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wingedscribe · 2 years

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Divine Intervention

For the FFXIV Write 2022 Free Day, have how the Trial by Combat played out with these four heroes, ft. Hikari being melodramatic and Ciel judging both Ishgard and his friends. Also yes I just beat the Vault. I’m coping.

Ciel was fairly sure the only thing stopping Hikari from kicking down the door to the Congregation of Our Knights Most Heavenly was their burgeoning respect for Ser Aymeric de Borel--and that the only thing saving the doors from Askirael, who probably also respected the Lord Commander but was less likely to let that influence her actions, was that Hikari was faster. He followed behind the others, keeping pace with Rhel’ir, whose ears were flattened back along his head in worry. Not that Ciel couldn’t relate--hadn’t Alphinaud and Tataru been through enough? Hadn’t all of them been through enough?

They weren’t the first to arrive, though, which became clear when they entered to a familiar greeting, far more strained than usual. Haurchefant hurried over from where he had been speaking to Aymeric, who looked about as pleased as Ciel felt.

“Friends! I had but this moment resolved to go and fetch you,” Haurchefant said, rounding the edge of the table. Ciel forced himself to relax enough to offer a smile to the other man--not very hard, when it was Haurchefant. “I presume you have heard what happened, then?”

“The basics,” Askirael said, voice dark and low in the space. Next to her, Rhel’ir made a low, unhappy noise in the back of his throat--and Ciel didn’t blame him. Out of all of them, after all, he was the one who had been arrested, and the reminder couldn’t be pleasant.

“That they should regard the Scions with such suspicion even after you stood with us on the Steps of Faith...it is bad comedy,” Lucia said, low and vehement. “Yet unlike the grave injustice you suffered in Ul'dah, this wrong may swiftly be righted.”

“How?” Rhel’ir asked, tail lashing back and forth, and Lucia nodded toward Aymeric, who had stood from his chair to greet them.

“It has been too long--and I wish this visit came under happier circumstances,” he admitted, letting out a breath, one hand sliding flat across the smooth wood of his desk. “That Ser Grinnaux's accusations are baseless, I have no doubt,” he began, and Ciel felt a little of the tension leave his own frame--at the very least, they wouldn’t have to prove the Scions’ innocence to Aymeric, as well. “Refuting them will be difficult, however, as he is a knight of the Heavens' Ward.”

“I’m not familiar with that title,” Ciel noted, eyes narrowing, and Aymeric nodded.

“The personal guard of the Archbishop. The twelve finest knights in all Ishgard, carrying on the legacy of those who fought and died with the original King Thordan. Sworn to serve His Eminence alone. Suffice it to say, their testimony is unimpeachable, and I have not the authority to challenge their actions.” Aymeric’s tone was as measured as ever; surely any bitterness there was just Ciel projecting his own feelings onto the situation. Hikari let out a harsh breath, almost a hiss, from between their teeth.

“So we can’t just point out that they’re lying,” they summed up, and Aymeric nodded. Haurchefant’s face twisted with unhappiness.

“After all the Scions have done─routing the heretics and defeating Shiva, helping us to defend the Steps of Faith and drive back the Dravanian Horde─after proving themselves true allies on countless occasions, is there naught we can do!?”

“I fear the only path that remains open to us is to demand a trial by combat,” Aymeric said, looking up again to meet the eyes of each of the Scions’ group in turn.

“How would that work?” Hikari said, but their tone was more intrigued than angry, dropping a hand away from their grimoire to cross their arms instead, cocking their head to the side. Askirael, also, was leaning forward for the explanation. Of course, Ciel thought with no small amount of amusement, those two would be fascinated by the option to turn this into a fight.

Not that he couldn’t understand the impulse to fight someone over this.

“Under Ishgardian law, a trial by combat pits the accuser against the accused,” Aymeric explained, expression serious. “The victor’s claim is judged true regardless of who the loser is, as the Fury only grants victory to the righteous…in theory. In this instance, Master Alphinaud and Mistress Tataru would be expected to face Ser Grinnaux and a second of his choosing─another knight of the Heavens' Ward, most like.”

“Two of them?” Haurchefant sounded aghast. “By the Fury, that cannot be considered fair.”

“They’re that skilled, then,” Askirael’s tone was flat as ever, but Ciel didn’t miss the fire beginning in her mismatched eyes, and--well, in any other situation, he would be exasperated; he would say that this wasn’t the time to try picking fights just for the joy of a strong opponent. But…well, this Ser Grinneaux had accused Alphinaud and Tataru of heresy, and Ciel had seen how Ishgard treated heretics.

No, this time, Ciel would hold their tongue and let the consequences of Grinneaux’s actions happen to him.

“They are indeed exceptional knights,” Aymeric said. “I would not suggest this course of action lightly, or if I believed we had another option before us. Master Alphinaud's magical talents will not have gone unnoticed, meaning that he will have no choice but to participate,” He added, and Ciel winced--Alphinaud was talented, of course, but in no world should a teenager be forced to go up against a trained, decorated knight in combat for his life and liberty. “Mistress Tataru, on the other hand, is quite obviously bereft of martial skill, and should be afforded the right to name a champion to fight in her stead.”

“I see,” Hikari said, looking back and up to meet Askirael’s eyes with the same look they got in the moments before they summoned one of their Egis onto a battlefield.

“Lest you doubt, I am ready and willing to serve in this capacity, as I am sure is Lord Haurchefant,” Aymeric said, which Ciel appreciated even if he thought that Hikari and Ask would actually injure anyone who attempted to get between them and this chance. When Aymeric continued, his voice was tinged with slight, grim humor. “But it appears that will not be necessary, as the most accomplished warriors among us,and mayhap in the realm at large, are eager for the opportunity.”

“Ask,” Hikari began, and Askirael shook her head.

“With you and Alphinaud fighting, it would be two ranged mages against two close-range fighters. A bad matchup. I will take the field.” She sounded immovable on this point; Hikari turned to meet her gaze fully.

“You misunderstand. I will be taking the field, but not as a Summoner. I have a different skillset available to me.”

Oh. Hikari had been, well, understandably reticent to use their dragoon’s training within the walls of Ishgard thus far. Already, they got stared at for their horns and tail; openly being the second Azure Dragoon in a generation was asking for trouble, as they’d pointed out. But if trouble had come to find them already…

Without waiting for Ask’s response, Hikari turned back to Aymeric, who also seemed to have caught their meaning and looked, for one of the first times Ciel could remember, shocked.

“Would you mind answering a few questions for me, Lord Commander?” Hikari only used formal titles when they were extremely serious; all of their usual levity had fallen aside. At Aymeric’s nod, they continued. “I was told the history of the Azure Dragoon by Ser Alberic, but my education was by necessity focused on control and combat. But the position originated with Saint Haldrath, the son of King Thordan and one of--or at least, a contemporary of--those selfsame twelve knights the Heaven’s Ward serves as a legacy to?”

“It does indeed,” Aymeric said, tone guarded. Hikari let out a sigh, considering something for a moment.

“I had no intention of letting my status as Azure Dragoon be known outside of those Estinien and Ser Alberic have seen fit to tell,” they admitted. “But with this opportunity before me, it is hard to resist. Even should we win the fight, unless it is sufficiently overwhelming the High Houses will merely know this is a way to keep us tied up in political machinations--and while we are skilled, I’m not certain how many trials by combat against powerful knights we could weather. The Eorzean Alliance’s heroes arriving to fight sends one message, but…I suspect the Azure Dragoon, even if it is only an Azure Dragoon, fighting to combat a charge of heresy would be far more emphatic.”

“It would be almost unprecedented,” Haurchefant said, “and would certainly cast doubt on the accusation before even the first blades are crossed.”

Ciel tilted his head to the side, ears swiveling to follow the conversation even as he considered. “Hikari, are you proposing weaponizing the legacy of one of the first saints of the Ishgardian Orthodox Church? Not that I have any particular objections, but I want us to be clear in what we are proposing here.” He looked from Hikari to Haurchefant and Aymeric in turn, wondering how the two knights actually felt about this move.

“Ah. Yes, that was my next question,” Hikari said, wincing slightly. “I am…all too aware I lack the full context as to what my position means and implies. I do not intend to use Haldrath’s legacy for a political stunt; I would not do this if I did not genuinely believe it was the right thing to do. But I will not deny that part of that would be the spectacle, and impressing upon House Dzemael exactly who they are interfering with. However, should either of you have the slightest discomfort as to my plan, I will cede the position to Askirael, who doubtless can inflict a devastating loss herself with far less pageantry.”

“I have no objections,” Haurchefant said, unsurprisingly. “The Eye chose you; the mantle is yours to do with as you see fit, and none could deny this is a worthy cause.”

“Moreover,” Aymeric said, with more consideration, “House Dzemael has already brought the Holy See and the legacy of the Knights Twelve into this by having Ser Grinnaux be the one to offer the charges. It is only fair to respond in kind, although,” he added, offering a slight smile, “I do appreciate the concern.”

“Ask, then? Will you let me do this?”

“Could I stop you?” The roegadyn snorted, crossing her arms. “But very well. Don’t lose and make me regret this.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” Hikari said, and their voice pitched down into what was almost a growl. “I have some preparations to make. I assume the trial will be at--the Tribunal, it was?”

“The Supreme Sacred Tribunal of Halonic Inquisitory Doctrine,” Rhel’ir remembered; he’d been quiet most of the conversation, but Ciel was glad to see some of the nervous tension had left his body as the conversation continued. “And--there will be an audience?”

“There will, and I will be in attendance, as will many others with a vested interest in the outcome,” Aymeric confirmed. “At the very least, I would assume that many of House Dzemael will be present to see the outcome of their actions, and I do not doubt Count Edmont will attend if he can.”

“Then I suppose I will see you all there,” Hikari said, nodding once, before turning on their heel and striding out of the room.

The viewing gallery was as full as Aymeric had implied it would be, but next to Count Edmont--and with Ask towering even over some of the elezen in the room--it wasn’t hard to find a spot next to where Aymeric was standing. Haurchefant, who had been speaking with Hikari outside, slid in late, managing to make his way next to Ciel.

“Hikari is prepared, then?” Ciel asked, keeping their voice low to avoid being overheard, and Haurchefant smiled when he nodded.

“Prepared and aware of how the trial will proceed,” he confirmed, before leaning forward to look over the Tribunal. Ciel, watching him rather than where he was looking, caught his eyes narrowing at the two white-armored knights standing on the other side of the space.

“Anything amiss?” Ciel asked, leaning closer, and Haurchefant blinked before shaking his head.

“Not unexpectedly so. It appears Ser Grinnaux has decided his second to be Ser Paulecrain de Fanouilley,” He nodded toward the elezen in an eyepatch. “Another of the more…formidable members of the Ward, although in truth they are all formidable. It is unsurprising he would volunteer for such a task as this.”

“Ah,” Ciel said, nodding both at what Haurchefant said and what went unspoken--he supposed it probably wasn’t wise to say “that man’s known for being cruel and it makes sense he would volunteer to fight a teenager” out loud in the Tribunal, but it was clear enough. “His weapon?”

“The spear,” Haurchefant said. “Ser Grinnaux prefers the axe.”

“Is he more skilled at the spear than Estinien?” Ciel asked, and Haurchefant paused, considering that.

“Their styles are rather different, as Ser Paulecrain is no dragoon, and I have never seen them fight. But…I do not believe so. Why do you ask?”

