybank x Reader

WARNINGS: lots of fluff. excessing drinking. references to vomit. references to sex. angst if you squint hard enough.

LENGTH: 2.9k words

Heartlines

Have you been let down by the ones before?

Do you leave too soon to know?

Never fell in love cause I just cut loose

But not when it comes to you

“Tell me about your last relationship,” JJ asks as you guys swing back and forth on the hammock in John B’s yard. It’s been about a week since you met at the Boneyard and you’ve been attached at the hip since then. Every day was spent with JJ, either alone or with the other Pogues. As soon as Kie told them how cool you were and they saw how obsessed JJ was with you, you were adopted as one of their own.

“You really want to get into this right now?” You say with a laugh. The bonfire you all had surrounded has long died out. All the other Pogue’s are either home or inside sleeping - giving you two some much needed alone time.

“I feel like I should know,” he says, trying to keep his heart rate under control. With your head on his chest you’d be able to hear his heart speed up in an instant.

“I’ve only had one real boyfriend. We broke up last year. He was great, super nice to me, cute, funny” The funny comment makes JJ squeeze you closer with jealousy, tickling your sides. “Not as funny as you I promise!”

“He better not be I’d kill him,” he says half joking, placing a kiss on your forehead. “So if he was so perfect, what happened?”

“I ran, like usual. With Dad traveling for work all the time and me going to competitions with him, I was never around. It was easier that way. If I never got close I’d never get hurt. I know that sounds weird.”

“No, I get it. I really really do.” JJ probably understood what you meant more than anyone. “Do you want to run now?”

“No baby,” that made JJ’s heart stop. That’s the first time you’ve ever used that pet name with him. He’s been calling you it since day one but this was the first time it left your perfect lips. “For once I want to stay. I’m perfectly happy right here.”

“Good, me too,” he says before placing his lips on yours. Kissing JJ was magical. His lips were smooth and full, always moving in perfect sync with yours.

And as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, asking for access, you realize there really is no place you’d rather be. For the rest of time you’d like to be right here, straddling this beautiful boy under the North Carolina moon - breathing him in like he’s the only air you have.

Dressing in black, you're around for the weekend

Dancing at night, you're the light that I won't let go

And I want you close

“What the hell are you wearing?” you ask JJ as he shows up to the HMS Pogue for the day.

“Well it’s nice to see you too babe” he laughs before leaning down to kiss you. Yours and JJ’s relationship is complicated to say the least. You’d only just met a few weeks ago but you’ve spent everyday together since then.

The way you like to describe it is that you’re in limbo. You’re not in hell but you’re definitely not in heaven either. You and JJ kiss, talk every day, and he likes to use pet names for you, even in front of the other Pogues - to anyone that would sound like a relationship right? Well if you’re in a relationship shouldn’t he stop flirting with everything that has breasts and legs?

Who fricken knows.

“You’re wearing all black for a boat day?” Kie asks him while he’s still kissing you. You may be confused about a lot of things but how much you want to kiss him is not confusing at all.

“Hi,” you whisper into his lips as you pull away.

“Hi back,” he says, still looking into your eyes, his hand holding your chin in place.

“Guys we’re literally right here,” Pope says, snapping his fingers in between you two.

“Hi baby,” JJ says moving over to grab Pope by the chin just like he had been holding you. “You didn’t think I’d forget about you did you? You don’t have to be jealous - you’ll always be my number one.”

“Ouch,” you say before sitting down next to Kie on the boat - ignoring the bromance unfolding in front of you.

As John B finally pulls away from the dock and out into the water, your eyes can’t help but stare at JJ from across the boat. He’s sitting with his legs spread drinking a beer and listening to Pope and Kie argue about the secret meaning to some dumb movie you all watched the other night, but all you can focus on is the feeling of JJ’s hands rubbing and squeezing your legs from their spot in between his as you stretch across the whole boat.

It’s so simple but it’s so domestic and it makes your heart flutter. It’s almost like JJ can feel the shift in your heartbeat because he turns his attention towards you and meets your eyes.

For a while you’re just there - staring at each other until he grabs you by the ankle and tugs on your leg. And even though you’ve only known him for a few weeks you both are so in sync that you know exactly what he wants. The way you and JJ moved was like a beautifully choreographed dance - so perfectly in sync.

So you stand up from your spot next to Kie and cross over to the other side of the boat, sitting right next to your blonde beauty. This time instead of grabbing your lower leg he grabs your thighs, turning your body to force your legs to be curled up on the other side of him.

Except when you move he doesn’t, he just wraps his left arm further around your legs and his right arm around your back - pulling you so close that you have no choice but to rest your head on his shoulder, placing a soft kiss on his neck before snuggling in.

The smile on JJ’s face grows wider than ever as he looks down at the way your body perfectly molds into his. It feels like every inch of your skin is now touching his but somehow he still wants you even closer.

And from your spot tucked into his shoulder, you might not be able to see the way he’s looking at you right now but throughout the boat ride every Pogue catches a glance of the cheesy look on JJ’s face, a look they try to memorize since they’ve never seen it before.

We could fool the datelines

We could jump the statelines

I don't always play nice

But I wanna feel your heartlines

“Where are we going?” you say running to keep up with JJ as he sprints forward with his hand in yours.

“You’ll see baby, you’ll see,” As soon as you got off the boat that day with the other Pogue’s JJ told them you had ‘plans’ before sprinting towards your car, getting into the driver's seat without even asking you. JJ driving your car has become a regular occurrence.

Next thing you know you’re in the middle of an abandoned highway, standing in front of a giant billboard that says “Welcome to South Carolina”.

“What is this?” You say with a laugh.

“You always said you wanted a dude to do one of those cheesy things from that sad fucking movie you made me watch,”

“You mean ‘A Walk to Remember’?”

“Exactly, so we’re straddling the stateline right now. You’re in two places at once.”

“You’re so cheesy,” But as you grab his hand and straddle the line between two place, you realize you may just like cheesy after all.

I'll pick you up at midnight

We'll run to beat the sunlight

We only get the one life

And I wanna feel your heartlines

I wanna feel your heart

You never really thought much about the way you’d lose your virginity. You’d always just assumed it would happen probably in a bedroom. You had to be honest though, the back of your Jeep on top of some old surf towels in the back roads of South Carolina was not exactly how you pictured it.

But honestly, this was so much better.

“Are you okay?” JJ says interrupting the silence. For the past 20 minutes you’ve just been looking up through the skylight with your head on JJ’s naked chest as he drew random figures on your bare back with his hands.

“Of course I’m okay,” turning to place a kiss on JJ’s lips you see the fear and apprehension in his eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I know that was your first time, and I really wanted it to be special. I was going to use all of my savings and get a hotel room on the nice side of town and get you flowers and champagne and put out the whole stop. This wasn’t supposed to happen in the back of your Jeep.”

“Baby,” you say kissing him again just to shut him up. “This was absolutely perfect. I’m not the kind of girl that’s put a lot of weight into this. I don’t like the idea of ‘giving up or losing’ my virginity. That’s too much pressure. All I ever wanted was to just feel safe and happy my first time, that’s it”.

“And did you? Feel safe and happy?”

“I’ve never been happier,” and he could tell by the reflection of the moonlight on your wide smile that you meant it.

“However we really do have to get home,” you say sitting up to find your clothes in the back of your car. “If you don’t get me home before sunrise my Dad might not let me out ever again.”

“Don’t worry baby, we’ll beat the sun”.

Now we're far apart, in and out of touch

And the words don't mean as much

So I sit across from someone new

But they don't compare to you

“Why doesn’t he want me?” you wail from your spot on the bathroom floor - Kie and Sarah are shocked to say the least, they’ve never seen you this upset...or this drunk.

“Honey that boy is in love with you, everyone can tell,” Sarah says as she gathers your hair into a messy bun. All she cares about right now is calming you down and making sure you don’t get any vomit in your hair.

“Then why does he do this? He has to know. He has to know it upsets me. He just doesn’t care” you say crying before putting your head back into the toilet to throw up more. You don't know what's making you feel worse - the awful Jungle Juice Pope made or the memory scorched into your brain of JJ’s hands around that touron’s waist on the beach.

As more of the jungle juice makes its way out of your system you manage to hear a knock on the door.

“Go away,” you weakly call, the toilet bowl muffling your voice. You know exactly who it is.

He doesn’t respond but you hear Kie slowly open the door.

“Now’s not a good time JJ,”

“Please, I’ve taken care of her drunk plenty of times. I can handle this,”

“She’s not just drunk JJ she’s upset,” Kie whispers - trying to keep her voice down so you don’t hear.

“Why is she upset?” JJ asks now, even more concerned, it kills him to see you hurting.

“You know why.”

“Can you just give us a moment, please? Then after, if she wants me to leave - I’ll leave.” Kie must have given him a look can all you hear next is, “I’m serious Kie I will. I’m not gonna push it.”

You feel some shuffling from behind you and right after you hear the door close. Next thing you know, you realize Sarah’s small hand on your back has been replaced by a larger, much warmer one.

The feeling of his hand on you makes you feel immediately better, no matter how mad you are at him. Leaning back a little, he realizes you’re reciprocating his touch so he reaches under your shirt (well his shirt that Kie grabbed for you, your shirt had vomit on it) and rubs the bare skin of you back.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong pretty girl?” He says rubbing smooth circles on your skin.

“Don’t call me that,” You mumble, feeling another wave of nausea coming with the nickname.

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t mean it,” Yup that made the next wave of vomit make its way up your throat. As you put your head back in the toilet you feel him bring his other hand up to rub the back of your neck.

“Of course I do baby, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” JJ doesn’t understand what’s happening. He’s seen you drunk before - in the month you two have known each other you’ve both had your fair share of drunken moments. But usually that involves you two being all over each other, not throwing up and crying.

“If you meant it you wouldn’t flirt with other girls,” you say, too embarrassed to pull your head out of the toilet.

“Here take this and this,” he says, handing you a bottle of water and some mouthwash. You rinse your mouth with both before leaning away from the toilet and against the wall.

JJ shifts too, so that now he’s facing you as you both sit on the floor.

“When was I flirting with other girls huh?” He asks as you both get settled in on the dirty floor. He’s not being patronizing, he’s genuinely confused why you think he could ever want a girl that’s not you.

“The blonde chick you were talking to, had your hands on her, it seemed like flirting to me,” You refuse to meet his eyeline, instead choosing to focus on peeling back the label from the water bottle.

“Hey hey hey, look at me,” he says gently, taking the bottle out of your hands and grabbing your fingers instead. “I’m genuinely sorry if you thought I was flirting with her, I’m just a touchy person. But now I realize I can’t do that with girls anymore so I’ll be more careful”.

“You can do whatever you want, technically we’re not dating.” You say looking him right in the eyes. Damn this Jungle Juice is giving you a lot of courage.

“What do you mean we’re not dating? Yes we are.” JJ asks, sounding angrier than he meant to. But yeah, he was a little angry. Were you not his?

“I know I’m pretty drunk right now but I would remember you asking me to be your girlfriend,” you say, matching his tone. You’re definitely not in the mood right now. And although your tone is angry, that makes JJ laugh.

“Ask you? What is this middle school? We’ve spent every day together for a month, we talk constantly, I call you baby.” He says still with a laughing tone. “Fuck, I mean I took your virginity baby. I didn’t think I had to make some big grand gesture. I thought we were on the same page.”

“Well we weren’t” you say, still kinda grumpy. You’re not mad at him anymore, now you’re mad at yourself for being so immature. You should’ve known, this boy is obsessed with you.

“Well if this relationship is going to work, we need to talk to each other. No just getting drunk and disappearing okay? Talk to me. Got it? My dear girlfriend?” He says with a smirk, grabbing your face in his hands like usual.

“Got it boyfriend,” you say with a smile, your first smile of the night. Next thing you know, JJ is leaning in closer,  “Ugh no, I’ve been throwing up. You don’t want to kiss me.”

“You used mouthwash, I’ll take the risk baby”.

Lying in bed wide awake, I remember

Dancing at night, you're the light that I won't let go

And I want you close

“Baby go to bed please,” you groan later on that night. After getting you cleaned up and settled into John B’s spare room, you’ve been listening to JJ grunt all night as he tries to go to sleep.

“I can’t,” he moans, forcing you to roll over to look at him.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, maybe the Jungle Juice?”

“Too soon babe,” you say sitting up with a gag.

“I’m sorry, come here,” JJ says, sitting up as well - pulling you into his lap as he settles against the beat up headboard.

“I like you a lot,” he says, pulling his fingers through your hair. “Like a lot a lot.”

“Oh really?” JJ can hear the smirk in your voice. “More than weed?”

“I like you more than a freshly rolled joint. More than fishing or food or booze or surfing, hell even more than Pope,” he says with a laugh. “But don’t tell him I said that cause I’ll deny it.”

You know what this all means - in his own special way JJ is telling you that he loves you. Not in the same words but in a way that’s just as special. He doesn’t let a lot of people in, so him telling you this feels nice. It feels secure, it feels like dancing in the moonlight on that first night, it feels like home.

Leaning forward to press your forehead against his, you trace the outline of his heart with your hands.

“I like you a lot a lot too.”

And with that your lips find their new favorite place, in between his.

TAGLIST: @tangledinsparkles

#jj maybank #jj maybank fluff #obx imagine #jj outer banks #jj obx imagine #jj obx #original writing #fanfiction #jj x reader #jj x you #playlist #sarah cameron #kie #kiara #kiara outer banks #outer banks #outer banks imagine

[desiraypark]

Copy, Paste, & Scream (ft. Clyde Logan)

Here’s #29! I hope you enjoy it, anon! 66 is coming soon! Read 13 and 149 | Prompts Link 29. “Not to make things weird, but I thought about you when I came last night.” Characters: Clyde Logan x (Female) Reader Content: Actually not as explicit?; S*x content creation; accidental text message situation; some serious HR violations; jealous Clyde Logan; oral s*x

Ding!...Ding!

You contemplated putting your phone on Silent Mode. It was a nice, peaceful Sunday afternoon, and all you wanted to do was eat popcorn and binge The Umbrella Academy, but your phone kept dinging. You picked it up to check the notifications:

Clyde: Who were those beard shampoo people you were telling me about? KachingApp: Jonah sent you $200. You sat straight up and went to your KachingApp. Sure enough, $200 was there and from someone named Jonah. Who was Jonah? He included a little note in his deposit: “300 more to watch you cum”. Definitely a FreakPub viewer. You jumped from your sofa and dashed to your bathroom—fuck The Umbrella Academy and fuck your popcorn, too! You gave Jonah a good show. He saw everything—feet, butthole, tits, ass—everything. And Jonah didn’t have a face—so you had to create one for yourself. Not even “create”. You knew who you wanted to pretend-fuck for the night. You had a feeling that Clyde was sweet on you but was being shy (and professional) about it. You always caught him looking at you, or sometimes, he’d call you over to do some arbitrary thing when a customer was getting a little too giggly with you.    But you never pushed it. You thought Drew Sellers was sweet on you back in 10th grade, but he avoided you for two more years when you asked for his number. You thought Victor, your Biology 101 study partner was into you, until you realized he was just super nice to everybody (and married). But never mind that for now. In this moment, Clyde Logan, your boss, liked you--and this was his dick you were riding.  Once you got your release, you uploaded the video to Dropcrate, and cleaned yourself up as it loaded. After you pulled your pajama shorts up over your butt, you found the small beard care company you’d told Clyde about, and copied the website link. You were certain you did. Right when you switched back over to Clyde’s text, you got another notification. Dropcrate: Upload complete. Visions of paying an additional $500 on your student loan for the month flashed in your head, and you clicked the Dropcrate notification, copied the link to your new video, and thumbed your way to FreakPub. Sure enough, you had a message from a “JB79” that read “Name’s Jonah. Love your work. Tipping you $200. Would love it if you made a video just for me…” Just as you were about to reply, another text from Clyde popped up. Clyde: Do they make oil? “Fucking hell, Clyde,” you mumbled. You: I believe so. Here’s the link dropcrate.com/bitchyourefired

You hastily clicked back to FreakPub and replied to JB79. “What a sweetheart! A little something just for you. Hope you like red panties 😉 dropcrate.com/bitchdoyouseewhatyoujustdid” and you hit send. On your way back to your living room, you quietly hoped that Jonah wouldn’t skip out on that extra $300. You flopped down on your sofa, hit play on your remote, and gasped. You yanked up your phone and thumbed to your text conversation with Clyde. You: I believe so. Here’s the link dropcrate.com/startapplyingforanewjob Read at 6:45pm

“Oh my God…” you mumbled. You grabbed your pounding heart and just wanted to rip it right out of your chest. “Oh…my…God…” you repeated. Quickly, you ran your fingers over the keys. You: DON’T OPEN THST! When you didn’t get an immediate response, you expected a phone call. Nothing came. You turned off Netflix, dragged yourself to your bedroom and threw yourself face down on the bed. Then, you screamed into your pillow. Duck Tape was such a good gig. The patrons were like family—so the tips were great. And in addition to the cute little glances, Clyde was also always sharing his food with you. Now, it was all over. Ding! You took a breath, lifted your phone, and peeked at it with one eye. You didn’t even have to unlock it to see the response. You opened the other eye and read the text. Clyde: Too late. --------------------------

Your legs were jelly as you walked up the bar’s steps. Patrons tipped their hats to you, and one of them—Riley, a regular, opened the door for you. “Thank you, Riley.” “Yes, ma’am.” You stepped inside of the full—but not crowded—bar. It was 5:45 on a Monday, so it wasn’t jumping quite yet. Most folks were still stuck on the highway or getting dinner started around that time. Junie, the day shift bartender looked up at you and waved. Just as you waved back, one of the patrons turned around to glance at you—boss and nighttime bartender, Clyde.

