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matthewtkachuk · 4 years

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aviophobia - rafe cameron

a rough flight provokes your fear of flying, luckily your cute seat mate is willing to hold your hand and help you through it

warnings: mentions of anxiety, fluuuuff

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

word count: 1.6k

a/n: wrote this on the plane this afternoon, lowkey inspired by own anxiety today (sans the rafe cameron comfort) - planes aren’t supposed to be quiet!! i didn’t proofread so sorry in advance hehe

Flying wasn’t your favorite thing in the world. In all honesty, you might have a little airplane phobia. You could keep it together when everything went according to plan: when checking into your flight went smoothly, TSA was a breeze and you had an hour extra to spare as you sat at your gate.

Of course, this was not one of those times. There had been a mixup with your uber, causing you to lose half of your relax buffer time. then, there had been an issue checking in and you briefly thought you wouldn’t be allowed on the plane, but the nice customer service rep behind the desk was kind enough to explain they had accidentally let you choose a seat already occupied and simply moved your seat assignment. The real bummer was losing out on the window seat - one of the ways you were able to get over (well not quite over but through for sure) your fear was to face it, quite literally forcing yourself to look out the window as the plane took off and landed. For some reason watching the position of the airplane relative to the ground was grounding for you.

Even going through TSA had gone wrong, you’d forgotten to take your novelty bottle opener off your key ring and ended up getting pulled to the side and patted down. (It was a joke gift from your dad in the shape of a spent shotgun shell - something about a warning to any boys who might want to approach you? Who knows, you just liked it because you always had a bottle opener on you, getting you to a beer quickly when the occasion called for it).

You didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse when you arrived at your newly assigned seat to find a tall and handsome twenty-something man in the window seat. You gulped, briefly wondering if you could pretend like you had a different assigned seat but you knew the plane was full and didn’t want that embarrassment. He must have took this as you needing help, as he stood up, mumbled a respectful ‘ma’am’ and lifted your very heavy carryon like it wasn’t full of your makeup and toiletries, a weeks worth of clothes and three pairs of shoes.

“Thanks,” you replied quietly, cheeks warming with embarrassment. He just smiled in response before sitting back down.

“Sorry if I encroach in your space a little,” he preemptively apologized, knowing his six foot three frame would likely brush against yours at the very least if not press against you directly.

“Don’t worry about it!” you smiled before putting in your headphones and putting on your relaxing playlist. You were able to close your eyes and grip the outside armrest to get through the takeoff, and the beginning of the flight passed by as you focused on the smooth rhythm of what was playing through your headphones.

Based on the way the today was going you shouldn’t have been as surprised as you were when the plane hit a patch of rough turbulence. You softly gasped and gripped both your armrest and the arm of the poor, hot stranger beside you. Your hands stayed locked in place for approximately two minutes, as the plane rocked and waved, before he gently pried your fingers from his arm. You were about to apologize when another shake of the aircraft had you gasping, he grabbed your hand, letting your fingers connect. you rode out the turbulence, comforted by the strangers warm hand as you tried to steady your breathing.

Cheeks warm with embarrassment again, you let go of his hand and carefully clasped your hands together in your lap. You avoided looking at him for the rest of the flight, embarrassed and honestly a little turned on which embarrassed you more. Clearly you needed to get laid if a little hand holding was getting you all hot and bothered. Though if you thought about it, it was more about the gentle and sweet way he held your hand without hesitation more than the actual physical contact.

When you neared your destination, you had another moment of pure panic as the plane quieted around you. You’d never experienced that level of quiet while traveling in a metal death trap before and so you frantically turned to your handsome seat mate for reassurance. Relaxing the slightest bit at his soft smile before he placed his hand on your knee, palm facing up. You gladly clutched his hand with both of yours, fingers laced together. It helped calm your racing thoughts and heartbeat. You noticed he was exaggerating the way he breathed - in and out, in and out - and realized he wanted you to mimic him. Focusing on the way his chest rose and fell, you found yourself calming down as your breathing evened.

“We’re just taxi-ing, waiting for the okay to start our descent and land,” he told you softly, trying to reassure you further. Your mouth felt dry and you didn’t trust yourself to find the words so you simply nodded.

“If you hate flying so much why torture yourself?” he asked a minute later, unable to stop himself from asking, curious about the beautiful girl so full of anxiety beside him.

“Well, driving across the country to head home doesn’t really appeal to me. I’m not usually this bad,” you admitted shyly, moving to unlace your fingers, embarrassed at yourself for clinging to a stranger like a life line but your stomach dropped as you felt the plane begin its descent and gripped him more tightly.

“How do you usually get through a flight?” he asked curiously.

“Well it helps to look out the window... I don’t know why but it does. I had booked a window seat but there was a mix up and they double booked it so I ended up here.” you shrugged as you spoke, chewing nervously on your bottom lip.

Upon your words he leant back as far as he could and gestured for you to look out the window. Still holding his hand, you leant over his lap and watched the descent feeling a lot calmer than you had before. Your shoulder and arm were pressed against his chest and you felt relaxed with the heat of his body. Rocking with the movement of the plane, your teeth clenched as the plane hit the runway. His other hand lifted up to steady you against the momentum.

Finally landing, you relaxed and sat back in your seat, dramatically dropping your head against the headrest. You looked down at your linked hands and then back up into your saviors eyes, smiling a little awkwardly at him. “You know, i don’t even know your name,” you giggled, “or do you prefer ‘my hero’?”

He laughed, somehow deep and whiny at the same time, as he threw his head back. “I don’t know the name of the damsel in distress either,” his eyes twinkled as he spoke.

“Y/n,” you smiled.

“Rafe,” he answered and you decided it fit him.

“Well Rafe, I sincerely thank you, I think I would have had a heart attack if you hadn’t been there,” you told him truthfully.

“Anytime,” he answered with a small grin, the corner of his mouth upturned. The way he said the word it was more like a promise than a platitude and it sent shockwaves through your system.

“Y’know I think you should give me your number. Just in case I need help flying from California to North Carolina again,” you boldly stated, preening a little as he laughed and pulled out his phone.

“Well I can’t argue with that logic,” he laughed and you swapped phones, inputting your name with several princess emojis after it. A laugh escaped your lips when he handed your phone back with a contact titled ‘rafe aka airplane hero’. You briefly chatted a little longer as you waited for your turn to get off the plane that had given you such trouble, learning that he worked for his dad's company in the outer banks, only an hour from your parents’ house on the mainland. The two of you walked together to baggage claim, and you giggled while he waited with you for your bright pink suitcase to come around the carousel, lifting it by the handle with the only indication it weighed anything - the slight flex of his bicep.

Finally reaching the passenger pick up zone, it was time to separate. It felt strange to feel such a connection with someone you hadn’t known this morning, but leaving didn’t feel right. “Well this is it I guess,” you sighed, knowing your sister was likely waiting right outside.

He pulled you into his arms, “for now.”

“Goodbye, Rafe,” you smiled, pulling away from him and walking towards your sister’s familiar white suv.

“Wait!” he called out your name and you spun around confused to see him making his way to you before his hands were on your face and his lips were on your own. The kiss was sweet and brief and when you pulled apart there was a smile on your face. “Goodbye, y/n”

Crawling into your sisters vehicle, face hot and mouth spread wide in a smile she looked at you in shock, “what was that about?”

“Just a little airplane anxiety,” you giggled, hand on your lips, as your phone lit up with a text from your ‘airplane hero’.

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Everything Has Changed (Crystal x Gigi) - Ashley

A/N: Crystal has spent years watching her ex-best friend and next door neighbour, Gigi, rise to the top of their High School food chain, never even uttering a word to her as she waits for the bus each morning. What will happen when Crystal’s house floods and she is finds herself sleeping on Gigi’s floor for a week?

Hello again! I finally jumped on the s12 girls band wagon - hope you guys like. This plot really gave me 2013 Wattpad vibes but I decided to embrace and roll with it. Thanks sooooo much to Meggie for beta-ing! Concrit welcome. Xoxo Ashley

The day began as generic as any other for Crystal.

A spurt of optimism filled her as she slurped down the last of her cereal and made her way outside - failing to notice the big splodge of milk that would be visible on her shirt until the fourth period. The sun was waving down on her, the slight hum of insects and the sight of her neighbour with a pair of shears at hand reminding her that spring was now in full bloom.

“Morning Crystal,” the familiar voice called over the fence.

“Morning!” She waved back at the woman who she would have once called a second mother, the auntie she had never had.

“When’s your mom back?” Maria asked as Crystal neared the end of the driveway. “I’m due a coffee date!”

“A week on Friday.” Crystal smiled back at her, remembering the days when she and Gigi used to join them on their mothers’ meetings, sipping lemonade and pretending to be sophisticated on the opposite side of the cafe. Remembering how Gigi would always make her laugh and she’d end off spitting her soda out anyway and ruining their facade.

Pulling her headphones out of her bag as she said goodbye, she looked up at the girl whose laugh was currently leaping around inside her head like a carousel, whose grinning face was a portrait in Crystal’s brain as clear as the lakes they used to play in.

Only now she wasn’t grinning quite the same.

Taking her usual seat at the bench, she glanced across at Gigi: her dark hair coiffed to perfection, her lips lined just at the right spot, her jet black beauty mark contrasting against her Snow White complexion. She was the type of girl who needed to be painted.

Their eyes met briefly, as they often did on mornings like this, Crystal darting hers away quickly in a chaotic manner and looking at her phone instead: seven twenty-seven. Her bus would be here in six minutes. Nicky would be here in three.

For a split second, she thought she felt Gigi’s eyes looking back on her but she didn’t dare look.

Instead, she tried to think of ways that she could stop herself from reading the freckles on her old friend’s arm as if they were the dictionary definition of perfection. She thought about how Gig’s mascara may have been left on from the night before, of how she’d seen the straight-A student climb out of her window and down her drainpipe like Catwoman herself to steal away into the night. Of how the Gigi she knew in reality was anything but the flawless girl that was adored around the halls.

Seven-thirty. The familiar horn rang before Gigi went to sit shotgun in her best friend’s car. Crystal let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding along with a sigh of relief that the girl was out of sight and out of mind for the day.