“Hikari has bested Estinien,” Ciel said, biting back a smile at Haruchefant’s look of shock. “So I don’t think this is any cause for concern.”

At the head of the room, the Adjudicator stood, gesturing for silence, and Ciel subsided, taking advantage of the cramped space to lean against Haurchefant’s side and catching the shudder of the other man’s muffled snort of laughter through both of their armor.

“We are gathered here today, under the watchful gaze of the Fury, to ascertain the guilt of two souls in a trial by combat! Petitioners, step forward!” At the man’s gesture, both of the white-armored knights stepped forward, their pristine armor drawing every eye in the room. It was…well, Ciel supposed pure white armor was a good symbolic choice for an Archbishop’s guard, but he had grown up in snow-cloaked mountains; he was aware how much could hide under a pristine surface. “Ser Grinnaux─for the benefit of all here present, I would ask you to repeat the charges which you have leveled against this man and this woman.”

“I, Ser Grinnaux de Dzemael, brother of the Heavens' Ward, did bear witness to these two foreigners consorting with heretics!” He was incredibly authoritative about what was, of course, a complete lie. Ciel almost respected it--and perhaps Grinnaux did believe they were heretics. Not that it mattered; regardless of what he believed, this shouldn’t have come this far in the first place. One man’s word, no matter who, shouldn’t jeopardize the lives of other people--

But he couldn’t let himself get too angry now. He was a spectator here, not a combatant, and retribution would be arriving soon enough, likely at the most dramatic possible moment. Hikari was one of Ciel’s dearest friends; he felt no guilt, then, in condemning them as loving nothing in the world so much as putting on a good show.

“Let the accused step forward!”

Alphinaud stepped forward, head up and shoulders back, indignant innocence pouring from every inch of his presentation--Tataru was more hesitant, understandably. Ciel was impressed at how well she was keeping her composure together, all told--with this on top of the horrors of the last month in general, all of their nerves were shot to the hells and back. “Alphinaud Leveilleur, Tataru Taru─you have heard the charges leveled against you. Will you take up arms to refute Ser Grinnaux's claim and thereby prove your innocence in the eyes of gods and men?”

“I, Alphinaud Leveilleur, am innocent of this charge,” Alphinaud said, with all the cold hauteur of a noble infuriated that the world sought to inconvenience him--not something Ciel usually appreciated, but Alphinaud had gotten far better at learning when to turn it on and off, and if there was ever a moment for it… “And I claim my right to trial by combat!”

Some of his confidence seemed to have passed to Tataru, who also raised her head to speak. “I, Tataru Taru, am also innocent of this charge.” She took a steadying breath. “But I am no warrior, and cannot fight, so I claim the right to name a champion!”

The Adjudicator looked down at her, considering. “To the old and the infirm, the young and the weak, this right we allow. Very well. Who will stand for this woman?”

Ciel prepared, but the moment of silence stretched long. One moment, two--even Haurchefant tensed, as whispers started to fill the room--

Wham. The great doors at the back of the room were thrown open. Even before the newcomer came into view of the gallery, everyone heard their footsteps; not quite the familiar clang of armored boots against ground, a strange additional resonance to the sound that Ciel couldn’t place initially, until--

Oh. Of course, Hikari was not in any of the outfits he’d seen them fight in as a lancer. Instead, the armored figure was clad in a twin of Estinien’s armor,the only differences being the stature and the color--the armor gleamed with a silver-blue sheen, far from Estinien’s grim black. Hikari’s visor was down, face obscured, but their lance--the same augmented ironworks lance that Ciel had watched Cid fine-tune--was unmistakable, a current of aetheric energy already running up its tip.

The Azure Dragoon looked up at the Adjudicator, face inscrutable. “I will.” The voice was Hikari’s, underlaid with the same growl that so frequently lingered under Estinien’s words. Whispers, momentarily quelled by Hikari’s entry, started again stronger than ever, which was probably for the best--Ciel overheard Alphinaud’s comment about the efficacy of the Ishgardian justice system, but doubted the assembled lords would like it much. The Adjudicator gestured for silence again, more vehemently.

“O Halone, render unto us Your judgment! Raise up the righteous, and cast down the wicked!”

There was something, Ciel thought absently, deeply disturbing about a judicial chamber that was so used to trial by combat that it was built to convert into a dueling arena; that said, though, he’d already decided to put aside his feelings about if this was a good method of resolving conflict in favor of the knowledge that, good or not, it was the method that was available to them, as Alphinaud moved to summon his Carbuncle and Hikari swung the augmented lance off of their back in a graceful, practiced motion.

“This one is mine, Ser Grinnaux,” Paulecrain said, lowly but not low enough to escape Ciel’s hearing. “Go and play with the boy.”

Hikari’s answering growl ripped through the room, and as they blurred into motion Ciel realized he had never seen them fight like this. He was more than familiar with the devastation they could rain down as a Summoner, of course, and had seen their fighting style as a lancer, but they’d been far more sparing with their lance since becoming Azure Dragoon. They’d seen dragoons fight, at the Steps of Faith, but had not marked any of them particularly--not enough to note how one’s style might differ from another.

Watching Hikari fight, it was unquestionable that they were not just an ordinary dragoon. As Ciel looked on, they vaulted further into the air than muscle alone could take them, landing lightly behind Paulecrain and moving instantly into a sequence of lance-thrusts that forced the knight backward. Behind them, Alphinaud had called up his Radiant Aegis, holding the barrier against Grinnaux’s axe as his carbuncle prepared to unleash an attack of its own. Certain that Alphinaud was, if nothing else, not going to fall quickly, Ciel felt he could turn back to watch Hikari without undue alarm.

And they were beautiful to watch, in a terrible, martial way. While initially caught off-guard, Paulecrain recovered quickly, and his position in the Heaven’s Ward was clearly earned; Ciel knew that most warriors, even skilled ones, would only last seconds against Hikari fighting at their full strength. But while he often couldn’t parry or avoid Hikari’s levin-quick strikes, those same strikes forced Hikari into his reach, and he seized every opportunity they gave.

Still, the first blood on the stone floor of the Tribunal was Paulecrain’s, the aether-enchanced blade of the ironworks lance burning away any blood left on its surface as Hikari flipped backwards, landing still too-lightly for an armored figure before charging back in. Next to Ciel, Haurchefant cheered; Rhel’ir, also, was lending his voice to the crowd’s fervor.

“I've had enough of your tricks,” Ser Grinnaux swore, drawing Ciel’s attention back to the other knight in time to see his axe cleave the Radiant Aegis aside, and in the moments before Alphinaud could recast it, a steel chain--directed by Grinnaux--wrap around the young mage’s wrists, throwing his grimoire to the side and binding him in close proximity with the knight, who smiled.

“Hikari, watch Alphinaud,” Ciel said before even thinking, his voice taking on the same tone he used to call out where to avoid on the battlefield and cutting through the gasps of the crowd, and without even turning to look Hikari took to the air in a gravity-defying leap, nearly reaching the vaulted ceiling of the Tribunal.

With every eye on them, Hikari seemed almost to hang in the air for a moment, flipping so that their lance pointed directly down and the rest of their body perched above that deadly point--and then, with a flare of aether Ciel didn’t recognize, dragoon and lance alike burst into flames.

The meteoric strike landed point-first in the center of Grinnaux’s chain, snapping it instantly and blasting both knights back from the point of impact. Hitting the ground that hard,Ciel thought absently, should probably have broken bones; Hikari stood easily, flipping the lance back up to point at the members of the Heaven’s Ward.

“Did you think the drachen mail was for show?” they asked, voice still rumbling with a growl, before launching into another set of attacks, flipping out of the way of an axe-strike even as one of the fighters--Grinnaux, Ciel suspected--called lightning onto the field and the knights redoubled their assault.

In the end, Paulecrain fell first--Hikari hooking his spear out of his hands and sending it spinning out of the dueling arena after the man fell to one knee--and Grinnaux soon after, Alphinaud’s magical assault devastating when combined with facing Hikari in close quarters. He did not stop fighting when sent to one knee, standing again until a blast from Topaz Carbuncle combined with a blow from Hikari sent him sprawling to his back, and the Adjudicator stood before Hikari could, Ciel suspected, follow their urge to physically pry the axe from the knight’s hands.

Silence reigned in the Tribunal for a long moment, broken only by Tataru’s quiet whisper of “We--we won?”

Hikari stood from the crouch they’d landed their last blow in, turning to face the Adjudicator and flipping their visor up. Now, not moving and with their face visible, it was clear the fight hadn’t been as effortless as it seemed--scorchmarks trailed up the side of their face to singed hair, and their gauntlets were marred with red-brown smears of blood. Still, they held their head high.

“The Fury has spoken!” The Adjudicator said, looking across the dueling ring and then the room at large. “Alphinaud Leveilleur, Tataru Taru─you are hereby acquitted of all charges. Blessed are we who receive of Her wisdom and see justice wrought by Her divine hand! Petitioners, accused─go forth in peace!”

Grinnaux and Paulecrain seemed less than satisfied, but clearly the Adjudicator was not to be questioned on this; they took their leave as Tataru ran over, hugging Hikari’s knees until Hikari knelt to properly hug her back. Ciel let out a breath, feeling himself relax.

“I thought you said there was no cause for concern?” Haurchefant asked, but underneath the teasing there was also a level of relief. Ciel elbowed him.

“There wasn’t. I don’t know what you’re speaking about,” he retorted, tone comically arch to draw a laugh from the Fortemps knight. “But I am glad to see they’re relatively unharmed--and Rhel’ir’s already gone to heal any scrapes that Hikari may have incurred.” Sure enough, the dark-furred man had vanished from the gallery almost immediately.

“In that case, I don’t want to miss the congratulations,” Haurchefant said, smiling. “In fact, there’s a gift I’ve been looking for the right occasion to offer--not that I think you would accept, unless there is any chance you will put aside your ironworks contraption for a proper chocobo, but I suspect your friends may have better sense.”

Ciel pretended to consider it. “From you? I’d think it over,” he said, smiling at the look of surprise on Haurchefant’s face. “However, I suspect Maggie would not, and I am rather at her mercy on this issue.”

Haurchefant’s laughter carried both of them out into the entryway, and into the clear skies of Ishgard beyond.

#ffxivwrite2022 #ffxivwrite #hikari sakamoto tag #ciel monnawesfv tag #listen i just want to live in the space where hauchefant cheered while i kicked two of the heavens' ward's asses ok #i'm coping #anyway i think that doing the trial as an azure dragoon is a fantastic power move

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thatdemiboymess · 21 days

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Even just half-heartedly looking for work as someone who is legally blind, autistic, with no highschool diploma, GED, or degrees and who can't leave the house is a very specific kind of let-down and disappointment that just really makes a person depressed.

