#I THOUGHT IT WAS A HEAVY ASS TRUCK OUTSIDE HOLY SHIT

[galactic-dragoness]

WTF THAT WAS AN EARTHQUAKE?!?!?!

#I THOUGHT IT WAS A HEAVY ASS TRUCK OUTSIDE HOLY SHIT #meanwhile in NY #earthquake

[cherry-cola-on-ice]

Fighting Words

After some consideration, you were less depressed and more pissed off at the artistically inclined twin.

You hadn't seen hair or hide of Vincent since the laundry room incident.

And maybe that was for the better.

While part of your mind couldn't shake the love you had for him, the other hated him.

Perhaps though, hate was a strong word.

But right now, Vincent Sinclair was number one on your shit list.

You couldn't decide what went wrong. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him. You knew that. You could still taste him on your tongue. Feel his thick cock heavy against your lips.

It was addictive. You were obsessed

You slammed the cupboard shut, frowning. The feeling of his cock in your mouth, gagging you. Choking on his cum. You thought about it day and night, in your dreams at daydreams.

Fighting the urge to throw the glass cup in your hand against the wall, you heard the door behind you slam open and Bo's loud voice echo "Y/N!?! WHERE ARE YOU? "

Your hands gripped the counter so hard, your knuckles turned red. You were not in the mood for this "Holy FUCKING SHIT, BO! I'M IN THE FUCKING KITCHEN WHERE I FUCKING ALWAYS AM!"

Bo was quiet for a moment, probably seething with rage. Probably plotting some horrendous way to kill you. Something gruesome, like that Carly chick and her brother you've heard so much about.

At this point, it'd be a blessing. Just kill her and get this agony over with.

You could Bo's footsteps getting closer, before the kitchen door swung open. You barely looked over at him, he raised a eyebrow "What crawled up your ass and died? "

"Your hopes and dreams."

"Ha-ha. Ya being more bitchy than your usual...uh, bitchy self."

You scoffed "Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about, Bo."

You heard him laugh behind you "Yeah, seems like it. "

In the corner of your eye, you saw him lean against the counter next to you. He smirked, wriggling his eyebrows, in a dramatic manner"Ya know, ya kinda sexy when you're mad."

The sentence made you snort, rolling your eyes at him. But it also made you laugh, the first time in a while. It felt nice. Like the way things used to be.

Bo and you hadn't been close. Vincent had been your best friend, rather he knew that or not, you weren't sure. But Bo was a strange entity. One moment, he cursing out your existence. Threatening you that his brother's protection wasn't going to last forever.

But right now, you were reminded of home. Your real home. Of your high school sweethearts and friends. Joking with each other and fumbling touches on prom night. Bo reminded you of that.

But even so, even though Bo made you miss something you hadn't thought about since you were left alive...

Vincent was Hades. Dark and dangerous. While his brother was the golden Apollo.

The front door slammed open, causing both Bo and you to jump. There stood Vincent, and that jovial mood vanished. Obviously, you couldn't see his face in it's entirety, but his one blue eye was filled with anger.

I hate him I love him you . Be mad. Don't be at me.

"Hey, Vinny!" Bo raised a eyebrow, sensing his twin's annoyance. How could he not? It was palpable, hanging in the air like a dense fog.

Vincent stood there, fingers grabbing the doorframe so hard his knuckles turned white. You turned around, continuing your chores. His gaze pierced into your back.

Bo cleared his throat "Well, Lester's truck broke down outside of Tensas Parish. So we ain't gonna be home for dinner. "

You looked over at him "You going to be okay driving by yourself? I could come with. "

"Tch, I trust ya. But not that much. Nah, ya stay here with Vincent." Bo slapped your shoulder, before walking away.

It was silent in the room now. Only the sounds of Bo's truck backing out of the gravel.

Just pretend he isn't here and go about your life.

You could hear his breathing behind you, seemingly getting closer. Every breath he took felt like he was ripping on from your own lungs.

Placing the last glass in the cupboard, you shut it and turned to walk away. Passing by Vincent, his hand darted out to grab your wrist "Ow, Vincent! Let go of me! "

Vincent shook his head, turning around back to the basement door. He dragged you along with him.

You'd be lying to yourself if you said his forceful grip wasn't sending shockwaves through your body. But you weren't going to admit that to him. Not after all the torment he put you through "Vincent! Where the fuck are you taking me?!?"

He dragged you down further into his workshop, stopping once he reached the bottom. Before you could complain about the treatment, Vincent spun you around, slamming your face against the wall.

Fuck me fuck you please fuck me

"WHAT THE HEL-" The feeling of something hard and warm pressing against your ass cut off your thoughts. Vincent ground his hard cock into you, breathing heavily in your ear. A whimper escaped your lips before you could stop it.

Vincent's hands gripped your sweats, pulling them off along with your panties. You gasped, hands darting down to grab his "Vincent! What are you doing?!?"

Vincent's hands ripped away from your own. Shakily, his hands came back to your line of vision, signing with difficulties "Mine..."

Yes yours you stupid dick

He had been jealous. The thought made your clit pulse. But you still had questions "I was always yours. Why did you walk away from me? "

Vincent's hands stopped, giving you a chance to turn around. You met his eye, crossing your arms"I thought about you so many times. And you just walked away. You have no right to be jealous. "

Vincent looked away from you, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt. You scoffed, trying not to lose your temper.

There had to be a reason, somewhere deep in Vincent's mind, why he pushed you away. You had your suspicions. And you weren't happy about it.

"You don't think you deserve me, do you? After all of this..." You gestured to the space between you both "All of this tension between us?"

You grabbed Vincent's fiddling fingers away from your shirt "I've thought about these fingers inside of my pussy since I met you. I've thought about these fingers holding me close. "

You could tell he was shocked.

You dense motherfucker.

Sighing, you shoved Vincent's hands towards your wet pussy, watching with hidden glee when his eye widen behind his mask "You feel that? You did this. Even when I'm fucking pissed at you, I've never wanted someone more."

Vincent looked down at his drenched fingers, giving them a experimental flick against your folds. You moaned, jerking against him "Vincent ~I need you. "

These three words shook him out of his reverie. He met your gaze, before turning your body around again. He, more gently than before, pressed you against the wall. You groaned, wriggling you butt against his crotch.

Vincent let out a grunt in your ear, and you felt him lifting his mask away from his face. This made you pause, turning your head to face the wall completely. Last thing you wanted to do was scare him.

"Baby, you don't have to take your mask off if you don't want to. I'm perfectly fine with just your dic- holy shit!"

You were cut off by the warm, wet feeling of his tongue lick up your slit. Vincent moaned against your pussy, his slightly chapped lips placing kisses against your skin.

Your fingers scraped against the concrete walls, gasps and whimpers escaping your throat uncontrollable. It was going to fuck up your fingernails, but you couldn't give to shits about it right now.

You whispered his name like a prayer as his tongue lazily drags between your already dripping folds. In theory, he hasn't touched you much, and all of his touches were light.

You moaned, thrusting your ass into his face, begging for harder contact "Vincent, please stop fucking teasing me!"

A sharp of gasp left your lips as he felt his mouth graze over the meat of your butt, his teeth sinking into the flesh. You wanted to reach out to him, grab his hair and reposition it where it belonged.

Face first into your throbbing pussy.

He must have heard your thoughts, read the filthy words echoing in your mind.

Dragging his tongue over the tight ring of muscle hidden between your cheeks, he slowly made his way back to your cunt. His tongue circles around your hole, watching in amazement as it clenched around nothing.

You heard his moan, that beautiful sound you chased after for so long. One you thought you lost forever.

"Vincent ~" You were nearly crying "P-Please, give me something. Anything. Fuck me with your mouth. Make me feel good."

His tongue unexpectedly dove into you with inexperienced enthusiasm, causing you to lurch forward. He pulled you closer, shoving his face into your pussy as he ate out your cunt like a starved man.

You tasted better than he ever could imagine.

Vincent moved his tongue frantically against your sex, licking and sucking anything he could find. He wasn't sure if he was doing it right, his only source material being the pornos his brother left around.

But from what he could gather, he seemed to be doing well for himself. If your cries and moans were anything to go by.

One well planned suck to your clit had stars forming behind your eyes “I’m gonnacum, ‘mgonnaocu—”

You can do nothing but slam your palm on to the wall, your orgasm cutting off all rational thoughts. Vincent held your shaking body in his hands, your legs quivering, threatening to give out from under you.

He nuzzled his face against your thighs, kissing them as you came down from your high.

"S'good, you're so good. " You quietly praise him "I wanna kiss you. Can I kiss you, baby? "

Vincent stilled between your legs and for a moment you thought he would run away from you again. But his hand covering your eyes and turning your face to him proved you wrong.

You almost jump at the sensation of his lips finding yours,rough and chapped, but delicious nonetheless. The satisfaction of finally kissing him elicited a gasp out of you.

A gasp he eagerly swallows in a long kiss, tongues wet and wrestling with one another. A the pad of his free thumb stroked the column of your throat, applying light pressure.

Unfortunately, your human bodies required air and you both parted, feeling a long string of saliva fall to your chin. You snorted, hand reaching up to stroke the hand covering your eyes "You keep that up and I'm going to get all hot and bothered again. "

Vincent chuckled, grabbing his mask and placing it on his face. His hand slowly fell away from your eyes, and you took this as his ok to turn around. Eyes dewy and smiling like the cat the just got the canary.

Vincent thought you looked beautiful after you came.

#slasher x reader #slashers x reader #house of wax #vincent sinclair x reader #house of wax 2005 #fem reader #creep!vincent x! creep!reader #vincent sinclair x fem!reader

[writefightandflightclub]

Clean-up in Aisle 4 (Will Miller x GN reader blurb)

Summary: a grocery store meet-cute with Will. Little bit of fluff, mainly angsty.

Author’s note: First time writing Will. Super quick one but hope you like it. Helps a lot if you know Will’s canon from the movie. You can read-up here if you wanna. Told you I was in Triple Frontier feels tonight!

Warnings: vague but thematic mentions of prior trauma related to military service and PTSD / anxiety themes, though nothing in-depth / graphic. Swearing. 

GIF: @will-grammer

The first thing you noticed about the man was the broadness of him. Wide shoulders, leading down to a nipped-in waist. You weren’t ogling. Really. It was simply hard to miss, since you nearly drove your cart into his back, the brick wall of a man coming to a sudden, dead halt in front of you as you each approached the grocery store.

The second thing you noticed, as you huffed out air and scooted your cart around him, was the way his hands white-knuckled as they wrapped -achingly tight- around the handle of his own cart, the tension extending into his forearms and along the veins of his straining biceps.

The third thing, causing you to fully abandon your intended pursuit of a passive aggressive side-eyeing, was his ashen expression; the way his gaze fixed unerringly on the sliding, automatic doors as though they were the gates to hell and he was deathly afraid to enter. You saw then that the tension extended all then way through the chords of his neck, into his chiselled jaw, which was covered in a scruff of blond beard.

You’d seen that look before. Seen it on others in the field; and out of it. Had seen it plenty when you looked in the mirror too. It looked like trauma, raw and exposed and bile-inducing, and the recognition had the words rising out of your throat before you could stop them.

“Hey, are you okay?” you had asked casually, in a cooling voice as you lined your cart up side-by-side with his.

It was reflex by now. You had seen too many comrades freeze in the face of danger - and in your experience, freezing near-always led to sub-optimal outcomes. Perhaps that’s why you felt a personal responsibilty to shock him back to life. He seemed stuck. He seemed like he needed a push, like that damn cart.

The man’s eyes - hazel centred and fringed with a piercing yet muted blue - flicked fiercely towards you, and the hint of volatility made you very suddenly take note of his size and latent strength, your body’s fight or flight response firing as he appeared to take a little unkindly to the interruption.

Of course, you stood your ground. You always do. It’s a bad habit of yours.

His eyes softened, however, just a little, as he clocked gentle concern rather than confrontation in your own, and he self-consciously shuffled from foot to foot, his heavy combat boots seeking surer-footing on the paving; quite literally grounding himself.

Oh, he’s definitely military this one. You recognised that too in the way he moved. In the habits ingrained in his body.

Still, you saw the rush of panic fleeting across his eyes as he ignored you and fixed his stare back on the threshold of the store. It might have looked like nothing -a simple line to cross- but you knew all too well how the smallest of lines could be something much bigger; a marker, a milestone, a hurdle.

It seemed hard for him. And if it seemed hard, and he was still here, trying, then you were damn sure it seemed important too.

You had noticed the ticks in his body then too. He tapped his boot and his fingers on the handle, almost as if he was counting. Counting-up or counting down to something, you were not sure.

“Afraid to go in?” you had asked him gently, devoid of any mocking.

“I had a bad experience here...” he had told you, his voice a deep, drawling, painfully empty baritone.

He told you this much, though he was not sure why or how he even began to speak. Why or how he looked at you. He was not sure either, why he was unable to continue speaking.

He was a speaker by profession, wasn’t he? He had repeated his story often enough as part of his motivational speeches, and yet, the words died in his throat now.

Cart. Blacked-out. Choked. Almost... 

His hands tightened their grip on the cart, just like they had tightened...

“Hmm,” you acknowledged, chewing on your lip as you digested the new information.

“Well. Me too,” you admitted, as his eyes segued back to those double doors, bumping open and closed as his proximity continually reactivated the sensors. “It was bad. My shorts had split clean in half right down the ass-crack and no-one thought to tell me. Some of the clerks still call me Cheeky to this day.”

The incident you spoke of was painfully true, and at least mildly cheering, you thought, but the man barely registered it. At least, not initially. He took a moment, still staring, still counting, but then he looked at you with a reluctant and pained amusement that evidently took him by surprise.

Now, he saw you. His eyes gave you the once over.

You were not what he was expecting. That story wasn’t what he was expecting. He wasn’t expecting...

“Wait, what?”

Letting your mouth draw open into a smile, effortlessly holding his attention now, you had pressed on with your distraction.

“Split right up the ass-crack. Mortifying. So... I could use the company, if you’ll brave it with me?” You had nodded your head towards the double doors, and you had shifted your cart to casually bump his. “We could go together?”