   Your heart dropped and you kept walking straight to his office, where you kept your apron and pad. He was probably telling Junie about how he was going to kick you and all your holes out of his bar. In the office, just when you’d tightened the apron around your waist, Clyde stepped in and closed the door behind him. You just let it on out.   “Clyde, I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to send that to you.” “It’s alright,” he said. He leaned against the door and stared down at you. You patted your pockets, in search of your pad and your spine. “Do you do that for money?” he asked. Your head shot up. “Yeah…” “I wish you’d have told me you needed the help.” “No, it’s not like that. I just…I do it for money, but…I kinda enjoy it, too.” “Oh,” he said with disappointment in his voice. You frowned. “Look, Clyde. I appreciate your concern. But, if you’re expecting me to feel ashamed—” “No, no. That’s not it…” he mumbled. “I just…” You watched his puppy dog eyes lower, then rise again. His body rocked from side to side. “I’m just gon’ go on and say it. It don’t sit right with me, knowin’ somebody else is lookin’ at you like that.” “Somebody else?” He looked down again. “Somebody that ain’t me.” You smiled. “Clyde, I didn’t know you felt that way.” “Well. I do.” You ran your fingers along his jawline, then planted a soft peck on his cheek. He stared into your eyes, then initiated a harder kiss. Seconds later, you slowly pulled away from him. “Not to make things weird,” you started. “But I thought about you when I came last night…” Clyde blushed. “You did?” “Mm-hmm.” You nibbled at his jawline and heard him draw a deep breath through his nose. “You alright?” “Yeaaahhh…” he said in strained, high-pitched voice. “It’s just now, I’m thinkin’ about gettin’ you on that desk.” “Clyde!” you said with a dropped jaw. This time, you were blushing.  He ran his fingers up and down your waist. “Lemme add somethin’ to your thoughts for the next time you get ta ridin’ that toy…” Your eyes lowered and your nipples hardened, and Clyde maneuvered his hand behind him and locked the door.  You looked down at your watch. 5:50PM. “But—” “We have time.” He started walking toward you until you bumped into his desk. Before you knew it, your pants were around your ankles, and Clyde’s face was between your legs: tongue to clit, and three of his fingers massaging your G-spot. You'd stuffed tissue in your mouth to muffle your moans. Then, an orgasm surged throughout your entire body, and when you looked down, your eyes met Clyde’s--and he was licking you off his fingers.

Clyde stood up and helped you off his desk. As he walked to the door, you pulled up your pants, fastened them, and retied your apron string. Then, Clyde unlocked the door. Before he opened it, he craned his neck to look at you. “We’ll finish this ta night.”

#anon prompts #smut prompts #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan smut

[femreader]

Slowly but surely - Maleficent

Request: can you write a fem!reader x maleficent where the reader was found injured in the moors and maleficent decided to take care of her, not wanting to fall in love but in the end she does??

Summary: The reader is from our world and is found by Aurora and the co. In the middle of the Moors. Some explanations are demanded on either side.

Pairing: Maleficent x fem!reader, mom!Maleficent x daughter!Aurora

Warnings: none I think except my crappy writing 

A/N: Been listening to lots of Elton

Song: Tiny Dancer by Elton John 

“I am not-”

“Mother please,” Aurora looked up at her with her big blue eyes. Her hand was still resting over the unconscious’ woman’s hand. Her pale skin was dirtied by mud and blood, and her breathing seemed to be rather heavy. Maleficent grimaced at the thought of helping another completely unknown person. 

“Just heal her, please. We will handle everything else.”

“Where did she come from,” Diaval furrowed his eyebrows, and Aurora turned her head to look at the crow at the end of the bed. 

“We do not know,” She sighed and glanced at Philip. “We were riding and found her in these weird clothes in a pitch.” 

The princess turned to Maleficent once more and cocked her head to the side, knowing she had the fae wrapped around her little finger. Maleficent held back an eye roll and swished her hand, the golden swirl settled on the stranger’s body, healing her wounds and cleaning her appearance. 

“I want to meet her once she wakes up,” Maleficent informed to the people in the room. She glanced at the weird-looking woman on the big bed and squinted her eyes. Where did you come from?

Where am I? 

...

And what am I wearing?

Y/N blinked furiously as she sat up, on the creaky bed, her abs were aching. Furrowing her eyebrows she slowly got up, cracking her toes while she was at it. Jesus, how long had she been out? Y/N walked slowly, pushing the heavy wooden door open and taking a peak from the hallway outside. She seemed to be in some sort of castle. It kinda reminded her of one of those Taylor Swift music videos. Her eyes set on the small pitchfork for the fireplace.

She stepped outside and skipped over to the window by the end of the hallway, a very medieval-looking village opened before her eyes. Y/N clutched the pitchfork in her hands even tighter.

“The hell...?”

“Oh, good you’re awake,” A female voice spoke up and Y/N jumped around in her spot. She held up the pitchfork up and was met with a blonde looking woman. Y/N gulped down and tried to put up a strong face. 

“What the hell is this place? Who are you?”

“You’re in my home. We found you injured in the woods,” The woman answered with a kind voice. It was so soft and innocent Y/N involuntarily let the pitchfork fall back on her side. 

”Your home as in...?”

”The Moors of course,” she answered with a slightly confused smile. Aurora couldn’t comprehend how this strange woman couldn’t know where she was. Everyone knew the place, no one ever talked about anything else. 

”My name’s Aurora?” She said in a slightly questioning voice, thinking the stranger would have maybe recognized her already.

Y/N let her grip on the pitchfork loosen and it fell on the floor with a loud clank. Aurora slightly cringed at the loudness while Y/N was freaking her mind out in her spot. She blinked rapidly and felt her chest move up and down rapidly with her breathing. Her hands brushed through her hair, a nervous habit she had.

”You’re not... I-I mean your- Was your father named Stefan?” She rambled, very confused and very scared. 

”Why, yes. He was,” Aurora was taken back. ”How did you know?”

”Aurora? What is this?” A new voice joined their conversation and Y/N was ready to jump through the window. When she turned around and was faced with a... fairy of sorts, Y/N was ready to actually jump through the glass. She looked at the woman, eyes wide and mouth open but in return did not get more than a bat of an eye. Her heart was going through the roof, Y/N was sure she was going into cardiac arrest.

“Godmother,” Aurora walked next to Y/N and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. The human looked at the blonde and then the woman, and back at Aurora. 

“This is...” The princess looked at Y/N in question, realizing she hadn’t even gotten her name yet. It took good 30 seconds for Y/N’s brain to function properly once again. 

“Y-Y/N,” she blabbered and blinked furiously. 

“I’m sorry but... how, did I get here?” 

Aurora and Maleficent shared a look, this was going to be a long night. 

Days passed, then months and soon Y/N realized she had been in the world of fairies and pixies for almost a year. Still, there was no evidence on how she managed to detach herself from her original world, nor how could she ever get back. Y/N did her best to be useful and help around the Moors and the castle until she’d depart, but given the long wait, she had grown used to waking up in her bed in the castle (Maleficent still would not let her spend more than the daylight at Moors), smelling the sweet baked cakes and cookies when getting breakfast and smiling and chatting with the villagers. They were such lovely folk and very understanding. Trade was common, so gold wasn’t really that necessary. Y/N admired that, the community was tightly knit but they didn’t even hesitate to take her in. 

So it did confuse her when one of the first people she had met didn’t want anything to do with her. 

“Miss Y/N, would you like some bread?”

“oh shut it, George, she clearly is in the mood for apples, freshly picked,” The town villagers bickered playfully to which Y/N chuckled and politely said no. 

“Fresh shrimp! Fresh shrimp, straight from the sea,” A merchant walked past Y/N with a stroller full of shrimps and crabs. Y/N smiled to him also and continued her stroll towards the music shop. 

“Ah, Y/N, yes, yes, come in. I have it right back there, sit, sit I’ll be right back,” The older man, Thomas, exclaimed as soon as Y/N stepped inside the shop. She chuckled at the elder’s antics and leaned to the counter to wait for her ukulele. Y/N had no idea if that was what the people here called it, but after drawing a picture for them, Thomas was eager to build her one. Music was something Y/N was missed dearly from her old world. 

“And here, she’s a beauty. You chose the wood perfectly,” Thomas showed her the final product. Y/N looked at it in awe, it must have been the most precise and beautiful ukulele she had ever held. The dark wood was smooth and almost silky in her hands. The strings worked together perfectly, Y/n couldn’t hear one note out of place. 

“Here you go,” She gave Thomas his money and played a couple of chords. 

“It’s amazing, thank you so much.” 

Thomas looked at the ukulele with pride and nodded to the girl. 

“You must play at the fall festival,” he boasted, holding his thumbs underneath his suspenders. “You sound rather dashing.” 

Y/N blushed a little and hung the ukulele around her neck from the leather belt. 

“I-I’m not s sure of that. But thank you, really,” She dismissed herself as another client came into the shop. 

Now very content with the ukulele around her neck, and feeling much more at home, Y/N sneaked out of the village and near the edge of the forest, where the Moors was hidden. She sighed, wondering if anyone would mind her going in at this time of the day as the sun was setting. She’d love to see the sunset from the waterfalls someday, but a certain someone immediately crossed her mind from thinking about it. 

So Y/N ended up staying by a lonely tree in the middle of the field. There was a strong branch, not far away from the ground where she spent most of her time, watching the sunset down the horizon. When the golden and pink rays hit her face and made everything a tad bit magical. 

“And you can hear me. When I say softly... slowly” Y/N played with he strings and finding the right tabs. She cleared her throat, watching the sunset and sang to herself quietly. 

“Hold me closer tiny dancer” A couple of strings weren’t right and she corrected herself. 

“Count the headlights on the highway. Lay me down in sheets of linen. You had a busy day today.” 

“What a sad song,” a familiar, but a very unexpected voice spoke and Y/N stopped playing. She looked behind her from where Maleficent flew to the branch with ease. Y/N felt her cheeks tint a little, very much taken aback by the fact that the fae even talking to her. 

“I-I guess,” She mumbled with slightly tinted cheeks. “It’s beautiful.” 

Maleficent squinted her eyes a little as she scanned Y/N’s sudden change in her demeanor. Red was splashed on her cheeks and ears, it was almost adorable how flustered she got. The fae hummed in response. 

“How was your day?” Y/N suddenly piped up, while playing with the strings of that weird instrument. She bit her lip when they sat in silence, hoping she didn’t sound awkward. 

“Busy,” Maleficent said cleverly, a slight smile tugging her red lips. Y/N didn’t suppress her laugh but let it out. Her teeth were pearly white even in the setting sun. Her skin seemed to glow in the golden rays. 

Y/N huffed silently and rolled her lips together, continuing to play the song. Maleficent noticed faint, white line going down her side of neck when Y/N rolled her head to her side to see the strings properly. Her voice was very beautiful, even though Maleficent didn’t understand anything that she was singing about. she was a very odd woman. 

Still, she couldn’t help but love her more every day. 

#Maleficent #maleficent fanfic #maleficent 2 #maleficent headcanon #maleficent x reader

[thiswasinevitableid]

Love at First Fight (Sternclay)

 Several people requested #15 of the meet uglies for Sternclay: “I step out of the bathroom and right into the middle of a bar fight and you punch me accidentally so I punch back on instinct” SFW.

“FUCK!” Barclay slams back against the bathroom door, left hand held to the eye that just got the worst punch he’s had in years. He hasn’t survived on his own this long by being passive, and so he throws his right out in the direction of the punch. 

“Shit!” The man flicks his dark hair form his face, touches his lip, “sir, don’t do that again, and kindly get the fuck out of DUCK!” He grabs Barclay, yanking him down out of the path of a swinging pool cue.

“What the hell-”

His enemy-cum-protector is already moving again, grabbing the cue on it’s next swing and yanking it from the hand of the enraged biker swinging it. Then he shouts in pain as a thrown bottle connects with his neck and sends him to the ground.

“Fucking rat, we’re gonna skin you alive.” The man formerly holding the pool cue advances on the prone figure as he tries to stand. Barclay spots the insignia on the back of the biker’s jacket. Four numbers that mark him as a neo-nazi.

The man on the ground stands, forcing his feet into a fight stance and gripping the cue. Barclay spots something odd; on the very inside of his leather jacket are three stripes of color, so subtle most people probably miss them. Pink, blue, and white. 

Well, that settles whose side he’s on. 

“No more fucking chase, Lucky” the leader pulls his gun, “you’re going in the ground with the other moles.” 

Barclay grabs the nearest chair and swings it, sending the man to the ground, the gun clattering across the floor. The man who punched him is quickest, grabbing the gun, then his hand.

“You’ve fucked up.”

“You’re welcomeOW.” He’s thrown sideways as one of the lackeys tackles him. As he grapples, a second one decides to start whacking on his ribs with a table leg. The whacks stop after the dark-haired man throws a punch, before promptly stabbing Barclay’s attacker in the eye with the cue.

“Ahfuck, what the hell man?” He’s pulled across the room, ducking and weaving as best he can as the remaining gang gives chase and throws bottles and chairs at them. 

“I had it under control.” The man kicks the door shut and tips a motorcycle against it, “now please tell me you have a car.”

“That” he points to his pick-up, “and no you didn’t. You punched me, some dude minding his own business.” He jumps, frightened, as the man fires the gun into a row of motorcycles, puncturing as many tires as he can before the gang emerges.

“Keys. Now.” The man throws the gun away, but Barclay still doesn’t feel like arguing is an option. 

The man pulls him to the car, shoving him into the passenger seat, and starts the clunker, screeching out onto the near-empty highway. 

“Are you fucking kidnapping me?” Barclay’s question is shriller than he means it to be. 

“No! I’m saving you, because as far as they” he points to the rumbling mass in the rearview mirror, “are concerned, you helped me, which makes you a target. Now hold on.” 

Barclay yelps five profanities laced together as the man floors it down the dust-blown road.

“Don’t you have a fucking motorcycle too?”

“Not anymore. Shit” he fights with the clutch, “come on, just a little farther, we can make it.”

“You should not have that much faith in this truck, trust me.”

“Not helpful.” The man snaps between his teeth. The bikes are catching up to them, he can see the expressions on the rider’s faces and god this is how he dies, isn’t it?

The man pulls a hard left, spinning the car across the oncoming lane just as a row of four semis barrel towards them. 

Oh no, wait, this is how he dies. 

The truck barely clears, horns blaring in their ears as they careen onto a dirt road. The bikers, blocked by the row of semi’s, can’t follow.

“Made it.” The man grins.

“They’ll be able to follow our dust.” 

“Not if we don’t leave any.” Four rapid zigzags bring them to a dried up canal bed, and as the zoom along it he shrugs off his jacket and hands it to Barclay. 

“Do you have a pocket knife or something?”

“Uh huh.” 

“Slice that insignia off the back please. I like that jacket, but I’ll be damned if I wear that symbol longer than needed for my cover.”

Barclay fishes his multi-tool out of the glovebox, slices the little stitches until the four numbers come loose. The culvert ends and after a moment they’re back on a tiny, badly paved road. The man navigates towards a four story, run down building whose sign reads, “Amnesty Lodge” in the hot desert sun. 

“Here we are. Come on, let’s get out of the heat.”

Barclay follows him into a lobby, off to the right of which is a small bar and restaurant. A few occupants wave to his companion, who carves a straight line across the carpet to a back room.

“Glad you’re in one piece.” A woman with a pronounced southern drawl and a cowboy hat on her head nods at him as they walk in, “did you get--who the hell is this?”

“I...don’t know.”

“Names Barclay, ma’am. Your friend here decided to use my truck as a getaway car after a bar fight.”

“Looks like you were both in a fight.” The woman looks at the other man with worry.

“I, um, punched him on accident. My cover got blown and I had to start a fight to get out. Barclay tried to help me.”

“Huh, that was mighty foolish of you.”

“Would it kill anyone in this desert to say ‘thank you?” He growls. The woman raises an eyebrow, then laughs.

“Ha! I like you, big fella, and you can clearly take a punch.”

“And throw one too.” The man rubs his jaw. 

“Could use more of that type around here these days. Alright, you can stay here ‘til this blows over. I’ll let you two fellas get patched up.” She waves her hand, then puts it on the desk to gather up the small, black pouch the stranger sets in front of her. 

Soon Barclay is sweating his ass off in a stuffy motel room, all teal blue and adobe brown, as his host knocks the air conditioner into action. When it finally groans to life, the man turns and looks, for the first time, unsure of himself. 

“Right. So. Um. You’re in the Amnesty Lodge, which is a, um, hideaway of sorts on top of a normal motel. My name is Joseph. Apologies for punching you.” 

“In the bar they called you something else.”

“Lucky was my cover name.” The man pulls off his t-shirt, revealing bruises and a lean body with noticeable lines of muscle. In the amber-tinted light of the room, he looks like he stepped out of a greaser daydream; his hair still tousled from the wind and the fight, lip and nose still sporting dried blood, and regarding Barclay with a concern that should undercut how badass he looks but doesn’t.

“I’m going to shower, then we should get you in an ice bath. Your upper body took a lot of hits.”

Barclay rolls his shoulders and immediately regrets it, “ow, fuck, yeah, think the adrenaline wore off.”

Joseph grabs the phone, calls down to the lobby for a bag of ice before disappearing into bathroom. The water stops just as there’s a knock on the door.

Barclay opens it and finds a young woman with a black and red pompadour smiling at him. Behind her a stocky man sporting a “Joshua Tree National Park” t-shirt is holding a huge bag of ice.

“Hi! You must be the new guy.” The young woman waves at him.

“Uh, I guess.” Barclay takes the ice when the man holds it out.

“I’m Aubrey, and this is Duck.”

“Howdy.” Another southerner. Weird.

“Hold on you two.” Joseph appears behind him, holds the patch from his jacket out over Barclay’s shoulder, “here, Aubrey, need something to burn?”

“Not in the desert she don’t!”

“Relax, I’ll burn it in a trashcan or something. Anyway, Duck’s driving me in to town for my show. Do you need anything?”

“All good for now. Thanks, Aubrey.” Joseph waves politely and shuts the door. Barclay turns with the ice and finds the man wearing only a towel. Manages to push aside the sudden, intense desire to lick the stray droplets of water from his body and follow Joseph into the bathroom. In spite of his protests, Joseph sets the bath up for him (“it’s the least I can do for getting you into all this”). He’s down to his boxers, dusty clothes piled on the floor, as the man adds, “sorry, one more minute, then I can go so you’ll feel comfortable.”

Barclay is tired and sticky and out of patience, “Fuck it, you’ve already punched me and stolen my car, really don’t care if you see my dick.”