#irl #vent #suicidal ideation #i am a money sink and a financial burden and trying to look for ways to fix that turns up nothing!!!#society abandons those who cannot work!!! and i sure do seem to be unemployable!!!#like #i would need a work from home job that doesnt require a highschool diploma ged or a degree that i can do as someone who is legally blind #at the LEAST #even just being a cashier at pet smart requires a fucking highschool diploma!!! and i cant even do that sort of work anymore!!!#i dont have any fancy little talents or areas of expertise either!!! i cant code i suck at source work i cant do graphic design!!!#what am i supposed to do #can someone just like put me down like a sick animal or smth at this point #because i feel like all i amount to at this point is a burdensome and childish good for nothing waste of space #and an additional source of stress and disappointment for everyone who has ever cared about me or had hopes for my future #sincerely feel like everyone who knows me would be better off if i were dead #no one would have to take care of me then - theyd be free of any burden i put on them #hell considering how few people i talk to and how little o do talk to ones i DO talk to they probably wouldnt even notice i were gone #and once they did they probably wouldnt be upset for long at all if they would be upset to begin with #my partner would be free to find a smaller more affordable place to live or could even get a car and live in it as he thought of doing #before if i werent around being a little needy whiny bitch #seriously whats even the fucking point #im so tired of just...fucking everything.#i dont talk about it much but i really do just feel like shit all the fucking time man #and i feel so fucking powerless and like i have no control of my life too #should probably be in therapy still but i just know theyd force me into the psych ward again #not that talk therapy would do shit for me anyways tho #i dunno #im tired and sad and hopeless and i just wanna go to sleep and not wake up again #not that it matters or anything though lololol

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sweetdreamspootypie · 1 year

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Does aanyone have any links to info describing pressure tactics (like interpersonal argument strategies) or like general info of the psychology of being pressured into bad choices during high stress situations

#I'm still lingering on that stress patient last week #Its genuinely stressful #They were laying it on so heavy taking all sorts of personal attacks trying to make me do things their way #Purely because I had the audacity of not doing everything their way #So because theyve got a thing abott control they were doing everything to pressure me into doing it their way #Even though their way was literally high risk of literally dying as a direct result #And like my only defence is 1 - I'm not going to do something stupid just because you're pressuring me #And 2 - I'm following the goddamned flowchart. It is a good flowchart. The flowchart is my friend #Nursing microtrauma lol dealing with people with no sense of self preservation who make it everybody else's problem with spitting rage #Is v stressful it turns out!#No doubt the answer is that there was never any danger and I should trust my own nursing judgement because it was fine #I've just got my feel gs hurt for being called an ablist hateful unsupportive judgemental bitch for the crime of not murdering them #Just need a thicker skin #Like I was trying so hard to be supportive and make a psychologically safe space and bending over backwards for them only to be told that #Told if I'm gunna be judgemental then I shouldn't take patients with those needs #When in fact I had them because I'm the only person on the ward still willing to try and be supportive because they've abused everybody els #Bleh #Anyway yeah post was for resources so I can feel more secure next time around #My posts #My life #Nurblr #But yeah it's just scary to think that all it would take is a splitsecond of poor judgment

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zyafics · 14 days

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play fake | part seven

series play fake — ( masterlist )

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

summary when rafe cameron needs to secure a gf in order for his father to see him as a stable man, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

content 18+, eventual smut, angst, fake-dating, jealousy, people-pleasing and independent! female reader, ward cameron pinning rafe and sarah against each other, rafe being an asshole

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃 ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚

It's easy for you to pretend everything's fine.

You've been worried about the whole Aaron situation for the past week, but you couldn't let that be known. You were handling it—best you could—but, at least, it sets your priorities a bit straighter. You realize whatever the outcome is, you need Rafe to get this job.

So, you were going to play the hell out of the girlfriend role.

To get ready, Rafe picks you up from Sailor to take you to Tannyhill. This time, when you got into the car, it was met with complete silence.

"Hey," you greet, to which Rafe says nothing as he reverses out of the lot and returns to the road. You remember that Rafe doesn't function normally whenever he has these types of events. He's probably nervous about the upcoming gala, a need to impress his father once more and prove to Ward that he's capable. You don't hold it against him. "Okay, then."

You settle back against the leather seat. You weren't going to let him ruin your performance; the curated mood you set up for tonight. You were going to hold out till the gala was over.

Rafe glances over to you once he knows you're looking away. Your chin tucked in your palm as you watch the scenery outside the window. Something pinch in his chest.

His right hand slides over your thigh, exposed from your short work attire, and the warm touch surprises you. You turn back to the blond, tilting your head with a small smile. "Ready to talk to me?"

"Don't push it."

You laugh and the tension in his shoulders loosens. The sound always feels like a constant mark of normalcy.

"Who's watching your sisters tonight?"

"Huh?" You respond, the question caught you off-guard and you wonder if you misheard him. "Oh. Oh. I got a babysitter for them. They should be fine till tomorrow."

He nods, knowing he shouldn’t have asked but having done it anyway. "You could've let them stay at Tannyhill. I have people to watch them for free."

He pauses, holding his breath as he waits for your response. Very few people get this offer and the fear of rejection hangs over him.

"Nice try, darling," you tease, falling back to a sense of comfort, "but I'm fine. I got it figured out."

He‘s not surprised by your answer, but it annoys him nonetheless.

When you reach Tannyhill, you didn't bother to wait for Rafe to give you the boyfriend experience. You knew he wouldn't. Instead, you went ahead and opened the car door yourself, heading straight for the porch.

Rafe was just about to cross over to the passenger side.

Following suit, he unlocks the front door and grants you entry. You step inside, reveling in the details of the estate. Despite only being here a few times, you can recall the key pieces of the house—the crystal chandelier with dangling pendants, the cabinets of beautiful collector items from the Bahamas, the flowery display that Rose curates in her free time. You immediately check off all their placement in your head, strolling over to the staircase to ascend.

"Know your way around my house, huh?" Rafe taunts, sticking his hands in his pockets. You glance over your shoulders with an easy grin.

"Just trying to take notes for the next Mrs. Cameron. Don't worry, it's not for me." You wink, turning back around before you notice the way his smile falls flat.

Reaching Rafe's bedroom, you step into the familiar space and eyed it with suspicion. From social media, you saw that Rafe went to a party right after hooking up with you the other day. You will never admit it to him but you wanted to catch if there's any evidence of another woman.

But instead of finding a pair of panties on the floor, you find the red tulips sitting on his desk. Your guards lower.

After he gifted them to you, you cut off the ends and put it in a glass vase in hopes of rejuvenating the flowers. It worked. You nearly forgot about it since you haven't visited since that day, but you were surprised he kept it after all this time.

You turn around to Rafe once he enters. "You like tulips now?" You tease, to which he glances over to the bouquet.

"I forgot to throw them away."

"Sure." You hum, partially unconvinced but deciding not to take any deeper meaning to it. He probably did. "Well, I'm going to go get ready."

You head into the ensuite, dropping your bags on the floor. As you change into your dress, curl your hair, and put on your makeup, you realize you forgot your lipstick.

Searching through your bag and throwing out used brushes into the sink, leaving a powdered mess, you still couldn't find it anywhere. You frown, "dammit."

Your attire feels incomplete without it, but you're not going to cry over this miscalculation. Stepping out, you find Rafe, fitted with his tailored black suit, sitting at his desk and reading a file in his hands. His concentration breaks when he hears you exit.

His eyes scan over your figure and, while he knows he's already seen you in this before, it does nothing to minimize how captivating you truly look in the dress. The dress he bought. "You look amazing," he murmurs, causing heat to rise to your cheeks.

"Thank you." You say with a laugh, uncomfortable at the way his attention is set on you. You need to expel it. "Unfortunately, I don't have any lipstick on. I probably left it at home."

"You mean this?" He picks something off his counter and holds it out to you and, lo and behold, it was your lipstick.

"Where'd you get that?"

"You left it here," he declares, lifting to his feet and approaching you with it. "The maids were going to throw it away but I assumed that..." He trails off, his eyes finding yours.

"That I wouldn't be able to afford another one?" You supply with a forced smile, knowing it squeezes your chest at how Rafe sees you. A Pogue who can't afford many luxuries. "Don't worry, Kook, it's like seven dollars, I would've bought another one."

That wasn't what he meant.

He remembered that you didn't let him buy you another one so he figured you wouldn't allow him to replace it either. But, he didn't know how to say that without coming off pathetic.

Instead, he returned it to its rightful owner.

Grateful, you take it out of his hand and begin to apply it right there. He watches you as you do, the freshness of plump lips replaced with a coat of red. "How'd I look?"

Kissable. Rafe swallows hard, tearing his eyes away and finding the empty space around your neck.

"Where's your necklace?"

You twist the cap back on the lipstick, tipping your head to the bathroom. "In there. I was going to put it on later."

"Let me put it on for you."

You blink up at him from the sudden offer. "You want to?"

He shrugs. He feels like he's playing a silent dance with you, hoping you’ll take the next step.

A small smile curls on your scarlet-stained lips and a flutter of butterflies release in your stomach. "Okay, come on," you take his hand, pulling him in front of the sink where you left your brushes, "don't worry about that, I'll clean it later."

Rafe honestly didn't mind. He likes the idea of you making a mess in his bathroom, the counter littered with your things. It shows that you were here. "Make sure to make it spotless. I don't want to see this shit tomorrow."

You roll your eyes and pull out the small box wrapped with a golden ribbon. "Yes, darling," you say with a mock, "would never want to disappoint the Kook prince."

He's used to feeling pride in being from Figure Eight, but something about the way you use Kook makes him wish he wasn't.

You take out the necklace from the box, internally reprimanding yourself at how expensive the piece is—knowing how it could be well-spent paying back Aaron—before handing it over to Rafe.

He places it over your neckline, pushing your styled hair to the side for full exposure. You watch him through the mirror, his concentration pinned on clasping the small hole.

"What were you working on?" You ask, filling in the silence as you refer to the file.

"A case for my dad." He explains, frustration slowly building in him because the hook won't puncture through the complicated loop. "He wants to close this deal tonight with one of his partners but they're refusing to budge."

You nod just as you hear him release a swear under his breath, his brows crinkled together and his patience thinning. You know the look. "It's okay," you comfort with a gentle tone, "take your time. It's not going anywhere."

It won't slip through. "I should've gotten you another necklace."

"I guess someone should've listened to me." You tease with a chuckle. Rafe flicks his gaze to meet yours in the reflection, watching your smile, no judgment in sight. His shoulders slacken a bit. "I guess it proves that you should always listen to your girlfriend. What's that saying? Happy wife, happy life?"

"We're not fucking married." He announces bluntly without much thought, his focus too wrapped up on the stupid chain. Your smile falters. Right, you got too carried away in your role. He clasps the ends together. "Finally."

You nod your head in gratitude as you silently slip out of the bathroom once again, making your way to the dresser where you left your purse. Your eyes gloss over the opened file on the desk and you stop in your tracks.

"Wait, I know him." You point to the paperwork, glancing over your shoulders to find Rafe. "He's that guy that owns the hotel chains for the tourists. The one who just bought up all that land near the marsh."

Rafe nods, picking it up. "Yeah. Cameron Development wants it but he handed the negotiation off to his daughter. She doesn't wanna talk and plans on proceeding with the original blueprint."

"But that doesn't make sense." You frown, plucking the case out of his hand. You look through the information. He lets you. "That land isn't a good location for a hotel. It's too close to the wilderness protection area for endangered species. They're going to get hell from the FWS."

Rafe stares back at your assessment. "What?"

"Look," you point to the map where he highlighted where the land is going to be used. "This is where the marsh is. This is where the hotel is going to be built. If you use that land, you'll disrupt the ecosystem and it's going to fuck you over later by the government."

He shakes his head, disagreeing. "We planned ahead for that."

"No. You only minimize it. You're going to cut off a main water source. It'll dry out the fishes and marines. You may be able to hold off the feds for a couple of years but I'm willing to bet it won't last longer than five. Max."