Or at least until they had Chemistry together in the third period.

***

“Oh my god,” Crystal spoke aloud, her body frozen for a second as she absorbed the scene in front of her.

Like something from a disaster movie, she watched as water sprayed from the enormous hole in her living room ceiling, her socks already damp through her trainers.

Her flight or fight reflexes kicking in, Crystal did the first thing her brain told her to do which was to run next door and ring their bell as many times as she could, managing to slip on her lawn and stain the knees of her jeans whilst doing so.

“Hi?” Gigi looked Crystal up and down, her nose wrinkling with curiosity as she took in the other girl’s dishevelled state, her greeting more of a question than a welcome.

“Hi.” Crystal paused, trying to think of how she could explain to Gigi that she’d simply walked through her front door after school into a foot of brown water, a smell that matched that description almost exactly, and a giant hole in the ceiling that was firing said brown water at her like an army missile.

“Can I speak to your mom?”

***

Crystal felt her body relax slightly as she took a sip of the lemonade that was placed in front of her, a twinge of a feeling she couldn’t quite name gnawing at her when she realised that Gigi hadn’t asked what she wanted to drink, simply bringing her what had always brought comfort as a child.

She felt simultaneously overwhelmed and comforted by the sight around her, Gigi sitting in her usual seat as her hands toyed with the couch cushions. Only now an elephant sat between the pair of them, an awkward silence taking over every last air molecule in the room.

Memories flooded back to her as she let her eyes wander: the mantlepiece she had chipped her tooth on, the doors they would prance through as they pretended to be contestants on America’s Next Top Model once everyone was asleep.

Crystal felt her hands starting to sweat, rubbing them against her jeans rather frantically. She’d always managed to cope on a morning or in school - sure, sometimes the sight of Gigi sent her into a spiral of self-doubt and questions, but it was never something completely out of her control, never something that bothered her to such a great extent.

Maybe it was that she’d lost the privilege of her headphones to distract her from her past.

Maybe it was how familiar her surroundings were.

Maybe it was how natural it had first felt as she sat in Gigi’s living room.

Just as she heard the other girl start to speak, attempting to cut the tension that wrapped around the pair of them like thick green vines, they were saved by Maria entering the room again, phone in hand.

“So, your hot water tank has burst!” She looked at Crystal and let out a frustrated laugh. “The plumbers are starting to clear up now but they think it’s going to take a full week. I’m sorry sweetie. I’ve called your Mom and she’s happy for you to stay here with us and is going to try to leave her conference early.”

Maria went on to talk about getting essentials after the day’s work was finished and the logistics of their insurance but it soon became a gust of wind that swept right over Crystal’s head.

“I don’t need to say here, don’t worry!” Crystal smiled at Maria, grateful for her generosity but feeling the prick of tears at the back of her eyes daring to fall. Her eyes looked absolutely anywhere but at Gigi. “I can always go visit my family in Missouri for a week, I haven’t seen them for a while.”

“I dunno how your mom would feel about you missing a week of school, this is senior year now.” Maria placed a tentative hand on Crystal’s, clearly sensing the anxiety that was shooting out of her like flaming arrows. “Don’t stress! Think of it as one long week-long sleepover. Just like old times!”

Crystal couldn’t tell if she was trapped in heaven or hell but she knew one thing for sure, it wouldn’t be like old times.

***

Crystal found it strange how Gigi’s bedroom was so similar to how it was when they were younger, yet simultaneously different in certain, striking ways.

The antithesis to Crystal’s walls of clutter, Gigi’s room had always been pristine and that hadn’t changed. Placed on her dressing table were framed photos of her and her friends, one of her and Nicky catching Crystal’s eye.

She’d never grown close to Nicky. Even though a part of Crystal disliked her for the shit music she blasted from her sports car and for stealing away her best friend - the other, more loving side of her told her that Nicky didn’t really seem to have a bad bone in her body and that she must be fun if Gigi was so fond of her.

Crystal always found herself trusting Gigi’s judgement even though they were no longer friends, even though that judgment was cast badly upon herself.

Her eyes made their way to the other side of the room, a warm, fuzzy feeling taking over her body as she looked at Gigi’s huge world map that hung in front of her.

Pink pins for where she’d been and blue pins for where she wanted to go. Missouri caught her eye, bright pink straight away, Crystal remembering how excited Gigi had been to change its colour after she had joined one of her visits home in the holidays, how interested she was in exploring the lakes that raised Crystal. She knew Gigi would always be an explorer, it was just a shame that she was no longer the trusty navigator that bounced by her side.

Before she knew it, her hands were running across the books on Gigi’s shelves, stopping on her worn-out copy of Emma.

She never hated Gigi for the fact they were not friends anymore. She knew it happened to loads of pairs like themselves, that it’s natural to drift apart at high school and find different interests. Crystal often prided herself on being mature and understanding, knowing that sometimes there were deeper things in other people’s minds that she just had to accept. Yet at that moment, she couldn’t deny that the sight of the last birthday present she had bought for Gigi sitting front and centre, it’s pages worn and dog-eared, happened to sting that tiny bit.

“It’s not a museum,” Gigi snapped at her from across the room, only for her own face to fall a little when she saw Crystal’s - the slap of instant regret bright red on her cheeks.

“Sorry.” She moved over to the bookshelf, pulling the copy out and holding it in her manicured hands as though it were made of papier-mache. “Can you remember I used to take it out at the library so much? You gave it to me and told me it was so I never had to hide it to stop anyone else borrowing it anymore.”

Crystal’s heart dipped a whole centimetre in her chest.

Of course she remembered.

Silence enveloped the pair yet again as Crystal’s makeshift bed was constructed on the floor, a look on Gigi’s face that Crystal couldn’t quite piece together.

Trying to fight the awkwardness, Crystal pulled out her phone and began to scroll down her Instagram feed aimlessly, no one she could message even springing to her mind.

“Oh my god, we cannot do this all week,” Gigi blurted out what she’d been trying to contain all in one breath, causing Crystal to laugh at the girl’s inability to remain silent for any given period of time. And before she knew it Gigi was laughing too, the pair almost automatically falling back into that lull that once fell so naturally. Chatting more and more naturally as the drama of Top Model made up their background music.

There, underneath the plastic demeanour, was Crystal’s old best friend.

***

At first, Crystal didn’t know where she was when she woke up, her body feeling awkward in her jeans. But her confusion slid away at the sight of Gigi at her dressing table, applying the daintiest amount of blush to her pale cheeks.

Looking down she realised she was in Gigi’s bed rather than the one made up for her on the floor, assuming that she must have drifted off whilst watching their show.

“Good morning, camper.” Gigi raised an eyebrow in her mirror and grinned, never fully turning around to look at Crystal.

“Morning.” She stretched her arms in the air, the fact that Gigi must have tucked a blanket around her whilst she slept hitting her like a tonne of bricks. “What time is it?”

“Quarter past seven.”

“Oh. That’s no good!” Crystal jumped out of the bed and began rummaging through her case quite rapidly, Gigi chuckling under her breath at the way Crystal worked as a poster girl for the chaotic good character, clearly seeing some form of adorable in the other girl’s frustration.

Pulling a leopard print shirt out of her bag, Crystal quickly removed yesterday’s jumper and spruced herself up for the day ahead, finding some blue jeans to match and throwing them on whilst Gigi carried on with her makeup in the mirror, her eyes flickering back and forth.

“I think my Mom made some breakfast if you have time. Nicky’s coming for me soon…” She trailed off almost in a defensive way, her eyes glossing back down to the palette in front of her.

“Yeah,” Crystal responded, not sure on what she was agreeing with, before starting to pack her bag for the day. “I don’t want to miss the bus, I guess I’ll see you later.”

Maybe things hadn’t changed as much as she’d thought.

***

“Ugh.” Crystal found herself longing to throw her pencil across the room in a fit of rage as she failed the seventh time to do the chemical equation in front of her.

“You know, I’m currently sitting at an A in Chemistry.” Gigi waved her hands in the air at the girl from her bed, dog-earing the corner of her book and casting it aside.

“I don’t need you to do my work for me!” Crystal squealed as she moved the paper away from Gigi’s peeping eyes, determined to finish the question.

This was now her third night in the Goode household and she was starting to scare herself at how easily she fell back into place with Gigi when no one else was around. They had spent the past few days catching each other up on their lives, watching crap TV and just being together.

It was safe to say that Crystal was starting to see the beams of a happier Gigi shine through the cracks, a Gigi who wasn’t afraid to be rough around the edges.

But her hopes were kept low each morning when they parted their usual ways at the social jungle of their high school.

“I’m not saying I’ll do it for you, I’ll just help.” Gigi moved closer and Crystal could feel the warmth of her body on her own. The tiniest contact sending her brain in circles.“Besides, I did this three days ago; I don’t know why you’re hiding the questions.”

“Okay, but only if we do something fun after.”

“Actually.” Gigi paused and gave Crystal the grin of an excited puppy. “I have the perfect game to make up some lost time.”

***

“I’ll start.” An idea popped into Crystal’s head as she turned to face Gigi with excitement. “Number one: where do you go when you sneak off in the middle of the night?”

“Do you spy on me?” Gigi opened her jaw wide, causing Crystal to go into panic mode before releasing she was simply playing. “Sometimes it’s to meet people by the quarry and have a drink. Sometimes I just like to go get some fresh air alone.”

Crystal could sense she wasn’t getting a full answer but didn’t want to pry, preparing herself for what she’d be asked.

“Hmm.” Gigi giggled to herself as she gave Crystal a once over. Crystal could almost see the lightbulb pop out of her pretty little head when she thought of a question. “Number two: do you think Mr. Charles has a crush on you?”

Taking Crystal by surprise, it took her a minute to gain her composure. “What sort of question is that?”

“A genuine one!” Gigi tried to pull a straight face. “I see the way he’s always staring at you, putting his hand in your hair when he checks your work.”

“Oh my god, you’re disgusting.” Crystal smacked the other girl with a pillow resulting in the biggest scene of dramatics she’d witnessed since their school’s production of Les Mis.

The questions began to roll one after the other, starting off as fun and light-hearted.

“Where do you even sit at lunch?”

…

“Pasta or pizza?”

….

“When did you lose your virginity?”