“I mean if that’s, oh, oh okay then.” Joseph laughs, looking quickly at the faucet as Barclay steps out of his boxers. The man tries and fails, twice, not to glance at Barclay as he gets in the tub. Any desire to flaunt what he’s got for his handsome man of mystery evaporates when he hits the water.

“FUCKSHIT, goddamit that’s cold.” He lowers himself in, “this better fucking work.”

“It will. This is not the first time I’ve had to deal with injuries.”

“What the fuck do you even do?” He grits his teeth, squeezing the edge of the bathtub.

“I’m an FBI agent.”

“What?” Barclay instinctively backs away.

A soft chuckle, “Yeah, I get that a lot. I work for the Department of Unexplained Phenomena, which leads to some interesting assignments.”

“I’m not, like, gonna get in trouble for assaulting an officer of the law, right?”

“No. Barclay.” Joseph sets his hand atop his own, “you really helped me today, punches aside. Besides I, well, let’s just say I don’t solely answer to the U.S government. I’ll tell you more later, I promise.”

Eventually his time in ice-hell ends and Joseph offers him the bed if he wants to nap. He does, passes out in his clean boxers before Joseph even finishes asking if he wants lunch. 

He wakes up to an empty room. An empty, locked room. 

“Shit” he pulls on his shirt, furiously yanking on the doorknob, “shitshitshit. Hey!” He bangs on the door, “hey anyone out there?”

Footsteps approach, and the door clicks open. He’s ready to run, but freezes when he sees it’s Joseph, holding a tray with two plates of food.

“Are you okay?”

“Okay?” He splutters, “you locked me in!”

“It’s a necessary precaution. We’ve only known each other half a day, and while you seem trustworthy and I know I can handle myself, if you were a risk I needed to keep the others safe.”

“And keep me fucking prisoner?”

“....Yes a little. Look, Barclay” he sets the tray down on the desk, “there are a lot of dangerous things at play right now, and I can’t risk you running off back to the normal world and accidentally giving something away. Just be patient, okay? As long as you’re here, you're under Mama’s protection. And under mine. And I promise I won’t let any harm come to you.”

Something frightened and vulnerable wells up in his chest, and he grabs one of the plates, “Okay.”

They eat in relative silence and after Joseph sets the plate outside he asks, “do you want to watch something? One of the few stations we get shows old monster movies this time of night.”

Barclay nods, joins Joseph on the bed as a giant mantis rampages across the screen. 

“Eesh, they fucked up the scale on that shot.” He laughs to himself.

“No kidding, look, you can even see it knock over what’s so clearly a little cardboard human.” 

“Gotta say, not sure why tanks don’t work on it. Mantises aren’t that tough, right, even accounting for radiation or whatever?”

“You know, I have no idea. I’ll ask Duck; he might know. Or he might roll his eyes so hard he strains them. Again. We all watched ‘Day of the Triffids” and he spent the whole time yelling about how that’s not how carnivorous plants work.”

They watch three movies before Barclay starts dozing off. The shorter man hops up, makes up the pull out couch, and Barclay gladly falls into it, waving off Joseph’s offer to sleep there so he can have the bed. He dreams of orange, glowing eyes, just like he does every night. 

When he wakes up the next morning, Joseph is in a finely tailored black suit, combing his hair back in the mirror. 

“Where y’going all fancy?” Barclay mumbles.

“Work. I should be back tonight. Take it easy, okay, you’re still pretty bruised.” 

“Kay.” Barclay nods and falls back asleep. When he finally trudges downstairs in search of food, he finds Mama in the bar. She pours him coffee, asks how he slept, and brings him a plate of pancakes, eggs, and bacon. 

He takes a bite, grimaces, “Uh, Mama, I don’t mean to be rude but are you sure this isn’t rancid?”

“Yep.” She tops off his coffee, “just can’t cook for shit. Jake does his best, so does Moira, but they have a hard time too.”

“Please let me help.” Barclay eyes his eggs suspiciously, “I’m not bad in the kitchen, worked a lot of restaurants over the years.”

“That so? Alright big fella, come show me what you got.” She tosses him a faded green apron and he follows her into the kitchen. He whips up pancake batter, scrambles eggs, and sticks the cast iron pans into the oven to season properly. Fifteen minutes later, he slides a plate to Mama and makes one for himself.

“Holy shit” she says through a mouthful of pancake, “fuck, you’re hired. I’ll tell Joseph he don’t gotta worry about coverin your lodgin. Assumin you can keep up with them.” She points to the heads poking around the kitchen door.

“Is it lunchtime dude? Because something smells good.”

“Well I’ll be, guess it is” she points to the clock, “let’s see how you are at lunch.”

Barclay spends the next two hours making sandwiches, salad, and staring a stock for tomorrow. He also makes two cobblers that are gone as soon as they come out of the oven. As he takes orders and serves and cooks, the other lodge residents trickle in, and suddenly he’s in the midst of a happy crowd. Dani, Aubrey’s girlfriend, and her cousin Jake sit at the counter and talk to him, while Mama wanders in and out from her office. One of the odder visitors is a tall man with a wide smile who introduces himself as Indrid before taking an entire can of whipped cream from the fridge and carrying it out to his trailer at the back of the building. 

As he’s washing up, Mama comes in and leans against the counter.

“Well, they all seem to like you fine. Which makes me wonder; what are you runnin from, Barclay?”

“What makes you think I’m not just drifting?” He dries a plate, sets it in the stack. 

“I been running this lodge awhile now. The folks who fit right in? They’re always on the run from somethin’. And you ain’t in a hurry to leave, and you ain’t made no mention of family or friends who you gotta let know you’re alright.”

“I, uh, I had some trouble when I was younger. It followed me around, can’t seem to shake it even now.”

Mama nods, satisfied.

“You mind telling me how having a bunch of folks on the run works with an FBI agent under your roof?”

“Joseph’s a double agent; he works for the UP, does most of what they tell ‘im, but his loyalty is here with the folks at the Lodge. Says he sleeps better at night helpin’ us instead of them. Guess at times, like when you met him, he’s kind of a triple agent.”

Now it’s Barclay’s turn to nod. Mama smiles at him, leaves him to his kitchen. It’s not until the end of the dinner rush that he hears, “I’d hoped you’d find a place here.”

Joseph leans against the doorframe, “sorry I missed dinner.”

Barclay proudly produces a  plate of pie, “here, saved it for you.”

Joseph eats as they walk to the room, moaning between bites and licking his fork clean. It seems only natural for them to settle on the bed together, to turn on the T.V and heckle it, to make each other laugh. Only natural for Barclay to feel safe enough to fall asleep on his shoulder. 

And when sirens wake him up, all it takes is Joseph’s arm around him and the words, “don’t worry, I’m here” to send him back to sleep.

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

“How come you decided to help Mama?” They’re as cuddled as the stuffy, hot air allows, Joseph having declared Barclay’s chest the superior kind of pillow.

“I was stationed at Area 51 for an assignment. There was an alien, he’d come through what he described as a gate to our world, and said his name was Vincent. I was the only one who called him that, the others treated him inhumanely. I helped him escape, and he connected me with Mama. She’s been helping aliens for awhile now.”

“That kinda explains Indrid.”

“Indeed. I learned that the UP was working on ways to trap or track aliens from the same homeworld. We decided I was best used as a spy, rather than defecting entirely.”

“Wow.” Barclay cuddles closer, “I always believed in aliens. Sympathized with them too. Dunno, I lost my folks when I was a baby, bounced around from system to system for years, ended up on the street at eighteen. Only thing I ever had connected to a home was this” he holds up his left wrist, on which sits a bracelet with a small orange crystal at the center, “I guess it was dad’s. Never have been able to get it off. Just...I never felt like I had a home.”

Joseph cups his cheeks, “why not make here your home?”

Barclay rests their foreheads together, “I like the way you think, agent.”

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

“What did you need to show me?” Barclay shuts the door to Mama’s office. Dani and Indrid are inside as well, watching him as Mama removes something from a secret compartment of her desk. 

“Joseph just got back, and he brought somethin with him we’ve been worried about for a long time. A way of spottin aliens among us. But that ain’t why you’re here. Dani, lights.”

In the dark she switches on a small, glowing green rod. Barclay stares in awe as Indrid and Dani’s shadows change; Dani’s grows taller, bulkier, and Indrid’s sprouts wings and antennae. 

Mama, shadow the same as always, points, “look behind you, big fella.”

It’s not his shadow. It’s the shadow of something much bigger, with shaggy fur and an ape-like shape.

“I’m...I’m not human? How is that possible, I, I’ve always looked like this, like a guy, I have pictures of my parents and they’re human too, this, this can’t be right.” He whirls in confusion as Dani switches the lights on and sets a hand on his shoulder. 

“Our kind wear charms to disguise ourselves. That is yours.” Indrid points to the bracelet, “I suspect your parents knew you’d be on your own, and one of their last acts was to enchant it so you could not remove it by accident. No doubt they hoped to give you a safe life.”

“I, I want to see, can you get it off?”

“I need some time to prepare. In the interim, there is someone who needs to see you.” He points upwards and Barclay sprints out the door. 

“Joseph, fuck, you’re never gonna believe-” He stops, immediately drops to his knees by the bed where Joseph is slowly bandaging himself.

“Shit, fuck, what happened?” He takes the gauze from shaking fingers and dresses the wound. 

“A bit of a misstep; another double agent had tried to take the device I stole for Mama, so I had to fight him and he was very good with his knife. I’m okay, they’re not deep, but lord almighty do they sting.” 

“Thank fuck you’re okay, fuck, Joseph, I couldn’t deal if I lost you, especially not now.” He carefully hugs his waist, rests his head on his shoulder, “I found out I’m an alien.”

“Oh.” Joseph gasps, “that’s good! I mean, in the sense you might be able to learn more about your family.” 

“It doesn’t freak you out?”

“No, why would it?”

“I mean, there’s a difference between helping aliens out and, uh, uh, like” oh god why did he start that sentence?

Joseph cups his chin, moving it so they’re face to face, “and wanting to be with one?”

“Yes.” Barclay says meekly.

“Human or not, I want to be with you. I’ve spent the last week dithering on whether or not to tell you because I knew this mission was dangerous. I chickened out in the end but, well” he leans forward, presses their lips together.

Tears he can’t explain escape Barclay’s eyes as he kisses back. He’s home, he’s home, he’s home and Joseph wants him, is kissing him over and over, sweet words ghosting along his skin. Then the lips are on his cheeks, kissing the tears away as hands stroke his hair. 

“I want you so bad.” Is all he manages to croak out and as he blushes, embarrassed by insufficient eloquence, Joseph kisses him again. This time is harder, tongue slipping filthy promises between Barclay’s as his fingers tease along his head and throat.

“That’s a promise for later. And this” Joseph murmurs, grinning before kissing under his eye, “is an apology for punching you.”

Barclay chuckles, “babe, if it meant I’d get to fall for you all over again, I’d take that punch in a heartbeat.”

#agent stern/barclay #sternclay #TAZ Amnesty #meet ugly #prompt fills

[that-one-fandom-vore-blog]

For the six word thing- Protective and/or revenge vore?

For sure! Thanks for the request! Decided to go with some Mad Ones content, seeing as I’m trying to work out how to write the characters to the best of my ability. This isn’t protective vore, per say, but it’s vore with protective thoughts so... have this, I guess?

For someone so hesitant to change, Adam had to admit, he’d gotten used to being Sam’s safe place pretty quickly. It wasn’t normal. Not by any means, though... to be fair, had they ever been much of a conventional couple? They couldn’t hold hands, not really— though that wasn’t to say they hadn’t tried. They couldn’t really make out, not without it turning into something quite different— hell, even kisses were a bit of an ordeal— but in his eyes, it had been worth it.

More than worth it.

After all, it had given him Samantha Brown. It had given him a soft, familiar smile to look forward to seeing every day. It had given him clumsy attempts to hold hands despite size differences being a bitch. Attempts to confess feelings. To make plans about a future neither of them were too sure about. It had given him chances to press his lips against her— chances he took often and with full knowledge of how long it had taken him to earn them.

Those chances were what had led him to the moment he was currently caught up in, sprawled on the couch with nothing to distress him from what was happening, or, what had happened. It was quiet. Not painfully so. He could still hear the gentle noise of wind outside, tugging at the loose boards on the outside of the house, and if he really focused, he could make out the faint rushing and honks of cars on the highway.

But Adam wasn’t focused on any of that. 

“Hey, babe?” He kept his voice low. One of his hands was over Sam’s shape, tracing lazy circles over where she lay. “You still up?”

The shuffling sensation from his middle made his heart skip a beat. It was still disorienting-- knowing her location, tucked out of sight and away within him. He could feel every move she made in the confines of his stomach, her slow motions were easy enough to feel under his hand. 

“Yeah...” Came a soft response. She sounded groggy. It was sort of endearing, how her voice would slow when she was tired. “Why?”

“Just wondered. You weren’t moving and I just... wanted to check in,” he admitted, gentle smile gracing his lips as he patted his stomach. A shudder wound up his spine when she reacted to his touch by snuggling a little further down. 

“I’m fine,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. It was normally muffled due to her location, but the extra decrease in volume was something Adam couldn’t place as anything other than grogginess. Which meant she was comfortable. In there of all places. 

Cute. 

His cheeks flushed pink. Pressing gently at her, not bothering to keep his own eyes open, Adam focused on the sensations of her getting comfortable-- the small touches of hands to his insides enough to make his skin tingle. He easily found the exact spots her fingers were tracing and returned the action from the outside, exhaling somewhat contentedly. They’d been like this for... he wanted to say an hour, though he couldn’t be sure. 

His sense of time was always foggy at best when he was near Sam, and now was no exception, seeing as they were literally as close as they could possibly be. There wasn’t an inch of space between them. If he did so much as stretch, he was reminded of that fact by the odd feeling of her being squished in place by his stomach walls. 

Blearily, he looked upward at the clock hanging crookedly on the wall. Fuck. When was her curfew? Ten... something. Or was it eleven? Reluctant to lose the feeling of closeness, Adam gently prodded at her shape. “Hey, it... it’s getting a little late...”

A muffled yawn met his ears. “It... has it been that long?” Her voice was still heavy, though he could feel her growing a little tense. Her mother had been cracking down on her again. Adam felt a bit of a guilty knot settle in his chest at the thought, knowing deep down that he had something to do with it. Sam was good at covering her tracks-- smart enough to do it in ways that she didn’t think her mother would notice-- but coming home dripping with saliva hadn’t exactly been a great way to heighten Bev Brown’s already low opinion of him. 

“It’s not like she could hate me more than she does already--” He remembered joking at one point, though Sam had been quick to shut him down with a raised eyebrow and three little words. 

“You’d be surprised.”

Adam glanced once again at the clock. “It’s... I dunno when we decided to do this,” he admitted, poking at her for emphasis, “but it’s like, a quarter past ten-ish.” 

Like that, she relaxed. “Oh, that’s... not too bad. I’ve got about fifteen more minutes before I need to think about... going...” She broke off into another yawn, settling back down with her back to Adam’s hand. 

That was new. 

“O-Oh.” 

It was all he could think to say. 

The blush on his face was only deepening by the second, and the fact that Sam gave his stomach lining a gentle squeeze really didn’t help his case. “Oh?” She echoed back. He didn’t need to see her face to know her expression was nothing short of amused. “Is... did you want me to--”

“N-No!” He blurted, quickly realizing how weird it sounded and giving a sharp cough. “I... I m-mean, I don’t... I don’t mind if... if you stay, I just-- I don’t want you getting in trouble with your mom or...” Trailing off, he scrubbed a hand over his face and pushed his hair out of his eyes with a heavy exhale through his teeth. Why couldn’t he talk all that well? More importantly, why couldn’t he talk all that well around Sam?

“Adam, I... really don’t mind staying.” 

Adam shuddered in place as Sam ran her fingers along the inside of his stomach once more, though, she took a little more time in doing it. The action was slower. Calmer. Maybe she was just tired, but Adam wasn’t going to complain. “Y-You don’t?”

“Do you really think I’d still be here if I did?”

That earned a laugh. “Fair point,” he agreed, eyes falling shut once more as he leaned a little further into the couch, blindly grabbing for a ratty blanket that was usually haphazardly jammed in the between the cushions. He didn’t bother opening his eyes when he pulled it over himself, either. So what if he only had fifteen minutes to spend like this? May as well spend it comfortably. It was a bit of a feat to get himself settled using only one hand, but he managed alright-- and there was no way in hell he was moving it from where it lay over Sam. 

“Fifteen minutes?” He asked, thumb idly rubbing circles across the small dent her shape made. Nobody would ever know where she was, not unless he told them. She was completely and utterly hidden, out of sight but certainly not out of mind. There was a warm feeling falling over Adam as he curled up, trying to better fit his lanky form on the couch. Something protective. Instinctual. 

“Just fifteen minutes.” Sam echoed, softly. 

He could only muster the energy for a hum in response. His head was lolling backward. The feeling was only growing stronger by the second. Was this why giants did things like this? He couldn’t say he spoke for all of them-- he’d seen the headlines and statistics that went with them-- but... were there any that understood the urge that built up to a low thunder in his mind whenever Sam and himself did something like this? An urge not to destroy, but to protect. To keep her away from anything that could do her harm. 

It had frightened him a little at first. Having impulses... especially in the wake of the... 

He pushed the thought away. It wasn’t the time to be thinking about that. After all, Sam was fine, and that was all that mattered to him. Pressing his hand a little more firmly against her, almost in a reassurance to himself that she was, indeed, still present, Adam let himself breathe a little easier. She was still again, her movements nothing more than minute shuffling and deep, even breaths. 

She wasn’t afraid of him-- any of him, not his insides, his teeth, his hands-- so why should he be afraid of himself?

If he could offer her any sanctuary, any protection, any comfort at all... he always would, and even though this wasn’t something that many would find comforting, Sam certainly seemed at ease with it. The thought made him smile. 

If he could hold onto the feelings of protectiveness that seemed to be embedded in his core for a little longer, he would. 

Even if it was only for the next fifteen minutes. 

#the mad ones #the unauthorized autobiography of samantha brown #samantha brown #the mad ones adam #g/t vore #soft vore #safe vore #extreme cuddling

[theshopislocal]

corinth rains

New and improved Heaven may well be the Happiest Place (not) on Earth. But Dean, it turns out, is still Dean.