He's watching you, the way your brows knit together and your lips purse as you examine the case. "How do you know all that?"

"I work on the docks," you shrug, giving back the file to Rafe. "Heyward has been talking about how some Kook hotel magnate is planning on restricting a part of the marsh where they make their living. It's worrying them."

Rafe says nothing, glancing back down to the papers. "Well, Cameron Development was planning on using it for residential housing."

You shake your head, settling on the end of his mattress. It's so soft, unlike the one you have back home. "I wouldn't suggest that either."

He knows he shouldn't be taking suggestions from a bartender, but something in the way you held your ground makes him consider otherwise. "Why not?"

"Other than disrupting people’s livelihood? You don't want an alligator to end up on someone's back porch and they can't shoot it because it's part of the endangered species list. The lawsuits would be a nightmare."

What you don't explain to him is that you learned a lot of this because of what your parents drilled in you. They discussed local politics often. They believed it's important to have an understanding about your community and to know when certain corporations or people are about to harm it. That's what Kooks often forget.

"I mean, do what you want but that's my honest opinion." You conclude with a shrug. At the end of the day, it’s not your business.

Rafe watches as you lay back against his bed with a sigh. Your dress riding up; the high slit revealing more of your skin.

He has nothing else to say to that—to you—because, in some ways, you're right. You come in here and break down a problem he spent the past three days trying to figure out. It's maddening how incredible you are.

He throws the case onto the desk. His focus now pinned on you as his knees sink to the space beside your hips and he hovers over you, strong arms pressed next to your head.

"You're pretty smart then, huh?" He goads, his eyes scanning over your face. The necklace tangled with his initials. How you look under him.

You grin. "I told you. I'm not just a Pogue with no brains."

You're referring to his insult at the bar, the insulating that you weren't smart enough because you were from The Cut. He couldn't believe you remembered that.

He should apologize.

No one taught him how.

He changes the subject. "So why is someone like you, who clearly has a knack for these types of things, running a rundown bar in the middle of the docks?"

Rafe doesn't recognize your smile slipping off, just slightly. You don't immediately answer him. Your hand raises to cup the side of his profile.

"Are we going to keep discussing business or are you going to kiss me?" You challenge, because that's the best way to avoid these types of conversations with Rafe.

He scoffs. The way you tease him sends a shot of arousal down his spine. "Who said anything about wanting to kiss you?"

You tilt your head with a raised brow. "Are you saying I'm wrong? Because I have a faint memory of someone saying I was right about a certain necklace…”

He shakes his head, the corner of his lips raising in a smile. "Never said that."

"Didn't need to," you declare with a wink, "I can read your mind."

"Yeah?" He leans forward, his mouth right beside your ear. "Do you know what I'm thinking of right now?" He lowers his hand to travel up your exposed leg, closer to your aching pussy. Your breath hitch. "That I want to rip this fucking dress off and fuck you right here?"

You wrap both your arms around his shoulders. "Yeah," you play along. "I did."

"And what are you thinking about?" He rasps, his eyes searching your face for any sense of affirmations. That you could possibly want him too.

You merely smile, gently pushing him back and onto the mattress. Changing position, you straddle him. "How about I show you?"

Planting kisses on the edge of his mouth, down to his jaw, to his neck, he tips his head back for you. You feel his erection hardening under his pants, pressed directly against your core. "Feels good, darling?"

Rafe draws his hands up your waist to hold you in place. He wants to kiss you now, desperately, but you avoid his lips as punishment. "A little underwhelmed to be honest, sweetheart."

You giggle, slowly rolling your hips. He groans at the sensation, feeling his cock tightens. "Are you sure?" You say, sucking on the curve of his neck as you hear a small moan leave his lips. The low sound igniting heat in your lower belly. “I think someone wants me.”

"That's enough." He announces, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you into a hungry kiss. Both your hands slide up his chest for balance and you melt into his touch.

Red lipstick marks are covering Rafe all over, but he didn't fucking care. All he wants is to taste you, feel you, that he would gladly take the mess you give.

His hand lowers to your exposed cut of your dress, pushing the red satin away to gain more access. His knuckles brush against your bare cunt. "No panties?" He asks with shock, his darkened blue eyes finding yours. Your shy smile gives him everything he needs. "Bad girl."

Your expression is innocent. "It ruined the dress."

His fingers graze your wet slit. "I have to buy you more then."

You chuckle, before he finds your clit and rubs broad circles around the swollen nub, and your laugh turns to a shudder. "Th–that was a one-time thing."

"Is it?" He muses, his fingers entering you and a whimper escapes. "I bet I can fuck a yes out of you."

He probably could, with the way he handles you. Knowing your body so intimately, what turns you on, when you're about to come. You couldn't give him that satisfaction, pulling him into another kiss and silencing your response.

Rafe gives in immediately. Your lips part and he sucks on your tongue while his fingers rub you faster, little moans leaving you between kisses. You come on his hand within time.

Weakly pulling yourself off, you start to unbuckle his belt and take off his pants—his hips lifts to assist. When you free his bulge from his boxer-briefs, it stands hard and swollen. "Such a pretty cock," you sigh in awe, stroking your thumb over the bit of precum at the tip. Rafe lets out a groan.

"Are you going to ride me, baby?" He asks thickly, his hand landing on your waist in preparation to help you mount.

"Not right now," you declare with an apologetic smile, his expression falling. "I can't ruin my makeup." You look at your kisses smeared over his fair skin. "Well, more than it is."

His hand doesn't leave your hips. "You can always reapply."

You shake your head, gripping around his base, your fingers barely connecting because of his girth. Rafe's breath grows swallows as you start to pump him. "But I can make you feel better."

He loves the way your hand wraps around him, tight enough for him to feel pleasure with each stroke, and his balls soon tightens. "Just like that, baby," he moans, propping himself back by his elbows as you work on him. "I'm about to come."

You notice, with the way his cock is twitching under your palm, and just as he's about to release his load, you dip your head and cover your mouth over the tip.

"Fuck." He grunts under his breath as you suck him clean, your hand continuing to rub him to empty every drop. When he finishes his high, you pull back, wiping your chin with the back of your hand.

"Didn't want to ruin your clothes." You inform bashfully, standing up from the bed. He wanted to grab your wrist and pull you back beside him but the opportunity was missed.

You go to the bathroom to grab a wet paper towel and return with the intent of washing away all your markings on Rafe. As you settle beside him to wipe away the lipstick, he moves away.

"What if I want to keep one?"

"What?" You shed a small laugh. He can’t be serious. "My lipstick?"

He shrugs. "It shows that we're together."

Oh, right. For a blind, hopeful moment, you thought it was because he actually wanted you. More than just a fake title. No, it was just another shield, another way to demonstrate he's committed.

You silently agree, wiping away most of your kisses until the last one is left. Just right under his collarbone, enough to be seen with a good eye but mostly inconspicuous. "Good?" You ask evenly, to which Rafe glances over to the mirror and nods. "Okay, I'm going to fix myself and then we should start heading out."

—

You put on your facade.

It's easy. You just pretend you're someone else—not a lowly bartender from The Cut making ends meet but someone dignified and deserving. You play into the role of being Rafe Cameron's girlfriend with that mentality.

The gala is hosted downtown, at a large five-starred hotel with a massive ballroom. When you enter through the double doors, opened by a pair of waitstaff, you stare in admiration at the exquisiteness at the place. Rafe catches your expression.

“Close your mouth. You’re acting like you've never been to a gala before."

"I haven't." You snap back lowly, before remembering you're in public. You shift your tone to be more friendly. "I mean, this is my first time here."

Rafe's taken aback by your compliance. He knows he should appreciate it, because you always fight back against him on everything, but the achievement feels hollow and disingenuous.

The two of you fall into steps with the room, greeting familiar faces. When Rafe ends up in a conversation with a group of Cameron Development's business partners, you were casted aside in the role of obedient housewife—where the women socialize while the men talked shop—and you didn't like that.

With a gentle hand on Rafe's shoulder, you subtly interject yourself into the discussion.

"Y'know, Rafe's pretty good at that." You praise, causing the eyes of the older men to fall on you. Your fake boyfriend stiffens under your palm, his gaze set on your profile to understand what you're trying to do. "I saw the way he works those cases. He's dedicated and efficient. Business deals are meant to be made with a keen eye and deep considerations. Rafe always does that."

They fall silent for a few moments, watching you with amusement, before a man with a scuffed beard opens his mouth. "And how would you know anything about it? Aren't you a bartender?"

Rafe's jaw tightens at the way those men address you, with such a superiority complex. It reminds him of when he first met you. But, like then, you didn't let them bother you. "Yes and I'm also the sole owner of Sailor. I've been running it by myself since I was eighteen, which has had an average increase of 1.1% profit margins every year since. I know what I'm talking about."

Rafe stares at you, slack-jawed. He didn't know that. The group of men held similar expressions, filled with embarrassment at their misperception of you. "And, if I remember correctly, you had a construction plan for a new shopping center downtown, right? Instead of contracting with Cameron Development and utilizing local labor from the Banks—which Rafe suggested—you wanted to import mainland workers. How did that work out for you?"

You heard Rafe on the phone once, talking about a shopping center being built, with an intended budget of thirteen millions, wanting to cut corners. They didn't listen to Rafe with his recommendations, pinned him as too young and inexperienced to know better, that it ended up costing them twenty-one millions. It's still yet to be finished.

Scuffed Beard shifts uncomfortably under your scrutiny, his eyes flickering amongst his peers with humiliation. You smile sweetly. "I'm not saying this as a critique on your character, sir, I'm sure you're an incredible businessman." You declare, coaxing him with compliments so he wouldn't hold bitter resentment against the Camerons. "But, your organization has an aging board committee. You might want to consider a fresh perspective on things." You glance over to Rafe, in a subtle gesture. "It might even save you millions."

A woman's hand settles on your waist and draws your attention away to say something. When you turn back to Rafe, you present a loving smile, so bright and natural. If he was anyone else, he would've believed that you adored him, but he knows it's a mere disguise.

"I'm going to go mingle, darling, have fun." You raise to your tippy-toes and plant a soft kiss on his cheek. It leaves a faint lipstick stain but you figure it would help him sell his committed act.

Turning your heels, you leave and continue your (fake) girlfriend duties. Rafe watches until you disappear into the crowd and only then does his attention return back to the quieted group of boisterous men who once didn't view him as competent. Their gaze shifts to his, waiting.

"You were saying?" One of them offers, reminding him of an idea Rafe was talking about before you came in—one they were rejecting—and a concealed smirk rises to his lips.

The rest of the night is spent talking and establishing relationships. An orchestra plays in the background while the men gather around, discussing their partnerships. You rarely saw Rafe, except in the passing, and each time his eyes lingered over to your direction, you gave him an affectionate smile, your fingers waving fondly over the separated distance.

All for show.

In the middle of a conversation with a group of Ward's partners, which were talking about golf tournaments and fickle deals, he pardons himself and strolls over to you. You were in the middle of talking to a group of women, hyping up Rafe's reputation as a successful underdog, knowing that, while the women may be casted as gossips, they are also direct access to their husbands' ears.

His hand slides under your waist. "Excuse us." Rafe nods to the housewives, before pulling you away.

"What happened?" You ask quietly, searching his face. "Is there a problem?"