The man had simply stared at you, and you had patiently waited for his response. The muscles in his jaw had twitched, tendons slipping over bone. He was frozen still; that is, until you had politely nodded and started to move away from him, with a sincere, “Take care of yourself, man.”

“Hey, wait up,” he had called as you moved ahead of him, and you threw your head over your shoulder to humourously inspect the seat of your pants.

“Shit, why, is my ass out again?” you had laughed, and Will tentatively laughed with you, following you into the store; crossing his personal boundary.

It was hard, and it was important.

You had waited for him to catch-up with a soft smile, proud of the man although you did not know him yet, and this time he had drawn his cart to a halt alongside yours.

“Your ass is not out,” he had promised. “Shit. Not that I was looking. I just, uh. Shit. I could actually use the company?”

“Sure,” you had nodded, without judgement, and you had stayed closely by his side on your usual, winding route around the store.

You had tried your best to cheer him and distract this stranger, and even earned a few smiles as you engaged him in meaningless conversation.

Then, the man had paused at the mouth of a particular aisle and stared turbulently into the vacant space there, face and body pulled taut as if replaying an unpleasant memory. He was about to abandon his cart, you thought. About to leave you with a hanging apology he in no way owed you about how he wasn’t ready for this.

It was important, but perhaps it was still too hard. 

However, instead, you had blitzed into the centre of the aisle and trampled over his ghosts, barraging all of his memories out of the way as you shifted armfuls of dog food into your cart with a clatter.

He had swallowed thickly, his hands stuffed into his pockets, until you shot him another soft smile.

“You have a dog,” he observed tentatively, consciously tearing himself away from the past. Counting the seconds; his breaths, his heartbeats, the cans of dog food. Moving forward.

“I do. He’s the goodest boi. He even has medals of honour.”

The man tips his mouth into a lop-sided smile. “What for? Can he walk on his hind legs?”

“Ugh, okay. I love it when smug fuckers underestimate my mutt.” You had added the last of your tins to the cart and gestured for Will to follow you into the next aisle. Away from his demons. He did follow. “No, actually,” you begin more softly, “he sniffed out IEDs when I was on my tour of duty.”

“Holy shit, you’re army?”

“Ex-Army,” you correct. “You too, I’m guessing?”

He had that look. That manner to his movements. The man looked like he had killed. It was a look you had learned to identify at ten paces. It was a look you saw in the mirror often enough.

“That obvious?” he says, sucking in air through his teeth.

“Oh yeah.”

He had smiled nervously at you. For the first time since meeting him, you noticed that he looked sweet.

“Yep, uh, I got out. Now I give motivational speeches where I relive my trauma and try ‘n’ convince recruits it’s all worth it.”

You had nodded, thin-lipped, as you moved towards the check-out.

You had wondered what happened to him out there, but something about the way his gaze had fallen on that spot in the aisle told you that what weighed heaviest wasn’t what he did while he was in, but what he did when he got out.

Cart. Blacked-out. Choked. Almost...

That could happen. You had seen the pattern too many times amongst your buddies. Still, you had seen regret in this man’s eyes. That doesn’t always happen. Not everyone can pull back from the violence. Not everyone wants to.

You had peered into the man’s cart as he moved the items to be scanned. He had cola, lemons, and some sriracha in his cart, but... one step at a time. Coherent meals could come later.

This was hard. This was important.

“You should meet my floofy war hero. He’s outside in my truck,” you had offered, picking-up your bags, and the man picking up his... lemons etc..

“Oh yeah? Sure. Would be an honour,” he had smiled shyly, and you had tracked together over to your truck, thrown your bags in the back, and had let your boy out of the passenger seat.  

“Hey, buddy,” the man had cooed, kneeling down on the ground to deliver some quality scritches, and you couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sight.

“Aw, he loves you! Freddie, you slut!” you had laughed as this huge, burly man baby-talked to your mutt, your dog rolling on the floor and showing his belly like you didn’t feed and water him and take him for walkies.

You had watched the man for a moment. You had noticed a lot about him already, but now you noticed that, shit, he was handsome. That smile. That laugh. Blonde hair and beard and piercing eyes. His arms rippling beneath his pale blue t-shirt.

He had risen back to standing and leaned up against your truck, looking like soemthing out of a catalogue. And then, there it was again. That look. That raw, exposed, bile-inducing look.

“Listen,” he had said earnestly. “Thank you. I probably would still be standing out front if you hadn’t taken pity on me.” 

“No problem. Except, not pity. Not at all,” you had reassured. Affinity, maybe. Recognition.

He had huffed out a gentle, grateful breath.

“For real though, I was getting kinda tired of eating gas station noodle pots. Wouldn’t have my...” he had finally peered into the paper bag, registering the groceries he had panic bought. “Fuck. Wouldn’t have my lemons and sriracha without you.”

“Okay. Now maybe I’ll take pity on you,” you had smiled, gently teasing, and you shifted a few choice ingredient from your bags to his, despite his protests that you’d done enough for him already.

“You did it,” you had said firmly. “I just walked into a place where all the clerks accidently saw my ass cheeks. Whatever you did. It was hard and it was immportant. You did that. You should be proud.”

He had looked at you curiously and disbelievingly with those piercing eyes of his, like he didn’t deserve your words - even though they were merely the truth. So, you had bumped him on the arm, loaded Freddie back into the truck, and had thrown him a “Take care of yourself, man” as you clambered into the driver’s side.

“Wait.. I...”

The handsome, troubled man had motioned to you and you had wound down the window, leaning your arm out the side of the truck.

“Yeah?” you had asked, with a soft smile, but the man had simply shaken his head.

Cart. Blacked-out. Choked. Almost... 

Nevermind.

He had looked apologetic, like maybe he wasn’t ready to subject himself to anyone just yet. As if he looked at you and saw the ghost of someone he let down standing over your shoulder. Maybe even in your face.

Cart. Blacked-out. Choked. Almost... 

His brows had knitted together, and he had looked down at his boots, shifting and seeking sure-footing all over again. Grounding himself.

“Listen,” you had offered, starting your engine up. “I do my weekly shop at 2pm on Sundays. You know, if you ever need some company? Or,” you had added with a smile and a casual wink, “if you ever need an excuse to check-out a nice ass again.” 

He had nodded his head and pursed his lips together, before a broad grin split his features, his deep baritone now sounding full as a chuckle spills out of him.

“Good to know,” he had smiled, looking up at you shyly, and he had stepped back to let you swing the truck around and pull away, offering you a wave.

He never did tell you his name, but you had a feeling that you might be seeing him around.

Sometimes, things were simply better with company, after all.

#will miller x reader #will miller #charlie hunman #triple frontier #triple frontier fic

[paversandplatters]

||𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚙|| (5/20)

Apocalypse! Au (TW! Minor gore and cussing)

Reader x multiple

Chapter 5: A Flock Found

They pack a wheel barrow to the brim with the newly acquired supplies they find not botheringing to leave behind much of anything, making sure to cop the twenty five gallon container of gasoline from the tool shed out back behind the building... Lord knows they'll need for the grand task ahead of them. By the time the light in the south western sky began to fade from a light gray to pink over the backwaters of the panhandle they're ready. They slip outside through the rectory's side door and creep single file along the edge of the property. Y/n takes the lead, periodically glancing over her shoulder for any sign of the herd that had crossed the highway or any sign of the group that occupied this space all too recently. She carries a glock with a full magazine just in case. The dusky air gets clammy and cool on the back of the stranger's neck as he follows them to the car. They climb in hurriedly, stowing their provisions in the rear cargo bay. Y/n kicks the engine on as the newcomer clambers into the passenger seat next to her- much to the dismay of the other two- unfolding an old dogeared map.

"They usually stick pretty close to the ocean." He says almost to himself, silently calculating the mileage between them and the gulf. "Probably should start down by Perry or Carwfordville." He senses movement ahead of them through the windshield and glances up in time to see a couple of jagged shadows emerging from the woods about a hundred yards away, drawn to the sound of their engine. Garbled growls can be heard over the drone of crickets. The trace smell of garbage on the breeze, the light and space of the outdoors is almost overwhelming to him. He feels like he's been asleep for a hundred years, locked away in that dank and dirty church- he starts to feel dizzy.

Y/n gooses the accelerator and the SUV lurches away. He sinks into his seat as they roar down the road, swerving to avoid the half dozen or so biters now skulking out of the woods blocking their path. They sideswipe one the creatures, ripping a chunk of its shoulder, splattering fresh gore across the glass of his side window.

"You get used to it." she states after he flinches in disgust. He just stares at the splatter, flecks of bone chips, and a long trail of black bile.

"I don't think anyone can get used to that ..." Nick mutters from the back seat.

Night falls and the darkness deepens behind the trees on either side of the road. Most of the streetlights in this part of the country have gone the same way as the internet or cable TV, so the road only gets darker and darker as they head south towards the steaming thickets and festering swamps of the coastal lowlands. The going is slow, most of the two lanes are crowded with rusted out wreckages ,the carcasses of cars and trucks so old now that the weeds and switchgrass have begun to grow up from their metal endoskeletons. The two young men in the rear breathe heavily, thickly, half asleep while Y/n drives and softly hums some forgotten tune. They had passed the jerky and water around a few minutes ago- their standard fare of supper- and now their bellies growl and their eyelids droop with exhaustion.

"You never gave your name..." His hushed voices rings out from the shotgun seat.

"Hadn't crossed my mind at the time, sorry about that... It's Y/n" She chuckles softly. "The one with the headband is Nick but goes by Sapnap, don't ask i don't know- the other one with the accent is George." he just simply hums in reply.

"What about you big guy? What do they call you?"

He takes a moment to regard the woman seated next to him; his head still trying to wrap itself around this complete stranger who's shown him nothing but kindness. On the one hand, she seems trustworthy enough, friendly, a good listener, courteous and capable of single handedly taking out an entire chapel full of reanimated corpses... On the other hand she seems like a walking time bomb. He'd seen her type before- they type that's too kind until something or someone breaks that trust. A hairline trigger. The sad fact is he doesn't have a large array of options. Staying in that hellhole of a church with those enslavers, listening to the groans of the dead, waiting for whatever those bastards would do next quickly loses its charm... Seeing the aftermath of her cleaning house with that knife had given him an odd charge- a cathartic release. He's also aware that he'd never be able to find the caravan on his own given the sorry state he's in. He really has no choice but to go along with her and her scruffy ass men and hope for the best.

"I don't have a name.. that is, one that I can remember.."

She desperately wants to pry, how could he not remember his own name? But the thousand yard stare and glassy gaze is enough to stop her from inquiring any further. "Well we've gotta call you something big guy." She's met with silence in response. "Alright, I guess Big Guy it is then." He offers only a meek hum in response. In an attempt to silence his own raging thoughts his eyes landed on the red bandanna tied to the rearview mirror for what was probably the hundredth time since he started on this way too long car ride.

"... What's that about?" He points to the red scarf.

"It belonged to a friend of mine a long while back, before Sapnap and George were a thing." Her hands tighten their hold on the wheel. "I was caught by 'traders' and he was stuck in the same hole as me... Couldn't have been any older than fourteen at the time. One night the compound was under attack, their front gate was breached- luckily we were kept at the very back end, so when the opportunity came we managed to escape our holding cell and I hoisted him over the wall. Told him to keep running, to not look back. He got away but I was caught again," She takes in a deep breath before resuming her story.

"I was quickly sold off to some asshole who had these two chained up for breaking into their stores... one thing led to another and we snuck out and snagged this ride... we've been moving around since." It was obvious by her tone there was a lot she was leaving out and probably for a good reason. Notably the two in the back seat were dead silent, so much so that it made the air feel heavy and dense enough to cut with a sharp enough knife. Suddenly he was wishing he hadn't bothered to ask in the first place

"That sign back there," He manages, desprate to break the heavy air "Said 'Cross city 12 miles" He glances up from the map in his lap, gazing out the side window at the stewing darkness of Dixie County Florida. "Got a feeling we're getting close."

The vast patchwork of wetlands passes in a blur on either side of them. The land oozing a low blanket of methane as gray as mold, clinging to the shadows of pine thickets and gullies like dirty lace. The air smells briny and rotten with dead fish. Every few minutes they pass the ruins of a small town or wreckage strewn trailer parks. No sign of survivors in these parts, though only the occasional silhouette of an upright corpse shambling by, it's eyes like twin yellow reflectors in the darkness.

"We can't just keep burning gas all night." Sapnap says from his place in the rear, his voice all cranked up with pain and panic "and we can't just go off of what you overheard those traders talking about- Much less go off of feelings.." Big guy just keeps a neural face.

"We're in the ballpark" He persists "Believe me they'll be hard to miss." Y/n grips the steering wheel, her jaw working overtime on a piece of gum, snapping and chewing complusively as she drives.

"How many vehicles do they have in this convoy?" George questions between wheezy breaths.

"No idea... but it's quite a few ."

"That's pretty general."

"They'll be easy to spot." He replies once more, gazing back out at the darkness. "Our best bet is to follow the coast, they like to keep close to the water.."

"Why's that?"

He shrugs. "According to those 'traders' they keep their eyes peeled for ships or any possible way they might get their asses the hell out of here. Most of the bigger boats around here have been destroyed by the hurricane that hit a couple years ago, so it's a long shot that they'll find anything..."

They're about to give up the search when they start to climb the gentle slope- at first so gradual it's almost unnoticeable - up the side of a vast malodorous landfill- the barren trash-strewn scrubland to their left reaches across miles of sandy berms, all the way down to the deserted ghostly boardwalks that wind their way along the beaches. The sky has begun to bruise pink with predawn light and Y/n has just started to say something when the Big Guy sees the first faint streaks of red dots in the distant haze.

"LOOK!" He points his large gnarled hand down at the far dunes of ashen white sand winding along the coast. The surface is so pocked and windswept it resembles the dark side of the moon.

"Where?" She cranes her neck, slowing the vehicle down to a crawl.

"I don't see anything."

"About Half a mile up there... Look at the tail lights!"

She takes a deep cleansing breath as she finally sees the caravan chugging along the coastal road in the predawn light, it looks like embers throwing up puffs of smoke in their wake.

"Holy shit, I see it." A big smile washes over her face, Glad she decided to follow through with this insane plan.