….

“Was Poland as good as you thought it would be?”

…

“Do you remember our time capsule?”

…

But as the sky outside started to darken, their subject matter deepened. It has reached that time of night where boundaries dilapidated and unbreached territory began to be uncrossed.

“Number 10.” Crystal paused, building up the courage to finally breach the topic the pair has shied away from all week. “Was it because everyone called me a dyke? Is that why we’re not friends?”

Crystal watched as her friend winced - wishing so much that she could just pretend that period had never occurred and never to speak about it, but knowing that it was a bridge both she and Gigi needed to cross and it would be much better if they could cross it together, stopping each other from falling between the jagged planks.

“Partly, yeah.” Gigi nodded and looked Crystal in the eyes.

Really, really looked into her eyes.

“I don’t think I thought that at the time, I told myself we just had different interests. But I think that sometimes I just get so caught up in what people think about me, I get lost in what’s right and wrong. I’ve just always wanted to be ‘perfect.’ I lost sight of what that even meant. But I never, ever cared what you thought about me. Not in that way, at least…” She trailed off and Crystal placed a comforting hand over hers, letting her know that she was loved. “I’m so sorry.” A single tear fell down her face. The first time Crystal had seen her cry since they were seven. “Do you hate me?”

“No.” Crystal squeezed her hand tighter.

It was the truth. Even though sometimes she wanted to, she couldn’t have ever hated Gigi even if she tried.

She knew that her actions were wrong, she knew that she couldn’t make excuses for not being there, for not trying to stop it. She knew that things wouldn’t magically click back to how they used to. But she also knew that Gigi was sorry.

Scars took time to heal.

And they’d still be visible even once they had.

But people say they only make someone stronger.

“If I was you, I think I’d hate me. Feel free to slap me if you want.”

“Do you really want me to slap you?” Crystal raised an eyebrow to the girl.

“No.” Gigi sighed. “And you just wasted your question.”

“Fuck sake.” Crystal found herself blushing for no apparent reason. She guessed that Gigi just brought out the nervous side of her sometimes.

“Number thirteen: what does your tattoo say?”

Crystal was a deer in the headlights.

Her tattoo - the most genius yet idiotic idea she’d ever had in her life.

Aged 16, still reeling in that high you get from a gig with a fake ID at the ready.

Somewhere nice and hidden where hardly anyone would see, figuring she’d never have to explain it to anyone she wasn’t intimate with, always having the open option to lie about it’s meaning to save embarrassment.

But Gigi had seen it.

She thought of the past few days when they’d both been getting ready for school.

Never really processing it herself, she had peaked at Gigi’s body - slight glances at the way her ribs and clavicle jutted out through her skin.

She didn’t realise Gigi had been looking back.

“One Direction,” she responded after what was probably a longer than socially-acceptable pause.

“One Direction?” Gigi exclaimed back, wrinkling her nose and opening her mouth wide at the girl.

“Yes.” Crystal replied seriously, trying to stop the laugh from slipping through her lips. “One Direction.”

“That is weird on so many levels, Crystal.” Gigi shook her head and started to laugh. “You mean to tell me that when you sit on the bench with that unapproachable look on your face wearing black eyeliner thicker than your wrists, you’re blasting Truly, Madly, Deeply from your headphones?”

“Yep,” she simply stated. Strangely it had never occurred to her before that as she made hidden glances at Gigi each morning, Gigi was taking them back just the same.

“Crystal Elizabeth Methyd, you never fail to surprise me.”

***

“You don’t need to feel bad about leaving me, I’ve got stuff to do,” Crystal pleaded as Gigi scavenged through her closet like an excited child with their first-ever Barbie doll.

It was Thursday night and the end of Crystal’s impromptu vacation in the Goode household. Her typical night consisted of homework, pizza, and reading old fan-fiction until four AM.

Gigi had different ideas.

“How many parties have you been to in high school?”

“None,” Crystal answered, not even attempting to slip out a lie.

“Exactly,” Gigi replied before settling on a pink latex dress and throwing it in Crystal’s direction.

“You don’t have to feel guilty about me missing out, I’ve never wanted to and we have school tomorrow!” Crystal examined the dress, her eyes widening at the thought of how much skin it would show.

“Maybe I just want you there.” Gigi stopped as she settled on her own dress. “Maybe I just enjoy your company.”

Crystal didn’t need to be told twice.

“Fine.” She responded, resulting in some excited squealing and hand-clapping from the other side of the room. “But I just can’t wear this.”

“Sure you can, just undo the zipper, step into it, put your arms through the sleeves and do it back up again. It’s not that hard. I can help if you’d like?”

Crystal tried hard not to give her the satisfaction of a laugh but once again failed. “You know what I meant.”

“At least try! I spent good money on that and it hangs off my body. You’ve got the curves to fill it at least.”

Trying her hardest not to blush, Crystal gave in and tried the dress on, surprising herself at how good it actually looked.

“See!” Gigi motioned her hands up and down at Crystal’s body. “I know these things.”

It was safe to say that Crystal was waiting for the day she’d win one of her verbal battles with Gigi Goode. Yet she was never really that annoyed when she lost them.

***

Although a small part of her wished she was curled up in bed with a bag of M&Ms watching a movie, Crystal was enjoying herself.

Yes, she had spent the majority of the night by Gigi’s side, dancing like idiots and watching people hook up, but she still found herself branching out in smaller ways, taking as many steps as her size fives could - partly because she wanted to and partly because of the smile she saw on Gigi’s face as she conversed with Nicky and the other girls. Although still sceptical around them, Crystal was happy finding common ground with Gigi’s friends, even seeing a goofy side of Nicky that she didn’t even know was there.

Distracted by her thoughts, she hadn’t even realised there was someone next to her at the punch bowl until he spoke.

“Have we met?” He looked Crystal up and down with a smile.

Yes, she thought to herself. We have around 10 hours of class together each week. But being polite and trying her hardest to make friends she didn’t dare say that aloud. “I think I’ve seen you around, I’m Crystal.”

“Josh.” He took her hand and shook it, holding on for maybe a second longer than normal. “Bit less exciting than Crystal.”

“My mom was really into Pokemon during her pregnancy,” she responded. However, before her joke could be processed she felt the red punch from the boy’s hand splash across her front.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” He looked at Crystal apologetically before rushing to grab a dishtowel. “I hope I’ve not stained your dress.”

“It’s Gigi’s so I think you’d be feeling her wrath rather than mine.” Crystal went to reach for the towel only for the boy to start wiping away at her front.

“Oh, I can do that.” She went to swat his hand away when they were interrupted by a familiar cough.

“God, Gigi, you ought to keep that one on a leash.” One of her friends muttered under their breath, just loud enough for Crystal to hear and take a step backwards.

She watched her friend’s face turn at the sight, watched her mouth open and close twice before she spoke. “Do you mind moving away from my friend?”

“Gigi, it’s fine,” Crystal responded as the boy she was talking to leapt away from her and raised his hands in the air. “I can handle myself.”

“Nicky will drop you off home.” She ignored Crystal’s words before turning to leave the room. “I think I’m gonna walk.”

“Wait.” Crystal shouted after her as she made her exit, just the two of them standing in the large foyer, Gigi haphazardly raking around for her snakeskin jacket. “I was just being friendly, I don’t see the problem.”

“That’s because you’re naive. You let people take advantage of you.” Gigi turned to face Crystal, finally finding her jacket and slinging it over her thin frame.

“Or maybe you’re just a jealous bitch who can’t deal with the attention being on someone else for a second.” Crystal spat back at her, shocking herself with her words.

It was a word that had floated around a lot since Gigi became popular but it had never quite reached the surface. She knew Gigi wasn’t a bitch - remembering the time she spent seven hours making her a friendship bracelet in all her favourite colours, the time they went to the theme park and they rode all the scary rides even though Gigi was terrified of them, just so her friend would be happy. She knew her intentions were good in scaring the boy away, a part of her just wished that Gigi would stop looking at her like the lost puppy she was in freshman year. But that’s what came out of her mouth, and she couldn’t take it back now.

She watched Gigi stop in her tracks. Bending down and resting her body on the shoe rack below her.

“I’m sorry.” Crystal went to join her side. “I didn’t mean that. I know you mean the best, I just don’t need you to defend me.”

“You’re right,” she spoke, clear frustration seeping from somewhere deeper than their current argument, a small crack in her voice. Once again Crystal had hit the wall in Gigi that she was yet to break down. “I just want you to understand.”

“Then help me to.” Crystal reached a hand out to her, squeezing, once, twice.

At first, she remained still, but Crystal then saw the switch flip. Gigi squeezed back.

“I need to steal a shovel.”

***

The sky around the pair was still dark, their two phone torches shining down on the route that their feet had danced across so many times.

Although Crystal knew that they should probably wait till morning and that Maria would probably realise they were gone, she didn’t want to sacrifice Gigi opening up to her, her heart beating faster and faster as they walked through the meadow.

“I’m pretty sure there’s still another six years till we’re supposed to dig this up.” Crystal shivered, the side effects of the punch she drank starting to wear off. “I can’t believe Gigi Goode is voluntarily breaking rules!”

“Shut up.” She gave Crystal a friendly punch before taking off her coat and wrapping it around her friend’s shoulders, Crystal still feeling a pang of guilt for the way she spoke to Gigi at the party, knowing that she had been nothing but kind to her the past week they had lived together.

“Here.” Crystal stopped, pointing at the signpost marking their spot, remembering the day they buried their time capsule as if it were yesterday.

***

“Is this a report card?” Crystal laughed as she shone her torch at the paper in front of her.

“Oh my god, yes!” Gigi took the paper in her hands. “I didn’t want my Mom to find out I got a C in music class.”

“Classic Gigi.” Crystal sighed.

Pulling out the friendship bracelet she had made years before, Gigi gasped before grabbing Crystal’s arm and sliding it on. “As if it still fits.”

As the girls waded their way through cinema tickets and keyrings, they found themselves falling back into their old selves more and more - getting lost in conversation as the night faded away and the sun started to rise.

“I don’t remember this being in here.” Crystal pulled out a photograph of the pair of them in Missouri, aged fourteen, grinning like idiots on Crystal’s grandma’s porch.