"No, everything's fine." He shakes his head. Something about it warms his heart, but he can't help but wonder if this is the continued act you've been putting on the entire night. "I just... I needed a break."

You nod. "That's fine. It's good to take a breath once in a while. I know it can be overwhelming."

His jaw flexes. Something about your saccharine mood this entire evening feels off. The way you were complimenting him earlier with the business partners feels dishonest. "Stop it."

Your brows furrow together at his sharp tone. "What? What did I do wrong?"

"That." He gestures to you as a whole. "The concern. That pretend. I wanna hear my girl, not the bullshit you've been putting up for everyone else."

You blink in surprise. You can't even fully appreciate him referring to you as his before scoffing at his audacity. "Seriously? You're mad because I'm being too nice? Would you rather I give you an attitude every time you open your mouth?"

He smirks, satisfied. "There you are."

You can't help but roll your eyes. "I can't with you. When I snap at you, you get pissed off, but when I'm nice, you're pissed off. You can't be pleased, Rafe Cameron."

He doesn't understand it either, but he loves the fire behind your eyes when you talk back and he loves the way his name rolls off your tongue. Perhaps, it's something about who you reveal yourself to. How much. The idea that he gets the other side of you—one where no one gets often—that's what he likes. It doesn't matter if it's your attitude or bitter remarks. It's different. Because it feels completely his.

"Yeah." He nods, cupping your cheeks with one hand, running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. "What can I say? I love this mouth. Reminds me of when I need to punish it."

You playfully shove him off but you can't ignore the knot twisting in your stomach. Your mind wanders to earlier, when you were giving him a handjob and swallowed his cum. It causes you to rub your thighs together.

Rafe recognizes that look. He wants to rile you further, maybe drag you off to a secluded area and fuck you—but he hears his name being called from behind and he looks up to see his father approaching. His spine straightens, his shoulders tense up.

"Rafe." Ward greets, glancing over to you with an acknowledged nod. "He has just arrived. I need you to convince him to settle on a deal before we lose that land. You're the only one I can trust with this."

He's a bit annoyed that his father interrupted his limited time with you but with the ounce of approval he's giving—telling Rafe he's the only person he can rely on, the one he wants to close the case—he can't help but submit.

When Ward leaves, Rafe looks back at you, his expression is vulnerable for a moment. His father is depending on him and the pressure is kicking in. He wants to ask you to come with him, for moral support, but he doesn't know how to word it without sounding inadequate—like he needs you there to succeed. So, he settles on his silence.

You return to the housewives but, this time, you remain closer to Rafe. You saw the look on his face and, while you wonder if you're overthinking, you wanted to stay nearby.

After his negotiation to the hotel Kook, the man considers his proposal. He tells Rafe that he needs a moment with his company to discuss before making a final decision. Once he left, Rafe releases a heavy sigh, searching for his father when a figure among the crowd makes him stop. Sarah.

What the fuck is she doing here? He has never once seen her attend any of Cameron Development's events, claiming them to be too meticulous and boring. Yet, here she is, wearing a formal dress and heading directly to their father.

Ward greets her with a beam of pride, his arm wraps around his eldest daughter and introduces her to his partners. Sarah reciprocates, waving and nodding along. Rafe could only hear the sound of his own blood boiling.

When his sister goes off somewhere, Rafe makes a direct beeline to his father. He pulls the patriarch aside. "What the hell is Sarah doing here?"

Ward knows the look in his son's eyes. "Calm down—"

"Calm down?" He echoes, incredulous. He hates that phrase. His darkened eyes stare down at his father. "What does that even mean? What's going on? Are you—" He couldn't utter the next words, his anger reaching its peak.

"Rafe, listen. Sarah, she's been out for a couple of months—"

"Yeah, because she fucking ran away."

"Language." Ward's command is sharp, causing his son to fall silent. "That's your sister. She's coming home and I'm trying to make her feel more comfortable."

"Comfortable?" He repeats with an indignant scoff. When Rafe was at his all-time low with his coke addiction, his father kicked him out of the house for weeks. But when Sarah abandons Tannyhill for months, doing god-knows-what with her boyfriend, Ward welcomes her back with open arms.

It isn't fucking fair.

"Does this mean..." Rafe couldn't finish the sentence. He doesn't know if he wants to know. All he feels is this intensifying frustration at the way his father could always accept his perfect daughter but criticizes him at every little mistake. Never good. Never enough.

Ward answers him anyway.

"Yes, I'm still considering her for the company."

He doesn't respond to that. He stares at his father with nothing more than pure, unbridled anger. Anger and rage. Rage and jealousy. Jealousy and hurt.

Ward tries to place a comforting hand on his shoulders, but the eldest son shoves him off. He turns, exiting from the ballroom.

You follow him.

"Rafe. Rafe. Rafe!" You chase after him, breaking into a mini-sprint as your heels click against the marble-floored lounge, before your hand catches his elbow. Your eyes search his hardened face. "Talk to me."

He pushes you away too. "I hate him."

"What?" You blink through the confusion. "What happened?"

"He always picks—" He cuts himself off, his eyes growing teary and he doesn't want you to see. "Fuck."

Someone walks by and Rafe tries to turn away, not wanting to be seen as weak by any passing stranger. You pay a glance to the oblivious man cruising by, before taking Rafe's arm and pulling him to the nearest empty space: a bathroom.

When the door locks, you face the blond. Your tone gentle, your approach cautious. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"Okay?" He scoffs at your concern. He doesn't feel anywhere near okay. "What the fuck do you think?"

You frown, but you know this is always the first step. His anger always targets you first. "I want you to tell me."

Rafe locks his jaw, frustrated at the way you're being too kind while he's nothing but filled with rage. He doesn't deserve it. "My sister is back and you're asking me if I'm okay? Are you stupid?"

You cross your arms over your chest. Not out of anger, more out of protection. "I'm not part of your family, Rafe, I don't know why that matters. You're being mean and I'm just trying to help."

"Help?" He repeats, disbelief dripping from his tone. "Like you were helping me with my conversations? Talking me up? Making me sound like I was good?"

He's on the brink of a breakdown and you can't seem to understand him. Why is he making it sound like it was a bad thing? "I am. I'm trying to help you."

"You're just lying!" He accuses, his voice cracking from the intensity, stepping back. Like he couldn't trust you. Like you hurt him. "You say some shit, making me feel like you want me, and then you go off and do other shit that proves you don't."

You're not quite sure he's talking about you anymore. It's something more. It doesn't take a lot to figure out who.

You approach him calmly. "Is that what Ward is doing to you?"

Rafe doesn't answer you, staring back glassy-eyed with choked breaths. He's hurt. He feels unwanted. He can't explain it. Sarah returning home, to open arms, confirms something he’s always trying to push away. It means that his life will be more difficult; his goal of getting the family company more challenging. Because he knows, he will always be the second choice to the golden child.

And if you have that, who the fuck needs Rafe Cameron?

"You... you are good." You begin slowly, watching the way he shakes his head in doubt. "I told them the truth. You're an incredible businessman and you care about your company. I saw it at the country club's dinner, I saw it when we were getting ready and I see it now. What's the problem with me letting other people know?"

His insecurities are suffocating him. "You don't believe that."

"I do." You affirm with a nod, stepping closer to him. "I don't lie about that stuff. I admire it, that's why I remember."

His breath is cut short at your admission. Several beats take place before he speaks again. “You admired me?"

You laugh, the melodic resonance making everything feels better, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders while he leans against the sink. "Don't let it get to your head," you warn with a soft smile. "But, yeah. It reminds me of me; how much you care about your family's business."

Rafe doesn't say anything, his broken gaze finding yours. They trace over your features, trying to read any sense of insincerity in them, only to find none.

"Your family's business?" He prompts quietly, using this opportunity to gateway into learning more about you. To let him in—that’s how you earn his trust. You falter.

"Yeah." You admit weakly. Every bone in your body is screaming at you to remain silent, to keep him out, but you can't help but continue forth. "I inherited it after my parents' passed away in an accident."

His eyes widen, at you revealing this glimpse into your past. Discomfort settles in your stomach, at letting another person in, but you can't help the way your chest lightens ever-so-slightly.

You don't want to deal with it.

Leaning forward, you press a soft kiss on his lips. Tender and warm, Rafe's hands immediately draw up to capture your waist before reciprocating the touch. It turns hungry, passionate, and when you pull away, breathless, you flick your gaze up to him.

"Want to know something else?" You ask in a whisper. "I haven't stopped thinking about your cock all night."

Rafe feels himself hardening at your confession. You have that effect on him now. “Yeah?”

You nod with a timid smile, playing with the buckle of his belt. “Can I blow you?”

He couldn’t say no to that.

Unbuckling his pants, you remove them within seconds. The corner of his lips quirks into a smirk. “Eager, are we?”

“I told you.” You say as you pull down his boxer-briefs, his cock springing free as your hand immediately wraps around the length, stroking slowly. “I want you in my mouth.”

Rafe can’t begin to express how it makes him feel hearing you say those words, your attention set on getting him as hard as possible.

Instead, he removes his blazer and sets it on the floor.

Your smile grows. “Didn’t know you would throw away good money like that,” you tease, glancing at the jacket that is probably worth more than your entire closet. “Thought Kooks have to take care of their things.”

“I am.”

The knot in your stomach tightens. You know you shouldn't like the possession behind Rafe's voice but you rub your thighs together to satiate the feeling. He notices, his arrogance grows tenfold. "Does my girl like that? Does she like knowing I own her?"

Rafe is probing you but there's a sense of comfort in knowing that he has this effect on you. When you quiet down, his words being too real and your hands stopping at the base of his cock, he wonders if he went too far.

Until you whisper, "I like it when you take control."

"Yeah?" He can feel his skin pricking with excitement. "The girl who always has something to say wants me to tell her what to do?"

Your cheeks flush with heat before you nod. "Good. Now, kneel."

You sink to the floor, your satin-covered knees pressed against his jacket to soften the blow of the hard ground. When you align yourself in front of his groin, you dribble a bit of spit over the head before spreading it over his length. Rafe lets out a low moan.

"I like hearing how I make you feel." You sigh fondly. "It lets me know how to please you."

Fuck, Rafe thought to himself, the idea of you getting turn-on by pleasuring him sends all the blood straight to his pelvis. You feel him twitch under your palm.

"And I think you like that too," you observe with a small smile, "you like having me as your own personal slut, don't you?"

He doesn't get to answer before you tilt your gaze up to meet his, taking his cock in your mouth. Rafe lets out a groan, the admission of your words tonight igniting desire all over his body.

The way your eyes connect with his as you slowly take him in, inch by inch, drives him insane. Your hand syncs with your mouth as you cup him, twisting and rubbing.

"Shit," he whimpers, the way you squeeze him feels incredible while your head sinks deeper, causing a small gag to form from the back of your throat. "That feels so good, baby."

The praise goes straight to your core. Your thighs are slick with your own arousal, aching, but you refuse to move till he comes. Your tongue flicks over his length, rolling around his tip.

"You're doing so well." He grunts, his voice thick as his fingers grips at the root of your hair, his climax quickly approaching. "Just like that, I love hearing the way you gag on my cock."

You do it again, louder, this time triggering a guttural moan from him.

Your technique grows more confident as your hands fall to play with his balls, and your head bobs up and down his shaft. When your cheeks hollow to add suction, it doesn't take long before he feels his muscles tightening. He's close.