"What do you think of those boys?" The two young men in the rear lean forward, transfixed by the sight, each of them rapt and silent as they gaze at the convoy.

"What are you doing?! Blaster your horn at them," George stutters anxiously. "Don't let them get away !"

Y/n smiles to herself, in her former life she used to be fascinated by the wildlife shows, often catching them in the late night showings after work before she turning in for the night. She remembers one episode in particular, on the behavior of sheep vs the behavior of wolves. She remembers the flock mentality; the sheep moving almost as one, easily managed by a single sheepdog. She remembers the instinct of the Wolf, stealthy, patient as it and its pack creep up on the flock. She shoots a glance across the dark interior at the larger man sat next to her before turning her head to face the two sat behind them.

"I have a better idea."

Taglist

@the-wandering-pan-ace @hvrcruxes

#dsmp x reader #dream x y/n #dsmp tubbo #ranboo #sapnap x y/n #techno x reader #tommyinnit #dream smp x reader #dsmp #dsmp techno #georgenotfound #georgenotfound x y/n #philza x reader #the behavior of sheep

[sincerelyella]

RAMifications Chapter 5 -  Why Don’t We Fall In Love

Book: The Royal Romance (AU)

Pairings: Liam x MC (Ella)

Song Inspiration: Why Don’t We Fall In Love by Amerie

Characters belong to Pixelberry; MC Ella Brooks belongs to me

A/N: This entire idea came from Burnsy and her unBEARable series featuring her OTP Drake and Alyssa. This is Ella’s backstory and how she met the love of her life King Liam of Cordonia and became his queen. This doesn’t follow much of TRR books, there is still a social season but not all of the players are present. Throw canon out the window!

Catch up here

Warnings: Adult language; NSFW -> second base maybe

Words: 2439 

“Why was kissing me a mistake, Liam?”

Liam stared at her in surprise. He didn’t expect her to bring up the kiss, he hadn’t planned on bringing it up either; but it had been on his mind all week.

“I should have asked; I didn’t know how you felt …” he babbled. You’re blowing this! He audibly swallowed and tried to think about what to say next without looking like an idiot. “I’m sorry, Ella,” he whispered. “It wasn’t a mistake. Nothing with you has been a mistake. I just … this is my social season with suitors. At the time I didn’t think I could have you.” When she remained quiet he continued to nervously prattle. “Then I saw you at the beer garden on a date-“

“Wait,” she interrupted with her hand up. “You saw me?”

Liam nodded. “Yes, Drake and Alyssa and I were driving by, and I saw you get in the car with … someone,” he clenched his jaw. Ella smirked when she saw it and raised a brow at him.

She took a step forward. “Why, Your Highness, were you jealous?”

“No!” He said a little too quickly. He looked away for a second then back down at her and she tried so hard not to smile, but the edges of her mouth were curving up.

She took another step forward. “It wasn’t a date, Liam,” she said softly. “It was a way for me to get my mind off of a certain prince.”

She was so close to him, but their bodies weren’t touching. He could feel the warmth of her through the clothes in between them; the smell of her lavender perfume made him dizzy and rock hard at the same time. There she was, looking up at him with her mouth slightly parted, sending him a message; her eyes darker then they usually were, almost black. His gaze dropped down and landed on her mouth, they were drawing him in, closer and closer. Kiss her! Kiss her now! He quickly dropped his lips down onto hers, not gentle or shy like before, but passionate, like he was drinking from her. Like he was dying and needed her, all of her, to live. He wrapped his arms around her small waist, tugged her tightly against his chest and he felt her arms come around his neck. She softly moaned against his mouth and he took that opportunity to slip his tongue inside. Their tongues massaged each others, their hands were everywhere, soft groans filled the room. Liam ran his hands down to squeeze her ass, then reached the back of Ella’s thighs and lifted her easily off the floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he pressed her up against the closest wall. He ravaged her mouth and pressed himself against her throbbing core. She pulled away with a small moan as Liam kneaded one of her breasts outside her sweater. He rested his forehead against hers as they fought to catch their breath.

“Oh … my God,” she panted. Her head was swimming, she had never been kissed like that before. Ever.

Liam watched her with a smirk on his face. He leaned in to capture her lips again, slow and gentle. “I meant to kiss you like that,” he chuckled.

Ella smiled wide. “Uh-huh. Well, I didn’t mind this though … not at all.”

“Neither did I.” He flashed a grin at her and her legs got weak.

He placed one last kiss on her swollen lips before putting her carefully back on her feet and cleared his throat. “I, uh, really did invite you to stay so I could answer your questions. I know all of this is rather foreign to you.”

What were we talking about? “Umm …” she looked up at him with a confused look on her face.

“The social season, Ella,” he laughed loudly. “Come on, I can order us some dinner and we can talk?”

She nodded, just now realizing she hadn’t eaten at all since breakfast and her stomach was growling. Liam stepped away to order some food while she took in the living area and kitchen. Everything was modern, stainless steel appliances, a large kitchen island, marble countertops, a comfortable looking sectional that face a 75 inch flat screen TV. The entire area was simplistic but very masculine at the same time.

“Food should be here in a little bit, come sit with me.” He led her to the sectional, faced her and took her hands in his. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable about being a suitor. I want to be honest with you about everything.” Ella’s brows wrinkled in question and Liam continued. “The social season is a way for single women from all the noble houses in the kingdom to, essentially, compete to be queen. My queen.” He sighed. “In all honesty, it’s basically me … dating these women … at the same time.”

Liam held his breath. He studied Ella’s facial expression then held eye contact, silently pleading for her to say something. Anything.

She stared back at him, trying to gather her thoughts. I left Ethan because he dated multiple women. “So, you’ll be doing what we did in here … with those other women?”

He shook his head fiercely. “No! No, Ella!” He placed his hands on both sides of her neck and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “Court dating is very different from normal dating. Everything is done in front of the court, we talk and dance and there may be kisses on the cheek or hands but I won’t be doing anything like that with any of them.”

Ella nodded. Liam leaned over to kiss her softly and a knock on the door caused them to jump, then giggle. “It’s just dinner.” He rose from the couch to answer the door and rolled in a cart of covered plates a few moments later.

As they dug into their food, Liam continued speaking about the social season. “Our next event is in Applewood, the Apple Festival. I must warn you,” he stopped cutting the meat on his plate and looked at Ella. “My father has already told me that I need to … spend time with all of the ladies the last few weeks of the season.” He frowned and started to cut the meat again. “Originally, I was making small talk with them but not fully engaging. My father took notice and … I can’t show any favoritism while out in public, Ella.”

Ella continued to eat, looking down at her plate, thinking about Liam’s words. I don’t belong here.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said quietly.

She put her fork down. “I’m thinking that maybe I don’t belong here, Liam. I’m in school … I am a semester away from getting my degree. I was … planning on working at the children’s hospital.” She sighed. “Do I just give that up? For something I’m not even sure about? What if the court hates me? What if you don’t … choose me after the season-“

“Ella.” He said sternly, interrupting her nervous chattering. She flinched at his tone and looked him in the eye. “I don’t plan on choosing anyone but you,” his voice softened. “The only time I wouldn’t choose you … is if you tell me this isn’t what you want. The crown is a heavy, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone if they weren’t willing.”

Say no thank you, Ella. “I want this,” she blurted out. If she was honest with herself, she never felt anything like what she felt for Liam.

“What did you say?” He heard her, but he wanted to hear her say it again.

“I want this,” she said, louder and with more confidence. “I want this, and I want you. I just … want to figure out a way to also finish my degree.”

Liam smiled and kissed her soundly on mouth. “I want this, and I want you too,” and started placing chaste kisses on her lips over and over until she laughed. “We will figure out something for your school. For the season, however, you may need to drop this semester. Start again in January.”

She nodded. “Alright, I can do that. Now, my sponsors … what are they for?”

“The Beaumont’s have no single women to send as a representative of their house for the social season. So, they find a woman suitable and sponsor her so that she can represent their house.”

They talked through the night, he answered her questions and they had made plans to meet with Maxwell and Bertrand the next day. He taught her how to address nobles with their title and how to curtsy when appropriate. Liam had one of the guards drive her home so she could pack her things and come back to stay at the palace.

*****

The next day

Ella smiled and her thoughts went back to last night. She absentmindedly put her fingers on her lips. This was the last thing she expected when she flew to a country nobody had heard of. Falling for a prince and possibly ending up marrying him - it all sounded a little crazy. She woke up this morning thinking it was all a dream. But a text from Liam that said ‘good morning beautiful’ brought her back to reality. It’s not a dream. Holy shit I’m dating a prince!

On her way to the palace, Ella made a pit stop at the floral truck. Her boss gave her a big hug when she told him everything.

“I knew there was a reason Prince Liam was making you deliver all his flowers,” Aaron laughed loudly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ella rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry I’m leaving with such short notice, Aaron. I have to postpone school until next semester also.”

He waved her apology dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, you just make us proud and become a damn good queen.”

“Oh God,” she placed her hand on her forehead. “I haven’t fully come to terms with that yet,” her eyes widened.

“You’ll be fine, Ella,” Aaron’s face took on a serious expression. “You took the hospital by storm, you took on this job like a boss, everyone you speak to loves you immediately,” he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

Ella swallowed nervously and swallowed. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I have to head to the palace, move in and all that, so I’ll see you around.”

She gave him one last hug before getting back in the car.

**

Liam sat in his quarters with Maxwell and Bertrand, waiting for Ella to arrive. Max was bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I can’t wait to meet her! Alyssa said she was great!”

Liam smiled. “Yes, she is pretty great.”

“Yes, well … great could still embarrass House Beaumont and I won’t have it.” Bertrand said with a frown.

“Aw B, don’t be so stuffy. If Liam is taken with her and Alyssa says she’s a winner then quit worrying!” Maxwell jumped up and down in excitement. “I’m hungry! Liam do you have fruit roll-ups?”

“Fruit … roll-ups??” His brows furrowed in confusion. He never got an answer as Max had already skipped to the kitchen to rummage through the cabinets.

A knock on the door made Liam snap his head towards the sound and start to get up off the couch.

“I GOT IT!” Maxwell hollered and ran to open the door. “Sam! It’s fine! Prince Liam knows Ella is coming … no you don’t need to see the prince right now, Sam … Come on, Ella!” The door slammed and a moment later Max had tugged Ella into the living area. Bertrand and Liam stood and Maxwell grinned from ear to ear.

“Okay! So hi, I’m Maxwell! Alyssa told me soooo much about you! Want some Doritos??” He handed Ella the bag.

“I’m good, thanks,” she laughed. “Nice to meet you Max.” Ella turned to Liam and Bertrand. “Hello, Your Highness, Your Grace,” she gave them a small curtsy.

Liam smiled down at her, took her hand and kissed her knuckles softly. “Hello, Lady Ella.”

Bertrand cleared his throat. “I see you know how to curtsy and address your betters.”

Maxwell gave his brother a glare. “What Bertrand means is … he’s happy to meet you!”

Bertrand rolled his eyes. “Lady Ella, if you are to represent House Beaumont we will need to prepare you properly for the festivities in Applewood. We leave in a mere day and a half.”

There was another knock on the door. Liam cleared his throat. “Excuse me.” He opened the door and was surprised to see who was standing on the other side.

“What in the hell is going on?”

#RAMifications #Liam x MC #Liam x Ella #Liam Rys #trr fanfic #trr fandom #trr #trr au #choices trr #choices the royal romance #choices liam x mc #choices trr au #choices liam #the royal romance #the royal romance fandom #the royal romance fanfic #the royal romance fanfiction #the royal romance au #pixelberry #play choices

[scriveyner]

let it rest in peace 1/4

James always loved to watch Keith run.

The black wolf was a liquid shadow; compacted into a powerful ball of muscle and potential. It was poetry to watch slowed down, enormous paws dug into the ground for purchase and extending all the way out again, all four legs clearing the ground in a straight shot. Head down, laser-focused on his target, Keith moved so fast at that moment James felt like he was seeing an afterimage, the actual thing there and gone before he could even blink.

Keith ran every chance he got; up and down the long familiar stretch of beach, his slightly smaller frame shadow to Shiro’s enormously powerful white wolf. He ran through the woods, threaded the trees, circled their camps and the truck, and nearly made James dizzy with his exuberance and a seemingly endless wellspring of energy. He loved the most to run in the plains, though, when they went east and spent their nights in fields under an endless expanse of stars.

Run with me, Keith said, both hands on James’s wrists, eyes bright and skin bronzed by firelight.

He couldn’t deny Keith anything, not even this; futile exercise that it was. Before too long Keith would tire of lagging and would be on four legs, bounding back and forth and unstoppable. All the same, James humored him every time, jogged with him until Keith couldn’t bear it any longer, and bolted; across the clearing, across the sand, across the field—ears and tail high.

He loved to run.

He loved James, too.

James panted, hand pressed to the side of his neck, cheek in the dirt. He watched Keith run like this, powerhouse that he was, gone in a twinkling, fury and sound.

“I’ll protect you,” Keith said, calm and confident, sitting up in their motel bed, the covers kicked to the floor and his skin brushed blue by the cold light of the television.

It was an ancient song and dance between them now, months-weeks-years of it, Keith with his lazy certainty that he could take on anything and James with his world-weary amusement, knowing every beat to the conversation by heart. “You can’t, against everything.”

James brushed his knuckles along the outside of Keith’s thigh and Keith stirred, leaned over him and kissed him with a rakish grin. “You don’t know me very well then, do you, Griffin?”

I do know you, James thought, the words drowned in the blood squeezing between his fingers, the darkness starting to claw at the edge of his vision. He exhaled again and coughed wetly, closed his eyes and dreamed of running with his wolf.

Read the rest on AO3 or

let it rest in peace – 1

The sky was in his heart, an endless expanse of blue that reached horizon to horizon. The air was fresh, spring again, the sharp bite of winter’s chill melted in the calm, bright sun. The fields went on forever, lush green landscapes covered in wildflowers cornstalks barely to his hip, wheat swaying in the wind.

It was home, and yet.

“Griffin!” A voice, faint, familiar, carried on the wind of memories. “I found him, shit, shit, Shiro, hurry--!”