Flipping it over, she recognised Gigi’s sophisticated scrawl on the back::

This week I finally got to go with Crystal when she visited home. It was so amazing because I hate it so much when she isn’t here, nothing is fun. When I’m with Crystal I don’t have to be perfect - I wish we could grow old together, just the two of us in our own land away from everyone else, everything would be so, so much easier.

There was more but Crystal stopped, looking up to her best friend’s nervous face to realise it was blurry. She hadn’t even realised she was crying.

“Crystal.” Gigi wiped her tears away with her thumb, only leaving her hands on her friend’s cheeks once she was done.

They were freezing yet it made Crystal’s whole body burst up in flames.

Crystal thought of all the sleepless nights and daydreams where she’d pictured this moment.

Somehow it was better than all of them combined.

Their lips touched, soft at first, gentle, afraid to hurt each other. Then their kiss grew deeper, it was hungry, passionate, it had been locked in a cage for years and years only finally to be released.

Crystal didn’t know how long they’d been kissing for when Gigi pulled away, but she wouldn’t have minded if it had been forever.

“I was scared. A scared girl who pushed you away instead of accepting who I was. It’s more, Crystal, you know it’s more. It’s always been more.”

Crystal nodded, placing her hands on the girl’s shoulders as she carried on her choked sentences.

“This past week, as corny as it sounds I didn’t just find you again, I found the old me.”

“Well, we’re both here to stay,” Crystal whispered before pulling the girl into another embrace which somehow dared to be better than their last. “Come on, you’re shivering, let’s get you home.”

***

Crystal woke with the sun beaming through the window, her body perfectly entwined with Gigi’s.

At first, she thought she had dreamt it: their kiss at the meadow, the way she went to sleep on the floor and felt Gigi’s arm drop down from her bed, her breasts soft as silk and her moans sending Crystal insane.

But the way Gigi’s head nestled into her collarbone told her she hadn’t.

She wanted to freeze the moment in a frame and relive it forever - the fear hitting her that Gigi would act cool like it was no big deal.

She lay a kiss on her head before making her way for a shower - the first time all week that she hadn’t woken up to Gigi perfecting her makeup or already dressed- the perfect girl’s routine thrown out the window as she lay in bed.

After returning from the shower, she noticed Gigi was awake, rushing to get ready.

“C’mon.” She looked Crystal up and down. “We’ll be late.”

***

Crystal’s palms became heavy with sweat as she sat next to Gigi on the bench.

Maybe she regretted it. Maybe it was some sort of sick joke. Why hadn’t she spoken about it? Was she being off with her, or was she just tired?

Crystal felt sick, checking her phone for the time: seven twenty-five.

She couldn’t wait till Nicky got here, the sight of Gigi’s face next to her sending her brain into spirals of existentialism.

She thought about this time on Monday. How much had changed in a week? Or in reality how much it had gone back to the way it was before.

Whatever would happen next she just thanked God/the man who fitted her water heater that at least it happened - the love bite on her neck marking that no one could take this away from her.

Maybe Gigi would go further in denial - Crystal watched her as she tapped her foot on the ground.

“Are you not gonna give me a headphone?” Gigi smiled at her, snapping Crystal’s mind of doubt back to reality, feeling Gigi’s hand fall onto her thigh. “I fancy some One Direction.”

Pulling her phone out in excitement, Crystal’s mood quickly dipped back as she read the time: seven twenty-nine.

“Nicky will be here for you in a minute.” She gave a disheartened smile and put her phone back in her pocket.

“Oh.” Gigi moved her hand over the top of Crystal’s and grinned. “I told her not to come, figured I ought to get the bus today.”

#rpdr fanfiction #crystal methyd #gigi goode #angst #lesbian au #high school au #everything has changed #ashley #tw unconsented contact #concrit welcome #submission #crygi #s12

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angeltrapz · 3 years

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hhmmmmvnfj asks abt Lawrence? umm in a selfship way: what’s ur favorite gift he’s gotten u? — in a character analysis way, bcuz I’ve posted a lil abt it n u mentioned it in DMs too: if William had survived, bc Lawrence was handling new disciples at that time (like Brad n Ryan), how do u think Lawrence n William would’ve interacted? (esp bc we know William was at least vaguely aware of who Lawrence was pre-trap bc of their connections to John)

dfhskj thank u!!! finally getting 2 this

okay fr the selfship part: mentioned it a little bit when replying 2 the other ask u sent, but it’s a worry stone made out of rhodonite (which looks a lil like this), bc he knows how interested I am in gems + rocks n stuff like that but also bc he wanted me to have smth to fidget with in case I forgot my lil lanyard of rolling beads when we went somewhere! it’s smth I just run my thumb along bc it’s smooth n soft n fits perfectly in the palm of my hand. a lot of times if I’m in an uncomfortable situation I can’t get out of, having that w me helps a lot bc it’s grounding n it reminds me of him 💞💞

fr the character analysis part: KJSKFS YEAH I love getting 2 talk abt that bc I actually think abt it quite a bit. as u said, William and Lawrence have always been vaguely aware of each other on account of being connected thru their interactions w John, the doctor who he felt wasn’t kind/sympathetic enough n the insurance agent who denied his (EXTREMELY experimental, mind u) foreign treatment request. I’m not sure that they ever interacted face-to-face PRIOR to John’s death, but after William survives his test it’s just kinda like... who else does he have 2 talk to that might be able to understand even the tiniest bit what he went thru? he loves Pamela to pieces, of course he does, she’s his only family - but she didn’t see what he’d had to do, doesn’t rly KNOW like Lawrence would.

but I still think he’d absolutely be Cautious, bc even w the desire to be understood n maybe even have someone he could confide in, William knows now that Lawrence has been helping John for quite some time - as we see in 3D and as u said, Lawrence is the one handling new disciples, something that only John ever did; Amanda didn’t have her own apprentices, n Hoffman sure as hell didn’t either. that, n William doesn’t know how much involvement, if any, Lawrence had w his own test - that’s smth that wld haunt him a lil, I think. it’s hard to be comfortable around a person who is not only directly involved w the person who felt it necessary to put u in a trap, but who Also may have been the one to put fucking explosive bracelets/anklets n tattoos on u + SEWN A KEY inside of u, which is INCREDIBLY violating of his bodily autonomy. that could warrant a whole discussion of its own tbh.

but. Lawrence is the closest John ever got 2 having a TRUE successor (which I have conflicting feelings on; my reading of Lawrence in SAW 2004 was not someone who wld have joined up w someone who caused him so much pain, but fr the sake of exploring this, I think tht after going thru something as horribly traumatizing and irreversibly changing as he did, he sought that life of control n routine that he felt he had prior to his game, and well, John could certainly provide that,,,) n William would likely know this. Amanda’s dead, Logan is off doing who knows what n living his life, Hoffman is only doing it out of a weird sense of obligation?, and Jill isn’t rly a disciple, just some1 who’s been dragged into it too. (I think William n Jill actually would’ve gotten along tbh,, it’s a different thing entirely whether William would WANT to interact w her.)

I think Lawrence wld want to be able to reassure William that he had no hand in what happened to him (I don’t even know if Lawrence is the one who fitted the bracelets/did the key?), but he like. wouldn’t even know where 2 begin bc how can he explain that in a way that William could ever rely on? how could he ever convince William that he truly wasn’t responsible when all the other man wld have 2 do is look at all of th ppl he assisted John in securing/operating on? Hoffman was the one who put William in his trap, but Lawrence doesn’t know he’ll ever b able 2 prove that in a way William can believe. n I don’t think he’d expect William to believe him, not at all, but I think Lawrence at that point truly doesn’t have anyone - he and Alison are divorced and she has Diana, Adam isn’t around obviously, John + Amanda are gone, Hoffman doesn’t know he exists, so who does he have? I think he longs fr that sort of connection, even if it Is forged thru smth as terrible as what they were both individually put thru by John - they have tht common ground of being involved in his diagnosis + the way he responded to them (petty fucking grievances... kramer I will literally knock yr teeth in u fucker) n being ppl he considered partially responsible fr his downfall in a way (Lawrence wasn’t “kind enough,” William said no to a highly expensive and experimental international treatment that they weren’t even sure wld WORK). and like, not necessarily 2 the same extent, but they were both physically altered by what they went thru. Lawrence is missing his foot. William has scars + tattoos that he could get covered up, sure, but the experience isn’t going away. the scar on his side where the key was hidden is never going away. Lawrence’s prosthetic is functioning but the fact that he cut his fucking foot off isn’t going away. n that’s not even TOUCHING the lasting mental effects.

so I think William wld be feeling rly lost. he just doesn’t know what to do. he doesn’t know if he can even go back to the life he led b4 (if he does, it’s not for a very long time) n he has a hard time looking Pamela in the eye bc he feels personally responsible fr her having been there too + bc of what he’d been made to do to so many ppl. he feels alone, much more than he ever has before, n that’s saying smth bc his personal life was already extremely solitary bc he felt it was safer for him + his career. no one could possibly understand what he went thru, bc nobody saw it. nobody saw the way he tried so hard to keep every1 alive, the way he tried to help the people he worked with + CARED FOR even if he had 2 put himself thru pain to do it (holding onto those pulleys until his shoulders were almost DISLOCATED fr Addy n Allen, burning himself w the steam so Debbie could get thru the maze, the entirety of the shotgun carousel). Tara + Brent didn’t see him sacrifice himself fr his coworkers, n neither did Pamela. nobody knows. William wants some1 to connect with, n that just doesn’t seem like a possibility given that what he went thru in there is knowledge that only he himself + Hoffman carry.