"Are you going to swallow for me, baby?" Rafe rasps, causing your heavy-lid eyes to find his once again. "I know you can."

You nod. "Yes."

His hot cum shoots to the back of your throat in fast spurts while you take it all. His moans complement his orgasm, riding out with loud praises and noises you can't help but fuel your own desire.

When you swallow all of it, you pull back, his softening cock pops out of your mouth. Your hands settle on the flat of your thighs and you look up to him with doe eyes to ask. "Better?"

Panting, he answers. "Not even close."

He reaches down and hauls you to the sink, making you giggle at the way he handles you. Your ass settles on the granite counter and Rafe wastes no time to pull you to the ledge, pushing your dress up to your hips to reveal your glistening, bare cunt.

"You're this wet from sucking dick?" He teases, massaging your slick inner thighs. You bite your bottom lip, nodding along.

"Just yours."

He loves it. Tonight, you're simply perfect. Saying everything he wants to hear. Everything he needs to feel. He gets hard again, so easy under your influence.

You notice, glancing down to his hardening erection with a teasing smile. "Already?"

He chuckles, capturing you into a kiss. He tastes himself on your lips, the acknowledgement signals a primal urge, while his knuckles brushes against your throbbing clit, causing you to jerk into his hand.

"Rafe." You whimper, breaking from the kiss, your eyes meeting his with desperation. The feeling between your legs growing unbearable by the second. "Please, make me come."

This time, in a bathroom, your plea is met with a different consideration. He smiles before nodding once, lining the crown of his cock against your wet folds. "Only 'cause you ask so nicely."

Rafe pushes in, slow and steady to let you adjust to his girth, while your hands clasps around him for stability, your nails digging into his shoulder blades. Then, his thrusts begin to speed up.

"You like that, baby?" He asks, his free hand rubbing your swollen clit simultaneously to his penetration. You nod vigorously, your eyes closing shut from the pleasure. "Your pussy feels so nice around me."

"Like it was made for you." You supply with a moan.

“That's fucking right. Like it's mine."

His hand raises to the cleavage of your dress, pushing down the satin to reveal your tits. He's never been happier to know you decided not to wear a bra and pinches a pierced nipple between his fingers, causing your head to tip back with a raspy mewl. "Just like these." He adds, knowing the way he's playing with them will make you reach your peak faster. "Fuck, these are my favorite things."

The way he's teasing you, fucking you, feels so good, but you can't help but release a small laugh at his assertion. "Of course they would be, you whore," you say with a wispy smile.

He abandons his play, causing you to let out a small whine, when his hand cups your cheeks, jutting out your pout. "Nah, this mouth is." He closes the distance, kissing you, before drawing out your bottom lip with his teeth. The act is so surprising, you clench around his cock.

It causes a shudder to pass through him.

"God, you feel perfect," he confesses, his thrusts growing less controlled as he's deep inside of you, feeling every little response between your legs. "You should've been mine a long time ago."

The fabric of your dress falls back over to your pussy while Rafe wants nothing more than to watch how he pumps in-and-out of you. The frustration of the cover makes him roughly push back the material against your hips.

"I'm going to rip your fucking dress off."

"Don't you dare." You warn with a weak glare, the pleasure building too strongly for you to feel any genuine hostility.

"Thought you didn't want it?"

"I never said that."

"What is it, then?"

A moan ripples out of you as you lean forward, your lips fall next to the shell of his ear in a whisper. "My boyfriend got it for me."

Fuck, that got him and he spills in you, this time, the motion leaving him more jerkily and unstable than before. Despite the overwhelming sense of pleasure coursing through his body, he isn't finished. Knowing you haven’t came, his fingers fall back down to your clit and begin to rub in tight, fast circles, trying to help you reach your own orgasm.

You do, following quickly after, that he feels your walls clenching around his warming cock. When you ride out your high, you're breathless as he pulls out.

There's silence, and you expect him to get dressed and leave the room, but he surprises you when he focuses on helping you clean up. From wiping away his cum around your thighs, to fixing your hair, and helping you off the counter.

You don't know how to feel from the gesture; your heart clenching from his gentle acts.

Only then does he redress himself, picking up the wrinkled blazer off the ground and throwing it over his shoulders.

"Wait," you reach out, pulling him closer to the sink as you grab a wet paper towel and wipe away all the smudges of your lipstick over his lips. Your voice is soft. "I can't let you go out there looking like that."

He watches you as you work, wiping away any residues clean.

"I don't want to go back out there." He admits quietly. "I just wanna leave. Are you good with that?"

The question came at a surprise. "You're asking for my permission?"

He rolls his eyes at the look on your face, his shoulders relaxing. "Either that or you're going to get pissed at me again for taking you out before you're ready."

You chuckle. "We can leave. I just have to say goodbye to the housewives first."

"Had to get the word out for your bar?"

"Nope." You shake your head, realization striking you that, throughout this entire night, you spent no time thinking about yourself. Your hand lands over the doorknob, and just before you twist to open, you spare a glance over your shoulders at Rafe. "We were talking about you."

You leave first and Rafe's momentarily stunned that you used your one opportunity to talk about him rather than advertise your bar as a catering option for these plentiful Kooks. His chest warms and he soon follows you back to the ballroom where you pay your farewells.

Off on the side, trying to avoid his father, Rafe waits.

When someone taps his shoulder, his jaw clenches, not wanting to face Ward, only to turn and find the hotel magnate standing before him.

"We talked it through." The man declares as you pull away from the final housewife to return to your boyfriend’s side. "You got yourself a deal."

He hands Rafe a card, scribbled with a personal number at the top. The eldest Cameron reaches out to take the small card from him, rejoining their hands in a formal shake.

"Thank you, sir." Rafe expresses, keeping his voice neutral. The man nods.

"You got a good head on your shoulders. Keep it up." He declares, before nodding to you in recognition and leaves.

It takes a few moments for it to register. How it happened. How it worked out. When Rafe turns to you, your elation is too hard to contain, and you tackle him into a hug.

"You did it!" You beam, louder than the normal convention, and catch the attention of the nearby housewives who watch the interaction between the two with awing amusement. As you pull back, your hands clasps around his shoulders. "I'm so proud of you!"

Those words mean a lot to him. Especially now knowing that they're genuine coming from you. He doesn't know how to react, especially with the look on your face, the expression of complete pride from his success. "Really?"

You nod frantically, your cheeks hurting from how big your smile is. "What did you say to him? How did you convince him?"

His fingers mess with the business card in his hands and he shrugs. "I told him what you told me."

You can't believe Rafe listened to you. "So, what are you going to do with the land? Are you still going to build alligator-infested houses?"

He knows you're teasing him but he chuckles anyway. His adrenaline comes down to a neutralized comfort. Safe. He can't help it. Your presence, your words, and your kindness drives something deep in him.

"No." He shakes his head. "We're going to use the difference to invest into the fishing industry on the docks, benefitting from their stock value."

What he's not saying is that your argument held value to him. That his decision to help the Pogues is because of you. But, you take it either way, the announcement bringing a realm of good news for the first time in a long time.

Your chest is overwhelmed with such gratitude, you almost confess something you shouldn't.

"That's good." You settle with a gentle smile, clearing your throat. "I guess this means we can both go home to a satisfying conclusion, huh?"

That was the goal. But now he's not too sure he wants to depart from you this early. Knowing who you truly are—not just putting up a mask and caring about him in public, but genuinely proud of him, supporting him, always in his corner—he doesn't want to separate just yet.

So, he does something out of his comfort zone.

"It's getting late and it'll be a long drive to your house. You should just stay over."

This is the second time he's asking you, holding his breath to see how you would respond, and when your smile softens just a bit, almost in a way to let him down, he thought he got rejected again.

You know you shouldn't. You know this is only going to complicate your personal and professional lives. You know you should go home and place some distance from Rafe, to save you and your heart.

But something in you clench about the offer. It feels too similar to hope.

You nod. "That sounds like another great idea of yours."

— part eight here —

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tanglepelt · 1 year

Text

Dc x dp idea 13?

Danny just gaslighting the JL and JLD.

They summoned the ghost king obviously Danny shows up cause i love that for him. He’s in human form. He does that on purpose.

Must ppl assume they messed up send him back and leave it at that. Nope not these people.

Constantine is checking the summoning circle again. Just tells Danny he won’t fall for his disguise and that he knows that he’s ghost king. And says he wants to make a deal.

Danny knows this man sells his souls more then his parents claim they want to tear phantom up molecule by molecule and he has no use for a soul anyways. So Danny just says if i was a king i wouldn’t be failing high school. He wouldn’t even go to high school.

Then Danny goes on about how he has a bully so obviously he couldn’t be a king. Not to mention his human non royal parents. They were mad scientist and ghost hunters but that’s as interesting as they got. Also hello he is alive what did Constantine think he was secretly a ghost.

Danny then walks around the circle just pointing at the total correct symbols going are you sure it’s meant to be a crown. What if this king is a queen and has a tiara. Like who are you to assume it’s a king if you’ve never met them.

John isn’t falling for it at all. Now everyone else is doubting him. Batman pulled up Danny on the computer a perfectly normal human child. So Danny is gonna pull out the big guns. Looks at him and goes if i step out will that prove I’m not currently the ghost king.

It’s one of the other JLD members who says he wouldn’t be able to if he was king. It was warded to keep the king in. So Danny who is currently human just steps out.

See he’s totally not the just king. Currently.

Turns out they needed someone to deal with the box ghost. Danny just say oh i got that. He soups him and goes i did say my parents were ghost hunters

Danny failed to realize once he stepped out of the circle they couldn’t send him back that way. So now he is stuck being questioned but hey at least he is in space.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp dc crossover #justice league #dp x dc crossover #ghost king danny #dp x dc prompt #i may actually write this #i may not #idk yet #the tiara symbol would summon dani #she’s second in line only cause she’s Danny’s clone #dani go summoned once and just terrified them #Danny hates being summoned #half the stuff he told them about his life was slightly concerning #the other half extremely concerning #he doesn’t realize it #why the box ghost #it’s always funny when he is the threat #he as like a $5 bounty right #it might be less I’d have to rewatch the pandora box episode #John knows he’s lying #both he and Batman caught on to the word currently #batman thinks he is in line #John doesn’t understand how an alive kid is only king sometimes #Superman does notice the slow heartbeat #thinks he has a heart condition

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octoberclidan · 4 months

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I Don't Want You to Leave

Request: Can i request Dean or sam Winchester x f!angel reader, where she comes to help him (s3-4 based) and he just gets to attached to her so he purposely gets her to help him, and she ends up staying permanently 💕

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Masterlist

Story:

"Angels don't exist", Dean scoffed at the woman who stood in front of him and his brother. She had just single handedly killed three demons; two with a silver blade and one just by touching his forehead. "So I'm gonna ask you one more time, what the hell are you?" He had his gun pointed at her, as did Sam, but she didn't seem phased by them.

"I already told you, I'm an angel". She glanced between the two brothers. "Usually I would've introduced myself as an angel of the Lord, but I no longer wish to be associated with him".

"So what, you're a... a fallen angel?" Sam asked, frowning at her but keeping his aim steady.

"No, not yet at least", she said as she wiped her blade and tucked it into the inside of her coat. "My brothers and sisters don't know that I'm here, and they won't be happy when they find out, so I suggest we go somewhere more private to talk. I'll meet you at your motel room". She vanished in front of them, leaving the two Winchesters extremely confused.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked, walking over to the space where she had been standing and waving his hand around in the empty air.