“Sing for me,” James said, brushed his fingers through Keith’s hair, the light of the dying embers caught in his raven locks. Keith leaned up on one elbow, smiling helplessly down at him, before rising smoothly on four legs.

James combed his fingers through dark fur, as Keith stepped away and out of reach the loss felt sudden, insurmountable—and he reached for Keith as the wolf raised his face to the sky, a dirge for the moon.

“James, no, no no no--” Keith’s voice, too distant. “Stay with me, please, please--”

The moon was in his blood, fat and heavy in the desert’s endless sky. The stars seemed to go on forever, past the point of the horizon, patterning down, under his feet until everything was night, washed out in the light of a full cold moon.

#

Everything hurt.

James squinted open gummy eyes, listening to the constant steady beep of the medical equipment beyond his line of sight. He couldn’t raise his arm to wipe his eyes, so he lolled his head on the pillow and immediately regretted the movement, paint shooting down his spine.

He let out a small involuntary grunt as he shifted, and that disturbed the dark head leaned against the hospital bed. James flexed his hand, and Keith lifted his head groggily, eyes red-rimmed and stubble so thick James knew it had been days, or longer. “Hey,” James croaked, lining up some kind of lumberjack crack but the single syllable was all he could manage. Keith’s eyes welled up immediately.

Keith pulled James’s hand up, both of his hands wrapped around it still, and pressed James’s hand to his mouth. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” Keith’s voice sounded wrecked, worse than he’d ever heard.

It hurt to swallow, fuck, it hurt to breathe but James gathered himself and spoke. “Love you,” he murmured, squeezing Keith’s hands, and Keith let out a small little sob and didn’t raise his head. James smiled as much as he could manage, closed his eyes and dropped back off the cliff, into darkness.

#

When he woke again it was impossible to tell how much time had passed. The lights in the room were the same, although this time when he moved his head it didn’t immediately feel like it was going to come off his shoulders. There were no windows that he could see—just machines, off-white walls and a television up in the corner that was currently off.

Keith was sitting up in a chair beside the bed, looking better than he had. The stubble wasn’t as thick now, he’d shaved at least once; his hair was clean and he smelled like Keith, even with the competing antiseptic hospital smell attempting to overwhelm. He seemed to sense that James was looking at him and lifted his head, closing the folder he’d had open on his lap and smiling shakily for James. “You’re awake. How do you feel?”

James lolled his head on the pillow, swallowed and then spoke hoarsely. “You ever seen Roger Rabbit?”

Keith’s brow furrowed, and James sighed, coughed a bit because the sigh hurt, goddammit. “Of course you haven’t.”

The door opened and they both looked at it—and it was Lance, leaning in the room clearly to get Keith. He looked tired, but lit up when he saw James awake. “Griffin, holy shit,” Lance said. “How’re you feeling, man? That was a fucking close call, if Shiro hadn’t--”

“Lance,” Keith said, his tone dagger-sharp. Lance stopped, gave Keith a look that James couldn’t really decipher, and then Keith said, “do you know what the fuck Roger Rabbit is?”

Nonplussed, Lance looked between them. Then he snapped his fingers, pointed at James and said, “you feel like you got squashed by the steamroller at the end!”

James chuckled, then groaned because that really fucking hurt.

Keith rolled his eyes, set the folder on a small table at his elbow, and got up. He put one hand on the mattress and leaned over, kissing James’s forehead gently. “I’ll be right back, I bet Shiro wants to see me,” he said. “Lance’ll keep you company, though.”

“Mm,” James was already feeling drowsy again, the interaction draining. “Keith?” Keith hesitated, looked down at him. James raised his arm slowly, touching the thick bandages around his throat, felt the ghost of fangs and claws nearly ripping his arm out of its socket, and asked, “how the fuck am I alive?”

There was a split-second flicker of something across Keith’s face he was too drugged up to catch. Keith took his hand away from his throat, patted it, and said, “please rest, James.”

His eyes felt too heavy, but he watched Keith say something in low tones to Lance, caught Shiro’s name but little else. Lance gave James a look and then shook his head, Keith clapped his shoulder and left the room. James closed his eyes and listened to Lance shuffle, pulling the other chair away from the wall to sit on his left side.

James swallowed, didn’t bother to open his eyes. “What did Keith do, Lance?”

The shuffling and scraping stopped abruptly. He heard the chair’s cushion complain slightly as Lance flopped into it, and he could almost see the way Lance tilted forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. He definitely heard the aggrieved sigh.

“It wasn’t Keith’s call,” Lance said softly. “It was mine.”

James slept.

#

“You’ve barely eaten anything,” Keith said, the frown evident in his voice as he dropped into the chair he’d been living out of for the past week and a half—longer, James knew, since before he woke up even if he didn’t know how long that was.

James looked up from his phone, an equivalent frown on his face as he thrust the offending piece of technology in Keith’s direction. “I don’t like this,” he said. “I want my old phone back.”

Keith looked at the proffered phone. “Your old phone is in two pieces,” he said, and after a moment James sighed and retracted his arm, setting the phone on the tray extended over his lap on the bed.

“Yeah, I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it, what the fuck is wrong with this phone, it’s so…” he poked it. “I don’t trust the Blade not to be using some weird-ass shit magic on their technology, what if this thing achieves sentience? There’s a horror movie for you right there, fuck it.”

“Hasn’t technology run amuck been done to death by now anyway?”

“Probably. I was thinking more in the vein of the phone actually biting people, though.”

“Transformers,” Keith muttered, and James groaned and folded his arms. After a moment Keith tilted his head, gave James a fond grin, and they both laughed. James winced, touched the bandages around his neck, and then laughed again because laughing hurt, but it was a good hurt. He was alive, after all.

He looked at the door, still buoyant in his mood. “Shiro and Lance are here,” he said, a split-second before the knock came; and he caught the way Keith gave him a particular look out of the corner of his eye. “Come in!”

“Someone sounds better already,” Shiro said, opening the door with his left hand and holding it open as Lance pranced in behind him, a courier bag slung over his shoulder. The delicious smell of cheese and grease followed them in, wrapped around Lance like a living thing, and Lance beamed at James as he slipped the bag off his shoulder.

“We bring contraband!”

“Hey,” Keith said, sitting up as Lance pulled a fast food sack out of his bag, dropping an enormous burger on the tray in front of James. “He’s on a strict diet--”

“If you’re going to be Mr. Narc I’ll give James your burger too,” Lance threatened—and they both looked at James, who had immediately begun destroying the burger like he’d never eaten one before in his life.

“I’m not very hungry, anyway,” Keith said, clearly amused at the display, and James tucked into the second burger with relish.

James didn’t realize how off he’d felt until he had two burgers sitting heavy in his gut. Lance sat on the left side of his bed, elbow on the mattress and volleying barbs at Keith, who wasn’t taking them well. Shiro, on the other hand, didn’t get too close to the bed, and kept trying to fold his arms—which wasn’t happening, given that his prosthetic arm was, currently, disconnected.

Of course, that drew his attention because he’d hardly ever seen Shiro without it. “What happened with your arm?” James asked, balling up the wrapper from the second burger and tossing it into the sack Lance had left open on the tray.

“Tech department took it for maintenance,” Shiro said. He lifted his right arm and pointed to the stub. “Have you never seen it off?”

James shook his head, transitioned to a nod. “No, I have, it’s just unusual. Also, you keep trying to cross your arms and that’s, sorry, that’s hilarious.”

Shiro put his one hand on his hip and hung his head, sighing audibly. “Lance made fun of me in the elevator, too. Do I really cross my arms that much?”

“Yes,” James, Keith and Lance all said in emphatic unison.

“Frequently crossed arms is a sign someone is holding back something important,” James said, raising a finger knowledgeably, and Keith snorted, while Lance leaned on the armrest of the chair, in Shiro’s direction.

“So, what secrets are you hiding from me, Takashi?”

Shiro crossed over and put his hand on the back of Lance’s chair, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “Just how very much I love you.”

Lance caught the front of his shirt, turned his face up, and they kissed properly. “That’s no secret,” Lance snorted, clearly amused.

“No shit,” Keith said, leaned back in his chair and exchanging an amused glance with James.

“And speaking of secrets,” James said, “anyone feel like enlightening me as to how I’m still here right now? Because I really should be dead.”

The room immediately fell quiet.

James looked around at them. Keith folded his arms, met his eye for a quick second and looked away. Lance wouldn’t look at him at all, and Shiro had a pained expression on his face. “Yeah,” James said. “That’s what I figured.”

Shiro slipped his hand from the back of Lance’s chair to his shoulder and squeezed it. “We should go,” he said, and Keith stood.

“No,” James said. “I want to hear it from everyone.”

Shiro gave him an apologetic look, and Lance stood. “We’ll talk later,” Lance said, earnest and weirdly obedient, following Shiro to the door. James watched them go, Keith seeing them out—and his ears caught a few exchanged words, but nothing that made any kind of sense.

Keith closed the door behind them, held that pose for a moment before walking back to James’s hospital bed. He stopped and looked at James, as James tore the last of the bandages off his shoulder, the ones from his neck already strewn across the bed. “James,” Keith said, pained.

James bared his neck, lifted his chin, and said, “I had my fucking throat torn out, Keith, and there’s not a scratch on me. What did you do?”

Keith sat on the mattress, pushed the forgotten tray out of the way, and looked James in the eye. “You were bleeding out in the back of the Jeep,” he said. “We were too far away from everything, remember, Lance even fucking joked about it, before…” Keith sighed, looked away for a second before looking back at him. “You needed blood. Shiro gave you some.”

James exhaled once, pushed his hand back through his hair, and said, “holy shit, I thought you were gonna tell me you sold your soul in some kind of Faustian bargain or something, fucking hell.” He slid his hand down to his face, exhaled again shakily, and said, “he didn’t bite me? Just… a blood transfusion?”

“He would’ve, if I asked.” Keith looked down at his hands. “Maybe even if I didn’t, but it wasn’t the full moon.”

James rubbed his hand over his throat, the new skin raw and unmarred. “So...what. Am I a werewolf now? What does this mean?”

“I have no fucking idea.” Keith looked at him again, looked more tired than James had ever seen. “The full moon was a few nights ago, you didn’t change. Nothing changed, really. You just healed…really fast.”

“Is that why we’re still here, then? Am I under observation or something?”

“Yeah.”

James said, “yeah, okay, observation time is over.” He pulled at the IV for a second before Keith grabbed his wrist and yanked his hand away, leaning over him. “Let me go,” James snarled, and Keith didn’t release him, stared into his eyes and looked as remorseful as James had ever seen him.

“James,” Keith said softly. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want this--”

“Yeah,” James said, tried to shake Keith’s grip but didn’t have the strength to break it. “Neither did I.”

#voltron #jeith #werewolf au #bg shance #you may recognize the prologue as a slightly rewritten prompt from months ago #bc this has been percolating since i first wrote that #not that it matter much but this is set a few years down the line from most of the other werewolf au #someday i'll make an official timeline but today is not that day #the original plan was to have a chapter posted each day leading up to my birthday since i like to post a fic on my birthday #and that would have worked if this fic decided to be THREE CHAPTERS like I INTENDED and instead of FOUR #oh well i'll post the last two together on monday anyway #so a chapter a day for a few days is a nice splurge methinks #now to move for the first time in eight hours

[cowandcalf]

Writer’s Month 2020 - To Find A Way

Prompt No.2  - Quarantine

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Danny rubs the hand sanitizer between his palms. He pulls the face mask over his mouth and nose the moment he gets out of the car. They're in a Worldwide lockdown. It's unreal and insane what's going on. Two days ago, everything has been fine and now everything has flipped upside down. He can't wrap his mind around the chaos that has taken over. Grace is safe and at home with Rachel. He still breaks out in a sweat knowing there's an invisible threat creeping into his guarded world and he can't do shit about it. He misses his baby girl. No visitations but he calls her daily via face time.

The lockdown with its rules weighs heavy on everyone. Chin, Kono and he are with HPD and allowed to be outside. The workload has reduced drastically and Danny deals with the challenge of having too much spare time at hand. And that's the main reason his thoughts circle around a big handsome guy with strong, large hands who hugs a plant like a scared kitten. This unique and invested care for a flower, a flower, Danny saw a few days ago makes him draw a shaky breath now and then.

Jesus. This guy won't leave his thoughts. The confidence and self-esteem in every move have caught Danny's attention from the first encounter. But he's also sensed the invisible cracks. The flicker of Steve's eyes when Danny wasn't in his field of vision. The slight slip of his features when Steve couldn't find a bag for the plant. And the almost scared look when Danny went out the door with a flower Steve seemed to care so much for.

Danny's legs eat the distance to Kamekona's shrimp truck and seconds later he pounds at the closed door.

"Take out's not before twelve o'clock. Don't queue up! Don't mess with the rules! No food without a face mask." Kamekona's thunder voice hollers through the closed truck.

"It's me, big guy. Open the door. I'll have take out, three times, for Chin and Kono and myself. As I've agreed." Danny waits. "My mask is on, Kame! My hands are sanitized. Don't let me wait in this heat with my face half-covered. It's brutal out here. Come on."

The door opens an inch. "There's a box to your left, put the money in there. I only take cash, no cards."

They exchange food and money and the door closes again. "Wait, Kame, wait. Steve – I,"

The door stops mid-movement and gets pushed open with a jerk.

"Whoa, careful there. I almost dropped the food." Danny grabs the bags with both hands.

"What about Steve." Kamekona looks intimidating with his face half-covered behind a black mask. His big, shovel-like hands stuck in black rubber gloves and he wears a tent-size red apron with the print of his face – covered behind a black mask.

Danny chuckles and waves with the bag in his hand. "Don't you think you overdo it with the brand stuff?"

It's uncharacteristic for Kamekona not to get lost in a speech about business and keeping up with the top seller. He comes straight to the point. "Leave Steve alone. He's not a people's guy. He likes solitude.

Danny licks his lips. "You protect him. Why?"

Kamekona gets this stoic look when Danny touches a sensitive topic. The answer surprises him. "He's Kama'āina."