but Lawrence knows. he understands n he's the one 2 kinda make that offer, to just be like “u don’t have 2 trust me right now, or even ever, but I understand n if u want some1 2 talk to, I’m here.” bc what does he have to lose? Adam is gone. Alison n Diana are gone. he’s by himself. and so is William, though he has Pamela. they’re both men who went thru smth unspeakably terrible bc a dying man wanted 2 play god n they came out of it much worse off than they ever were b4 John “helped” them. n William is just like. how much worse could it get? after Jigsaw, what could possibly be worse than what he’s already gone thru? so he’s just kind of like, “okay, we can work this out, I can’t say I trust u right now but maybe I can in the future. we can do this together. we can help each other.” n that’s how they end up meeting for coffee or breakfast/lunch/dinner every so often (coffee meets are at least weekly), n it’s just kind of like. the reassurance that some1 has seen the very worst parts of u and are still around. the relief of knowing someone sees u and knows how hard yr fighting to rebuild a life that’s been shattered into a million tiny pieces. n they’re struggling against that current together, and maybe it starts in a place of “I have no one else so I might as well chill w u,” but eventually William and Lawrence kind of fall into this uneasy friendship. they’re there for each other. William calls Lawrence when he has a nightmare that keeps him up fr hours after, shaking n w his heart beating out of his chest bc he doesn’t want to remember. Lawrence spends th night at William’s place every now n then bc he can’t be alone w his thoughts n the phantom pain in his leg just won’t quiet. they meet for coffee. they have breakfast sometimes. Lawrence has clothes n a toothbrush at William’s and vice versa. they’re in this together.

n maybe that escalates into more (which I believe wld only happen after they get 2 a point where they’ve discussed, at length, John’s legacy n who exactly would be continuing it + if anyone WLD be, n after Hoffman is “disposed of” in a sense), but even if not, they both know they Have Someone who looks at them n doesn’t see them as a monster, not the horrible person John thought he needed to “fix.” they both carry scars, both physically n mentally, frm what they went thru. they’re both struggling to get their bearings + Lawrence is still coping w what he’ll need to do after John’s (and eventually, Jill’s) passing. it won’t be easy, but they’re not walking alone. they’re wading thru the mud together, hand in hand, and fr William n Lawrence, that is enough.

#yes I also hc William as trans!!! not rly mentioned directly but putting that here #thank u thank u!! LOVE getting 2 talk abt stuff like this #saw #william #lawrence #I had. way more thoughts on this than I thought I did oops #long post #asks

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handofmerope · 3 years

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Ive been obsessed with the idea of naming a pet after a saw trap like i just think thatd be really funny. Like imagine ur at the dog park and someone calls over their pug named pig vat. Or you see an outside cat and check its collar and his name is needle pit. Or your friend asks you to watch their beta fish magnum eyehole. Whats your thoughts on this?

my pet lizard’s name is Shotgun Carousel and i’m walking him around lowe’s and screaming SHOTGUN CAROUSEL DO NOT BITE !!! if anyone walks within 6 feet of him .

#obsessed with this i agree with you it’s funny

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ninzied · 5 years

Text

true pair

or, frank takes karen skeet shooting.

for ‘the way i said i love you’ prompt 27. a taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at your lips. thank you anon!

…

The first time he watches her line up her shot. That’s when Frank knows.

He’s brought her skeet shooting, on a range out in Jersey. “This your idea of a date, huh?” she’d asked him when he pulled up to her building, but there was a smile in her voice as she said it, leaning across the console of his truck to kiss him on the cheek.

“Hi,” she whispered, and he let the engine just idle a minute so he could turn and kiss her properly, hard and slow like there was nothing that could stop him anymore.

“Hey,” he said back, and it was enough, he was enough, for her, somehow.

Karen kissed him again before settling into her seat, with a quirk of her brow and a teasing “So. You ready to get your ass handed to you for a change?”

(If he’s being honest, Frank knew then, too.)

(If he’s being completely honest, Frank has always known.)

It shouldn’t come as a shock to him, that she knows her way around a shotgun.

It shouldn’t, but it does, just a little, when she slips two shells from the box that Frank offers her, loads up both barrels and snaps the gun back into place without so much as another glance at him. He doesn’t need to tell her how to hold the thing either, only stands back and watches, and thinks about how it kind of terrifies him that she’ll never stop finding ways to catch him off guard.

But it’s not that she knows what to do with a gun. It’s the part that comes after, the part that really gets to him, these fractions of seconds where Karen goes perfectly still. Blue eyes like steel on the sky, nothing but wind in her hair as she takes a deep, calming breath, and Frank thinks he could never grow tired of watching her like this.

That’s when he knows he’s well and truly gone.

…

On their first date, he’d tried something slightly more normal. A boardwalk stroll down Brighton Beach, Karen nibbling on an ice cream cone as she swung their linked hands maybe a little self-consciously between them.

They’d walked mostly in silence, still trying to figure out how to do all of this, blinking out the midday sun as an excuse not to look too closely at each other when they smiled.

They lingered by a remote spot on the water, avoiding the larger crowds down by Coney Island – avoiding other things, too. The usual amusement park trappings. All that deep-fried shit, the noise and the rides. The Ferris wheels. The carousels.

Frank felt her hand on his arm, leading him down to the water instead, and he knew what she was thinking. He knew, and he wanted desperately then to just be some normal guy for her, the kind who didn’t make her wonder if he was more ghost than man on some days.

“Thought maybe we could stay here a while.” She looked down at the last bite of her cone as she said it, and Frank took her chin in his hand, tilting her gaze up to his.

“You got a little something, right there.” He swiped his thumb across the corner of her mouth, brushing aside a stray crumb.

“Got it?” she breathed, as he took a step closer.

“Think so,” he murmured, “but just to make sure…” and he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her deep, tasting the sweetness on her tongue.

They made their way back to the boardwalk with his arm slung over her shoulders, the sand still in their toes as he stopped them by one of those claw machine games. He didn’t expect much – the damn things were rigged and everyone knew it – but something about the way Karen was smiling at him made him feel like it was worth a shot anyway.

“You feeling lucky today, Castle?” she wanted to know, and he smirked at her, sinking a grand total of five bucks into the machine before just about calling it quits.

“Here, let me,” said Karen on his last set of quarters, using her hips to nudge him out of the way. He stepped obligingly back, then watched her in rapt disbelief as she dove the claw down into a sea of stuffed animals, plucking one out with the deadliest aim.

It was a round yellow thing, with goggles for eyes and three strings of hair coming out of what Frank presumed to be some kind of head.

“The hell is this?” he grunted, turning it back and forth between his hands.

“A minion,” said Karen, with a perfectly straight face. “You never seen Despicable Me?”

“Despicable who?” scowled Frank, feeling her laugh into his cheek as she leaned in and kissed him.

“I can always give it to someone else,” she told him, teasing.

“That right?” said Frank, pointedly tucking the minion under the arm farthest away from her. “Because this ‘someone else,’ he and I are gonna have a problem if it comes down to that.”

Sometimes it was too easy, to find himself reaching for her like nothing had ever stood in his way, and it was during these moments that Frank felt the most helpless. Like it was only a matter of time before he fucked it all up.

He was good for the life-or-death kinds of things, for every catastrophe, for straight up doing what it took to survive. But when it came down to the small stuff, the day-to-day, in-between shit that made everything real – the shit that made everything mean something – Frank was utterly lost.

He was lost, and a part of him worried that he was always going to be missing the mark where it counted, as far as Karen was concerned.

…

“Pull,” she says, and he presses a button to launch the first target.

There’s a burst of orange in the sky, clay shattering everywhere as the second trap fires and meets a similarly explosive end moments later.

“Goddamn,” says Frank, shaking his head in a grave kind of amusement as Karen hoists the gun up and hands it over to him, not bothering to hide one inch of her smugness. “Goddamn, Page.”

She shrugs, smiles. But then it goes a little bit tight at the edges, eyes flashing with something that pains Frank to recognize. “Not my first rodeo, remember?”

She’s rolling her shoulder where the shotgun recoiled as he places a tentative hand on the small of her back.

“Y’okay?” He clears his throat, lowers his voice to just shy of inaudible so that she gets his meaning. “Want to talk about it?”

“Never better,” says Karen, “And…not right now, if that’s okay.” For one horrible second, he thinks she’s pulling away from him, but then she wraps her arms around his waist, notching her chin into the jut of his collarbone. “Another time?”

“Course,” he says gruffly, turning to brush a kiss to her temple. He settles his nose into her hair, breathing in the clean scent of her shampoo, the way that she sighs into him, arms tightening.

The wind sways them in place, nothing but sunlight and greenness around them for miles, and Christ, this thing that he feels, the peace that he gets just from being with her. How it shakes, how it trembles.

It fucking terrifies him, that he doesn’t know what to do with any of this.

…

There was one thing. One thing about her that terrified Frank more than anything else.

He’d tried to stay away from her, at first. New York was a big enough place; as long as he kept his shit far out of Hell’s Kitchen, odds were their paths would never have to cross. As long as he tried hard enough not to want—

“I know you think you’re protecting your girl,” Curtis said to him one afternoon, down by the docks as they scoped out a new shipment of dubious goods. “But – hear me out now, Frank – has it ever occurred to you that maybe the person you’re really trying to protect here is you?”

“Get outta here, Curt.” Frank glowered through a pair of binoculars, eyes going unfocused for a moment as he pretended not to let the man’s words sink in.

“Just saying.” Curt shrugged, then, in a more offhand tone, “Think I’d like her? This Karen of yours?”

Frank smirked before he could help it, chuckling a rueful “What’s not to love?” Well, shit. Curtis was side-eying him hard just as an ominous boom came from one of the trucks down below, and Frank was saved from answering any more of his friend’s bullshit questions for the time being.

He’d tried to stay away from her, but—

Frank eventually wound up exactly where he’d sworn to himself never to go. But he’d been busting his balls trying to pin down these child-trafficking assholes for weeks, and he would’ve made it in and out of that warehouse in no time, if not for the fact that he hadn’t been the only one looking for them.

“Frank!”

He couldn’t be sure, in that moment, if he’d just dreamed her voice into existence by thinking about it, too hard and too often, like that kids’ book with the shoes and the clicking its heels three times to go home.

The uncertainty froze up his insides in a kind of all-consuming terror, and he didn’t see the guy coming at him until the shot had already been fired.

He crumpled like a doll at Frank’s feet, glassy-eyed with blood seeping out of his chest.

Frank turned, and there she was, .380 still clutched in her hands, trained at some point near his shoulder. She blinked, but he could tell she wasn’t really looking at him anymore.

“Karen,” he said, her name scraping his throat and burning like sandpaper on its way out. He wanted to run, wanted to grab her and pull her against him until he could be sure she was real – but he didn’t know how to touch her like this, with all the blood on his hands, the bodies piled around them still warm.