(also on AO3)

chapter eight

Funnily enough, the wings in Heaven aren’t anything to write home about. 

Dean glances down at his half-eaten lunch, licking Buffalo sauce off the side of his thumb. He’s pretty sure the plate - with its lopsided tower of wings, side of celery, and little cup of chunky bleu cheese - is meant to replicate one he’d had at a greasy spoon sixty odd years ago. To the naked eye, the place had looked like a shithole - just another offramp dive in B.F.E., Nebraska. But the wings - damn, the wings - had been out of this world; crunchy and greasy, sour and salty, and drenched in sauce hot enough to make his eyes water. 

Dean sucks his teeth and grimaces. He’s not sure what it is, but Heaven missed the mark on this one. He’s sure it’s the same recipe as the roadside joint, but there’s something not quite right. It certainly doesn’t help that his pint glass keeps automagically refilling with Stella Artois instead of El Sol. He grumbles with every sip and pretends like the mild flavor isn’t growing on him. No way in hell is he letting Charlie turn him onto her trendy lesbian beer.

“Hey.”

Dean’s head snaps up, shoulders going tense. They loosen a bit as Sam slides into the other side of the booth. He’s wearing a denim button-down that Dean’s pretty sure was one of his, and his stupid hair is extra floppy. He slides his dorky messenger bag off his shoulder, settling it at his side. 

Dean knocks back the rest of his beer in a thick swallow and sets his little cardboard coaster on the rim. “Heya.”

Sam gives him a smile, all white teeth and deep dimples. Dean tries to give him one back, but it feels more like a grimace on his face. 

Sam notices, of course. “You alright?” he asks, dipping his head to meet Dean’s lowered eyes. 

Dean shakes his head, then corrects it to a nod. “Yeah,” he grunts and nods toward his plate. “Ate too many wings.”

Sam’s eyebrows climb his forehead, smile going crooked. “Didn’t think that was possible for you.”

Dean splays his hands in a shrug. “I contain multitudes.”

His stomach chooses that moment to grumble ominously, and Dean hunches forward, pressing his forearm across his belly. 

Sam, the little shit, smirks wide. “I’m sure.”

Dean rolls his eyes and reaches for his glass. He tips the little coaster off and watches as the glass refills itself. It’s a darker orange-ish color now, rather than light blonde. He takes an experimental sniff: El Sol, this time. He feigns relief in case anyone’s looking (no one is), and peers back up at Sam. 

He’s holding the little laminated sample menu, eying over it while his fingers drum a beat against the tabletop. He chews his lips, eyes a little wide, and Dean recognizes the expression in an instant: Sam is Up To Something.

Dean sighs and sets his beer down with a thunk. “What.”

Sam’s head pops up like a frickin’ meerkat, all innocence and feigned confusion. “What what?”

Dean arches an eyebrow in a glare. “You’ve got excited puppy face,” he grumbles and ignores Sam’s snort. “What is it.”

Sam huffs a fake laugh and shakes his head. “I don’t...” he starts, then cuts a considering look at Dean. Dean stares back, blank-faced and expectant, and Sam blows out a sigh, eyes downcast. “Yeah, okay. Look, I was—” he cuts himself off, pulling his lip through his teeth. “... I was thinking about Cas.”

Cas. 

Cas.

Dean probably should have seen that coming. 

Sam had been rather circumspect in those few months between Cas’ death and Dean’s own; no offhand utterances of his name, no needling questions about how exactly Cas had summoned the Empty, no mention whatsoever of the bedroom door he’d often found Dean stood in front of - unable to open, unable to turn away. 

Sam had been kind in his silence. 

But if Dean knows Sam at all - and he certainly does - the silence wouldn’t have lasted forever. Kid’s too smart, too curious, too empathetic by half; sooner or later, he would’ve broached the subject - for Dean’s sake, if not his own. 

And if Dean’s being entirely honest with himself - which, frankly, isn’t really his game - he can acknowledge the inherent unfairness of it. For all Dean prefers to bottle things up until they ferment in his belly, Sam is (somehow) a well-adjusted adult with proportionate emotional intelligence to boot. Sam had deserved to mourn Cas - whether or not Dean had allowed himself to do the same - and Dean hadn’t let him. 

So, of course Sam is thinking about Cas. After all, he’d loved him nearly as much as—

Dean winces hard, eyes squeezing shut for half a second. “Yeah?” he asks. His eyes flick back open, and he stares down at his plate. The wings have gone cold, the celery warm and floppy. 

Sam nods. “Yeah. I mean,” he gestures vaguely with the little menu, “Eileen says he does a lot of work for the Arch, but...” He trails off for a short moment then shrugs. “We’ve been here for a while. I sorta figured he would’ve... dropped in by now?”

I’ve been busy. 

I have responsibilities. 

I’m needed elsewhere. 

I’m sor—

Dean hunches forward, and his stomach grumbles again. “Yeah,” he murmurs, and he feels nauseated, hollow. Too many wings, indeed. 

Sam tilts his head in a crooked nod. “Yeah, it’s kinda weird that he hasn’t, right?” He doesn’t wait for a response, and Dean doesn’t interject. “So,” he goes on, leaning forward across the table, “I did a little digging.”

Dean’s head pops up, and he finally meets Sam’s eye. Sam’s brow is raised, the puppy expression back at full volume. Dean frowns, wary. “Digging?”

Sam nods excitedly and turns to his bag. He unzips it, sticking in a freakishly large hand to rummage about, and pulls out a thick book. 

A beige leather book. With gold insignia on the spine.

“I checked this out,” he says and sets the book on the table with a soft thunk, “from the Library.”

Wait. What? “You- the Library?” Is Charlie making magic plutonium bombs for everyone now? “How’d you get in?”

Sam gives him a funny look, squinty-eyed and confused. “I made an appointment.”

Of course he did. “Right,” Dean grunts, folding his arms on the edge of the table. 

Sam leans closer, and he smiles almost comically wide. “Dean, the Library? It’s awesome,” he gushes, and Dean chews on a smile. “They’ve got everything ever written ever,” Sam crows. “Literally every single—”

“Kevin sign you up for a library card?” Dean interjects with a crooked smile. 

Sam’s face freezes, eyes darting away in mild embarrassment, and Dean snorts a startled laugh. “You’re shittin’ me.”

Sam rolls his eyes around a tiny smile. “Shut up.”

Dean gives a bark of laughter. “Man, you’re a nerd.”

“Anyway,” Sam says and gives Dean a mild glare. “This,” he begins, smoothing a palm over the front of the book, “is the history of Heaven. Since Jack remade it.”

Dean cranes his neck to read the upside down lettering, and Sam turns the book toward him.

Recens Historia Caelorum Vol. I.

Dean frowns and gives a little shrug. “Okay.”

Sam nods and sucks in a breath, one hand coming up to tuck his hair behind his ear. Dean’s eyes soften at the gesture; for all he’d wanted to be a lawyer, or a hunter, or a freakin’ superhero, Sam had always been a Man of Letters at heart. 

Sam plants his hands flat on the table - the final step of his pre-lore ritual - and Dean suppresses a smile. “Okay, so,” Sam starts, and Dean settles in. “Basically, Jack arrives in heaven with the seraph Castiel.” Seraph? “Presumably, he—”

“Pulled him out of the Empty,” Dean offers. 

“And restored his Grace,” Sam nods. “So. They get here and start fixin’ the place up. Opening up all the personal heavens, getting rid of the whole greatest hits shtick, right?” Dean nods along; Bobby had told him this much. “Then, get this,” Sam continues, leaning ever further forward, “Jack leaves.”

Dean frowns, and his eyes flick up from where they’d been staring sightlessly at the book cover. He shakes his head, lips pursing. “He leaves?”

Sam quirks a brow and tips his chin down in a nod. “Yeah. Apparently he decided he wanted to rebuild all the universes Chuck destroyed. Not just ours.”

Dean’s eyebrows pop up, and he feels a sort of mild, obligatory guilt uncurl in his stomach. Frankly, he’d all but forgotten about the infinite other universes that Chuck - in his epic, cosmic bitch fit - had dusted just for kicks. 

Dean shakes his head. “Shit.”

Sam huffs a laugh. “Yeah. But,” he says and raises a forefinger, “Heaven’s not finished.” He makes a vague gesture towards the nearby window overlooking the forest. “Still isn’t.” 

And Dean’s noticed that, too. Spending hours (or minutes, or maybe decades) on the highway, Dean’s come across some odd spots: places where the grass is un-trampled and a little too green, the ground too flat, the trees too young. Whenever he passes one, he gets a strange feeling, like he’s watching a silent movie, or staring at a blank canvas. He feels it at his little bunker out in the greyscale marsh, and he felt it at the tiny forest in the endless yellow field. Like a song without a refrain, something is missing - unfinished. 

“So,” Sam goes on, and Dean glances back up at him, shaking off the odd sensation, “Jack’s gotta leave someone in charge of the place, right?” Sam pauses for a moment, brow raised, and Dean nods belatedly. “Right,” he continues. “But it’s gotta be someone who knows Heaven’s ins and outs. Someone who can defend its weak points. Someone who actually—” Sam tilts his head with a dry smile, “—cares about its inhabitants.” He gives Dean an expectant look, brow raised and lips sucked in. 

Dean frowns. Someone who understands Heaven and knows how to protect it; an angel, certainly - maybe a strategist or a soldier. But someone compassionate, too - someone devoted the people here, these wandering wayward souls. 

Because you cared, I cared. 

Dean blinks hard - once, twice - and something rattles in his chest. “Cas,” he whispers. 

Sam gives a slow nod. “Right,” he murmurs back, face going oddly soft. Dean frowns up at him, and Sam schools his expression back into business mode. “Right,” he repeats and licks his lip. “Problem is, Cas is just a seraph. He doesn’t have the juice to run this place. So, Jack—” He reaches across the table for the book and turns it towards himself, flipping it open to a page bookmarked with a gold ribbon. He smoothes his pointer finger over a line of text and reads, “—imbued the grace of Castiel with His divinity, in excess.”

Jack imbued... what?

Dean shakes his head. “The hell does that mean?”

Sam tilts his head in a crooked nod and flips to the next page. “I was confused too,” he offers, “until I read this.” He flips the book toward Dean and taps two fingers over a block of text near the top of the page. 

Dean frowns and looks down, squinting at the small font. The top left corner reads Chapter XV, the text near Sam’s finger marked with a tiny superscript, 21.

Dean hunches forward, eyes tracing over the words in the dim light. 

And the Lord God summoned into His hands four blades, twisted and golden, hilted in black. He cast His holy gaze upon them, and they were dissolved. Let all instruments return to dust, as all mortal flesh keeps silent.

Dean rereads the words, and rereads them again. Something is growing in the back of his mind, spreading against the inside of his skull like feathered shadows—

“Four knives with twisted gold blades,” Sam posits, leaning forward. “Sound familiar?”

I’m not just powerful now, Lucifer had said, beating Dean bloody, suspended in the air. I am power. And I don’t need a blade to end you, pal. 

Dean had clung to the last vestiges of consciousness, had felt his destiny - Chuck’s shitty Joseph Campbell knockoff - rising to meet him. Sam had called his name, all fear and desperation, and Dean had extended a bruise-knuckled hand to catch—

“The Archangel blade,” Dean whispers. 

Sam gives a solemn nod and taps his finger on the page. “Jack destroyed them - all of them - the same day he—” Sam angles the book towards himself and turns back a page, neck craning around, “—imbued Cas’ Grace.”

Dean feels his spine go stiff, brow furrowing low. 

“Dean,” Sam murmurs, “I don’t think Cas is a Seraph any more.” 

Jack has put a great deal of faith in me. Cas’ voice echoes through Dean’s head, and his jaw clenches tight, throat constricting. 

Sam continues, voice pitched low. “And I don’t think he just... works for the Arch.”

I have responsibilities, Cas had said, just before his wings had painted stark shadows on the walls. Massive and fluttering, they’d shifted Cas’ posture, like he wasn’t quite used to them, their heft a foreign weight at his back. 

Dean had known in that moment that something was different, had felt it in the buzzing electricity of Cas’ presence, the way the little hairs on Dean’s arms had stood up. 

Dean swallows, hard and dry, and says simply, “He is the Arch.”

Sam raises his eyebrows and hums. “Mm. The Arch...” he shrugs with bemused smile, “...angel.”

Dean blinks several times in succession, eyes falling back to the bookmarked page. Let all instruments return to dust, as all mortal flesh keeps silent. 

Cas is an archangel - the Archangel - immortal and adamantine, now that God himself has destroyed his only weakness. And Dean is an eternal soul, freed from the bonds of his mortal body - limitless and enduring in the endless expanse of Heaven. They’re stood now on evener ground than they’ve ever been before. 

Dean glances towards the window, casting his eyes out to the distant mountain - jutting up from the ground, imposing and unscalable like a border wall.

Sam huffs a short laugh. “Explains why he hasn’t stopped by for a beer.”

Dean turns back toward his brother, but Sam’s eyes are fixed on the little plastic menu. 

Dean harrumphs - sharper than intended from the tightness in his throat - and reaches for his beer. His stomach grumbles as he takes a gulping pull. It’s skunky and flat, bitter and watery, and he doesn’t taste anything at all.

chapter seven | chapter nine

table of contents

#corinth rains #destiel #deancas #fanfiction #post-canon #slow burn #dean-centric #tw: alcohol

[chonkychornes]

I’ll Be Home for Christmas

AN: Hi all! Here’s my idea for a Holiday ON shot featuring a sweet Bucky and what I hope is a gender-neutral reader. My first attempt at total fluff. I hope I hit the mark. If you like it, please like and reblog. Thank you to @quant-um-fizzx​ for all her help and support this year, and Pandora, who stays away from Tumblr, but still reads my shit and helps me with all the things!! (All mistakes are my own)  Happy Holidays, dear ones! I hope you’re all finding peace on this day. 

Summary: Bucky and Reader meet up on the way home for Christmas. Will they both get their Christmas wish? 

Words: 6591

“Attention passengers of American Airlines Flight 2135: Baggage is now arriving on carousel four.”

“Okay, where the hell is my bag?” You mutter to yourself as you reposition your purse across your chest and duck around a family with a double-wide stroller. Spotting the carousel you need, you move to it determinedly, but frown when you see a flight number over yours and no bags circling the platform.

Grabbing your phone out of your bag, you see a missed call and a couple of new text messages.

I'm stuck in training. - Steve

I’m sorry. I can send a car for you. - Steve

You pull up his contact number and laugh as he apologizes as he answers, “Steve, I’ll be fine. I’ll call an Uber or just get a cab. It's no big deal.”

“I feel so bad, I promised to meet you.”

“Shit happens. I’m still waiting on my bag anyway, so I’ll be fine. I’ll see you later.”

As you drop your phone back into your bag you hear the annoying buzzer for the carousel and feel the push of the crowd as everyone moves forward to try to find their bag. 

You deliberately take a step back and move away from the crowd. You have time and you’d rather wait and not be crushed or hit some small kid with your suitcase because they’re standing too close to the conveyor belt. 

You see someone else on the other side seems to have the same idea as you lean against a pillar out of the way. It’s not until this person is almost directly in front of you that you realize who it is.

“Of all the gin joints in all the world, huh?’ He grins down at you and you can’t help but laugh as you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck and squeeze him quickly. 

“What the hell are you doing here, Bucky?” You pull back and take in the penetrating blue of his eyes, the crinkle around them, and the soft smile on his lips. 

“It’s Christmas! Steve would have had my ass if I wasn’t back in time,” he brushes a hand through his hair and you notice how short it is now.

No more manly buns for this one. 

“Where have you been?” You nod vaguely out into the terminal and he smiles as he leans on the pillar next to you. 

“Ireland; Kerry,” he ducks his head a little and you know why. Ireland had always been your dream destination. 

“Was it green and beautiful? Did you catch a leprechaun?” Nudging him playfully in the ribs with his elbow brings back that soft smile. 

“I’ll show you the pictures.”

The exchange is easy and natural. He still makes your stomach flip and you still make him laugh. 

“That’s me,” he says as he pushes off the pillar and grabs his old beat-up duffle, slings it over his shoulder and resumes his place next to you. 

“Now, you’re going to let me guess which one is yours, right?” You laugh and nod. 

The wait is even longer, but he’s promised his car with the remote start and heated seats currently sitting in long term parking, so you agree. 

“It’s the ugliest one, right? You always picked the worst patterns.”

“They’re easy to spot!” You’re a little defensive because everyone always teased you for this. 

But when that neon orange paisley print comes around the conveyor belt, you have to bite your lip from laughing out loud at his incredulous expression. 

“Did you find that in the seventies?” he grabs it and nods towards the door as you take your bag from him. 

The car is not only warm and running when you get to it, but it’s also almost too hot and you shrug out of your coat. 

“Thanks for the ride,” buckling yourself in and settling into the seat, you send him a genuine smile.

“Like I’d let you take a cab,” he says as he pulls up to pay for parking and soon you’re on the turnpike and headed to the compound. 

You’re both quiet and as he navigates through the late-night holiday traffic, you get caught up in the lights of the city. 

“You awake over there?” 

“Huh? I was looking at the city lights,” you shift to look at him. “I’m sorry, did you say something.”

His hand twitches on the shifter and it doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you.

“I was wondering if you were hungry. Everyone, except maybe Steve will be asleep by the time we get there and I frankly do not like it when Nat wakes up angry,” the car glides over closer to an exit. “Do you wanna stop somewhere and eat?”

“Sure, wherever.”

He pulls off into a small metro area and spots a Denny’s about two miles from the highway. Once you’re inside and seated in the back, you realize you might be the last customers in the restaurant. 

After the waitress unenthusiastically takes your order and leaves you alone in the booth. As you rearrange the jelly holder, Bucky stares at you until you finally look stop fidgeting and look at him. 

“So, how’s … everything?” he asks when you sit back and fold your hands into your lap. 

The grimace crosses your face before you can stop it. It had been so easy at the airport, casual, but this feels forced and you don’t want this. Nothing had ever been difficult between the two of you before. 

“Things are good, of course, they are.” You shrug and offer a smile, “Moving to DC was a good choice for me. I like the work that I do and I’m happy with the results.”