"And what else?" Danny can't feel the heat, can't feel how his shirt sticks to his damp back. "I'm – look, he has this thing about him –" he hopes Kamekona would chime in but he just stares at him. "He's ex-military, right? There was something odd in his behavior yesterday. He doesn't look like a guy who deals with flowers. It wasn't even a shop. It was more – "

"Yo, brah, Steve's not like all others. You needed a flower, he needed someone to drop by. I wanted to make sure he's okay. I haven't had the time to go check up on him last week."

"You check up on him? Why?" Danny's interest peaks. His heart thumps and his mouth turns dry. "Is he sick?"

"No more information." His friend has made up his mind. Danny recognizes the tone.

"Hand me another lunch bag." Danny digs into his pocket to get more money.

"For Steve?"

"Yep. He had a hard time when I took his plant. I could tell. I go and check up on him."

Kame eyes him gently. "Don't move too fast and don't talk too much.”

Danny's eyebrows climb up his forehead. "Something else, dude? A foot-rub maybe?"

"You don't know, Steve. He's –"

"Dangerous?" Danny teases.

"Just watch out and make sure he sees you all the time. It’s Lockdown, too. He’ll be twitchier than usual." The door to the truck closes with a soft click.

 Danny watches the front door of Steve's flower shop that looks more like an abandoned building with dusty windows surrounded by tamed jungle and big bushes. Countless pots with a variety of flowers mark the path that leads to the front door. He hasn't taken the time yesterday to take the scenery in. The wild beauty isn't chaotic at all if anything it's picturesque. Danny pays tribute to the attentiveness that has shaped this place.

Who's this guy? Danny performs the same procedure with hand sanitizer and face mask before he grabs the lunch bags on the passenger seat and gets out of the car. He knows Steve watches him. No one can drop by this place by accident. But so far, Danny hasn't been yelled at and shot at. So far, he counts this as being tolerated on the property.

He lifts his hand to knock on the door when a voice sharp as a blade barks a question behind his back. Shit. Danny hasn't seen or heard anything a second ago.

"What the hell are you doing here? Kamekona didn't call to tell me someone's coming."

"Hey, I brought –" Danny is about to turn around.

"Freeze!"

Like a gun shot the word impacts on Danny's eardrum. He lifts his arms to show he means no harm. He doesn't say a word and stands still. Holy fuck.

"Turn around, slowly and keep your hands up where I can see them."

Danny turns around. He faces a dangerous-looking man with dark hair who wears a white flimsy tank top covered in smudges of dirt. He stares at the gun in Steve's hand. Kamekona hasn't exaggerated. And Steve’s looks changed. Nothing resembles the behavior from yesterday.

"Pull your mask down." Steve moves like a tiger, with grace and power. He approaches slowly.

Danny breathes the earthy air with is eyes fixed on Steve's hard features. His jaw muscles pop prominently. "Hi, Steve. I brought lunch. Kame made your special dish, extra garlic, and lots of vegetables."

Steve's shoulders slump imperceptibly. Danny exhales with care. "Can I take my hands down?"

Steve comes closer. "Why did you come? I don't sell any flowers today, not ever again."

Danny's eyes drop to the broad shoulders and the golden, tanned skin. "Are you hungry?" Danny watches how Steve works his jaw and purses his lips. He lifts the bag with a fluent, slow motion. "Smells delicious and I'm sure you could need a refuel after you crawled through the jungle."

Steve scoffs, " I wasn't crawling through any jungle."

"But you're just as dirty as if – "

Steve walks toward the door without paying attention to Danny. Yeah, that's not true. This guy has eyes everywhere. Freaking Rambo. Steve flicks the gun safety on and pushes the weapon into the waistband of the back of his jeans. Danny's abs tense hard and he holds his breath. Yeah, well. His tongue flicks over his lips and his eyes drop to Steve's ass.

"I'm not eating outside." Steve shouts over his shoulder. He leaves the door ajar.

"You arrogant sonofabitch." Danny sputters flabbergasted.

TBC

Also on AO3 - To Find A Way

#writersmonth2020 #mcdanno #h50 #ficlet #mcdanno ficlet #cowandcalf writes #writing challenge #prompt fill #ongoing story #part 2

[wildroseofarran]

Plans for the Future || Captain Issott

Leslie: Leslie dropped another shell in his pocket. Quite a handful after an hour of strolling the beach. Calves and feet hidden behind perfect white sand. His nose was tender but ignored. Another shell gently cleaned and inspected.

Every offense to Regina Lawson was replayed. It was the little things. Forgetting to eat, dismissive of his own meditation. Irritability from his circumstances causing less than pleasant passes. A sharp look. A sigh. A forced smile. Pebbles became mountains. The man he was, was still the man walking the beach.

'The old me is gone,' people say in these situations. A ridiculous notion. People could improve, worsen, but they were the sum of their parts. He could smile now, sober, with the same kind intentions he was raised by, but Gina would forever carry every part of his sum.

Another shell for his pocket. Better to wait today.

Tristan: "You're gonna have me working like a dog, you know that?"

"Blame the mother-in-law for talking them into five courses!" Gina shook her head and handed Tristan a large bag.

Tristan took it and willed his stomach not to growl at the scent wafting from it. "Oh, I do. Gonna charge her out the ass."

Gina laughed. "So am I. Go on and eat that before it gets cold. I'll email you the purchase order."

"'Kay, thanks. See you soon."

Tristan emerged from the inn and immediately scanned the beach for Leslie, feeling decidedly cheerful despite the long hours of work in his future.

He was going to buy Les so many presents.

Leslie: Leslie was but a blond and blue speck in the distance. Rolled up jeans, shoeless, and nearly shirtless. His blue flannel mostly unbuttoned and arguing with the wind. Certainly not suitable for a luncheon. On purpose, of course, to better drive home how unsuitable he was to be there.

Tristan: Not just any speck; that was his speck. And maybe it was the romantic in him, but Tristan swore his eyes went right to Leslie with almost magical speed and accuracy.

He made his way over, stopping only once to pick up a piece of sea glass.

"Hey, sunshine," he called when Leslie was in earshot.

Leslie: A smile to mimic his namesake was given in greeting.

"I've found you a bounty!" he called. Turned to close the distance between them. Various cockle and murex on offer. More coquina than necessary.

Tristan: God, that smile was a beautiful punch to the gut.

"Look at you!" Leslie was greeted with a kiss the second he was close enough. "My fish tanks are gonna look so good."

Leslie: "How did it go?" he asked. Pocketed his findings and began setting himself to rights.

Tristan: “Got the gig and also a king’s ransom of work. Five course meal for one hundred and fifty people.”

Leslie: "All seafood? Really?" Color him impressed.

Tristan: “Only three of them, unless they decide to put fish in the dessert and the salad.”

Leslie: "Shrimp in a salad is delicious, I'll have you know. Scallops are better." Seafood dessert? The idea put a cringe on his face.

"A customer once tried to convince me shrimp and white chocolate go together."

Tristan: Tristan made a face of pure disgust. "Ew, no. It was a tourist, wasn't it?"

Leslie: "One of the first when I started with Myrtle."

Tristan: He shook his head. "That's some nonsense only someone who didn't grow up eating seafood would like."

Leslie: "I can't say I've heard worse."

Tristan: "I don't think anyone has, honestly." Taste couldn't get much worse than mixing seafood and white chocolate.

He held up the bag. "Hungry, sugar pie?"

Leslie: Leslie looked from the bag to Tristan. "Did you actually eat lunch or ...?"

Tristan: "Nope, got us lunch to go. Baked cod, salad, and some bread."

Leslie: "Tristie." He could just manage to sound disappointed. Baked cod sounded absolutely delicious.

Tristan: "Hey, it still counts as a lunch meeting if lunch is involved in some way. Besides, this way I get to eat with you."

Leslie: That sigh through his nose was of utter disapproval. He would have to make himself scarce next time.

"Where do you want to eat?"

Tristan: A kiss to the cheek was offered in apology. Leslie didn't have to say a word; that sigh said it for him.

"Anywhere you want, sweetheart. I can grab the blanket I've got in my truck and we can have a picnic or we could go home or to the square. The town is your oyster."

Leslie: He felt the kiss for its worth. His mind was made up, but this was no hill to die on.

"Somewhere with good light. I have something to show you on my phone. Preferably a laptop. Home, then?"

Tristan: Tristan nodded. "Home it is. Your place or mine?"

Leslie: "Yours is closer. Mine is what I want to talk about."

Tristan: “Oh yeah? Well now I’m intrigued,” said Tristan, holding his free hand out to Leslie.

Leslie: The offer was taken and brought to his lips. A few playful bites to follow.

Tristan: He chuckled and tugged Leslie closer to kiss him.

"I better get you fed before you start eating me."

Leslie: "You'll taste like seafood, too. When was the last time you had a land mammal?"

Tristan: "Couple days ago. I was craving a hotdog like you wouldn't believe."

Leslie: "That's not mammal. That's an abomination."

Tristan: "It's beef! The proper hot dog way!"

Leslie: "There's enough sodium to kill a horse - that it's probably made of anyway."

Tristan: “Come on now, don’t ruin hotdogs. They are good wholesome junk food made of cows and not horses.”

Leslie: "Keep telling yourself that, love."

Tristan: "I will." Have another kiss. "All right, baby, let's go home."

Leslie: "I'll drive." Announced while climbing into the driver's seat.

Tristan: “Ain’t gotta tell me twice,” said Tristan, sliding into the passenger’s seat and handing over the keys.

“You know what we need? A hammock.”

Leslie: "Where are we gonna buy one out here?"

Tristan: “That I don’t know. Think Home Depot sells them?”

Leslie: "Are we going to Home Depot?"

Tristan: “Nah, not today. But it’s been on my mind. The weather we’ve been having makes me wanna nap outside with you.”

Leslie: "We'll have to look into it, then."

Tristan: “Hell yeah.”

Tristan spent the ride home sharing more of the details of his meeting with Leslie. It was the biggest contract he’d gotten in a while; enough to put some money where it was needed and have some leftover for a decent bonus.

Leslie: Talk of money with Tristan. Little slaps of reality. Not entirely sure of his decisions. A lingering ailment of his past.

"How many investors do you have?"

Tristan: "Just the one. I've had a few really great years, the Adrianna is in beautiful shape. Business is good."

Leslie: "Would you be uncomfortable with my contributing?"

Tristan: He smiled. "You wanna invest in my fishing business?"

Leslie: "I do, but I don't want any say in what you do."

Tristan: "What percentage would you like?"

Leslie: "This is so much easier on Robinhood."

Tristan: Tristan chuckled. "You don't want a percentage? Can I tempt you with a small token at the end of my fiscal year?"

Leslie: Leslie put his best effort into a sober tone. One difficult to do in Tristan's presence. Not unlike their first night together. "I don't want you to feel like I have something over you, in the future."

Tristan: "Les, come on. I know that's not who you are. If I thought for a second that you were offering for any reason other than genuinely helping me, I wouldn't accept. And I know you wouldn't offer for any other reason."

Leslie: Softly he sighed. "How about we... we touch base on the subject again after what I have to tell you when we're home."

Tristan: "Okay, baby, that's fine. Kinda making me a little nervous." Was Leslie about to tell him some heavy life-altering thing? Had something awful happened?

Leslie: Tristan's tone told him to take his hand and give a mighty squeeze. "Get out of your head. It's not like that."

Tristan: He squeezed back. "You sure? I'm getting a capital 's' Serious feeling."

Leslie: "You think I'd be holding your hand right now if I planned something like that?"

Tristan: “I don’t know.” He smiled. “You could be about to tell me my face turned blue and ugly in the middle of the night and you’re trying to soften the blow.”

Leslie: "I know I tease, but you should know me better than that. I'd tell you your face is blue immediately," he grinned.

Tristan: “Awww, thank you, babydoll.” He brought Leslie’s hand to his lips. “Did you know I love you?”

Leslie: "No fucking idea! Holy shit, really?"

Tristan: “Really really. Crazy, I know.”

Leslie: "I know there is a balance, and things will happen the way they are meant to, and Fate only has one eye, but I'm still stumped at the two of us."

Tristan: “At how it took us so long and how we managed to end up here?”

Leslie: "Mhm."

Tristan: “Well, things slow down when you’ve only got one eye that you have to share with your sisters.”

Leslie: "Could also just say we're idiots."

Tristan: “Yeah, that too,” he chuckled.

Leslie: Leslie pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. Keys tossed between hands as he stared out the window.

Tristan: "Talk to me about what's going on in that head, doll."

Leslie: "Your nervousness has rubbed off on me."

Tristan: "Sorry about that. Mama always said I emoted a lot."

Leslie: "You emote all you want."

Tristan: Tristan leaned over and kissed Leslie's cheek. "Come on, let's have some lunch."

Leslie: "Right." Tristan was helped inside. Locking the truck with the fob before shutting the front door and tossing the keys on the nearest table.

"Where's your laptop?"

Tristan: He set the food down in the kitchen and set about gathering bowls and forks.

"It iiiiiis.....on the bed. Should be charged and ready to go."

Leslie: He returned with the laptop and a lack of shirt. The results of his beach stroll apparent on his shoulders and chest.

"Alright. I'll pull up what I wanted to talk about. I want your honesty. That's all I want."

Tristan: "If honesty is what you want, then I'm here to give it to you." He started plating their meal. "Lay it on me."

Leslie: Pictures were downloaded from his email and minimized. Leslie leaned back in his seat and itched at his burn.

"A lot of love went into my house, but," deep breath, "I'm...thinking about tearing it down and expanding. But the thing is...I..."

Tristan: Tristan walked over, gesturing with a bowl. "Hey, hey, hey, leave that sunburn alone. I'll slather it in aloe here in a bit."

He leaned in to look at the laptop, only to lean back out in surprise. Not any negative surprise either. "You wanna expand? That's great!" He gestured again. "What's that hesitation for? Don't know how big you wanna go?"

Leslie: A song Tristan had sung before. Funny, he couldn't recall Oliver getting similar treatment. Another sign he should have noticed.

"It'll be healed by tomorrow." He could invest a conscious effort, but he simply didn't want to.

"No. Not that. Clive's had some blueprints in mind the moment he saw my place. It's just deciding between them. But...these weren't drawn with anyone else in mind. I don't...know...what kind of future I'm going to have and how many people should be included."

Tristan: That didn’t mean Leslie couldn’t be comfortable until then, but there were bigger fish to fry at the moment.