"Did you see how she burned his eyes out with just her touch? And her blade acted just like Ruby's knife", Sam said, lowering his gun. "This is big, Dean".

"It has to be some sort of demon", Dean said. "And it's in our motel room", he shook his head as he began to walk towards the Impala. Sam caught up to him and the two of them got into the car.

"Why are you so convinced that she isn't an angel?" Sam asked as Dean started up the engine.

"Because they don't exist".

"How do you know?"

"How many hunters do you know who've met an angel? Don't you think that if they existed we would know before now?"

"Yeah but Dean.. you made a deal to go to Hell. You literally have two weeks left, so if Hell exists, why not Heaven too? Why do you believe in one and not the other?"

"Demons, Sam!" Dean was getting fed up with him now. Being so close to being dragged to Hell had him on edge too. "We've dealt with demons. We've killed them, we've seen them with our own eyes. We've dealt with Hellhounds, we know Hell exists".

"I'm just saying, maybe have an open mind about it. Maybe she can help, she killed those demons, so maybe she knows a way to undo your deal while keeping me alive too".

"Sam", Dean sighed. "I'm not messing with the deal. If I do something to save myself and it kills you in the process... no. I'm not taking that chance. And neither are you". Dean was firm with his statement. If doing anything to his deal had a chance of undoing it and killing Sam again, he wouldn't be able to live with himself. He wouldn't stop until he could find another way to make the same deal again. "We need to find Lilith, Bela told us that she holds the contract to all deals. She's the only one who we can try to end the deal with".

It was only a short drive back to the motel that the boys were staying in. They both had their guns at the ready as they walked into the room. Their eyes were immediately drawn to the sigils that covered the walls, and the woman that was sitting patiently on the bed. "What's all of this?" Dean asked, keeping his eyes trained on her.

"Warding, against angels. I don't want them listening to us. You can put your guns away, they won't hurt me anyway, and I'm not here to hurt you".

"You'll forgive us for being a bit cautious", Dean smiled sarcastically at her, his gun kept pointed straight at her, though Sam let his drop a bit.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Sam asked from behind Dean.

"My name is [Y/N], and I am here to help you", she said.

"We don't need your help", Dean snapped at her. "I sure as hell haven't prayed to anything".

"Aren't you scheduled to be dragged to Hell in two weeks? Have you found a way to save yourself?" She asked.

"Wait, you can stop that? You can stop the deal?"

She was about to respond to Sam's question, but Dean cut her off. "Bullshit. We've looked into everything. There is no way to end the deal without risking Sam's life, and I'm not doing that".

"There is", she said, matter-of-factly. "It's not very straightforward, but it's possible. Sam will be in no danger", she assured him. At this stage, Sam had tucked his gun back into the waistband of his jeans, but Dean hadn't moved.

"Why? Why help us?"

"Heaven has a plan for you, Dean. You too, Sam", she looked between the two brothers. "I want to put a stop to their plan, and the only way to do that is to stop you from torturing souls in Hell". She stared at Dean as she said this.

"Torturing souls? Sweetheart, I think the whole idea of me being dragged to Hell is that it will be my soul being tortured, not me doing the torturing". He shifted slightly and readjusted his grip on his gun. "What exactly is Heaven's 'plan' for us? Why are they interested in us?" He had to admit, she'd piqued his interest.

She sighed, and stood up, walking over to the window to glance behind the closed curtain. "You're the first seal", she said. When both brothers raised an eyebrow at her, she continued. "Heaven wants a fight between Lucifer and Michael. It would mean almost certain destruction of this world".

"Lucifer? Michael? As in archangels?" Sam asked and she nodded.

"Yes, Lucifer has been trapped in a cage in Hell for a very long time. He will need to be released in order to fight Michael. In order to release him, a number of seals must be broken. There is one that needs to be broken first, and that is where you come in, Dean", she turned to face fully. "The first seal will be broken when a richeous man sheds blood in Hell".

"Well, there's your problem solved. I wouldn't do that". Dean gave her another sarcastic smile but [Y/N] shook her head at him.

"You would. You're strong, Dean, but time works differently down there. You'd hold on for years, decades even, but eventually even you will break. They'll tear you apart every day, just to build you back up again and start over the next day. They'll torture you tirelessly without a break until you crack. They'll offer you an out; no more torture for you if you become the torturer. You will accept it, it would only be a matter of time".

"Okay, okay, well even if that's true, you said there are a number of seals, so we could just not break the second one".

"It doesn't work like that", she sighed. "It doesn't need to be you who breaks the rest of the seals, they just need you to break the first. There are over 600 different seals, and Lilith only needs to break 65 after the first is broken. You couldn't possibly predict which seals she will go after and when, especially not when the angels in charge want her to break them".

"Lilith?" Sam asked. "We've been trying to track her down to undo Dean's deal".

"She won't undo the deal. She needs Dean to go to Hell to break the first seal". She walked over to Dean and gently lifted her hand to rest on top of his gun. She looked him in the eyes as she lowered his hand, and, surprisingly to Sam, he let her. "Let me help you". He studied her eyes for a long moment, looking for deception, or any sign of ill intent, but he saw only genuineness. He sighed, and looked back to Sam, before shaking his head, almost in a last attempt to shake off the new hope she'd given him, before he looked back at her.

"Fine, but I still don't trust you".

***

"Who are you texting?" Sam asked from opposite Dean in a small diner in the middle of nowhere. They were light on work at the moment and had taken a 'lead' that was literally just a newspaper article about three men who'd gone missing in a town that hadn't had a missing person case in over twenty years. There weren't really that many people to go missing though, the town was tiny.

"Hmm?" Dean hummed, still focused on texting while waiting for his food.

"I asked you who you're texting, you look like you're concentrating very hard", Sam chuckled.

"[Y/N]", Dean said back, almost dismissing Sam like he was a pestering child.

"[Y/N], huh?" Sam smirked and Dean glanced up at his teasing tone just in time to see it.

"Yes, she is an angel, she managed to stop the apocalypse, so maybe, just maybe, she can help us when we're at a dead end".

"Mhmm", Sam nodded, pretending to take his brother seriously. After [Y/N] had saved Dean from his contract with Lilith while keeping Sam safe and stopping Lucifer from escaping in the process, Dean had caved in and finally accepted that she was an angel. He couldn't really deny it after she'd shown off her wings either. He'd been finding reasons to call on her for several weeks now, and Sam had a strong feeling that he liked her for more than just her ability to help them out. She was an angel, she couldn't be killed on werewolf or vampire hunts, ghosts couldn't hurt her, curses didn't affect her. Dean didn't have to worry about her, and that was a first for him. He also didn't have to worry about Sam as much, as [Y/N] never showed any hesitation in healing either of them even though they'd never asked her to.

"Hi Dean", her voice slightly startled the two Winchesters, they still weren't used to her just appearing out of thin air. "Sam", she smiled at Sam before sitting down beside him, looking across the table at Dean who was in the middle of a text message. "I thought it would be more efficient to speak in person".

"Uh, yeah, hey". Dean's cheeks blushed a light pink, and Sam was finding it difficult to disguise his chuckle as a cough.

"There's no case here. The three men who went missing left of their own free will".

"Really? Was it connected somehow?" Sam asked, angling himself to face her.

"Yes... the three men are together. They didn't want the judgement of their families and friends, so they left to find a larger city where they could have some anonymity and live in peace".

"Together... like, together together?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

"In a relationship together, yes". She confirmed and Dean whistled, leaning back in his seat, no longer on the job.

"Case closed I guess", he shrugged. "What are you up to? Are you busy?" He asked, trying to sound casual as he attempted to lean his arm on the back of the seat, but ended up awkwardly having to put it down again as he realised the back rest was too high up.

"No, I'm not busy. Since ruining the chances of setting Lucifer free, the angels have lost interest their plans and are just doing their own thing. There's a lot of disorganisation at the moment, a lot of angels are wandering around earth for the first time or exploring other worlds. Luckily there are some who still care for Heaven and the souls that reside there, but I have no purpose anymore".

"That's a bit... depressing. Are you okay?" Sam asked and Dean leaned forward, a look of concern on his face.

"Yes", she said, looking between the two of them. "I'm fine".

"Well... if you're not busy, why don't you stick around? We'll be looking for a new case now, you could help us, work with us", Dean suggested, and she took a moment to think about it. He studied her face as she looked away from both of them, weighing her options. She was pretty, anyone could see that, but there was something else to her. He couldn't explain how, but she looked pure, and good, and he couldn't help but be drawn to her. He didn't realise he'd been subconsciously leaning forward to get closer to her until he lost his balance and had to slam his hand down on the table to stop himself from falling over. Everyone in the diner looked towards them at the noise, and Dean's embarrassment was extremely apparent on his face as he cleared his throat and mumbled something to himself.

"I think what Dean is trying to say, is that he'd like you to stick around more", Sam said, earning himself a kick in the shin under the table from Dean.

"Is that true?" She asked him, and he swore he recognised a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

"Yeah... just if you want to I mean".

"I would", she nodded, and the conversation fell silent. After a moment, the boys' food arrived at the table and [Y/N] stood up. "I have a few things to take care of, then later I will meet you at your motel room and we can look for a case". Before giving either of them a chance to respond, she was gone.

Dean smiled to himself and started to dig into his food, only looking up to catch Sam smirking again. "What?" Dean mumbled through his full mouth.

"You'd swear you'd never seen a girl before", Sam laughed. "What was that? You were acting like a fourteen year old on his first date".

"Shut up", Dean shook his head at Sam. "She's not a girl". He watched as Sam raised an eyebrow at him. "I just mean she's not a girl that I'd hook up with, you know, like in a bar or something. She's a literal angel, she's not even human, how exactly am I supposed to act around someone like that?"

"I'm just amused that you've gone from calling her something to someone".

"Yeah, well, you'd be hosting Lucifer and I'd be hosting Michael and we'd be fighting each other to the death if it wasn't for her, so I think she's earned the upgrade".

***

After they'd finished their food, they headed back to their motel room to pack up their things and wait for [Y/N]. Sam decided to head out and get some new supplies, since they didn't know how far they'd be travelling for their next case. He left Dean behind with his laptop, giving him strict instructions that it was only to be used for hunting purposes. It wasn't long after Sam left that [Y/N] showed up in the room beside Dean.

"Hi Dean", she said, causing him to jump in his seat slightly, shutting the laptop down a little too hard and little too quickly.

"You have got to start knocking", he said, turning around to face her.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm still getting used to all the various customs", she said, sitting down on the edge of one of the beds. He didn't know if she noticed how often he blushed around her, or if she just assumed that he permanently had pink cheeks and just hadn't commented on it.

"Well, if you hang around with us more, you'll get the hang of things in no time", he smiled at her. "Uh, we don't really have much here to offer you, unless you want to get take out or something? I don't mind driving somewhere to pick up something if you're hungry".

"I don't need to eat".

"Oh, yeah. I forgot, sorry". The room filled with silence as they sat there looking at each other. Dean wasn't used to being lost for words, or not knowing what to say. He wasn't used to being so nervous around someone.

"When Sam said that you'd like for me to stick around more, is that just on cases? If so, I can come back when you find one", [Y/N] said as she stood up from the bed.