He bristles a little at the mention of your work but doesn’t bat an eye at the mention of your move. The two of you had discussed it, at length, when the opportunity had come up; neither of you wanted the move, but you also couldn’t deny that it was a good choice for you. 

When the waitress comes back with your country fried steak and eggs and his bacon cheeseburger and fries you both take a few minutes to situate yourself. Chewing replaces the awkward conversation and you’re grateful for the time being. 

“You still enjoying the life of a superhero?” The question is obviously a surprise to Bucky as he chokes down the giant bite he just took. 

“That’s the designation, but it doesn’t make it true,” he smirks and pushes his plate towards you. Sighing, you set your silverware aside and swap plates with him. 

“Just like old times, right?” You laugh lightly as you pick up the remainder of his burger and take a bite and moan. “Oh, god that’s good.” 

“The job s’okay,” he shrugs as he shovels some scrambled eggs onto his fork. “I still get to travel and I don’t have to take anyone with me anymore, so that’s a plus.”

“Everything works out for a reason, then?” Locking eyes with him, you polish off the last of his fries and smile with bulging cheeks. 

“I think some of our friends might disagree with you on that, but sure; everything works out for a reason.” 

You both fight over the check but in the end, you let him pay. Back in the car you stretch and yawn before reaching for the radio, “Can I?”

“Sure, doll.”

 You land on some local station playing holiday music and you hum along until you feel your eyes start to droop.

“I’m glad I ran into you, Buck,” you rub a hand over his forearm and let it linger there. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here, but I brought you a present.” A lazy grin crosses your face when his face lights up. 

“Well, you gotta come home for Christmas, right?” He nudges your arm away and reaches over to rub the back of your neck, “Of course, I got you something too.”

Sighing into his touch, you wish every interaction with him could be like this; so easy, so real. 

Sometime later, you wake to Bucky gently shaking you, “We’re home, doll. I’ll get your bag.”

After you two are let in by Friday, you both stop at the fork in the hallway that leads to both wings of the private quarters. 

"Nat cleaned up my old room," you provide as it seems Bucky was going to invite you to his room. 

"Oh, that makes sense." He rolls your bag towards you and throws you a smile. "See ya later, doll." 

"Night, Buck."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning starts with Steve waking you after eight, which has to be a record for him, but it was nice to have a cup of coffee and catch up a little with him before facing everyone else. 

"How'd you get home, anyway?"

You sit up a little straighter, "I figured you would have spoken to him by now," you shake your head at his curious look. "I ran into Bucky at the airport."

"What is it weird?" 

Rolling your eyes you set your cup down and shrug, “Nothing has ever been ‘weird’ between me and Bucky. Intense, hot, heavy, real?” You tick it all off on your fingers as Steve smirks, “We just never worked right.”

He snorts and stares at you incredulously, “You’re kidding, right?” He forward and claps you on the shoulder, “You and Bucky are like Westley and Buttercup.”

He stands up and moves to the door, “Have you thought any more about my offer?”

“Yeah, I still don’t have an answer for you,” you lean back against the couch cushions and smile. “Apparently we’ll be getting some new desk jockeys come January and I would want to make sure the transition goes smoothly.”

“Maria Hill doesn’t retire every day,” his hands are on his hips and give off his fatherly vibe. “You’ll really think about it? You could be back here with us all the time, and you’d get to call the shots.”

“For the most part,” you add with a wink. 

“Bingo.” He opens the door, “Let’s go make the horde breakfast.” 

After the cast of characters join the two of you for breakfast and take over the clean up, the day is filled with baking cookies with Wanda and Morgan and pulling out the decorations for the tree.  

The tree that Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Tony are going to chop down.

“Where are you going to find a pine or fir small enough to fit inside?” You ask as the men don their winter gear and debate whether an ax is necessary. “Why don’t you just drive into town and buy a tree?”

Silence descends on the large common room and four heads swivel in your direction. 

“Is it something I said?” you ask with a grin. 

“Doll, this is the best way to acquire a tree.” Bucky is as serious about this as he has ever been about anything. 

“It’s the dumbest way to go about it, for sure.” He stalks towards you and you stand up straighter. 

“Do you think I should stay inside? I could stay here and decorate cookies with you,” he sends a wink to Morgan who has snuck up next to you and is tugging on your hand. 

“I don’t know, what do you think, kid?” Hoisting her up onto your hip she taps her lip with her finger and pretends to think.

“Booky, you should stay and use sprinkles with me.” She nods so sagely, you believe she has all the answers to life’s questions. 

“Alright guys, you heard the little lady: I’m staying.” He slides the leather coat off and tosses it to Sam who rolls his eyes, but hangs it back up. “Don’t die.”

The three of you walk back into the kitchen as the guys leave and as soon as they’re gone you finally ask, “What happens if they come back empty-handed?” 

“They won’t,” Bucky says with a grimace and you don’t want to know what that really means. “But Pepper already bought a tree. It’s over in the warehouse, you know, just in case.”

Sprinkles, frosting, flour, and eggshells cover almost every surface in the kitchen and your back and feet are killing you. 

Pepper finally whisked Morgan off for a nap and before you can even think about starting the cleanup, a cup of coffee is being shoved into your hands and you’re being shooed away from the epicenter and told to “take a load off” on a bar stool that sits at the island. 

The groan is quiet, but still present as you sit and it serves as another reminder that you weren’t quite cut out for the life of a superhero; the life of an Avenger. 

You weren’t enhanced and you hadn’t been trained since childhood, you had just been good, great even. They had seen something in you, taken a chance; gratefully it had led to the job you had now and the good work you were doing in DC. 

But you never could keep up with any of them; couldn’t keep up with him. 

“You look awful serious over there, doll.” Bucky is closing the dishwasher and setting it. “You alright?”

“Just thinking about … you.” It’s honest, if not a little gratuitous. You think about Bucky a lot for someone that couldn’t figure out how to make it work between the two of you. 

“Oh, remembering the good times?” He’s got his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, muscle and metal rippling and gleaming as he wipes down the counters. 

“Thinking about how I wasn’t cut out for this,” you vaguely gesture around the room. “I did all I could, after ‘The Snappening’ and after Thanos was defeated and everyone came back, to be an Avenger, but my talents are better served elsewhere. Helping people in different ways.”

“Plus, it pays to have a friend on that side of the line,” he says with a slight grunt. 

Bucky never quite got over the fact that you went to work for Everett Ross when everyone came back. Resources were needed; facilities, food, water … you name it, you found it and helped to distribute it. 

You were doing good work that you were proud of. 

Even if you had to work for an insufferable jerk. 

“Not all of us are cut out for this lifestyle,” He pulls you from your thoughts as he leans on the clean counter across from you. 

“You thinking of hanging up the suit?” The surprise is evident in your voice and you feel a weird flutter in your gut. 

“I don’t know.” He shrugs and grabs your coffee mug and drains the last of it. “Sometimes I think I could handle being a desk jockey.” He refills it and doctors it up just the way you like and passes it back to you. 

“You’d hate it.” 

“Would I? Quiet days getting work done and feeling satisfied with it,” he’s leaning on the counter again and smiles. “I guess the grass is always greener, right?”

“Sure, but I don’t leave work every day happy. Sometimes I’m so frustrated because I’m not getting the answers I want or I’m not getting them fast enough.” You drink deep from the cup before pushing it back to him.

“I went to DC to talk about a job opening,” he drops the information so casually that it doesn’t register at first. 

“Wait, my DC? What job?”

“What, like you own it?” You both laugh as Sam and Steve come stumbling into the room laughing, breathless, and red-cheeked. 

“We found a tree,” Sam tells you with a pointed look. “It’s way too big to bring inside, but Tony is bound and determined to decorate it out on the lawn.”

“I’ll track down everyone, I think they’re watching movies.” Shaking your head you stand up and whip off your apron and look over at Bucky, “Text Pepper. I don’t think Santa will leave Morgan’s presents outside.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Somehow you got paired up with Tony and Pepper to trim the “indoor” tree as it was referred to. Tony had brought out a bunch of old tools and spare parts and decorated the giant tree outside but got bored when he realized that everyone was inside staying warm. 

“So, who is trying to convince you to come back?” Tony asks as he untangles the third string of lights. You shoot him a glance and strategically place another bauble on a branch. 

“Everyone. Well, with the exception of Bucky, Pepper, and yourself,” you sigh knowing exactly where this is headed. “I’ve had several lengthy discussions with Maria about this.”

“There’s no one we’d rather work with.” He’s so matter of fact in his statement that you’re taken aback for a moment. It isn’t often that Tony is so genuine, without any hint of sarcasm. “Don’t you miss us?”

Walking around the tree looking for large holes, you snort. “I miss you all. But I call, I email.”

“You missed Morgan’s birthday.”

“Hey, that’s not fair, Tony.” Pepper admonishes from the other side of the tree and even though you can’t see her, you smile in her direction.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you did, in fact, miss it,” Tony repeats and you finally stop in front of him with your arms crossed. 

“I wasn’t even settled and if I’m not mistaken, a certain group of superheroes had just inadvertently taken out a clean water reservoir that I need to need to attend to.” 

“Fair enough,” Tony hands you one end of the lights and you begin to weave it into the tree. “You do realize that if you came to work here, you could help us avoid that.”

“That’s a cheap shot, even for you.” You stick your tongue out at him and tug at the lights in his hands. “For the record, I am seriously considering it.”

“Mom, she stuck her tongue out at me!” He complains to Pepper who laughs and walks away to change the record from Sinatra to Bing Crosby and White Christmas.

“Play nice you two.’

After a few minutes and another string of lights, you finally ask the question you need to know the answer to.

“Do you know what job Bucky went to DC to look at?” Tony looks up at you with something akin to fascination on his face. 

“Has he really not talked to you about it? I just figured that was the reason-” he trails off when the record skips terribly and he jumps up to fix it. 

Dinner is easy enough with gallons of soup and grilled cheese sandwiches to feed the literal army assembled. As per tradition at the compound, everyone gets to open one present on Christmas eve, which is always new pajamas; and everyone gets them from a secret Santa, so they’re all hideous in a spectacular way. 

There are dancing llamas, hanging sloths, crazy reindeer and snowman. Footless, two-piece sets, onesies, and even some butt flaps. Hot cocoa, egg nog, and nightcaps are passed around as everyone settles down to watch “White Christmas”. 

Sometime after Bing and Danny lip sync to “Sisters”, you meander out into the hallway and towards the large front windows to look at the softly falling snow. 

Taking a seat on the stairs and drawing your knees up under your chin, you reflect on the past two years. Everyone came back and the greatest physical threat to Earth was defeated. You were able to hug and share your love with people you thought you would never see again. 

You left. 

The rewarding aspect of your job was almost to self-satisfying. You could say that you were helping to end hunger, lowering poverty levels. The work you helped with brought desperately needed medical treatments, education, and supplies to areas that need it most. 

It looked great on a resume and sounded great a corporate mingles. 

You liked it because you weren’t a self-serving asshole. 

It was white bread and stale to boot. 

But there was still a part of you that missed being even somewhat a part of the action; you missed being around and hearing about the stories. You missed being called for an assignment, even if everyone figured out that you weren’t cut out for it. 

“Why couldn’t I do both?” The thought only just now manifested itself to you and how you hadn’t thought of it three months ago when Maria Hill called to offer you first dibs at her position with the Avengers, doesn’t even make sense. 

“What are you doing out here?” Bucky’s voice is quiet when he pulls you out of your thoughts and plans. 

“It was getting to be a little too much in there, I just need some space.” When you look up at him, you grin when you see his onesie designed to look like The Grinch wearing a Santa suit. 

He’s holding two mugs and tries to pass one off to you. 

“I can’t drink any more coffee or cocoa,” you whine and shake your head.

“I figured.” He says and pushes the mug into your hands, “It’s a hot toddy. Something to help you sleep.”

Taking a tentative sip you smile when you feel the familiar, smokey burn from the whiskey followed by the smooth honey. It’s sweet, but that’s how you like it. You scoot over on the step and pat the space next to you. 

Bucky somehow manages to take up all the room without crowding you; that’s how he’s always been. When you rest your head on his shoulder, you feel him press a kiss to your hair. 

“Is it weird being here with me?” It’s the question that you’ve been dying to ask. Everything has always been easy and simple between you two, even when you just stopped being you two.

“Why would it be weird?”

You sigh and sit up. That was enough of an answer right there if you ever heard one. 

“This was my Christmas wish, doll.” You look over your shoulder to the man with the bright blue eyes and sweet smile. “I wanted you here again, even if it was just for the holidays.”

Without thinking you push yourself into his arms and wrap your arms around his neck. He chuckles as he rubs your back and pulls you closer. When you finally pull away you can see the laugh still in his smile and the longing in his eyes. 

It’s been so long. 

“You know, I used to get so excited whenever I heard you were coming to Wakanda for research,” Bucky tells you with a duck of his head as if he’s embarrassed to confess this to you. “The first time I ever walked into the city there was with you.”

Bucky had always given Shuri and her team all the credit for helping get back to himself; but between the two of you, he made sure you knew just how much you helped him grow. 

“I may have made a few extra trips over there after we started to get close,” you concede. “I was still doing my job, but there was so much more to it then.”

“Then everything happened and then we got you all back. Steve went back for Natasha and they figured how to save Tony,” the memory of all the triumphs makes you a little misty-eyed. “Then one night there you were, knocking on my door.”

“I just wanted to talk,” he says with a laugh. 

You had talked, about everything and nothing for hours that night. That one night turned into a year of quiet dinners, movie nights, and slow dancing in your room. 

But in all that time, there was never any serious discussion about what you two were doing; you could deal with that and you certainly weren’t trying to initiate that talk. Everything was easy peasy, lemon squeezy between you two. 

No definite plans, no routines, and nothing to catch you off guard. 

Until the offer from Ross came and you knew that this was what you were truly meant to be doing. At least, you thought so two years ago; and when you sat down with Bucky to discuss it with him, he agreed. 

“It sounds perfect for you, doll. You should take it if you want to.”

Hindsight had afforded you the opportunity to see that you two often said that to each other, “If you want to.”, or some variation. Not once did either one of you tell the other exactly how you felt, whether it was positive or not! 

That’s why everything was so easy between you two all the time; you just always agreed with each other and nothing ever got done or decided. 

“I wish we had stayed in better touch after you left,” Bucky’s comment pulls you from your thoughts. Here, the perfect opportunity was presenting itself to you. 

“Why didn’t you? I know I had my reasons for not being better about it, but why didn’t you?” You’re trying desperately to keep the desperation out of your voice, but now that you’re asking, you need to know. 

He hesitates, “I actually thought you didn’t want to talk to me.” 

You stare at him for what feels like a full minute before he continues, “This job was a huge step and such a great opportunity for you and I … I didn’t want to be a distraction. I just wanted you to be happy and if you weren’t happy here, with me, then I should just leave you be.”

“I was happy here with you,” you pace in front of him and smile sadly. “I was so unhappy for the first six months or so that I was in DC.”  

Bucky grabs your hand and makes you stop in front of him, “Why didn’t you keep in touch with me? You said you had your reasons.” 

“It sounds so stupid, but I thought you didn’t care where I was; here or there, that it just didn’t matter to you.” You can feel the tears well in your eyes, “I thought you didn’t want me, so I just left you alone.”

“That couldn’t be further from the truth,” he tugs on your hand and you stumble towards him. “I always want you. Since the first time I met you across the globe to when I saw you last night at the airport and even right now.” 

His warm, muscular hand cups your cheek and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s testing and slow and when you melt into him, awkward angle on the stairs and all, he opens his mouth to you and it’s like you’ve never had fresh air before. You drink in every bit of him, trying desperately to absorb his very essence and clinging to the hope of what this one kiss could mean for you both. 

“You know, you both have perfectly good rooms you could put to use,” you both pull away sheepishly and look at Steve who has his arms crossed over his broad chest in his candy cane striped long johns. 

“The Stark’s are headed out.” Steve turns and returns to the common room. 

“C’mon doll, let’s go say goodbye to the kid.”

After hugs and kisses are passed all around you search for Bucky in the small crowd of your friends. Everyone seems to have dispersed and you remember the pile of unwrapped presents in your room and decide that you’ve had enough excitement for one night and head to your room to handle the gifts. 

You spend the next hour or so methodically wrapping gifts and watching “Holiday Inn” and thinking about your future. There are two voices in your head, one telling you to stay in DC and one telling you to return to New York; you’re not at all sure which voice is supposed to be the devil or the angel. 

You think again to how you could both, at least until a suitable replacement was found for you; and wouldn’t that make everyone happy?

You didn’t give a shit if it made everyone happy. You wanted to be happy, you deserved to be happy. 

You wanted to be happy with Bucky. 

After Christmas, you decide, you’ll call Maria Hill. Skype her with Tony and Steve, who undoubtedly will be on your side. Tony can convince Ross and then it’s a done deal. 

Eyeing the present you had already wrapped for him when an idea came to you that caused you to spring to your feet and grab your coat and slide into your boots. You’d need some help with this and if this wasn’t the time for Captain America, you didn’t know what was. 

Quietly creeping down the halls to Steve’s room feels insanely dumb at two in the morning. Calling or texting him would have been faster and simpler, but this was a spur of the moment thing. 

When you reach his door and knock softly it takes a few minutes before the door opens. Natasha, in worn grey leggings and a ratty T-shirt, greets you. 

Sleepy eyed but smiling she asks, “Did you need Steve to help with a grand declaration of love?”

“Yes,” She pulls you into the room. “I’m sorry for waking you up, but I do need his help.”

“S’no skin off my back, just make sure you get him back in time for his Christmas present.” she sends you an overexaggerated wink and you fight the urge to puke and burst out laughing. 

She wanders off, presumably to wake Steve and he stumbles out a few minutes later. 

“What do you need, kid?”

After explaining yourself and helping yourself to coffee in Steve’s kitchen and fixing two travel mugs to go, he stares at you in disbelief. 

“You want to make a four trip to a New York welcome center for a picture?” he hasn’t even put on his coat yet. 

“It will feel much longer if we don’t hurry,” you shove a travel mug into his hands. “I’ll drive!”

The next thing you know you’ve made it to the Adirondacks, done what you wanted to do and now Steve was driving you back to the compound. 