Very significant and important fish.

Tristan took a seat beside Leslie and reached for one of his hands. “And you want to know if now that we’re here, they should be revisited, right?”

Leslie: Tristan could have one of his hands. The other to fidget beneath the table.

"We've only just started. I don't want you to feel pressured into anything about the house, or why I want this. But the thing is... It feels wrong to move forward without your input. If why I want this, if any of it is too much, I won't - I won't guilt you into being with me. I won't do anything like that. I promise. We have to have the same vision and I don't know if we have the same vision. I'm just... verbal diarrhea right now. Sorry! You know that Charles - my friend you met with the locked chest, that Charles - runs a school for gifted children. Gifted like... me, kind of gifted. But not me. They call themselves mutants. There are these two girls. Ruby and Ester. They... They don't have family..."

Tristan: A soft smile played at Tristan's lips as he listened. He didn't mind the wave of words and thoughts; he wanted to know, wanted to understand, wanted to have the full picture in front of him. He liked to think he and Leslie were open books for each other, and that made conversations like this matter all the more.

"We have only just started, but when you think about it, we also haven't. Yeah it took us a while to get to this exact spot, but we've been with each other for years. I don't know, maybe it's me being a romantic or me being idealistic, but I've let my mind go to that place. To the wedding bells and the house and the kids running around. Not to say I want the bells right the hell now, I would never push that on you or pressure you.

"But I've always been able to see us take those kinds of big steps." He kissed Leslie's knuckles. "The way I grew up made me wanna have kids. My mom made me wanna have kids. For me it was never an if, it was always a when, and I'd like that when to be with you. It feels right that it's you. Right and good.

"Tell me about Ruby and Ester."

Leslie: "It does sound romantic. I love romance, I do, but I also know... this house... " Leslie waved his free hand. "This didn't happen in a day. I remember all the times you went on and on about projects. Here I'm talking about a new house. Children."

Swallowing, determined to push the conversation as Tristan encouraged.

"They're made of rubies and diamonds. They're hungry for knowledge. Not just about what I can do, but everything. Just touching on a subject they don't know, they dive into it. Ruby especially. She's fiercely protective. Ester is nurturing. They've been through so much. I'm... I'm scared. I've wanted to be a father for years, but I don't know how to - where to begin this."

Tristan: Now that took Tristan aback. Not the children themselves, no, it wasn't that.

"Rubies and diamonds? Actual rubies and diamonds that people make jewelry with? And they call that a mutation?" He gave a breathless chuckle and shook his head. "That's so much more. That's something bordering on ethereal and...divine. Two protective and nurturing little girls should know nothing but nurturing and protection.

"And I can't think of anyone better suited for that than you. No one knows how to be a parent until they are one. Mama says she became a parent the day she decided to keep me. I think that once you make that choice, that's it. You're a parent."

Leslie: "Charles is... apprehensive of their learning witchcraft. I tried to explain that a good education is better than delving into something way over their head because they have no one. We all were raised with guidance. If a witch is determined to go down that road, they will, no matter the cleared path in front of them, but -"

Leslie closed his eyes. Well aware of how he must look. His usual confidence, impressive even by his perspective, had receded like a tide.

"The end of the day, they have to want me to be their father. By the time the house is done, they might not. I might just be a novelty to them. And Charles... Charles could say no. He has the final say. I can state my case, but I'm not going to fight him. And also, none of this is going to happen if you don't want it to."

Tristan: "I don't know your friend Charles all that well, but it...surprises me that he can have two kids in his care made of precious stones and be apprehensive of witchcraft. From what you've told me, it's not even something--I don't know, unnatural? that they'd be diving into. It's in them already, in everyone."

While Leslie's eyes were closed, Tristan leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead. It was hard to miss that shaky confidence, and even harder to miss the reason.

"Leslie Issott, you could never be just a novelty to anybody. Not to me, not to those kids, not to anyone. I am in this with you. I want this with you. If Charles says no, it'll be to both of us, after we've made our case."

Leslie: That was precisely the point Leslie wanted to make for anyone interested in the craft. And Tristan just said it. Just accepted it. Damn near rendered his witch speechless. Only finding his voice after the press of lips to his skin.

"Y-Yeah. Exactly." Eyes slowly opened. "Are you sure? Tristie, I want you to be sure you mean what you say."

Tristan: Leslie would see a brilliantly smiling Tristan looking back at him. “There is nothing in my life I’ve been more sure of than you. I want to build a home and a family with you.”

Leslie: A deep breath later, Leslie nodded. Something felt off, but he couldn't put his finger on what. This was what he wanted to hear, but something felt missing. What that was, he couldn't see. Beyond a fog and just out of reach.

But he would smile anyway. "Want me to show you the blueprints?"

Tristan: Tristan kissed his witch's cheeks. This was only the first of many conversations they would probably end up having on the subject, he was certain. And that was exactly the way it should be. One conversation simply wasn't enough when you were talking about your future together with someone.

"Show them to me while we eat. Our stomachs and your blood sugar are going to start complaining at us here in a bit."

Leslie: "You mean my blood sugar," he smirked.

Tristan: “That’s what I said, you beautiful man.” Have more kisses to your face. “What do you want to drink?”

Leslie: "Thought you said our," he laughed as he was kissed. "Just water. I think I had the last of the tea."

Tristan: That laugh would never not be absolute music to his ears. It made him want to shower Leslie with more kisses and affection but he'd save that for later.

For now he got both of them some water and settled in to look at blueprints.

"All right, sweetheart, show me your vision."

Leslie: Sometimes all those affectionate names could be overwhelming. He knew they came from a place of honesty. The look in Tristan's eyes, it was impossible to think otherwise. But still, sometimes, he caught himself wondering if this was Callum's work. Leading a man on and dropping him. Those dropped pieces were delicate. He really did not like that druid.

But the witch just smiled, pulling up blueprints for two designs his father had drawn. A larger A-frame than his current model, and something a little more contemporary for the area. Larger ceilings versus a more intimate feel.

Tristan: Tristan took a bite of his salad and took a good look at the design, unaware of Leslie's thoughts and worries. Had he known them, he would've done his best to lay them to rest. The last thing he wanted was for his slew of nicknames to seem like they came from a place of overcompensation or some sort of residual issue. They came purely from fondness.

"I really like all the windows and that it's still an A frame. The upstairs, too. All that storage space."

Leslie: "I could flip a coin and live in either. I'm partial, but no one can beat these designs. I want a large kitchen. Maybe culinary lessons in the future. Private chef will only go so far in this town. So, classes."

Tristan: "I really like the porch on the one with the bigger kitchen, and the part that's screened in."

Tristan smiled. "You'd make a great cooking teacher, and private chef, and caterer. You could do it all."

Leslie: "But which kitchen, which house would best give me that?"

Tristan: “The bigger one that’s not an A frame, I think.”

Leslie: "Can you see yourself there?"

Tristan: “Maybe I’m biased because I live somewhere with a screened patio/porch area and I really like it, but yeah. I totally can. And look at that huge deck. You could grow so many magic plants on that deck. And I can get us some Adirondack chairs and we can sit out there in the evenings.”

Leslie: "I'll give it some more thought, but I'll let you know what I choose." Leslie stared at the screen for some time. "But..."

Tristan: “Honestly, whichever you choose will be amazing. They’re both great designs.”

Tristan turned back to Leslie. “...But?” he prompted softly.

Leslie: "Is this supposed to be only my decision? Do you want to live with me? See my craft day in and out? It's more than just herbs and playing with pixies."

Tristan: “I don’t know, yes, and yes.” He set his plate aside. “Part of me thinks that since you bought this house, your opinion holds more weight than mine. I do want to live with you. I want to wake up to you and fall asleep with you and see your magic and learn more about it and about you through it. I want to understand it all, not just the herbs and playing with pixies.

“Do you want to live with me?”

Leslie: "But that would mean," Leslie looked around Tristan's home. "That would mean the end of this, wouldn't it? I feel like one of Peter Pan's lost boys. Asking us to live together means growing up in a way I don't know if I'm ready for."

The laptop was closed.

"I want to live with you. But I think, first, I need to... do some things."

Tristan: Tristan mimicked Leslie and looked around at his furniture and trinkets. “This being my house? It is definitely a grown-up thing to do, moving in with your boyfriend, but it’s not an end. Well, it’s an end to living alone but it’s also a beginning.”

Still, he nodded. “You do what you have to, Les. We’re not on a deadline, there’s no rush. But if it would help, maybe we could do a trial run?”

Leslie: "A trial run, as in, my being here?"

Tristan: “Yeah, or my being at your house. Why don’t we live together for a couple weeks, see how we feel?”

Leslie: Leslie took a breath. "What would you say to, a counteroffer?"

Tristan: “Lay it on me.”

Leslie: "While the house is built, I live with you?"

Tristan: He smiled. “Works for me. Work for you?”

Leslie: "The house with the largest kitchen, can you see yourself there?"

Tristan: “I’m already in it putting our chairs on the deck and hanging up those cool backyard string lights like you see in magazines.”

Leslie: "All of your shells, your fish?"

Tristan: “How you do feel about living with fish, shells, nautical antiques, and the occasional rehabilitated hermit crab?”

Leslie: "As well as I hope you'll feel with spell books, dried herbs, and a record player."

Tristan: "I feel pretty good about spell books, herbs, and a record player. Got a ton of records from my mama we can play."

Leslie: His smile bloomed. "Will you have me for however long it takes?"

Tristan: "However long and then some."

Leslie: Leslie brought himself to his feet and into Tristan's arms. "I'll start putting things in storage, then."

Tristan: He was immediately embraced and kissed on his forehead.

“Let me know any way I can help. And also the best place for Opal’s cage.”

Leslie: "Maybe out there?" Tristan's face was held in both hands, given several kisses across the forehead and down the nose.

Tristan: Tristan smiled and closed his eyes, basking in the affection. “Out in the patio? She can have the fish as roommates.”

Leslie: "She might try n'eat the fish. We gotta find a way to keep her out."

Tristan: “The tank out there has a top that goes to it, just have to put it on. And the one by the stairs is covered all the time so the fish should be safe.”

Leslie: "I know I'm gorgeous and irresistible and fun at parties, but do you really, really want me day in and day out for what could be a year?"

Tristan: Tristan nodded. “You sure are and I definitely do. I want you in my bed all the time, to fall asleep to you and wake up to you.”

Leslie: Sounds better than a proposal. "I'm whelmed just the right amount right now. Kiss me?"

Tristan: “The perfect amount of whelmed, huh?” Tristan leaned in to kiss those beautiful lips. “I’m glad.”

Leslie: "Just right. Suffocating in happiness. Up to my ears in elation," he grinned.

Tristan: He laughed and kissed all over Leslie's face. "I'm even more glad. Hell, I'm friggin' delighted." One more kiss for good measure.

"Eat your food. Gotta nourish that beautiful body."

Leslie: "But what if I'd rather ravish your body?"

Tristan: "Far be it from me to stop you, but your blood sugar definitely will."

Leslie: "Thirty minutes? I'll survive thirty long luxurious minutes with you."

Tristan: "Okay, thirty minutes. I'm setting a timer though, to keep us both honest."

Leslie: "Timed sex? Sounds sterile."

A knowing smile his only tell, before lifting Tristan into his arms.

"How about that? Hmm?" To hell with a bedroom. The nearest cushioned surface would do.

Tristan: "I'd rather sterile than--oop!" A rather squeaky sound of surprise escaped Tristan as he was scooped up and carried to the couch, followed by an equally surprised laugh.

"You got me! Whatcha gonna do with me, oh mighty sexy witch?"

Leslie: There was something satisfying to carrying the man determined to haul him this where and that for the past months. He would be placed on the couch with a little more care than his lift. A witch between his legs, on his knees. Hands on either side.

"Do you mind if I do whatever I want?"

Tristan: Satisfying for them both. Tristan hummed and stretched as luxuriously as a cat, looking up at Leslie with a soft, adoring smile.

"I don't mind one bit. I'm all yours to do with whatever you will."

Leslie: "Whatever I will?" Tristan's shirt was slowly lifted, revealing a stomach worth kissing. "Are you sure?"

Tristan: He nodded. “I’m sure, baby. I trust you.”

Leslie: Please protect this beautiful body and mind and spirit, whispered against his skin. His prayer was safe and mysterious in Portuguese. His little secret. Kisses roamed from one side to the other. Buttons slowly undone for further blessed exploration.

Tristan: Tristan looked curiously at Leslie, wondering what language he was speaking but loath to interrupt. He could always ask later.

At the moment he was content to be loved on and explored, to let one of his hands play with Leslie's hair.

And if Leslie wanted to slide his jeans down, well Tristan would oblige that, too.

Leslie: He was going to enjoy every stage of undress. Socks, jeans, underwear, all pooled to his side and forgotten. The last was done sacredly, sliding hands underneath Tristan's shirt, slow in their climb over his ribs and encouraging the lift of his arms to do away with the final bit of barrier.

Tristan: He hardly needed any encouragement at all. He happily stretched his arms above his head so Leslie could finish undressing him, all the while growing more and more curious about what his boyfriend planned to do with his naked sailor.

"Want me to take my hair down?" Tristan whispered. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Leslie: "Absolutely down," he smiled. "Do you want me naked?"

Tristan: Tristan reached around to take the various ties out of his hair. "Every hour god sends, baby doll."

Leslie: His hands were taken, brought to the hem of Leslie's shirt. His smile unshakeable.

Tristan: "I get to do it?" Tristan sat up, smile matching Leslie's as he did away with his shirt. "Lucky me."

Leslie: "Luck does many things. Maybe luck brought me to a little fishing town."

But enough of that. Tristan's hands were returned to himself. Just a moment of tease. Keep those hands to yourself while I kiss your swollen needy body.

Tristan: "Maybe it did. And if it did, I'm grateful for it every single day."

Any protest Tristan had at being stopped in the middle of undressing Leslie died on his lips as those kisses touched his skin.

Tristan reached for him, suddenly needy for those kisses everywhere.

Leslie: A gentle protesting noise answered Tristan's wanting touch. He turned his head to find the wandering hand, kissed his palm. "Keep your hands to yourself, Tristie."