As he approached her she slowly lowered the gun to her side, finally letting it drop back down into her bag. The brightness returned to her eyes, by the time he was inches in front of her, her gaze darting all up and down his body like she needed to see him whole too.

“Hey,” said Frank, and he held out his hands, palms up in some kind of plea, feeling helpless when all he wanted to do was—

She stepped into him, lightly touching his chest, and the sound that he made as the air was choked out of him, it was almost inhuman.

He dropped his forehead to hers, leaning more of his weight into it than he should have, but she only pressed back, nose sliding over his cheek as she drew in a slow breath. She was trembling, when he gave in and put his hands on her waist, or maybe that was him, he couldn’t tell anymore.

He closed his eyes as they swayed, feeling her lips close enough to brush skin more than once, and he tightened his grip, moving over her until their bodies were pressed firmly together.

She took his bloodied face into both hands, and he almost leaned in the rest of the way, bringing his mouth just shy of hers before breathing shallowly into the space between them.

Distantly, he heard the sounds of backup arriving, the police radio static, the muffled shouting through the wall.

“You should go.” Karen gave him a gentle push, but he could only shake his head, agitation rippling through him at the thought of walking away from her without – he can’t. He can’t. He can’t do that to her, not again.

“You can’t what, Frank?” she murmured, her voice a low hum by his ear, and it took him a moment to realize he’d said it aloud.

“Can’t lose you,” he rasped. “I can’t lose you, Karen,” and he needed – he needed her to know that he meant it, in every possible sense of the word. That he – that she—

“Castle? Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” Mahoney’s flashlight beam caught and held against the sides of their faces, jolting Frank out of his daze for a moment. He was almost amused when Karen tried to nudge him back, finally angling her body in front of his with a protective hand on his arm.

“Miss Page,” drawled Mahoney, looking pretty unamused about the whole thing himself. “You’re early.”

“Sergeant,” she greeted him, equally dry.

“And what is…this?” Mahoney gestured at them with a deeply perturbed kind of expression, before waving them off with a “Know what? Never mind. Forget I asked. I don’t even want to know.”

“Look,” started Frank. “This was all me. Karen had nothing to do with—”

“What I do know,” continued Mahoney, voice overloud, like Frank had not even spoken, “is that I never saw either of you lurking around here, you got that?” He looked pissed at himself for saying it, but something in his expression softened when Karen turned to mouth a thank you at him.

“You owe me,” he said, and Frank had the distinct impression he wasn’t just talking to Karen.

Mahoney stalked off to examine the rest of the scene, muttering, “Jesus,” then, “Unbelievable, this guy,” as Karen ushered Frank toward one of the side exits.

“When can I—” He stopped them just outside of the door, feeling completely idiotic when she tilted her head at him, waiting. Now really wasn’t the time, but he couldn’t afford to keep telling himself that anymore. “When can I see you again?”

It took a second, to force his gaze up to hers. Mahoney’s guys had all converged to the front of the building, their voices receding, but Frank wouldn’t’ve been able to hear them regardless, not with the way Karen was looking at him.

She bit her lip, a soft smile forming at one end. “You’re seeing me now,” she offered, a playful lilt to her tone, and when she looked through her eyelashes at him – goddamn.

Frank bent forward, nuzzling into her hair like it was the most natural thing in the world, and it was, it was, so long as he learned to stop fighting it. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

She leaned into his touch, pressing the corner of her mouth to his jawline – not quite a kiss, but a promise of something, and he was ready, he was, to make her a promise of his own.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” Frank used his hand, careful to avoid any blood, to brush back her hair as she looked him pointedly over with a somewhat incredulous look. “We can, ah, send Mahoney your dry cleaning bill.”

Karen shook her head at him, a full smile blooming this time, and he felt his chest tighten in answer, wondering if it was always going to be this way, like the world might stop spinning if she ever stopped looking at him like this.

It was time, Frank thought, to just—

…

He doesn’t miss once. Not to make her feel bad when she does – but it’s a knee-jerk reaction, at this point, when there’s a gun in his hand and a target in his sightline, to take it down without wasting a bullet or succumbing to any kind of distraction.

He is, at the moment, very, very distracted.

He’d packed sandwiches, and they can’t be half-bad if Karen’s blissful mmm is anything to go by, the two of them sitting on the back of his truck with their legs tangled and swinging gently over the edge together.

He’s trying not to look smug, but he’s not being very graceful about it, scarfing down large bites in order to keep from smiling too hard at her. He thinks she’s managed not to notice, until she leans in to lick the mustard off his face, lingering to kiss him half-breathless for his troubles.

The tang of her is still fresh on his tongue as she slides herself back to the ground, briefly squeezing his knee before striding over to the next station they’ve parked by.

She gives it a test pull, still munching on the rest of her sandwich as two targets soar through the air, simultaneously this time, from opposite ends of the field. They match up at a point in the middle before slow-falling into the grass, rolling to a stop as Karen wipes off her hands.

Timed right, she could still hit them both, if she decides not to go for the single shot when they cross. One, two. Easy as that.

He’s seen what she can do.

Frank makes his way over to the wooden outpost, ready whenever she is.

He hands her the shotgun.

She loads up the barrels, about to step up to the ledge when she pauses, looks over her shoulder at him.

He ducks his head down to his chest, quirks an eyebrow at her as she gives him a saucy little wink. Everything that matters to him, it’s held right there in that breadth of space between her smile and his, and even if it scares the goddamn daylight out of him, it’s worth it, to feel all this with all that he’s got. Every jagged-edged piece of himself, trying to make something whole again with her, not just the lightness but the shadows that come with it too.

There are lines in her heart that run parallel to his, just as sharp in some places, exquisite and strong.

Stronger, even.

Karen lines up her shot, straight down the center of the field. She’s going for it.

That’s my girl.

Her shoulders square, feet planted at just the right angle. He can’t see her expression from where he’s been standing, but he knows the look she must have in her eye, weighed down with ghosts of her own but unshakably blue all the same. “Pull.”

There’s a single crack! of sound through the air, clay falling apart in every direction, dusting the sky until there’s nothing of it left to break.

“See, now you’re just showing off,” says Frank, coming up from behind her, earning himself another one of those smiles as she sets the gun aside and leans back into his chest.

“There’s still a round left, if you want to give it a shot,” she says to him, teasing, tucking her forehead under his chin as he wraps his arms more solidly around her.

“Nah, I’m good.” The corner of his mouth pulls up in a smirk. “Besides. I kind of like being shown up by my girl.”

“And they say romance is dead,” hums Karen, tilting up just in time to see him pull a face at her. She touches her lips to the underside of his jaw, the bob of his throat as he swallows and gathers her closer.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and Frank – he doesn’t know what he could possibly say that feels adequate, but he’s starting to think that that might be okay. That half this thing is still going to be figuring it out, while the other half – the simply loving her half, all of her, with all of him – that much, he has always known.

#kastle #kastleff #kastle ff #kastlenetwork #kastledaily #don't mess with karen man #that includes you frank #kastle prompts

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deadcactuswalking · 6 years

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REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 12th August 2018

Top 10

Yep, we still have the same top two here, in fact the top five has stayed mostly still overall. “In My Feelings” by Drake featuring City Girls has stayed on top due to the video and streaming power, and I don’t see it stumbling for quite a few weeks.

Right behind it is “Shotgun” by George Ezra, still at the runner-up spot.

“No Brainer” by DJ Khaled featuring Justin Bieber, Quavo and Chance the Rapper is up a spot to number-three, swapping places with...

“Rise” by Jonas Blue featuring Jack & Jack, which is down a single position to number-four.

“Youngblood” by 5 Seconds of Summer is steady at number-five. Funnily enough, I recall saying these guys had their five seconds of fame back when I reviewed “Want You Back”, so don’t rely on me for predicting anything.

Also staying stable is “Jackie Chan” by Tiesto and Dzeko featuring Preme and Post Malone at number-six.

At number-seven, up a space from last week, is “Girls Like You” by Maroon 5 featuring Cardi B.

Meanwhile, at number-eight, we have an 11-space gain straight to number-eight for “Body” by Loud Luxury and brando. I didn’t think this would be as popular as it ended up being, to be completely honest, and I’m very surprised at how fast this has gotten into the top 10.

Then we have our highest debut from Travis Scott’s ASTROWORLD, which has landed an album bomb of sorts – three songs, as is the limit on the UK Singles Chart. That debut, unsurprisingly, is “SICKO MODE” featuring uncredited vocals from Swae Lee and Drake, at number-nine.

Also, we have Tyga and Offset creeping into the top 10 via a one-space jump to number-ten, with “Taste”, and that rounds off our top 10 quite nicely.

Climbers

Now for the climbers and, honestly, despite the album “bomb”, not much happened of interest on the charts other than those three songs, in fact, barely anything has really happened. The only notable gain out of three non-top 10 gains is the 11-spot leap for “Eastside” by benny blanco, Khalid and Halsey, which is now at #12. The other gains are only single-space increases so it’s pointless noting them.

Fallers

The fallers, however, are a bit of a different story. A lot of pop girls struggled this week, including Ariana Grande with “God is a woman” down three spots to #13 and her feature on Nicki Minaj’s “Bed”, which has dropped seven spaces to #38. Speaking of Nicki Minaj, “FEFE” with 6ix9ine and Murda Beatz whimpered down four spots to #21, and the other female rapper on the charts right now, Cardi B, hasn’t exactly been gaining either, as “I Like It” featuring Bad Bunny and J Balvin is down five spaces to #14. Anne-Marie’s “2002” is down six spots to #32, Jess Glynne’s “I’ll be There” got hit identically down to #36, while “This is Me” by Keala Settle and The Greatest Showman Ensemble is down seven spots to #40. Drake had it particularly rough as well, with “Nonstop” down two to #30 while “Don’t Matter to Me” with Michael Jackson is down six to #19. The biggest fall, however, is definitely “If You’re Over Me” by Years & Years, falling a whopping 21 positions straight to #28. How much of this is due to Travis Scott? I’m not exactly sure.