“I can’t believe you woke me up for a four drive and that only took five minutes!” He’s complaining, but he’s smiling. He knows what his means. He knows how happy his two friends will soon be. 

“I know,” you try to stifle a yawn. “It’s gonna be worth it, I think.”

When you get home you part ways, Steve for maybe an hour of sleep before whatever it is that Natasha does for him on Christmas morning and you for as much sleep as you can manage. 

Ditching your coats and boots by the door, you fall into bed and dream of sugarplums dancing. 

The banging could be elves working on toys in Santa’s workshop. It could also be someone trying to knock down your door. You pop one eye open and peek at the bedside clock that reads eight in the morning. 

Two hours of sleep and now someone was breaking down your door, “Hang on, I’m up.” Hollering as you stretch and climb out of bed you head to the bathroom and run through a very abridged morning routine before answering the door. 

Bucky is as handsome as ever in a lovely deep green cable knit sweater and dark jeans. He’s wearing the worn-out slippers you bought him several years ago and it adds to the charm and allure he possesses. 

“Heard you snuck out after curfew last night,” he grins and leans against the doorjamb. “Wanna tell me all about your adventure while you open your present?”

You hadn’t realized, but he’d been holding one hand behind his back. When he revealed himself he was holding a beautifully wrapped package. 

“I thought everyone was doing presents together?” You gesture him inside and take a seat on the couch. 

“We are, but this is special.” He sits next to you and the grin fades into something serious. 

“Well, you look well-rested and refreshed, can a girl at least take a quick shower?” Before he can answer, you’re off the couch and into the bedroom with the door closed behind you. 

Bucky can entertain himself for twenty or so minutes and this will give you enough time to clean up and dress for the day and take of your very last present. 

Over the running shower, you ask Friday to silently connect your phone to the printer in the room. But the time you’re rinsing the conditioner from your hair, it’s done and you can finish up.

After you’re dressed you realize you don’t actually have anything to put it in, so you just slip into a book and take it out into the front room with you. Stealth was never your point, but you could try. 

“Feel better?” Bucky hands you a mug of coffee and you smile widely. 

“Much, thank you,” you move back to the couch, grabbing his present from the pile on the coffee table. “Shall we?”

You hand over your gift before Bucky can give you his and he smiles as he rips into it like wild five-year-old. 

You had found a lovely, antique hinged picture frame. It opened like a book and inside on the left, you had placed a photo taken of the two of you after Bucky’s first visit into the city in Wakanda. Both of you have sunkissed skin and big smiles; he had kissed you right before that photo was taken. It was the first kiss between you two, and it held so many possibilities. 

On the right side, a photo was taken of the two of you after Bruce and Doctor Strange had figured out how to bring Tony back. There was a look of shock and awe mixed with an overabundance of happiness. You two had jumped at each other and hugged and when you pulled apart, someone had thought to capture it.

Bucky is deadly still. 

He’s so quiet you wonder if he hasn’t reverted to Hydra assassin. You’re about to crack a joke to relieve what you believe to be tension when you hear the faint sniffle. 

He’s crying so softly and when he looks at you, your heart wants to break. 

“Bucky?”

“This- this is beautiful, doll.” He wraps an arm around you and presses his face into your neck and inhales deeply, “Thank you. It’s the most perfect thing.”

You embrace him tightly and when you pull away from him you immediately reach for the book to give him the second part of his gift when he shoves your present under your nose. 

“Oh no, it’s your turn. Then you can tell me all about this late-night drive.” He wipes his face as laughs and you sigh and begin to pull at the ribbon on the package. 

You could never rip apart this beautiful paper; the brushed silver background with the royal blue swirls all over it. You’re struggling for a moment until you realize the problem.

“Did you use packing tape?” Bucky laughs at your incredulity and you stick out your tongue as you reach for the scissors on the coffee table and slice through.

When you reach the box inside you can tell it’s lightweight. Opening the box reveals a beautiful knitted scarf in striking emerald.

“It’s from Ireland,” Bucky tells you as you lift it from the box and bring it up to rub it on your face. “I knew how much you liked them and I just figured-”

You cut him off with a quick peck on his lips, “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Pulling the entire scarf out, you notice something flutter to the floor. 

“There’s something else, doll.”

Picking up what looks like a postcard, you turn it over to find an awkward looking photo of Bucky standing on a street under a sign that says “Welcome to Washington, DC”. You stare at it for a few moments and then burst into hysterical laughter.

“I know it’s a bad picture of me, but I thought the sentiment might be good enough,” He isn’t mad, but you can tell, even through your hysterics, that he’s confused. 

“Is this a grand declaration?” You look to him and sober up quickly as he nods. 

Reaching for the book and slipping out the photo you had just printed you hand it over and simply say, “Ditto.”

Bucky is struck dumb looking at you in your Christmas jammies and winter boots and coat in front of a huge “I <3 NY” sign at the New York welcome center in the Adirondacks. 

“That’s what I was doing last night, or early this morning.”

He looks at you and his blue eyes are bright with fresh tears, “What does this mean doll?” 

You take this picture from his hands and set it on the coffee table next to the picture of him in DC. When you turn back to face him you take his hands in yours and smile softly. 

“It means that I haven’t been very happy and I want to be,” squeezing his hands you scoot just a little closer. “I want to be happy with you. I was always happy with you, Bucky.”

“With me? Are you sure?” He’s so earnest and eager. “I’d spend the rest of my life making sure you’re happy if that’s truly what you want.”

Leaning in, you press your lips to his. When he cradles your head and crushes your body to his you know how right this is and deepen the kiss. As he pulls away from you and caresses your cheeks you can feel the tears prick your eyes and the smile crepe over your face.

“Where will we live?” You both laugh and Bucky pulls you into a hug and leans back into the cushions of the couch with you in his arms. 

“I don’t want you to leave your job. You’re still happy with that, right?” When you explain to him that while you do love what you do, the job is stale and you miss being around the Avengers compound. 

You tell him of your plan to talk to Steve and Tony about being able to do both. 

“What about the job for you in DC?” Bucky looks sheepish at your question. 

“You know those desk jockeys you were going to get in January?” he nods as your jaw drops. 

“Buck, you would hate it. Not the purpose behind it, but the actual job,” you turn towards him, animatedly explaining things. “Sitting at a desk all day, writing reports. You’d hate it. I don’t want that for you.”

He opens his mouth to respond but you place your hand over his lips, “I don’t care where we’re based, DC or New York, I just want to be with you. I’ll take Maria’s job and work with the team again.”

“Everything else is just details, right?”

“Right,” you snuggle back into his arms and sigh contentedly. “Wherever we are together will be home.”

Bucky presses a kiss to the top of your head and squeezes you gently in his arms, “Then we’ll always be home for Christmas.” 

A minute passes and you burst out into laughter, “You’re such a dork, Barnes.”

He laughs with you, “A dork that loves you.”

“That’s been my Christmas wish for years,” you turn in his arms to kiss him again. “I love you too.”

@quant-um-fizzx​ @broco8

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #avengers #marvel #fanfic #holiday

[packsbeforesnacks]

I’m Not As Think As You Drunk I Am || Noah & Winn

TIMING: Sunday, May 3rd, 2020, After Midnight LOCATION: Bottomless Booty & Noah’s Townhouse PARTIES: @noah-kalani & @packsbeforesnacks SUMMARY: Two bros, chillin’ in a king bed. (Because of Winn’s dick, see?) WARNINGS: Nudity and tomfoolery.

“It’s just,” Winn started, slurring his words very definitely slightly (he hoped), “I feel for the kids, y’know? They tried so, so, so hard and to get beaten in the last game in overtime? It’s just… unfair.” He’d long since stopped eatin’ the seafood spread out in front of him and Noah. The younger man sat across from him, picking off some truly delicious shrimp. Bottomless Booty was a little kitschy, but Winn kinda liked it. Not a spot he would’ve chosen for a date (not… that this was a date), but the food was very good. And the booze was doin’ the job. “But shit, buddy, I feel like I’m suckin’ up all the air in the room. This is supposed to be about you!” He held up his mixed drink to Noah. (They’d toasted already, but… why not.)

Taking a swig of his third (no fourth?) beer, Noah sat back in his booth, studying all of the slightly sad, and slightly drunk Winn in front of him. He wasn’t quite sure how this celebration “date” had devolved into this. Okay actually, no, that was a lie. He knew exactly how they had gotten there, with three margaritas and fifty dollars worth of crab and shrimp, but honestly? He didn’t really mind it. It had been a long time since Noah had let loose and gotten drunk with a friend. “I know the feeling and it definitely sucks buddy. But at the end of the day a game is a game. Someone has to win and someone has to lose,” he replied with a small shake of his head. “Well, you are paying for this lot.” He motioned to the carnage in front of them, “So, the least I can do is listen to your troubles.” He winked at the other dude, before picking up a stray piece of shrimp and swallowing whole.

Winn felt himself flush at the wink, still holding up his glass to Noah. Stop that, Winner. “Well,” he mumbled, suddenly self-conscious. “Thank you, Noah.” He smiled, soft and loose. “So, don’t think I’ve ever asked ya, but… Why be a vet? I mean,” he dropped his voice low, “you’re, like, part dog, so I get it, but…” He winked back, partly in belated response to Noah’s wink and partly because he was funny, dang it. Winn lowered his glass, finally. It, unfortunately (?), did things to Winn to see Noah take down that shrimp whole, but he pushed it down. What was with him and men and food? Best not to examine it. “Fuck, am I glad we Ubered, bro, I’d be a smear on the highway if I tried to drive now. Not that…” He paused, considering Noah. “I mean, I’m not drunk. Not. Definitely not.”

If this was a normal day, Noah would have noticed the way Winn suddenly flushed red at his wink. But alas it was not a normal day, and flirty Noah was already too drunk to listen to the voice in his head telling him he was steering this ship into uncharted waters. “No problem bro,” Noah replied before picking up his beer and raising it yet again to the other’s very drunk toast, clinking his glass against the others, fingertips accidentally making contact with Winn’s. Oops. Placing his glass down before him, lest he injure everyone around him, Noah figured shoving more food into his mouth would be the next best course of action. “My dad was a vet actually,” he started around a chew, before remembering his manners. “So, I always grew up with animals, even before becoming,” he leaned in, “part dog.” Grinning from ear to ear, he straightened, fingers searching for a napkin as Winn confessed to ‘not being drunk’ “Yeah, and if you’re stone cold sober, then I’m Queen Elizabeth,” he joked, tossing the used napkin playfully at the other man.

Winn, damn him, had a half-thought to hold Noah’s hand as their fingers brushed. Just a little hand-holding between bros. But he restrained himself. Barely. (His hand did, shamefully, chase Noah’s glass. But that was totally fine. Totally.) “Ah,” Winn said, intelligently. “Makes sense to go into the family business.” He had just enough memory, just enough tact, to know not to pursue Noah’s family any farther, at this point. Not while they were drunk. (Not that he was drunk.) “What’s your favorite aminal?” Wait, aminal? “Animal,” he corrected, sheepishly. Noah’s napkin hit Winn’s chest, bouncing down into his lap. Lap. Shit, he had to piss. How had he not noticed? He should bring that up soon. He started to scoot out of the booth, before realizing he’d asked a question of his friend. “Piss?” he said helpfully, listening attentively to Noah.

“It’s cliche I know, but my favorite animal has always been a wolf.” Noah grinned, ignoring Winn’s slight stutter of his words. “Oh Me? No.” Noah shook his head assuming that’s what Winn meant when he mentioned piss. “But I can get the check while you’re doing it?” he asked, trying to be helpful, because, yeah, neither of them probably needed to stay and sink further into a drunken stupor, especially as Winn kinda paused at the end of the booth eyes slightly glazed. Oh boy. Winn was really really drunk wasn’t he? “Come here, big boy,” Noah said motioning for the other man to stand up and come closer to him, plan already in motion. See, Noah was gonna be a responsible drunk. He was gonna get everything paid, and both of them in an Uber, and everything was gonna be a-okay. But first. Money. “Need wallet to pay so we can go,” he grunted, reaching for the obvious bulge in Winn’s ass pocket before realizing. This was Winn. He was grabbing Winn’s ass. A man he had not established these “bro I touch your ass because you touch mine all the time” protocols with. Shit. Noah. What the actual fuck.

Wallet? What was… where was his wallet? Noah had mentioned something about the check. Right. They definitely had to pay. And Winn had to piss. Hmm. Winn stood at Noah’s call, almost trancelike, and walked towards Noah. He tilted his head a bit at “big boy,” even as drunk as he wasn’t, Winn scoffed a little bit. It wasn’t, like… Noah wasn’t small. He could take Winn. Had. Jacked up on Full Moon juice and bein’ pissed that Winn had given him the ol’ sniff. Which, if Winn wasn’t careful, was definitely going to happen again. He knew he wasn’t steady, and as Noah groped at his ass, Winn felt himself sling forward a little into Noah’s personal space. Did he always have to smell good? Fucking hell. But… Why was Noah grabbing his ass? It felt nice, but, like… Noah was, like, strai— Wallet. That wasn’t where his wallet was. That was his phone. Winn grunted low and close to Noah’s ear, and mumbled, “Front.” Thinking that maybe Noah wouldn’t catch the drift, Winn took his hand and placed it on the front of his pants, where his wallet bulged out… He hoped? He really, really hoped. His head leaned into Noah’s shoulder for a moment, as he snickered. He was a mess. They were a mess. This was a good night.

And now it was Noah’s turn to blush, the events unfolding before him like some sort of weird, sexy horror movie. Okay, well, maybe not a horror movie, per se. But it was definitely not Noah’s usual light-hearted, comedic, “Oh, I'm definitely not touching my super hot wolf friend’s dick right now, and having a panic attack because maybe I kinda like it?” genre, that was for sure. Moving his hand from Winn’s crotch, Noah grabbed the wallet, easing it gently out of the other man’s pocket and ignoring the weight on his shoulder. Because, yeah, leave it to drunk as a skunk Winn to make him have a bisexual crisis in the middle of a pirate-themed restaurant and then have the nerve to lean in for CUDDLES. Who did this motherfucker think he was? “Okay, go piss now,” Noah said gruffly, turning the other man around as fast as he could before they scared all the children. “I can handle this,” he said, waving the wallet in Winn’s direction. Hopefully, the other man was just sober enough to do that on his own, because Noah definitely needed a few seconds.

The bathroom, when Winn eventually found it, was somehow also pirate-themed. He was pretty sure he saw a “wipe your booty” sign, which, were he way more sober than he was right now, would be… mildly funny. Since he was drunk, it was hilarious. But. No laughing. Pissing. Right. When he wandered out of the bathroom a couple’a minutes later, Winn noticed Noah sitting at the booth, right where Winn had left him. Man, he had a pretty friend, huh? He should definitely tell him that. Definitely. He slid into the booth next to Noah, pushing the other man into the dividing wall between the booths and the tables in the main area. “Hey,” Winn said, dopey smile on his face, head leaned into Noah’s shoulder. They were super close. Winn loved bein’ close with his bros. Felt good, man. “You’re super hot, bro. You know that? Suuuuuper,” he dropped his voice low, feelin’ like maybe Noah could use some teasin’. Winn hadn’t teased him at all today! “Hot,” he finished, yawning. Noah’s shoulder was super comfy. He could get used to this… Then, because, well, in for a penny, in for a pound, he added, “Baby…” His voice was low, sleepy, a little mumbly. “I’d kiss you so nice.” And then, well. Then, Winn was asleep.

Once the hormones of the moment dissipated and Noah Kalani was able to get a breath of fresh air, he put the rest of his “I am a drunk yet responsible adult” plan into action, starting with motioning the waiter over for the check, and ending with ordering an Uber for the both of them. When Winn beelined for him, Noah should have known what was going to happen next, the older man sliding in and leaning on his shoulder. It had been a long time since anyone had been this, well, physical? No wait, that wasn't the right word. Cuddly? Caring? Gentle? Supportive? to him in a long time, and it was safe to say it was, well, kinda nice. Especially coming from someone who he knew actually meant every word. Even the ones that sent a full body flush down his spine. “Winn?” Noah asked, trying not to blanch too hard, thoughts still spinning of Winn and Kissing, and of Winn wanting to Kiss him. And… how would it even be to kiss a man? But the answer he was looking for never came, because of course Winn Woods would choose now to pass the fuck out. Goddamnit. Shaking all of the thoughts out of his head (because one crisis at a time, Kalani) Noah elbowed the other into submission, somehow getting them out of the restaurant and into their awaiting Uber.

Winn may have been drunk (and, alright, yes, he could admit, now, that he was drunk), but he was still a pretty light sleeper. Noah’s body pressed up against his, trying to guide them out of the restaurant, jostled him enough that he woke up and, bare minimum, held himself up as Noah guided him. He’d have to thank the man later. Had he mentioned kissing? Winn hoped he hadn’t said that aloud; he just wanted to mess with Noah, not freak the other guy out. The world went woozy again, as Noah put him into the Uber and, safety be damned, Winn refused to put on a seatbelt. Not when there was a Noah. He was a wolf, he’d be fiiiiine. The Uber was surprisingly roomy, enough for Winn to slink down in his seat, to tip over to the side, and to have his head land in Noah’s lap. Oops. “I’m sorry,” he said to… Noah? The driver? It was unclear. “We tip well. Five stars. Just lemme nap, pleeease.” Okay, so. To the driver, then. Here, in the darkness of the car, in the quiet, Winn felt… safe. Lo— Ha, no. He reached his hand back, under (?) his body, to grab at one of Noah’s (extremely nice) hands, guiding it to his hair. “It’s still your lap, buddy, just…” He laughed at the joke he was about to make. “Pretend I’m a dog. Pet me, Kalani.” He winked. His eyes were definitely closed, but, like, it was an emotional wink. Noah would feel it. Before passing out again, Winn felt a gentle, tentative hand in his hair. Oh.