Tristan: “Aw, but you’re so pretty and half naked and touchable.”

Leslie: "Tell me more." While I kiss where you want most.

His warm tongue traced the shape, down the length to nuzzle his scrotum.

Tristan: "You're--mmmmm....." Tristan's back arched off the couch in pure pleasure, eyes closing of their own accord as sensation washed over him. He could swear he felt all the blood in his body rushing through his veins to pool between his legs and harden him nearly to the point of ache. It was pure hell not being able to reach for him.

Leslie was perfect, is what he was, and as soon as some of the blood rushed back to Tristan's head, he'd make sure to tell him that.

Leslie: Saying more than words could manage. He took him and swallowed, popped him from his mouth and went again. Down to his scrotum and back for more. This was deliberate sweet torment. An appetizer.

"Lube, baby?"

Tristan: Tristan's back arched again as a ragged moan was torn from somewhere in his chest. Maybe from his soul. He couldn't quite tell when his brain was leaking out his ears. All he knew was that the heat between his legs was spreading throughout his body and making that needy ache better and making it worse all at once.

"Uh...um...." He gestured toward where he thought the bathroom was. "Cabinet."

Leslie: "I want you ready for me by the time I get back." Back on his feet, shedding the last of his clothes for Tristan's viewing pleasure. Slowly and deliberate as his tongue. His briefs were tossed onto Tristan's lap before strolling to the bathroom.

Tristan: Leslie's departure was met with a mighty groan of protest, which was easily soothed as his witch finished getting naked. Viewing pleasure didn't even begin to cover it; it was pure torture of the best kind.

"M'ready for you now," he called after Leslie, tossing the briefs aside and stretching luxuriously. Everything was throbbing and begging for relief. "Come back, baby doll. I miss youuuuuu..."

Leslie: Leslie would be heard laughing from the bathroom. A quick swish of Listerine and a bottle of lube later he returned to straddle Tristan's lap, offering minty lips as he slicked two fingers for prep.

"Are you allowed to say you miss me? Dunno if you should."

Tristan: Tristan greeted Leslie with a slow grin, pulling him in for a kiss the second he was within reach. "Aw, come on. I'm already not allowed to touch you. Have mercy on a poor weak sailor."

Leslie: "Hmm." Lubrication was warmed in his hand, stroked over Tristan's tumescent cock.

"We need more condoms." Not for any other reason than textural pleasure. "Ready for me?"

Tristan: It felt like his whole body breathed a sigh of relief at Leslie's touch, even if it was short-lived. His shaft damn near twitched in a silent plea for more.

"I'm ready," he said with a vigorous nod. They could get condoms later. It was still afternoon right? Was he saying all this out loud? He couldn't tell with his blood roaring in his ears.

Leslie: The air left his lungs as he sank into Tristan's lap. That familiar wave of heat ascending to his chest, leaving a void preventing another breath. His first intake of breath was against Tristan's lips. Holding his face in both hands as he moaned with relief.

Tristan: Tormented relief. That's exactly how it felt being inside Leslie, how it felt having him exactly where he wanted him. He had to take a deep breath while he let himself adjust to the wet heat, tiny panting moans spilling from his lips. No matter how slowly his witch got into position, it was always a shock to his system in the best possible way. Had to be the magic.

"Les...Les...."

Leslie: Fingers pushed into Tristan's luxurious hair. Squeezed and made a bun with the tangles of his fists. Rather than bounce, he rolled himself forward and back, grunting softly cheek-to-cheek.

"Fuck me, Tristie. Touch me now."

Tristan: Tristan's hands were on Leslie before he could finish his sentence. They swept over his witch's body from shoulders to perfect ass and back again, all while his hips began a rolling rhythm of their own.

His lips would be just as busy, lavishing every bit of Leslie they could reach with affection. You'd think Tristan had gone weeks without touching and kissing him instead of a few minutes.

Leslie: Leslie leaned forward, giving Tristan ample freedom to thrust himself upwards at a rhythm worthy enough to jostle his senses. He clung to his head and offered his mouth, his tongue, and his desperate noises to their kiss.

Tristan: Calling his movements a rhythm was perhaps a bit too generous, but what Tristan lacked in finesse he made up for in enthusiasm.

There would be other occasions for savoring, for lingering, for teasing. On this moment on this occasion, all Tristan wanted was more of those gorgeous, needy little noises. Leslie was the center of the universe and the only thing that mattered was bringing him to orgasm; Tristan didn't have the presence of mind for anything else.

Leslie: This was a desperate cling, and he could feel the beginning stages of sweat. He had to let go of that hair and help himself, but he couldn't. Not yet. Just a few more rolls of his hips. One more rise to the very edge and down to the hilt and his sanity.

"Can you jerk me off?" Finally releasing Tristan's hair, he leaned himself back in his living seat. Both hands squeezed Tristan's knees as he braced himself.

Tristan: Leslie didn't have to ask. Tristan was already taking his witch in his hand, lovingly stroking Leslie's cock while his hips continued their desperate pace.

"That feel good, sweetheart? You're so fucking beautiful."

Leslie: A series of expletives escaped his chest. Not with or against his will. His mind too far north to care about fuck filling the room over and over again as he writhed, spilling hot white over his stomach and both their thighs.

And there it was. That post-orgasm laughter tightening his muscles. Head thrown back as he clung his hands to Tristan's knees.

"Cum for me, baby."

Tristan: The word fuck had never sounded better or more poetic.

Tristan gave a rumbling purr in approval, dragging Leslie down to take his lips again. He wanted the flavor of him making his head swim as he gave those final few thrusts and spilled inside him.

Leslie: Leslie shivered in Tristan's arms. Hugged around his neck and nuzzled into his hair. His thighs and cock were spent. Leaning dying weight into his lover's chest.

"I don't... even... remember what we were doing."

Tristan: Having Leslie lean his weight against him was what Tristan lived for. He loved it.

"Um..." He chuckled breathlessly and kissed Leslie's hair. "No fuckin' idea. I smell food though."

Leslie: "I want to eat everything in the house, but I'm so tired," he laughed.

Tristan: "You need to eat everything in the house. Blood sugar."

Leslie: "Five more minutes," he pleaded to those lips.

Tristan: "Three," Tristan countered with a teeny tiny kiss.

Leslie: "We won't know," he purred, eyes closing.

Tristan: "Mmm, you're right. Guess that means you better eat now," he said a grin.

Leslie: "Three minutes." It's already been one.

#Plans for the Future chapter #leslieeissott #tristanseger

[rogue-barnes-16]

HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF

Suggested prompt: Ari is sent on a new mission with the reader... They have history together.

Pairing: Ari Levinson x reader

Genre: angst-ish

Tags:

Suggested by: @writerwithfluffysocks @ari-levinson

Ari Levinson: @capsiclesdoll

Permanent taglist: @notexactlythatgirl @thisismysecrethappyplace @sofreakinmanyfandoms @pizzarollpatrol @bubblycypress87 @1a-girl-has-no-name1 @loislp @lovenaturefirst @dyanna-corona @2ptonpt @goodnightmode @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mannls @cutie1365 @catch22inareddress @mybooradley @sebastianisasnack @butifulsoul125 @unlikelygalaxygiver

Warnings: language, shooting, mentions of wounds

A/N: here it goes my first Ari Levinson x reader fic, hope you enjoy darlings <3.

Rogue-barnes-16 masterlist

"Miss Y/l/n!" Little tugs on my hand made me turn around redirecting my attention to the little girl besides me who seemed to be craving it.

"What's it, Shira?" I questioned, bending the knee to be eye to eye with the kid.

"That man." She pointed at the opposite side of the room, where the open door communicated the class with the outside. "He says he wants to talk with you."

I spun my head to meet Ethan's eyes. "Shit." He gave me a smile, leaning against the wooden door frame. "Thank you, Shira." I flashed a smile at the kid and stood up.

"Y/n" he motioned at the kids, currently playing. "I see you didn't waste your time."

"why are you here, Ethan?"

His eyes shifted to mine. "Your vacations are over. You have a mission."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

My eyes were fixed on the view I had through my window the whole drive in that shitty pickup truck.

When Ethan wouldn't give away the name of my partner, I suspected something was off, so I couldn't say that I had been entirely surprised to see Ari's face in the airport.

"Didn't know he'd send you." Ari attempted to break the ice, although it wasn't an easy task.

"I didn't know you were the partner." We stayed in a new kind of silence that turned out to be way more uncomfortable than the first one. "Where's Sammy?"

He cleared his throat. "He left." his statement made me look at him for the first time since we left the airport. "Apparently, I'm fucking reckless, an asshole, and never have a plan."

"He ain't lying." I commented, leaning against the backrest. "Oh c'mon!" I exclaimed, acknowledging the anger in his eyes when he spared me a glare. "Y'know it's true, that's why you're mad."

He let out a humorless laugh, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. "Fuck y'know me so well, don't you?" Sarcasm dripped from his tongue as if it was poison.

I rolled my eyes, aware that starting a fight wouldn't help us at all. "Where are we staying?"

"Why?"

"Ethan mentioned you'd been compromised."

"A friend got us a room." he informed me, taking a turn to the left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

We arrived at the hotel room, and not many words were exchanged during the daytime, but when the sun fell, we had no option but to talk, since we had to discuss the plan he had.

Or more likely, the plan that he didn't have.

"No" I shook my head no, sat on the crappy hotel bed. "That's not a solid plan. That's not even a fucking plan."

"What the hell do you mean?" he questioned, offended. "it worked 'til now." a tilt of his head accompanied his statement. "I'd say it's a good plan."

I buried my face on my palms, bending forward. "Okay, first off," I looked up at him again. "If it had worked til now, I'm sure Sammy wouldn't have left, and wouldn't be here. And second" he slightly shifted his posture, letting himself rest against the wall. "I'd say it's a shitty strategy, but got lucky."

"I don't see the problem." he replied, shrugging.

"yeah well I do." he clenched his jaw and I let out a exasperated sigh. "Ari, you've been compromised thanks to your 'plan', and you don't wanna change it."

"It's not the first time this happens, and-"

"Yeah, that's the fuckin' problem!" I raised my voice, hopping off the bed. "you keep doing this, and it always ends with your life on the line" he attempted to interrupt me but I kept throwing my tantrum. "and you drag everyone with you!"

He pushed himself off the wall, a frown formed in his face. "is this 'cause of Tangier? Because that one ain't on me, it's on you. You got in the way when Rachel warned not to."

"First of all, what the fuck?" my voice was now low, shocked that he pulled that card after what had happened in that city, not just the great disaster that his plan turned out to be, but also what we had had there. "it doesn't matter. Tangier, Khartoum, or any other mission, it's always the same, and I'm not willing to die for you." Not anymore, I thought. "so right fucking now, tell me we're changing that fuckin' shit to an actual plan."

He knew I was right, but he wouldn't say it. "it's late," he grunted, unbuttoning his shirt without sparing me a single look. "let's just go to sleep."

Exhaling, I grabbed a tank top and shorts from my bag and started to change my clothes.

Once I was done, I climbed on the bed and lay down, ready to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I huffed, running my hands over my face.

Sleeping had become an impossible task, because damn, it was fucking hot in that tiny room, and I was sweating.

I sat on the bed, careful not to wake Ari, who seemed to have accomplished the goal that I had been chasing for at least a couple of hours.

I got rid of the shorts and, right after having pulled my tank top over my head, I felt a shift on the mattress before Ari's digits ghosted over the scar on my back. "this should've been on my chest."

The scar left there by an asshole's gun who had been aiming at Ari; the scar that worked as a reminder of what had exactly triggered the disaster in Tangier.

"I'm sorry." his thumb traced the line that remained there after Sammy's improvised sewing. "Don't know why the fuck I said that. You're right, I always drag people down with me." his fingers lingered on my skin just for a moment before he retreated his hand.

I breathed out. "it was the heat of the moment." When he didn't say anything, I turned around. "you okay?"

He gave me a lazy nod, his eyes lost somewhere in his darkest memories. "I really am a fucking asshole, and I never learn."

"You're kind of an ass." I agreed as he closed his eyes. "and you never learn, but you get shit done better than anyone. And" I poked his chest, making him open one eye. "you got a great heart, so don't torture yourself that much 'kay?"

He opened his eyes again, this time with a half smile. "I missed you, Y/n."

I mirrored his expression and held back the 'I missed you too' that I so badly wanted to say. "Alright, Levinson."

His smile grew wider, and the ghosts that had been chasing his blue eyes transformed into the happiness that used to show up in his pupils whenever I smiled. The only difference was that now, that happiness was stained with regret and melancholy. "Sometimes I wonder how it would have been if I hadn't fucked up." his eyes got lost again. "Wish things were different."

I pursed my lips, stopping myself from saying that I did too often wondered about what we could have been if things hadn't gotten in the way.

That I wondered if we would have been happy together.

I let myself fall besides him. "alright, go to sleep, 'cause tomorrow we gotta sort a shit ton of stuff out."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Everyone move to the back, now!" I shouted, helping the people we were helping to climb to the truck. "c'mon c'mon c'mon!"

I heard shotguns closer and closer, and when I turned around, I saw Ari sprinting towards us with a girl in his arms.

"fuckin' shit." I muttered, jogging to him to lend a hand. "Holy fuck. Holy fuck." I cursed, seeing the Jeep driving in our direction.

I pulled out my gun and started to shoot. "Get inside!" Ari shouted, almost throwing the girl into the truck before tugging wrapping his hands around my waist, sweeping me off my feet and pushing me to the front of the truck at the same time as he shielded me, just in case the bullets reached us. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck!"

I jumped inside and tugged him with me, starting the engine while he was sitting up properly. "Get us the hell out of here!"

We took off, following the route that we had carefully traced five days ago; a route perfect for us to lose the Jeep that was right behind us.

It took us around half an hour, but it worked.

Ari stopped the truck once we were safe and, as I let myself fall against the backrest, he rested his forehead against the steering wheel.

"we did it." I spoke, a little surprised.

"we did it." he repeated pulling himself up to mimic my posture.

His eyes were trained on mines and vice-versa.

Our breathing was heavy and ragged as we both dug our eyes into one another's with a feeling that wasn't easy to fight in this conditions; a feeling that I thought had been long forgotten.