Dropouts

“Ay Caramba” by Stay Free Get Lizzy Presents Fredo and Young T & Bugsey, or whatever on earth that title credit was, is unsurprisingly out straight from the debut at #38, while “Paradise” by George Ezra is also out from #39 – it had a good run. “Leave a Light On” by Tom Walker is also out from #36, but that’s it, so let’s run through the Ed Sheeran Update!

The Ed Sheeran Update

“Perfect” is down three spaces to #60, while “Shape of You” stays at #77. Not much to see here.

Well, that was quick. No returning entries so let’s go right into our new arrivals.

NEW ARRIVALS

#37 – “Best Life” – Hardy Caprio featuring One Acen

Okay, so before Travis Scott, we have a song that been bubbling under the top 40 for quite a long time, and to be honest, I was dreading the day Hardy Caprio returns with another hit, because, God, is he boring? At least now he has a guest star to maybe improve or diversify things but has that really helped at all? No, because it’s still the same faux-dancehall faux-grime stuff to expect. I call it that but it’s really just desaturated trap with some shrill synths and keys that make a just listenable beat for the two rappers to spit over, however the song is mostly the singing chorus, assumingly by One Acen, who also sings during the post-chorus, and he doesn’t have a bad voice so I’m not complaining at all, but maybe I wanted something more interesting to combat Hardy on the first verse biting a Lil Baby flow from “Yes Indeed”, because, out of all the songs to copy, you had to copy the worst possible trap-rap song you could find on the Hot 100? Okay, Hardy... To be fair, this isn’t awful and they both ride the beat well, even if the rapping is actually quite brief. It’s just more of the same, more of the same. In fact, I think I’m going to coin a name for this. Damhall – it’s watered down dancehall with grime-ish lyrics and trap percussion, as well as autotuned vocals, rapping often with melodic, R&B-inspired flows. It’s not the best name in the world, but it’ll be better than saying “faux-dancehall faux-grime schlock” week after week. Not feeling this damhall genre to be perfectly honest. Now let’s take a ride down to ASTROWORLD.

#29 – “CAROUSEL” – Travis Scott featuring Frank Ocean and Big Tuck?

We start with the second track on the album, “CAROUSEL” featuring uncredited vocals from... Frank Ocean? Damn, Frank doesn’t seem like the guy to be doing pop features as often, so Travis and the beat must be something special that made Frank want to lend his immense vocal talent.

Not really. I do like the beat, however, it’s pretty cool how it’s just constant gang vocals going from the left to the right channel as a backdrop behind your typical trap-rap production, which makes it have a party-ish aesthetic that I really like and think fits Travis’ flow really well. Frank, on the other hand, on the hook, sounds asleep and bored, and he does throughout most of the song until his verse where he starts straining his voice very forcefully and frankly, it sounds pretty terrible over a club-ready beat. Come on, Frank, the bored flow at least works for stuff like this, you didn’t need to put any effort or emotion into this performance, yet, you do for some of it and it just doesn’t sound good at all. Stick to sounding like you’re on half a Xan during your guest features, it works much better. Oh, yeah, and this song is barely three minutes and ends very abruptly. It’s just kind of sloppy if anything, mostly because of, unfortunately, Frank Ocean. The song’s serviceable, I suppose, and I know why it charted – it’s catchy, it’s at the start of the album, yet I’d have much preferred “NO BYSTANDERS”, “SKELETONS”, “R.I.P. SCREW” or even “STOP TRYING TO BE GOD” to chart instead of this and the next few tracks, although this next one I’m not necessarily complaining about.

#15 – “STARGAZING” – Travis Scott

Ah, the opening track to ASTROWORLD, and one of the few songs that doesn’t have features as well as actually being somewhat astro-themed, as it’s very psychedelic and trippy yet does feel like a theme park ride in its structure. Let me elaborate.

It starts with some slow, eerie chords with some beautifully autotuned singing throughout, before you get a drop – the bass and the rollercoaster – which starts initially with some pretty disjointed drum patterns, as your mindset would be during a ride, as Travis says, “going crazy” and “rolling”, quite similarly to the effect of psychedelics. He has some pretty... interesting falsetto vocals here, as well as the classic ad-libs we know him for crowding the catchy hook, before the drums start to collapse briefly and we get a moment of peace, of build-up, with some sweet guitar and extra keys, which sound really pretty, especially with all the sound effects of people screaming and having fun on Astroworld building the atmosphere. It then comes to a sudden stop and you’ve gone down the biggest slope in the rollercoaster, so you’re calmer but the ride hasn’t stopped. The beat switches and now you’re going through maddening keyboard loops whilst a slick trap beat plays, allowing Travis to spit some surprisingly impressive bars here, with a simple flow but some funny lines like about how it’s not a moshpit without injuries and how Kylie’s jumping off him like Moby – you figure it out – while a faint “alright, alright” vocal sample plays, and then it just comes to an abrupt stop. Your ride has finished, but it’s only the first track so you’re ready for the unimpressive mediocrity of the other rides in the theme park that you only go on because you have younger siblings with you.

#9 – “SICKO MODE” – Travis Scott featuring Drake and Swae Lee

Speak of the devil.

Alright, so this track is three songs, and the only reason why this absolute mess of a song was the biggest hit is because of Drake, but you know that already. Let’s analyse each part of this five-minute trap-rap trilogy.

We start with a fantastic sample, and one of the best moments on the album as Drake just sings over one of the best beats I’ve heard this year, God, I love that sample so much, but then the percussion comes in and he starts rapping, for one bar. Yep, the last line (the title) echoes and we go into a completely different song with a serviceable beat, where Travis Scott starts rapping with a flow I feel we’ve heard from him a few times before, with some extra classic hip-hop samples acting as ad-libs to his rapping, as well as some pitch-shifted chopped-up Big Hawk samples acting as bridges while Swae Lee just repeats one line in the background, but then after two verses, that one transitions too, pretty abruptly, into a boring Tay Keith beat for Drake to go all “Nonstop” on. Drake does half a Xan on a plane and is out like a light (like a light, ayy, yeah, what), and it tells. Over a Memphis-influenced instrumental, Drake delivers a decent enough verse but really, neither him nor Travis have enough charisma and energy to carry this. I appreciate how the beat goes all DJ Screw on us by the end, leading into the next song on the album, “R.I.P. SCREW”, but really, isn’t this just a huge waste of money for Travis? Sure, he’s probably getting it back and more, but a huge feature in the form of Drake, two guest vocalists (Swae Lee and Sheck Wes) hired purely for ad-libs, at least three samples, two of which are short clips that really aren’t worth the royalties he and his label probably had to pay, can’t be cheap, especially considering the four to six producers probably involved in this that had to get their paycheck too, even though knowing the industry, they probably won’t be getting them at all.

This song, as it is, is just a five minute slog, especially considering only the first minute is worth listening to. If someone has a separate track of just that Drake intro, I’d appreciate a link.

Conclusion

Yeah, Best of the Week goes to Travis Scott for “STARGAZING”, who also bags Worst of the Week for “CAROUSEL” with Frank Ocean and one of the two Dishonourable Mentions for “SICKO MODE” with Drake and Swae Lee, with the other going to Hardy Caprio and One Acen for just being void of anything interesting in “Best Life”. See you next week.

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seljepw · 6 years

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Over the Hills and Far Away- Episode 8

A/N: I'm so sorry I'm late with this installment, guys. It's almost twice as long as the others, and I had some issues getting the smut just right... Hopefully it will be worth the wait!!

The Road so Far: The reader- who Bobby adopted at 6 years old- is half Faerie. She was bred for the sole purpose of being the traditional Tithe to Hell- the deal that lets faeries keep their immortality. Now, her destiny has caught up with her, and she, Dean, Sam, Bobby, and Sarah (Remember her? From season one?) are trapped in a pocket dimension of Faerie land, and Hell is on it's way when the sun sets. Also, because metaphysical loopholes, Dean is bound to join Y/N in Hell, and everyone else is stuck in Faerie forevermore.

Word Count: 2,400ish

Warnings: THERE IS SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER. Be prepared for strong language, unprotected sex (you know this is pretend, right?), and lots and lots of angst. (You guys might be going to Hell, ok? There's some feelings about that...)

Then:

“Ok,” she said, looking around the shack, “we need something to use as paint. Devil’s trap on the floor, sigils on the windows. We are going dark until this shit blows over.”

“Blows over?” Sam looked at her, incredulous. “Sarah, we’re stuck in an alternate dimension, waiting for the freaking King of Hell to come and drag away our sister-in-law! It’s not gonna just blow over!”

“Maybe not,” said Bobby, “but that don’t mean we just sit here twirlin’ on our thumbs.” He had cut his own arm, and was already using his blood to draw a warding sigil on the window over the sink.

Now:

By the time the sun had risen, you were sitting at the table with Sam and Sarah. Bobby was passed out on the narrow bed, and Dean was snoring lightly from the one cushioned chair in the shack. His face looked sallow next to the tattered orange corduroy of the chair’s upholstery. He had long ago learned the soldier’s trick of sleeping when you can, where you can. Unfortunately, that skill eluded you at the moment. So, you let out a deep sigh and reviewed your fortifications once more.

Standard devil’s trap in both doorways. Warding sigils- in a combination of blood, paint, duct tape, and deep gashes in the wood- plastered across any vertical surface. Sam’s Volvo was now parked like a barricade in front of the shack, and the other two cars were playing sentry in the flower-packed field behind your tiny fortress. You each had at least two weapons on hand (the silver knife at your back had been joined by Bobby’s revolver, stashed in your boot). The rest of your small arsenal was arranged on the table, gleaming in the gathering dawn.

It was damn handy to have such a paranoid bastard for an adopted father. Even in a made-up universe, Bobby wouldn’t be Bobby without a rainy-day stash of deadlies. Along with your new boot accessory, he had produced not just the Colt, but the demon knife and a sawed-off shotgun from his trunk. The handful of knives from the earlier houses rounded out the collection. Still, it was a depressingly small armory. And you had no way of knowing what you would have to face. Would Crowley come alone, or with an army? Would he be open to negotiating, or would he just sic a pack of hellhounds on you and call it a day? The thoughts chased each other around in your mind, as they had done for the past several hours. You were getting dizzy and exhausted.