While wrestling a whole almost 200 pounds of Winn into the car was relatively easy in the grand scheme of things, getting a seatbelt on him proved even more difficult. “Winn. Stop moving,” Noah said through gritted teeth, before simply giving up and letting the other just fall into his lap. And any other time he’d have just bro-elbowed him back into place, but for now the younger boy let it slide, too tired to care. His drunk mind focused on getting them both home safely. And preferably with the least amount of moving. But of course Winn had other ideas, grabbing Noah’s hand and spouting useless babble Noah’s drunk ears barely registered. “Your buddy okay back there?” the Uber driver asked tentatively, as if only to gauge the possibility of cleanup—or worse, shenanigans—the thought of which made Noah look down at Winn and roll his eyes. Leave it to Winn to make everything awkward again, and then stick him with the cleanup duty. But, for some odd reason, looking down at the man in his lap, he couldn't find it in his heart to be mad at the big lug. In fact, he felt oddly protective, the wolf in him comforted by the fact Winn was close and warm and nice. Was this what it was like? Having a pack? Noah didn’t know, but what he did know is that the brute in his lap wanted to be petted, and he guessed he would oblige. “He’s fine… He’s just drunk,” Noah responded quietly, brushing a stray piece of hair out of Winn’s eyes. Because yeah. Winn was just drunk. Noah was just drunk. None of this meant anything because they were both just drunk.

To Winn’s credit, he was a calm and quiet lapdog. He drifted in and out of sleep, only occasionally shifting his head to nudge deeper into the warmth that was Noah, feeling just… nice. Was he snoring, just a little, or was that a drunken thought? Noah’s hand, petting Winn just as the older man had asked-begged, soothed him, the wolf enjoying it as much as (if not more than) his human self did. The car eventually stopped outside of Noah’s house and the door cracked open, letting the cool spring air in and rustling Winn fully awake. He was… slightly more sober? Decently-slightly. He could make it to a door without any help, definitely. Instead, what Winn said as he half-rolled out of the car was, “Help me?”, stretching his arms and legs out and into Noah’s waiting grip, half-falling on the man. “I could go home, I’m fine,” he said, leaning against the younger man for support. “But I don’t want to...” Wait, had he said that aloud? Eh, fuck it. It was true. “Thankyouuu!” he called back into the car as Noah shut the door.

Feeling the car come to a stop, Noah jerked out of his drunken stupor, fingers intertwined in Winn’s hair, hazy eyes looking out for his aunt’s townhouse. Okay yeah, they were here, cool. Now to get both of them out of the car. Untangling himself from the other man, Noah reached over and pushed Winn’s door open for him, a grin erupting on his face as Winn practically fell out of it on his own accord. Yup, that about summed the night up. Exiting the car himself, Noah walked around to heed Winn’s pleas, pulling the dude upright again almost effortlessly. Winn was lucky he chose to get drunk with a dude who could haul him over his head and benchpress him. “I will not let your drunken ass go home by yourself, maaaate,” he grunted out as he hauled Winn up the steps to his front door, hand digging in his pockets for his keys. “Bros need tuh look out for bros,”he said, if only to fill the silence as he fumbled with the lock. Damn depth perception. Finally, the door swung open, revealing, by the hall light on, one of his large ass water bottles left on the entryway table with a note that said: “Drink me, bitch.” Aunt Leah, man, the Real MVP.  Taking a large swig himself, Noah carefully held out the bottle for Winn, chuckling as he grasped at it like he’d never had water in his entire life. “Thirsty, huh?” Noah snorted before he hauled them further into the house. Usually, he’d dump his friends on the couch, brownie points accomplished, but today? Nah, today he headed up the stairs. Winn had had a weekend it seemed; he deserved a bed.

The next thing Winn remembered was water being tipped into his mouth. He grasped at it, nearly (but not!) dropping it, suddenly aware of how thirsty he was. One chug, and it was gone. “More,” he gasped out, before realizing that was maybe not a good idea. “Wait, no. Not more. Yes more, but not more in me, more near me.” Winn had never been inside Noah’s house — well, not more than the entryway, guiding Noah’s snoring body to a couch, but he knew he was being led up stairs. He wasn’t as sleepy, which was… good, probably. And he felt, like, a little guilty, which meant that he was definitely sobering up. Wolf problems. “Sorry,” he mumbled, but then, louder: “Sorry, really. I’m… sorry.” Oh fuck, was he getting emotional? “This was supposed to be about you, babe, I mean. Buddy. I mean. Fuck.” They landed at the top of the stairs, and Winn suddenly felt a strong urge to hug the other man. So, he did. “Wanna hang with you sober, get to know you, I really… like you, Noah,” he said, smiling against Noah’s neck. “But we gotta stop meetin’ like this.” He let go of Noah for a second, looking into the other man’s eyes. The moonlight cut through a nearby window, and Winn re-realized, for what had to be the millionth time tonight, how beautiful the other man was. Winn leaned in, he could just… No. He chickened out, not willing to take the rejection, not willing to make Noah hate him, no matter how much he wanted to. Instead, he planted a kiss to Noah’s cheek, hugging him again, tightly. “Thank you,” he said, quietly. What for, he wasn’t sure.

Standing at the top of the stairs Noah just looked over at Winn, drunken mind not really comprehending what was going on right now. Winn was sorry? Why was he sorry? “Why are you sorry?” Noah voiced aloud as Winn started hugging him. And then he said the sentence that Noah was most familiar with, something that he had been told by countless women… and now one really drunk bro. I really like you. Oh. OH. Winn liked him. Oh my god. Winn liked him. That's why he was sorry, because he liked him. “Wait, what?” Noah breathed out, slightly confused. Why would Winn of all people like him? I mean, don't get him wrong, Noah knew he had a lot to offer (he was smoking hot and had his life relatively together), but at the same time… his brain trailed off looking at the man in front of him. This was Winn Woods, okay? Like, all hard edges and smooth talking. He was one of the boys, Noah’s boys, and while Noah had no problem with Winn being gay… Man, was he too drunk for this. But then Winn was kissing him, or rather Winn was kissing his cheek, and Noah's brain actually short-circuited right then and there, the feeling of stubble on his face for the first time almost too much. “Winn.” Noah placed a hand on the other’s chest gently before realizing how Winn might take that. A clear stop. A hard no. Rejection. Noah had been on the receiving end of this hand enough times to know what it could be construed as. “Wait, no. This is. I’m not pushing away. Just. I need to…” He trailed off, not really knowing how to vocalize what he needed in the moment, but hoping Winn would understand.

On the plus side, Winn figured Noah didn’t hate him. And, wasn’t… rejectin’ him? What was there to really reject, though? Winn was physically affectionate, he’d kissed bros on the cheek before! And Noah was straight, so, like, he didn’t think Noah would reciprocate the, like, lust for Noah that Winn had. He knew what this was, and he was alright with it! But sometimes, your bro just looks… extremely good. And you kiss him on the cheek, and it’s a pleasant tingle in your lips because your bro’s skin is, like, so warm. Ugh. He was too drunk for this. And not drunk enough. He barely processed what Noah was saying, figuring that he needed no more cheek kisses. Awright. Winn could do that! Easily. He followed Noah to the other man’s room, taking a token stop in the restroom (good, he’d probably need that before dawn!), and sat at the edge of the other man’s bed. Was there a tension in the air? Naw, Winn was probably imaginin’ it. “Sooooo,” he drawled. His voice was still slurring, a bit, but he figured he sounded… better? “Couch? Floor? I can do either, just need, I’unno a blanket or somethin’. Pillow, we’re… not animals.” He winked at the other man, unsure if Noah could even see it in the dim light coming in through the window. “Or, hey!” Winn said, an amazing idea coming to his head. “This bed’s big enough for the two of us. We can, like, squeeze together, it’ll be dope. I’m super warm, bud, I’m a great bed-buddy.” He smiled. Amazing idea. Yes. Winn patted the spot on the bed next to him, rolling over and making room for Noah and pulling off his shirt. (Didn’t want to get too warm.)

Watching Winn back away without a care in the world, Noah breathed a small sigh of relief. He could live another day without having to do some major introspection on his own life and why he kinda wasn’t like all the way put off by Winn’s kiss. Excellent. Leading the other down the hall, Noah pointed to the door on the right of his own and motioned that that was the bathroom, lest Winn need it or anything before opening the door to his own room. He was lucky he chose to clean up his space before going out on his date, (no, wait, that was not a DATE) bed nicely made and no dirty clothes in sight. Placing the small ratted wolf stuffed animal that sat in the middle of the bed on his desk for safekeeping, Noah just rolled his eyes at the other. He was going to let Winn take the bed anyway, but he guessed he could also be in it too. Hopefully… maybe… “Fine. We can share the bed, it is a king-size after all.” He shrugged, trying not to make too much of everything lest he have another heart attack. Cuz you know they were just two bros, sharing a bed after a cheek kiss. Five feet apart cuz they weren’t gay. Or at least Noah wasn’t. Gay, that is. Turning around, Noah pushed it all out of his mind, preferring to think of Winn as one of his footballer friends as he went to rummage around for sleep clothes. Yes, Marco and everyone had slept in his bed before. In a very non-gay way. So, why did this feel any different? “Also, here.” Noah threw a pair of basketball shorts at Winn before stripping out of his jeans and into his own pair. “These will be better than those.” He motioned as he turned around just in time to watch Winn pull off his shirt in a way that should not have made Noah raise an eyebrow but also. Damn Winn. Like, Noah was a jock, and he’d been around plenty of muscled men, but still just. Damn. And also were those… nipple piercings?

Winn ran a sleepy hand down his chest, scratching at the light dusting of hair on his stomach, as he watched Noah strip out of his jeans. Damn. Bro had legs… and, well. Winn wasn’t going to be a creep, ‘course not, but that was a nice ass. Noah was starin’ at his chest and, like, Winn was a good-looking guy, but why would a straight dude be givin’ him the once-over? He ran his hand back up his chest, realizing as he glanced a hand across his piercings. “Oh, right. You didn’t know about the bars! Forgot you were the only one not on campus that day.” He flicked one of them, ‘cause why not, and winked. Winn caught some basketball shorts to the face for his ogling. Was he supposed to… change into them? Awright, sure. Jeans weren’t comfy, ‘specially not when cuddlin’. Winn stood from where he’d rolled on Noah’s bed, and shucked his jeans. Winn had forgotten something important, something he failed to realize as he walked around the bed. “Oh, bro,” he said, stark-ass naked, to Noah, trying to get the other man’s attention. He looked distracted. Weird. “D’you have, like, mouthwash? Or, uh, an extra toothbrush? Booze breath plus dog breath plus mornin’ breath would be… bad, for our friendship.” He laughed, and glanced down, immediately realizing that the emperor had, uh, no clothes. “Shoot.” Winn quickly jumped back onto the bed, grabbing the basketball shorts he’d forgotten, slipping them on, and, well, giving Noah an eyeful, most likely. “Oops,” he mumbled. “It’s, like… bro. Wolves, you know? We get real… comfortable with nudity, and, like, I don’t like wearin’ underwear all the time, ‘specially with jeans, and, um…” Winn knew he was blushing and brought a sheepish hand up to his hair, running it through. “Well,” he started, laughing, “you already, uh, felt it, right? Seein’ it must not be… worse? I am… going to go look for some mouthwash and take a leak and, uh, like, whichever side of the bed you want. BRB.” Well. Embarrassment sure was one way to sober up.

“Why? Did you put out a PSA that you were getting them pierced or something?” Noah replied, rolling his eyes as Winn fondled his nipples in his general direction, the sudden amazement now lost on him after that. Noah picked up his shucked off jeans and t-shirt, folding them neatly and placing them on his desk chair, not paying much attention to Winn. “Yeah, I’ve got mouthwash in the bathroom, and if you want a toothbrush just let me…” He trailed off, eyes finally catching hold of the real elephant in the room. Because surprise, there was now a dick. Winn’s dick, to be exact. Literally, Noah turned around for two seconds and all of a sudden he was transported into Magic Mike. Except with way more tangible DICK. And it wasn’t that he had never seen dick before, oh no no no. He’d seen plenty of dick before. Nice dicks, too. But there was something about Winn's dick that just. Noah could feel his full body flush crimson against his will. Goddamn. He was too drunk for this. But as soon as the dick was there, it was gone, Winn realizing what a predicament he must be putting Noah in and grabbing the shorts (but not before giving Noah a moonful). Hoping that that was the last of it (because, really, how much worse could it get past accidentally seeing your new friend’s unsolicited dick), Noah flopped face first onto the bed, mind just done for the day. “I'm not uncomfortable with nudity,” he groaned out into his pillow, begging Winn for the love of God to stop talking before he made it even weirder. “I just need you to take it all of this down a notch, pal.” Lifting his head slightly, Noah hoped Winn heard his plea before he scampered into the bathroom.

Winn was, just barely, sober enough now to feel, like, a little bit bad. This, probably, wasn’t as bad as the sniffin’ incident, but… well, it wasn’t great. At least, this time, Winn was drunk. He knew he was a lot when drunk, and Noah hadn’t ever had to deal with that before. So. No more drunk Winn for Noah, not for a while. Winn had to prove that he could be, like, a good friend and a fun person to hang around that could literally keep his dick in his pants. He’d just forgotten. Really! (God, he hoped Noah believed him.) Winn swished the mouthwash around, spit, and thought about his life and his choices. Noah hadn’t kicked him out of bed, yet, so… That was a win. Cuddlin’ was still on. This night was still good, he still felt good, but it was a pleasant buzz, not an all-consuming torrent of booze and emotion. He was the epitome of control. Noah had left the light on for him, but was snugly in the bed, toned back to Winn. Winn wouldn’t have taken Noah for a little spoon, most straight guys were weird about that, but Winn was happy for the contact. He turned the light off, toeing off his socks (and, really, how had they stayed on?) and flinging them in the direction of his shirt and jeans. Winn slid into bed and under Noah’s sheets and wrapped an arm around the younger man’s torso, breathing soft onto the skin on Noah’s neck. “Hey,” he whispered, not knowing whether or not Noah had passed out already (he hadn’t reacted when Winn had come back). “Just wanted to say that I had a good time tonight. Thanks for takin’ care of me, and lettin’ me stay over. I appreciate it.” He pulled the other man closer, settling in for the long haul. He yawned. “Good night, bro. See you in the mornin’.” The last thing Winn remembered was the warmth of Noah’s body next to him, the other man’s presence easing both Winn and the wolf into a peaceful and, for once, uninterrupted sleep.

Using the five seconds he had in his bed alone, Noah rolled over slightly, eyes finding the wall. It was safe to say this night was not exactly the one he had planned, you know with the whole surprise kiss, and then the surprise dick. But honestly, as far as drunken nights went this one was really not that bad. Because yeah, what’s a dick among friends. Yeah. Friends. Frowning slightly at that word (for reasons only his subconscious knew), Noah sighed, snuggling his way into the sheets. His tired body was already starting to drift off against his will, but not before he registered Winn sliding in. And normally, Noah would have gently elbowed the other man to his own side, setting clear boundaries. But man. He’d already seen the guy’s dick, and ass. And he was just. He was so touch-starved at the moment that he couldn’t help but melt into the arm around his waist, part of him grateful that he had a bro like Winn to hold him. Even if just for a little bit. “It’s all no problem,” Noah mumbled out, rubbing his cheek against his pillow slightly as he settled. “Night Winn.” And with that, Noah drifted off into his own unconscious, sweet, sweet sleep finally calling his name.

#wickedswriting #para #Noah #Not As Think As You Drunk I Am #wickedsmature #// #HAVE SOMETHING SWEET #... and lowkey h*rny

[blissfulalchemist]

Bonus Chapter 9

I finished writing this little scene in Cat’s story and I’m not sure when I’ll get to it if I posted in order so I just decided to post it now. 

This would take place about 1.5-2 months after their wedding. Also trigger warning for mention of self harm and suicide.

@risenlucifer @coffeebucko @ja-crispea

Ao3

“You know what, I can’t wait to get home a bit early. There’s this recipe I found that I want to try out,” Cat said sticking her hand out of the window feeling the breeze of the highway against her skin. “I can have dinner fully ready by the time John gets home for once.”

Lance stoic as ever glanced quickly not wanting to take his eyes off the road for very long, “I still don’t know why you choose to make dinner when people can do it for you.”

“The same reason I run the center: I need to keep busy somehow,” Catlina stated, “Besides it feels normal. I never realized how much I would miss normal.” She stared at the light blue chiffon skirt, seeing it sparkle ever so slightly in the sun. She also would never admit it to Lance that despite her and John’s agreement of only looking like a couple in the public eye, Cat started to like the idea of them being a couple behind closed doors. Cat chalked it up to the fact that she had lived as a unit with a person for so long that anything less was just off. It probably didn’t help that her and John shared the same bed still, she didn’t like sleeping alone and it was easier to keep the act up.

Lance looked to her sympathetically with his hazel eyes as they slowed down in the driveway of the house. “I think you need to start finding a new definition of normal,” he told her looking around the property, “Hey shouldn’t we check up on Nanette since we got some time?”

Cat looked at Lance confused, the question came out of the blue, “We were just there yesterday and I told her I would be there tomorrow.” She stepped out of the car, Lance following her.

“I just think it would be nice,” Lance moved quickly to get ahead of her, “Besides you two can make some of the pie you want her to teach you.”

Cat stopped looking Lance up and down, “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to keep me out of the house, Lance.” Catlina walked past him straight to the front door. Crossing the threshold she noted how quiet the whole house was, there wasn’t anyone inside. Weird, she thought, shrugging her shoulders. Cat moved through the house quietly, she just wanted to change out of her Eden’s Gate garb. As she walked towards the stairs in the house Cat started to hear a faint banging. The closer she got to the master bedroom the louder and more obvious to her that it was rhythmic. This was the reason that Lance wanted her to see Nanette, why there was no one else in the house.

Cat’s heart started to fall, hearing the cries of a woman with each step bringing her closer to the door. Her hands started to shake as she reached for the handle. She hesitated, if she opened it she was sure she was going to find John in there, with whom it didn’t matter. If she stayed out here and left the house she could remain blissfully ignorant. She didn’t know why she needed to know but she did and her shaky hand placed itself on the handle turning it. She pushed it open a crack, the moans no longer muffled. A few more inches and she could see the woman with her pale skin and short dark raven hair being gripped by tattooed hands. John was on his knees while the woman was straddling him upright, John her only support from falling backwards. 