"No", Dean immediately stood up from his chair and took two steps towards here so he could grab her arms, afraid that she would disappear again. "Sorry", he said as he realised what he was doing, and let go of her. "God, Sam was right. I promise you I'm not usually this awkward or weird".

"Why are you so nervous?" She asked as she placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating quickly. He covered her hand with his, and he suddenly felt much calmer.

"Because you make me nervous", he said, looking down at her.

"I don't intend to".

"I know. You just.. you're so different to anyone I've ever known. You're able to heal people, you can teleport, you're so strong and beautiful and you rebelled against everything you'd ever known just to save people when so many of us didn't even deserve it".

"You think my vessel is beautiful, you don't know what my true form looks like. You and Sam deserved to be saved, and so many others too".

"No, it's not just your vessel. I think you're beautiful". He curled his fingers around her hand to hold it, and grabbed her other hand to pull it up to his chest too. "It's the effect you have on me, your desire to help those who need it, to heal, to protect, to fight. I think about those who don't deserve to be saved, you think about those who do. That's what makes me nervous, you're almost too perfect to be real, and I don't deserve someone like you in my life. I'm not good enough to have you, but I don't want you to go anywhere, I don't want you to leave".

She didn't know what to say to him, no one had ever spoken to her like that before. She slowly leaned up onto her toes and kissed his cheek, watching as his eyes closed and he breathed out a sigh of relief. When she stood back down, he opened his eyes and looked down at her again. Before he could risk her disappearing in front of him, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. It was a gentle kiss, both of them a bit unsure, both of them cautious. He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers. "I don't want you to leave", he repeated.

"I won't. I'll stick around".

The end

Dean Winchester taglist: @123passwort @janineb86 @k-slla @lyarr24 @candy-coated-misery0731 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @itburnslikehelltobevega @queenie32

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theweasleytwinsownmyjuicyass · 5 months

Text

Crash in love | L.N.

Lando Norris x reader!driver

Summary: Does he like you? Does he not? Does he crash into you? Yes he does.

Warnings: pinch of angst, fluff, kissing🤭

Word count: 2K

The post-race atmosphere was buzzing with energy as drivers and teams gathered for interviews. Lando had found himself once again captivated by you, a fellow driver whose presence seemed to have a magnetic pull on him.

As the interview session unfolded, Lando struggled to tear his gaze away from you. He marveled at the way your eyes sparkled with concentration, and he found himself lost in the details of your features. He couldn't help but imagine capturing your essence on paper if only he had the skill to draw.

Caught in his reverie, Lando failed to notice that a question was directed at him. Since Max was answering most of the interviewer‘s questions anyway Lando's attention was solely on you. Unbeknownst to him, the atmosphere in the room had shifted, and the other drivers and onlookers began to chuckle.

You, turned to him with a playful smile, amused by him spacing out in a middle of the interview, totally unaware that it was you he was focusing on instead. The realization hit Lando like a ton of bricks, and his face flushed with embarrassment. He felt like a deer caught in headlights, unsure of how to recover from being so blatantly caught staring.

The laughter from the crowd grew louder, and your own laughter joined in, Lando felt that you were laughing at him...

Lando, now aware of the attention on him, stammered, "Oh, uh, sorry. What was the question?" His cheeks burned with embarrassment, and he couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with you after that.

Max, still grinning, chimed in, "Lost in Y/N‘s world, mate?"

Lando managed a sheepish smile, his blue eyes darting between his hands and Max.

You, thoroughly amused, decided to break the tension. "Well, if you need a map, just let me know."

The room erupted in laughter again, and Lando, feeling like the center of attention for all the wrong reasons, wished the ground would swallow him whole. He was left wondering how on earth he was going to approach you now without feeling like a complete idiot.

The tension between Lando and you lingered after, with Lando doing his best to keep a safe distance. You, on the other hand, couldn't shake the confusion and hurt that simmered beneath the surface.

As you and Max prepared for the upcoming qualifying session, you vented to Max, "I just don't get it, Max. Did I say something wrong to ward him off? I literally flirted with him on live TV in front of a room full of journalists, and suddenly he's no longer interested. I thought you guys said he’s totally into me?"

Max, adjusting his gloves, offered a sympathetic smile. "Mate, sometimes these things are complicated. Maybe he's just feeling a bit embarrassed, you know? Give him some time."

You sighed, frustration evident. "But why? The other drivers keep telling me he's got a crush on me, and now he's acting like we're complete strangers. It's so annoying..."

Max chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, Lando has a way of making things interesting, doesn't he? Maybe he's just being a typical awkward bloke."

As you headed to your car for the qualifying session, your thoughts were still consumed by Lando. The frown on your face deepened as you caught sight of him in his own garage.

You wondered if your attempt at a flirty line had backfired, or if perhaps Lando had never been interested in the first place and your flirty attempt warded him off.

In the car, you tried to push those thoughts aside, focusing on the race ahead. But as the engines roared to life, and the competition intensified, your mind kept drifting back to the unresolved tension with Lando. The uncertainty hung in the air, making the race not just a competition on the track but a battle within yourself.

The race had been proceeding beautifully, with both Lando and you showcasing your skill on the track. However, the atmosphere changed as you made a risky move to overtake Lando, who had been driving just in front for several laps. You had the speed, a well-thought-out plan, and a calculated risk. It seemed like a chance to secure a higher position in the race.

As you executed your move, you didn't anticipate Lando's sudden swerve to the right. The unexpected maneuver caught you off guard, and before you could react, your car collided with his, causing your front tire to take the brunt of the impact. The screech of tires and the crunch of metal against metal filled the air as your car veered off the track and into the barricades.

The hit was jarring, but what stung even more was the realization that there was only one lap left in the race. The chance to secure a high qualifying position at P2 had slipped away.

Your frustration was palpable as you radioed to your team, "What the hell is Norris doing??"

With a damaged car and only one lap remaining, you knew that any chance of redemption had evaporated. You pushed yourself to finish the race, frustration and disappointment simmering beneath the surface. The incident added another layer of complexity to the already strained dynamics between you and Lando. As you brought your car across the finish line, the taste of what could have been lingering bitterly in the air.

The atmosphere in the McLaren garage crackled with tension as you, fueled by a mix of fury and frustration, stormed into the space where Lando was already stationed. Max's concerned inquiry about your well-being went unanswered as your attention zeroed in on Lando.

Your hands collided forcefully with Lando's chest, catching him off guard. "What the fuck, Norris? You're trying to kill me now?" you exclaimed, eyes on fire.

"Sorry about that. I didn't see you on my right; I was focusing on Russell behind me," Lando explained, attempting to keep some distance between them, rubbing the spot where you had hit.

Your eyes narrowed as you retorted, "Oh, so last week, you couldn't see anything but me, but now I'm suddenly invisible?" The frustration in your voice was palpable as you sought answers to the confusion that had been lingering for the past week.

Lando, nervous and avoiding eye contact, insisted, "I didn't mean to run into you. It was a racing incident."

"Racing incident?" you scoffed, incredulous. "You've been ignoring me perfectly for the last week. How about tomorrow you try to avoid me on track as well since you've pretty much fucking mastered it off track!" The words were sharp, and you didn't hold back the anger and hurt that had been building up.

Frustration reached its peak as you flung your helmet at Lando's chest, the clang echoing in the garage. Without another word, you stormed out, leaving Lando standing there, visibly unsettled.

As Max approached to retrieve your helmet, he glanced at Lando with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "Good luck to you now, man, since you've fucked it all up," he chuckled, shaking his head before walking away.

Lando stood there, feeling once again like an idiot. The weight of regret and confusion pressed upon him. Why the hell did he ignore you? Why the fuck did he have to crash into you during the race? How come he didn‘t see you on his right? He had already been grappling with embarrassment from the earlier incident, and now he had not only ruined his own race but also yours. But one thing he was thankful for, even after the beating you’ve given him, that you were not hurt at his expense.

The Sunday Grand Prix arrived sooner than you had wished for. After spending the whole afternoon crying in your room following the qualifying incident, you still felt the weight of the emotional turmoil even after a morning workout. On the outside, you projected a tough exterior, influenced by Max's hot-headed behavior on the track. However, inside you, was a mix of emotions, a bundle of mush that no one knew existed.

Thankfully, as the race started, you slipped into your racing mindset. The laps passed quickly, and when the checkered flag waved, Max once again claimed the first position, with Lando securing second.

Due to a penalty for Charles, you found yourself unexpectedly in third place. The podium finish brought a mix of surprise and awkwardness, but to your astonishment, Lando approached you after the celebration with a gentle smile.

"Congrats on the third place, you did really well today. I couldn't believe it when I saw your name there," Lando said.

"Well, if you hadn't messed up my qualifying, I could have won," you teased.

Lando took a deep breath, his apology sincere. "I'm sorry about last week. I was just so embarrassed, and I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable about the staring thing. But I have to admit, it's been so hard trying not to stare at you this week. I sound like an idiot now, and you probably think I'm creepy because I'm literally so into you I can't take my eyes off of you, and then I crashed into you like an idio-"

You cut off his rambling by placing a hand on his mouth. "Calm down, Lando. I get it. But you should find a better way to show your feelings. I don't know how many more crashes I can take," you chuckled, and so did he.

He took your hand into his, drowning once again in your gaze. Lando was taking you in like you were his oxygen, deprived of it for too long. You two slowly moved closer to each other.

"You are so talented and so beautiful," Lando said almost to himself.

"Lando, if you don't kiss me right now, I'm going to punch you," you declared, unable to wait as you saw his eyes admiring your lips. Had he always looked at you like this, but you just never noticed? The answer was a resounding yes.

“My pleasure," he said before connecting your lips in a passionate kiss. His hands naturally settled on your waist, pulling you even closer, while your own hands found their place tangled around his neck. The two of you were lost in the moment, pulling each other as close as possible.

Meanwhile, Max and Daniel were leaning on the railing further away, watching the young couple with amusement. "About time they got together," Daniel remarked.

"Well, it was your guy that kept messing up," Max scoffed.

"Your girl almost beat him up yesterday," Daniel got defensive. "Oh, please. She held back on him. He's lucky she's into him, otherwise, she would have left him in bruises," Max laughed. "Now I'm kinda scared for Lando, she's become too much like you," Daniel scratched his head.

The two older men turned back to the young couple, you two still blissfully unaware they were being observed. Suddenly, Lando picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and pushing you against the wall deepening the kiss.

Just as things were heating up, you heard Max's voice boom, "OKAY, THAT IS ENOUGH FOR TODAY NORRIS!" He was practically sprinting towards you two, with Daniel right after him.

"Jesus, Max, leave them alone!" Daniel yelled, trying to reason with his impulsive friend.

You rolled your eyes at the two older men but refused to let Lando go. "Guys, do you mind? We're kinda in the middle of something," you gave them a death glare. Max glared at Lando, "Watch the hands, Norris."

Lando, though a blushing mess, felt a surge of confidence seeing that you were not uncomfortable with being caught in such a situation with him. "Max, leave my man alone. And both of you, leave, you old creeps," you shooed the older men away, and Daniel dragged Max out before he could say something again.

Turning back to Lando, a smile instantly blossomed on your face, mirroring his. "Your man, huh?" he teased.

"Oh, shut up," you blushed.

"As you wish, my girl," he said, sealing his words with another sweet kiss. The two of you were finally able to enjoy the moment without any interruptions, savoring the newfound connection that had been a long time coming.

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