Sam and Sarah had been pouring over the little blue Faerie book, taking notes and discussing possible modes of defence for the past three hours. The first time Sam looked up was when you growled impatiently and shoved yourself out of your chair.

“Y/N. Where do you think you’re going?” he hissed at you.

Dean gasped and came fully awake at the sound. Soldier sleep only lasts as long as it can, then it’s back to consciousness all at once. His fist was closing around the machete in his lap before he had even exhaled. “Whashapenin’?” he huffed. “Crowley?”

“No. Sorry I woke you. I just can’t stand being cooped up here anymore,” you said as you paced around the tiny room. Your hands raked through your hair and your shoulders wouldn’t stay still.

Bobby sat up and gave you his ‘worried daddy’ look. It was half reservation, half resignation. He knew you never did well being cloistered for long. You needed open sky and fresh air. So, being the good dad he was, he tilted his head to the back door.

“Go on, princess. But don’t you dare leave that field, and if anything happens, you holler at the top of your lungs, and we’ll come runnin’.”

Dean moved across the tiny room, assuming that he would be joining you on your walkabout, but you placed your hand firmly on his chest.

“No, Love. I just need to be by myself for a bit. Give me a few minutes, ok?”

In the dawn light, his eyes looked like peridot. It’s funny the things you notice when you’re getting ready to die, you thought. Those gold-green eyes searched yours for a long moment. He must have found what he was looking for, because he simply cupped your face in his hands, pressed a kiss between your brows and said, “Ok, Hermione. You do what you gotta. I’ll come out to check on you in a few.”

You walked out of the back door, leaving the silence of concerned people behind you. Bobby didn’t even insist that you take a coat.

You walked a slow circuit around the edges of the field, collecting a few flowers and brushing away the curious bees. The sun was beating down, but the breeze that played across your bare arms and shoulders kept it from being unbearably hot. You let your head fall back, and lifted your face to the sunshine. It was amazing, this cage the Fae had built for you. So detailed, so intricate. And they saw it as a privilege- an immensely precious gift that they had given to a totally unworthy thing. You found it insulting. If there was one thing you had learned in your life as a hunter, it was the value of truth. This place was one huge, condescending lie.

As you reached the shack again, you smiled despite yourself. Dean was lounging on the Impala’s hood, his fingers laced across his chest and his head resting back on the windshield, watching your slow progress. Neither of you spoke as you climbed up and settled your body next to his, as you had been doing for years. You both stared up at the fake clouds drifting across the fake sky.

He had popped one of his well-worn cassettes into Baby’s stereo, and Bad Company crooned out of the open windows, wafting on the breeze.

“Life is like a carousel... you aim for heaven, and you wind up in hell… To all the world you're livin like a king... but you're just a puppet on a broken string…”

“Tell me about it,” you scoffed at the song.

Dean chuckled and wrapped his arm around you, settling your head into its accustomed place on his shoulder. You watched the fake flowers shivering in the fake sunshine and revelled for a moment in the honest solidness of his cheekbone against your hair.

“Look, babe, if anyone knows what it’s like to be the freakin’ ‘Chosen One’- especially when you don’t have any choice in the matter- it’s Sammy and me. And we’ve always managed to shake it. This is no different. I told you last night; no way in hell you’re- ya know- goin’ to Hell.”

“We,” you said dejectedly. You’d been doing your best to keep from wallowing in your feelings. But this was Dean. You let the mask slip a little. “You mean we’re going to hell. I managed to fuck up enough to damn you, too. And get the others stuck here. It’s all my fault.” A tight ball had formed in your throat, and if you let it, it would boil over into weeping.

“Hey!” Dean levered both of you up into a seated position and turned to you, lacing his fingers through your hair. He maneuvered your face close to his, so you had no choice but to look directly into his eyes. “This is NOT your fault, you hear me? I don’t wanna hear that defeatist ‘woe is me’ crap. You didn’t do this. You didn’t start this. They’re trying to make you a victim, but you are way too strong for that. Now, what do we do when some supernatural son of a bitch comes after us?”

You sighed resignedly, and blinked to keep the tears at bay. “Kick it in the ass,” you mumbled.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. What do we do when something thinks it can tear us apart?”

This one came out a little more steady. “Kick it in the ass.”

“Better, but I want it one more time. Like you mean it. Because we are not victims. What do we do to every single threat that comes at us?”

You moved, then, swinging your leg over Dean’s hips and settling firmly into his lap. You mirrored his grip on your hair with a grip on his, and around clenched teeth you snarled, “We kick it in the fucking ass!”

“That’s my girl!” Dean crowed, and caught your mouth in a blistering kiss.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and crushed your body to his. You clawed at his back like you were trying to climb him. With a firm grip on your ass, he hoisted your combined weight up off of Baby’s hood and into the wildflowers. You clung on and rode him down to the rich, black soil.

You were like animals, at first. Moaning and growling and trying to get as close as you could while still clothed. The friction of your core against his was making you dizzy. Your panties were soaked. Please please please I neeeeed... was all you could think for a long time. You writhed against each other, and you thought your pussy was going to wring itself out, you were so hot, but neither of you made a move to escalate it. It was like you were waiting for something.

Bloodthirsty kisses and teenage rutting of denim against denim slowly melted away, and a fierce tenderness replaced it. The scent of crushed plants engulfed you. The tall, waving stalks of the flowers shielded you from sight. You were in your own little world within your own little world.

You and Dean had been hunting together-and together- for a few years. Despite all the brave talk, all the unwillingness to accept defeat, the fact remained. On a case, every fight could be the last fight. And every fuck could be the last fuck. You couldn’t take these moments for granted. Now- with the threat of Hell bearing down on you both- this time together took on an even sharper clarity.

He loomed above you- broad shoulders blotting out your view of the sky, covering you in protective shadows, and you took a moment to trace the lines of his face; to swim in eyes made greener by the swaying foliage around you. Just in case.

The moment stretched. Unexpectedly, your magic shimmered up inside you, like it was taking a deep breath. Your mind seemed to float, as weightless as your bodies had been the other night- and you could see Dean’s love for you like a physical thing. A second heart beating in his chest, gold and red and luminous. You laid your hand over the spot and watched the light pulse around your fingers. The beauty of it took your breath away.

“What?” His voice was a low murmur, barely louder than the susurrus of flowers around you.

“You,” you whispered, blinking away a new incursion of tears, “you are so gorgeous and amazing and I love you so fucking much…” The light in dean’s chest flared in a brilliant surge and when his lips met yours again, it was so overwhelmingly sweet that you couldn’t hold back your sobs anymore. Salt tears mixed with the taste of Dean’s mouth, and he pressed his weight on you as though he was trying to hold your jagged pieces together. Like he was trying to feed you with the inner light that he couldn’t see.

After what seemed like the longest heartbeat on record, you released your magic, got control of your lungs again, and dropped your shaking fingers to his waistband.

“Dean,” you gasped around a throat sore with crying, “Please. I need… I need…”

He understood. Of course he did. You both wrestled each other out of your clothes as best you could; Dean helped you yank his shirt over his head, but yours was trapped under your weight, so it stayed. One leg of your jeans remained tangled around a booted foot. Dean’s pants only made it halfway down his thighs, but it was enough.

When he reached between you to slide a finger into your slick opening, you stopped him.

“I need you, Dean. You. Now.” You gripped his shaft and gently guided him through your folds.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he smiled. Just a flash of the usual roguish Dean that disappeared when his eyes rolled up, closed, and squeezed shut, as he easily slid into you. Your own eyes followed suit, and a groan climbed up the back of your throat. Dean.

The weight of him on you and in you was an anchor. A mooring line to your life- your real life. Solid and safe and true. He buried himself as deep as he could, and kept pushing, holding his pelvis hard against your core. Your every muscle was shaking with the sensation- he was so present in your body. Your inner walls fluttered around him and you were so overridden that you couldn’t open your eyes. He was everywhere. The solid wall of his flesh pressed against your clit in a maddening pressure/friction. His back muscles flexed under your grasping hands. His chest held yours trapped against the ground. Rough fingertips smoothed your hair back, soft lips trailed kisses in a line down your forehead. And that solid, delicious weight in your center… You realized you were grinding against him, whimpering his name over and over, nudging the tip of his cock into all your deepest sweet spots. He just kept pressing into you, letting you swim in the feeling.

“I got you… I got you, Y/N. Take what you need, baby, I got you… Fuuuck, I love you...” His voice rumbled in your ear and through your chest, sending a new shower of sparks through your nerves and a fresh flood to your pussy.

“Dean Dean DeanDeanDean...”

“That’s it,” he murmured against your shoulder. He was beginning to tremble with the effort of staying still. “That’s it, baby. I’m right here... Holy shit that’s good... I’m here, I got you...”

You kept rolling your hips, trying to get him deeper, shifting him around inside, flashes of pleasure building and building and building until you were close to tears again... Please please please PLEASE! Finally, mercifully, the tension snapped loose and you shook apart with a silent scream.

Dean couldn’t hold still, anymore. “Ooooooh, my god! Fuck, Y/N, I gotta-”

Your eyes snapped open to drink up the sight of him. He managed a handful of savage thrusts before he came- hard. You could feel the pulses discharging impossibly deep. Your vision sparkled a bit around the edges, your breath rushed out in a gasp, and you wrapped your arms and legs tighter around him, holding him close. You were both crying, now.

You lay tangled together- inside and outside and around each other- and wept against each other’s shoulders without a sound. You stayed that way for a long time, even after the tears were spent, just petting and kissing and nuzzling and listening to one another breathe. Because moving meant you had to get on with this nightmare you were stuck in.

It was the sound that roused you. Tinkling whispers like a thousand tiny bells ringing. Or an army of absurdly delicate wine glasses shivering together. You and Dean slowly seperated and looked around.

The red glow of the evening sun was dancing through the clearing, dazzlingly refracted through the innumerable facets of a field of crystal flowers.

Tags: @mamaredd123, @motleymoose, @emilyymichelle, @singingphoenix, @raelady1184, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @icecream-and-gadreel, @deevoon, @aprofoundbondwithdean, @mrsgabrieltrickster

#Dean x reader #dean smut #Over the Hills and Far Away #spn fic #fic series #fae!reader x dean

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