Cat’s heart sank as she felt her screaming and crying become lodged in her throat, the tension building in her body as she felt a fiery ache in her chest form. Catlina felt her free hand turn into a white knuckled fist, her eyes narrowing as a small audible gasp left her lips. Blue eyes shaded by black hair glanced her way meeting her brown eyes, before Cat turned shutting the door harder than she should have. Cat stalked out of the house past everyone not caring about where she was going, she just had to make sure her tears didn’t fall yet. 

There was no reason to get this angry and upset. She knew what she was getting herself into, then why did she want to start screaming and throwing things at John. She just needed time away, she needed to calm down. No she needed to give him a piece of her mind is what she needed to do! She should go back there and expose the living hell of him and his hypocrisy. And then what? What will that do for you? Cat couldn’t do that, for many reasons the biggest being that neither had wanted this marriage and exposing John would create the possibility of herself being exposed too. 

“Besides, you knew what you were getting into. There’s no need to be hurt and upset by this,” she repeated to herself as she approached an old swing on the property. Cat looked around not seeing anyone. The swing looked sturdy enough and so did the tree, whose trunk was littered with carvings of initials and what Cat assumed to be symbols of love unique to each set. She scoffed, scratching off some of the bark of the tree destroying some of the carvings. Cat sat on the swing gently making sure it would take her weight before she let her legs move out from under her. 

Cat was slow in propelling herself to the sky, she was swinging to think. She felt as angry as the day she went with John to the bunker, though with that situation she had every right to be as angry as she did. A person who got upset over catching their fake husband having sex with another person was someone that didn’t want their fake husband to be fake anymore. She didn’t want that right? No, there was no way she was going to develop those kinds of feelings for John. The most they could be was friends...maybe with some benefits. Though that was doubtful now. 

She wasn’t sure how long she had stayed in that spot but apparently long enough for John to find her and make himself presentable. She turned glancing at him before looking down to the ground in front of her, “I hope you put the sheets in the wash,” she said disdainfully. Cat used her foot to rock herself in the swing as she waited for a response.

“I thought you were supposed to be at the center today,” it was a statement more than it was a question.

“I finished early. Sometimes that happens.” Cat inhaled closing her eyes, “I’m not really mad or upset about what I just saw you doing, by the way.” 

She heard John’s footsteps move closer to her, he was just within her line of vision, “I would be if I were you.”

“Well you’re not me,” she snapped, seeing his eyebrow cock upward. “Sorry,” Cat quickly apologized. 

John crossed his arms, “You do that a lot.”

“I know. People have always told me I apologize too much,” Cat looked straight ahead to the aspen grove. 

John shook his head, “Not that. The anger,” he moved closer to her, “It comes out but then just as quickly it's gone.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis.

Cat shrugged her shoulders, “You ever thought it was because I’m in better control of my anger. Besides I don’t want to be a reminder of your trauma, even if you feel you have no triggers.”

“I think you don’t feel any anger, it’s all just an act,” John speculated, trying to bait her.

Cat furrowed her brows, “I do too,” she grumbled.

“Do you express that anger at all?” John was making her feel like she was being interrogated.

“Yes,” she stated, “I tell people when I’m upset with them.”

“I didn’t say upset. I said anger,” he strolled and took a seat on the tree stump crossing his legs, “If I remember correctly you’ve stated that they are two seperate feelings.” 

Cat narrowed her eyes at him letting out a heavy breath, “That’s not fair to use my own words against me.”

He gave a half smile, “You know that day at the bunker, as I made my way home, I thought I was going to hear you yell and scream that I’d finally get a chance to see who you are underneath your warm exterior.”

“So you’ve just been baiting me,” she tilted her head to the side, “Trying to make me angry?”

“Do you feel that I have?” Cat wanted to laugh, this was the John that everyone feared. The talker, the one who could twist your words.

She looked away from him, “You’re so frustrating at times, you know that. Why do we even need to talk about this?”

“Don’t you think it’s important to talk about it?”

“Stop that,” she said softly.

“Stop what?” Cat could hear the taunting in John’s voice with his words.

She let out a soft chuckle, “Touche, John.”

“Just tell me what it is that makes you angry, because there have been so many things here alone that do or well...should.” He put his hand out giving her the floor to speak, “Prove to me that you actually feel something.”

Cat rolled her eyes, she didn’t have to play this game of his. She knew she felt things, lord did she spend many sessions analyzing how intensely she could feel things with her therapist back home. She didn’t need to prove anything to John, but she felt herself doing so anyway, “I was angry for a little bit there finding you with her,” she let out a long breath, “but then I realized there was no need to feel it because we never claimed to be exclusive in private. Like you’ve said before it's not like we’re really married.” She shrugged her shoulders going back to swinging back and forth slowly. 

“You still felt it,” he looked at her questioningly, his chin in his hand, “But again you placed the feeling away like it wasn’t anything to listen to.”

“You’re not my therapist you know,” Cat started to rub the old rope with her thumb. “I don’t have to open up to you about my reasons to not be angry.”

John hummed in thought before speaking again, “Why don’t you want to get angry? Everything you’ve ever claimed to be angry about you find reasons why you shouldn’t be, even if being angry is justifiable.” 

That gave Catlina pause to think over his words, it was a line repeated to her over and over again by people. You have every right to be angry about this, it’s a justifiable reaction. As she felt herself swing, Cat tried to think of the answers that she gave people in the past, all were tinged with lies. Would they be good enough to get past John? “I just don’t like the feeling of it. I don’t like feeling out of control.”

John stared at her, Cat kept her motion on the swing going. It wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t the real truth to the matter. John gave a sigh, “It’s always two steps forward three steps back with you. Is it so bad to get to know you? You want to be civil but you keep changing the rules on me,” Cat stopped looking straight ahead, “I’m trying but you need to work with me.”

Cat swallowed, noticing John start to stand out of the corner of her eye, “I’m scared to get angry,” she said solemnly, looking at her lap. “I fear that if I get angry I won’t stop. At least if I find some way to get angry at myself then no one else gets hurt.”

John didn’t turn to face her completely, “That fear doesn’t just come from nowhere.”

Cat shook her head, “You’re right it doesn’t. But the reason doesn’t matter after knowing what I know about you.”

“I thought everyone’s struggles were equal because they happened?” Guess John paid more attention than I thought, “But knowing you, I’m sure you won’t tell me.”

Cat was being baited, she knew that. It still didn’t stop her from taking it as she swallowed, “When I was about five, maybe six, I remember being woken in the middle of the night, I was told to pack what I could fit in this small pink suitcase, by my mom. My sisters and I were to pack everything we would need in the span of ten minutes, maybe less I don’t really know or remember.” She looked at John who was now looking at her, blue eyes steady, “We drove for hours, I think we went over state lines at one point, I was scared and my sisters were too. My mom wouldn’t tell us anything other than to shut up because she was driving.”

“Mom where’s dad? Can’t we go back home already?” 

Cat sniffled holding back her emotions, “I found out later my parents had gotten into a fight, nothing new during that time, they fought a lot.” Cat watched John move to take a seat again before continuing, “It was always so much screaming, it scared all three of us, but I had to be the one to make sure they would be safe.” John nodded, he understood that much, Jacob was their protector in their home, “We didn’t have to worry about the same things as you thankfully, but they still got violent with each other.”

“You saw, or at least heard, your dad hitting your mom,” he interjected softly, “That still must have been traumatic for you three.”

Cat gave a sad smile, “Not my dad,” she felt her heart start to race, “My mom. Dad never hit her, at most he pushed her in self defense. My mom-.” She paused trying to find the best way to word everything, before realizing she didn’t need to. John didn’t know her and her mom was two states away, what did it matter what Gina Rojas thought of how her daughter painted her. “My mom seemed to always instigate the fighting. It would start as screaming over something small, like dishes or lack of helping us with homework, etcetera. Soon though they would move upstairs to their room and that’s where we could hear the stomping around. Glass breaking, things hitting the wall, the sound of skin to skin contact sometimes. My mom would throw all that she could grab at my dad or start slapping him, I think punched him once or twice. Their room was always a mess afterwards.”

“Where did the leaving come in?” John asked softly.

“She’d get so mad at him that she would threaten to leave him and I guess that night she went through with it, well for a few days at least. It happened one other time that she took us with her, after that she just left the house by herself,” she shrugged, shaking her head. “She was always so dramatic. Once I got old enough to watch my sisters, I think I was eight maybe nine,” Cat chuckled, “the fighting slowed, it wasn’t so often. Then again my dad started to go on more trips for work to make more money. So there wasn’t a need to fight him at least, but she still seemed to have this anger that she needed to let free every now and then. So she yelled at us and made punishments harsher.” Cat looked to John gauging his reaction to what she was telling him, his body was still as he sat watching her. “I tried to make sure that I got all the punishment that I could, but every now and again my sisters would get it.” Catlina stifled her laughter, “There was one time she tried to take my sister to the orphanage, over I think spilling a drink in our room and for ‘talking back’. I cried and cried holding on to her for dear life until mom pushed me off of her,” the whole situation was ludicrous and Cat’s need to laugh was strong at just how ridiculously harsher the punishment was to the crime, “My mom came back with her a few hours later and said I was her saving grace because I cared about her so much. I don’t think either of them remember that incident though.” Cat felt some tears fall down her face, “She never hit us like your parents did. She wasn’t a bad mom, not really, she loved us.”

“I don’t think you feel your last statement is completely true. That last time you even made the slightest mention of your mom there was a bitter tone,” John surmised. 

Cat bit her lip smiling at John, he caught her, “And people say you’re just a pretty face.” She shrugged, “You’re right though I guess. I stopped seeing her like a mom after my first suicide attempt when she left me all alone in that hospital. Never bothered to check up on me until I seemed ‘stable’ enough.” Cat could feel her arms and hands become numb, ghost like, “Until my depression reared its ugly head there was so much about our childhood that was normal, the fighting was a small blip, only staying because bad memories stay longer than good ones.” Cat shut her eyes conjuring up one last memory, “I’ll never forget the time my sister and I walked in during one of their fights and the look,” Cat shivered at the memory, “The look she gave my sister and I...well I had never seen that look before. It was just pure fury. Her eyes may as well have been red, horns growing from her head, surrounded by smoke and fire. If I had to define wrath,” her voice became distant, “it would just be a snapshot of that memory.” She looked to John feeling more in her body again, “I vowed I was never going to let myself get to that point. If I never get angry I can never get to her level. The closest I ever felt close was when I had started a new medication. I felt myself go for a punch, on someone I care about, over something so small, that I don’t even remember what it was.”

John leaned against his knees letting out a breath, “I’m sorry you had to experience that. Though offering my opinion here, that shouldn’t stop you from letting yourself become angry.”

“I do become angry John,” Cat started to swing again, “I just control it.”

“Suppress it. Not control it,” he stood walking in front of her. “Right now. Get angry.”

She looked up to him, eyebrow cocked, “I’m not angry though.”

“You just found out your husband has been sleeping around,” John goaded, “That he’s been, in your words, torturing people. You’ve been taken from your home, your family.” Cat turned away, shutting her eyes, her hands gripping the ropes tighter. “You were forced to marry. You’re mistrusted by everyone here, acting like I don’t see the loneliness in your eyes when you come home some days.” 

“Stop,” Cat whispered, “Stop talking please.”

John’s voice increased in volume, “And before that, you were abandoned by your mother. Made out to be crazy. Shamed into trying to find love and affection in anyone that would give it to you.” Catlina’s heart started to beat in her ears, “ How you just admitted to your mom nearly taking away your own sister, to never be seen again. So tell me do those things make you angry?”

Cat took deep breaths as she tried to keep her emotions in check. He wanted her to blow up, wanted her to get violent like him. She wasn’t going to play his game, “I feel angry. I get upset about many things.”

“Do you though? Are you so immature that you think you can never let it out? That you can rationalize it away all the time?” He reached for one of her arms, “Or do you just enjoy taking it out on yourself?” He twisted it so her inner arm was facing her the ridges of old scars glaring at her.

She wretched her arm away, “Stop! You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Just keep a level head. No matter how much you want to hurt him.

“Don’t I?” His smile turned her blood to ice, “Okay so how about the injustice in the world? Little Miss everyone should be treated equally and fairly. Does that not make you mad? You struggled your whole adult life trying to make a living, trying to make some kind of life out of the pennies you were tossed every now and then. All while those in charge laughed at you, mocked you, took away from you.” He was inches from her, she wanted to scratch his blue eyes out, “How this country put a man in charge that says you and your family shouldn’t even be here. That you deserve to live in cages,” Catlina’s ears rang as she felt her teeth start to grind. If she could she would have torn his venomous tongue from his mouth, “Are you really going to sit there and tell me that you don’t feel angry about that?”

Catlina stood quickly, her hand going for his throat, before stopping herself from making contact, red over taking her peripherals, “I said. STOP!” She felt the heat rise to her cheeks as her breathing sped up, “Stop! You don’t know fuck all about me!” John took a step back. She stalked closer to him looking him in the eye. He wanted her angry he was going to get her anger, “Stop trying to act like some goddamn devil’s advocate. Stop trying to get me to be like you!” She grabbed his shirt bringing his face eye level to her, “I don’t want to be like you! I refuse to let my anger, my pain, rule how I live my life!” She released him with a shove seeing him almost trip over his feet, “I will not buy into this bullshit of yours that I have to stay angry at the world in order to change it! I’m one person! I can’t do much other than try to make the world better to those I come into contact with!” She stabbed his chest with her finger, “And for some god forsaken reason that includes you too.” 

The red started to dissipate as her eyes came back into focus, finding herself greeted with a smug grin, “Yes!” He placed his hands on her shoulders, “There! Right there!” Cat’s eyes went wide, her brows knitting, “There’s that anger. Just let it out! Show me what you’re capable of!”

Cat shook her head, mouth agape, taking a step back, He’s...he’s way too excited about this. She shrugged his hands off of her, “No,” she said softly, “No I’m not going to keep playing your game,” she turned facing the house.

His hand wrapped around her upper arm, “It’s not a game,” he growled, “It’s a life lesson.”

She pulled his hand off of her, “I don’t need whatever life lesson you’re going to give me.” She threw his hand down, “New and final rule: Don’t ever come near me again.” She stomped off towards the house.

“If what you say is true, that rule won’t last very long,” he called out to her.

“Fuck you, John!” John didn’t attempt to follow her as she made her way into the house locking the door to the guest bedroom behind her, a chair placed under the handle just in case. Her heart was beating out of her chest as she paced the room, “Don’t play into his hand. Don’t let it overtake you,” she whispered to herself clasping her shaking hands. Why did she let herself be baited by him? She could keep a level head any other time when people said those things. What made John Seed so different? 

“You’re not going to play his game, you’re going to stay sane. Stay true to yourself,” she could still feel the clenching of her jaw and tension in her body as she breathed slowly. “It’s your fault that he was right. You knew exactly what he was doing and you still let him get to you,” she paused catching her reflection in the mirror. “You idiot! You’re supposed to be smart! You fell for his tricks! Let your stupid heart get in the way of your better judgement!” You need to punish yourself. Cat searched the room for anything sharp enough to break skin, settling on pulling off the metal corner on one of their holy books. It would take a few runs to break into blood but it would hurt, that’s all that mattered. That’s all she needed to get back to normal.

#catlina rojas oc #salvations two paths #little bonus chapter hope you all enjoy it

[imogengotdrunk]

Ahhh I hope you'll get better soon! I'm also glad I managed to cheer you up with that ask, even though I didn't expect you to write a short drabble about it ❤️ I guess I forgot to mention the best part about that video which is that the cat, while checking out the car, somehow managed to activate the patrol car's siren

I watched the video. That kitten is A++ cuteness, and the cop is so sweet.

-

Chris’ heart jerks violently behind his poor rib cage when the familiar, high-pitched whirring of the siren sounds out of nowhere. He’d been concentrating so hard on the road, but now he barely manages to stop from swerving the wheel in panic. His training, he suspects, is all that keeps him from actually doing it.

There’s a flash of bright orange in his peripheral.

“Shit, shit- sorry, my bad,” Gavin’s scrambling in the back seat, wriggling out of his seatbelt to crane forward and snatch the kitten up from where it’s investigating the handbrake, it’s back paw poised, obliviously, over the switch.

“Jesus, Gavin, will you keep it still-”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry, just fuckin’ drive, all right?”

Chris shakes his head, annoyance masking his rapid heartbeat and the way he’s clutching the wheel about three times tighter than before. He hates driving the patrol cars. Put him in front of a perp with a gun, and he’s golden. Put him behind the wheel of any DPD vehicle, and he’s suddenly an old lady with cardiac issues. Get it together, Miller.

He glimpses the rearview, just to make sure the scruffy little tyke is staying where it should. Do you mean Gavin or the kitten, Tina would’ve said if she was there, and Chris smirks inwardly, because doing it for real would just earn him one of Gavin’s famous defensive interrogations.

What he sees - more importantly, what he hears - is a voice, a coo, that Chris would never in a thousand years have anticipated coming out of Gavin Reed’s filthy fucking mouth. “You gonna behave now, scamp? Yeah, you gonna fuckin’ chill so we don’t make Grandma Miller crash the fuckin’ car? Yeah? Atta boy.”

“Boy?” Chris asks, incredulous, but he hears the chuckle in his own voice. It’s unintentional, but the sight’s just too weird not to at least chuckle at it. 

“No shit, Miller. Didn’t learn the difference between boys and girls in school, huh?”

He doesn’t wait for Chris to come up with a rejoinder, which would have been clever and scathing, he swears. Gavin lowers his gaze again instead, eyes going all soft and gooey, and he scratches the kitten’s head with a gentleness that the man Chris has worked with for the last ten or so years shouldn’t be capable of.

“Don’t pay any attention to Chris, he sucks. And he’s a sucky driver, but what can you do? Yeah, you’re chill now, huh. The fuck were you doin’ in the middle of the highway, you little psycho? Y’know, if you were human, I’d have to put you in the cells for jaywalking, but I guess I can let you off with a warning, if you don’t set off any more sirens. Deal?”

Jesus, Chris curses again, silently this time as he spots the tall buildings of Detroit in the distance. Gavin Reed, cooing to a little tabby like a fussing mother. Who in hell would have thought?

“We’ll get you all cleaned up, all right, scamp? I got someone at home who’s gonna love you.”

#ask #detroit become human #dbh #gavin reed #chris miller #reed900 #mine