His gaze flickered to my lips for a second and, when I subconsciously licked them, he gulped "I need air." he grunted, kicking the door open before climbing off the truck.

I didn't think twice before jumping off the truck and stalking to were he was now standing.

Before he could say a word, I grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a kiss which, as soon as he reciprocated it, became rough and needy.

His hands gripped my hips, pulling me as close as possible as we desperately devoured each other's lips as if they were water in the dessert; as if they were the air we breathed.

I pulled apart only when it was completely necessary for us to breath. "I missed you too." I whispered, letting him kiss my lips once more. "and I wish things were different."

"let's make things different." he replied, stealing one more kiss without letting go of me. "please, Y/n, let's make things different" he rested his forehead against mine, heavily breathing. " 'cause life's hell without you."

I nodded, kissing his lips, this time tenderly. "let's do it." his hands went up and down my sides at the same time as mines help in place the strands of his hair that tingled my face. "but let's finish this job first."

He nodded, a beautiful smile making tugging the corners of his lips at the promise of an 'us'.

#ari levinson x reader #ari levinson fic #ari levinson smut #ari levinson request #ari levinson #Ari levinson x you #Ari levinson oneshot #Ari x reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans #red sea diving resort #Red sea diving resort fic

[eugenesmorphine]

If it doesn’t bother you too much, could I possibly get a fluffy renée imagine where the reader gets hurt and renée helps her out? (Lets just pretend women were allowed to be paratroopers-)

AN: I hope you like this, I have seen any Renée imagines before, and I loved writing this one. So I hope you love it as much as I do. And Renée is so underrated and I love her.

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @hihosilvers @floydtab

Words: 2,606

   It had been the third time today that  German Artillery had been blowing up Bastogne Forest. Though, this time it only lasted about ten minutes. Trees had fallen, my ears were ringing, everything seemed quiet besides the loud ring from the percussion of the Artillery blasts. I wasn’t in a foxhole, I didn’t get a chance to. “L/N! L/N where the hell are you?!” Called Luz from god knows where. George Luz was my best friend and battle buddy. I was supposed to be in my foxhole, but mother nature called and I needed to relieve myself. And as a woman, it wasn’t as easy as the rest of the men. Clearly. I should’ve just stayed in my foxhole.

  After the first blast I had jumped on the ground next to a fallen tree from past attacks. Landing on my stomach, my face placed into the snow while my hands went on top of my head to hold my helmet in place. The ground shook like there was a damn earthquake with each Artillery round that hit it. And when one landed about ten to fifteen feet away from me, I felt my bones rattle and my organs shift. Now I was rolling over, Luz’s voice seemed like static in the back of my head compared to the ringing that still has ceased to stop. 

  I rolled myself over on my back, that rattling in my bones caused me to feel like jelly. But, it was nothing I haven’t felt before. I took a deep breath, watching as I exhaled it, my breath being seen swirl throughout the air. I propped myself up using my arms, trying to push myself up. That was until a sharp pain shot throughout my left leg and up throughout the rest of my body. My eyes widened with the realization of the situation. I had been hit.

  It took me a couple seconds to gather the courage to even glance down at my now throbbing leg. And once I did, that’s when everything hit me. The ringing stopped, Luz’s shouts were loud, another man shouting for a medic, the sound of a few trees falling and colliding with the forest ground. And the pain in my leg was now excruciating. My breathing quickened, as a slight confused whine/sob escaped my chapped and practically blue lips. 

  Pieces of metal extruded from the lower piece of my left leg. Tearing the fabric of my pant leg to bits. That Artillery shell that hit just ten or fifteen feet away from me must’ve shot out pieces of metal, and with all the adrenaline that shot through me like a million bullets, I didn’t seem to feel it until now. I tried to stand myself up, which ended in me just falling right back onto my ass. I tried and tried again. But I couldn’t support myself.

  I heard the sound of running boots crunching with the snow that layered the ground coming towards me. “Holy shit. Y/N!” It was Luz. He dropped down next to me, my eyes still glued to my torn and bleeding leg. Maybe it wasn’t all that bad. Maybe it was just a surface wound. 

  Luz pulled me out of my thoughts as he grabbed my face with his and turned my face to look at him. “You’re okay Y/N, it isn’t even that bad! MEDIC!” he tried to reassure. I just nodded, kind of dazed at how fast all of this was unfolding. I swallowed hard and just kept nodding, trying to not panic or pass out. 

  As always, Doc Roe came speeding my way. Dropping onto his knees and already digging his hands in my medic pack. Taking out gauze, dressing, clotting powder, and whatever the hell the Cajun needed. “Luz, go get a jeep. She needs to go into town,” He spoke hurriedly but firm. His eye just glancing at Luz was enough for him to nod and jump up, sprinting to whoever and wherever in order to get me a jeep. “You’re going to be alright doll, I promise,” Roe’s words were smooth like butter with his Cajun accent. It never failed to relax me. I gulped and nodded, my mouth going dry.

  “It ain’t that bad, Right Doc?” my words were breathy, exasperated clearly. He looked at me as he placed the gauze down on the bleeding wounds and around the larger pieces of shrapnel. Not bothering to take them out without the proper equipment, god knows what it could have sliced if it was on its way into my calf. I cried out as he tied the dressings tightly on the gauze. I squinted my eyes and clenched my teeth. I thought my molars would shatter in the moment. 

  “It’s not that bad, you’re right,” Eugene nodded, reaching in his bag for a shot of Morphine. I shook my head, pressing my lips into a thin line. He looked at me for a second, keeping the shot in his hand.

  “Save the Morphine Doc. It ain’t that bad,” I seethed through my clenched teeth. Roe nodded and stuffed the Morphine back into his Medic pack. And just as on cue, the sound of Jeep tires coming to a halt and Luz and someone else’s boots hit the snow covered ground. Roe stood and quickly walked over around me to hoist me up by my right shoulder, while Luz hoisted me up by my left shoulder. My arms went to wrap around their necks so I could help them support my weight while they placed me on the back of the Jeep. I groaned as my leg throbbed. 

  “Look Y/N, you’re all good. Doc is going to get you into town and you are going to be fixed up no time. And then you can come back onto the line,” Luz told me. A smile on his lips. But the fear and nervousness etched deep into his brown eyes showed his true emotions clearly. Especially with the fact that he wasn’t cracking on jokes or doing any impressions. I just continued to nod, not really having the energy to form any words. Luz nodded once more and patted my shoulders. I heard the Jeep start up and Doc jumped into the passenger side of the small Jeep. And it was off, speeding off towards the town.

///

   The Jeep pulled up to the old church that was being used as some sort of hospital for soldiers. Doc and a nurse hoisted me up to carry me into the large church. Wounded soldiers lay in almost every square inch of the indoors. Some crying out in pain with missing limbs, gunshot wounds littering their bodies, and some dying right there. I tried not to focus on the pain that was admitting from my leg and the sorrowful heaviness that was carried within this once place of worship. I just sucked in on my bottom lip and kept trucking. Trying my best to keep the pain within and not cause any distraction. Just get in and out. That’s all.

  Doc placed me down on a cot and looked at a blonde nurse that hurried in with tweezers and more bandages. “Y/N, I have to go back to the line. This is Renée, she’ll take good care of you I promise,” Roe motioned to the nurse that was already down at my leg. I looked at her, my eyes locking on what she was doing to fix up my leg. I nodded, glancing at the Medic as he hurried out of the church and to the Jeep back outside.

  My eyes went back to the blonde nurse down in front of me. ‘Renée’ I repeated within my mind. It was a pretty name. Clearly French. She looked up at me and I felt my heart stop for a moment. The blue wrap that pulled her hair back gave a clear view of her face. A small smile grew on her lips as she stared up at me as she replaced the bandages. She was pretty. Like really pretty. Nobody except Luz knew about my attraction to women. I don’t know when it really started, but it did.

  I pressed my lips together as I seethed in pain. “I’m sorry Mademoiselle, I need to pull out the shrapnel before I can stitch and apply bandages,” her accent rolled off of her tongue and out of her lips perfectly. I nodded as I watched her work. Her hands worked so diligently, so perfectly. Her hands soft, red from the being stained with blood. The baby hairs on top of her forehead sticking to her head with sweat. That is how I knew she was a hard worker around this place. There was snow on the ground, the temperature was probably below freezing, yet she was still sweating. Her eyes were so focused on my wound. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts with this woman, I didn’t even feel her pull out the three pieces of shrapnel out of my leg. I just chewed on the inner lining of my bottom lip as I watched her work.

  Quickly, she stitched up my leg and rebandaged it. She stood up straight and wiped my blood off of her dainty hands. She was remarkable. Like a woman I had never seen before. And that was all I was caught up in. “Renée, was it? How long till I can get back on the line?” I asked, already itching to get back with my boys. She pressed her lips into a line and I could tell she was searching for the correct English words to use. 

  “Well, if you are okay with it being sore for a while, I’d say give it a day or two. Maybe three. The shrapnel didn’t go deep enough to puncture anything major. The stitches just need to sit for a bit. And if you do go back in that time span, you must be careful Mademoiselle Y/N or the stitches could tear,” she answers, clearly struggling on some words. I smiled slightly as she spoke and grabbed up old bandages to probably wash and or throw away. I nodded, sitting up on the cot and using my arms to hold myself up. My leg stilled throbbed, but not nearly as bad when the metal was sticking out of it. Like I said before, it was practically just a surface wound. 

  When Renée stood back up, tucking a few stray strands of her golden blonde hair had fallen out of her bun behind her in. I bit my bottom lip slightly, fighting the urge to say something. Scared a might say something stupid. As most would know, being known as a woman who likes the same gender during this time wasn’t a very popular thing. But, the urge was too strong.

  “Can I just say, you are really, really pretty,” I gushed. Immediately regretting every word that slipped out of my lips. I sounded like an idiot. My tone was that of a nervous teenage girl, complimenting her crush. My cheek flushed with red as she looked at me, a rush of pink coming to her pale skin, along with a small smile as she looked away. Alright, that isn’t a bad sign. That might be a good sign!

  “Tu es vraiment jolie aussi,” (You are really pretty too) Her French just made her seem even more perfect! My first real girl crush and I was acting like a child! I didn’t understand a lick French she spoke, but I guessed by the smile on her face and the look that she had on me when she exited the room. I chuckled to myself, sort of shocked at what had just happened.

///

  It had been two days since I came to the church/hospital. My leg had been healing quite alright. No signs of infections or anything other problems within the healing process. And each day Renée came and hung out with me a little bit on each day. Even gave me a little bit of chocolate. We talked and talked each time. She even taught me a little bit of French. And now here I was, waiting for the Jeep to come and bring me back to the front line. And there Renée was, sitting besides me. I wished I didn’t have to leave her behind. She made me feel something so knew. So different in the three days we knew each other. I sat there, my left leg extended while I looked at the road that led into the outside of the chapel. Not wanting to face the fact that I had to leave, and I didn’t know if I was going to be coming back to ever see the French woman again. 

  I felt a small hand wrap around my, intertwining our fingers. I glanced down and saw that Renée was holding onto my hand. I smiled softly at her as she looked up at me, her cheeks still that pretty pink color. Her head leaned against my shoulder, being careful not to bump my helmet off of my head. We stayed silent for the lasting moments before the Jeep arrived. Just enjoying the moment together. I yearned for this feeling, and I didn;t know if I was going to ever come back to her. Hell, even if I was ever going to feel the feeling again. So I was taking it in for as much as I could. 

  The Jeep pulled up and I sighed sadly. Releasing Renée’s hand and standing, careful not to put too much pressure on my healing leg. She stood and looked at me, I took her in a hug quickly and held her for a brief second. When we pulled away I gave her a nod which she reciprocated, and I turned to limp my way over to the Jeep. Slinging my M1’s strap over my shoulder.

  Before I got into the Jeep, I heard the French female call out to me. “Make sure you come back to me Y/N!” she called. I turned and saw the wind smile on her face. I waved and nodded.

  “I promise I will. And hey, what did that thing you said to me when I first got here mean? Remember, the sentence you said in French?” I called out, climbing carefully into the Jeep, keeping an eye on the woman. She smirked slightly and cupped her hands over her mouth in order to make herself louder.

  “I said that ‘You are really pretty too!’” I laughed softly as I nodded. Giving her one big wave as the driver of the Jeep began to turn around.

  “Till next time, Renée!” I shouted, as the image of the woman began to get smaller as the Jeep drove farther away from the chapel. She waved back at me, jumping slightly with the biggest and toothiest smile I had ever seen on a person.

  “Au Revior, Y/N!” she shouted in return. And soon, the french woman I had grown close with, had gone out of sight. I looked forward and pressed my lips together, missing the woman. Looking at my lap.

  “New friend?” asked the driver. Who was just some Replacement from god knows where. My eyes went up to meet him as I nodded. Licking my bottom lip as the smile on my lips grew. My answer was quiet, just above audible. The same warmth came to my cheeks as it did two days ago when I first met the women. 

  “Yeah, a new friend.”

#renée #band of brothers headcanon #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers #lgbtq #lgbtqa #hbo imagines #imagines #hbo imagine #hbo war #hbo #hbo series

[myaekingheart]

some highlights from the last two weeks

waking up with a super heavy sinking feeling in your stomach knowing your fiance is going to say he thinks his lung has collapsed again. 

“you’re going to give yourself the covid test” ... “you may have stuck that a little too far up your nose.” “at least it’s well saturated with my snot.” 

a full doctor’s appointment...in the fucking parking lot. 

“how is school going?” “oh no i graduated” “oh, what college are you going to?” “no, i graduated college. i’m 23. i have a bachelor’s degree” “oh...well, you’ll certainly be carded for a long time!” 

hearing a man talk about his toe fungus in the next triage room over at the er

hospital blankets fresh out of the blanket oven

“i know it’s a little cold in here!” it is 95 degrees outside the AC blasted feels fucking heavenly wtf are you talking about

the “nacho problem” t-shirt

“*holds up piece of pasta to my fiance* Lady and the Tramp?” “I can’t believe you just called me a tramp!” “what??? No!! I meant like the movie!!” 

“Can’t believe you called me a tramp” “Maybe you’re the lady” “Did you just call your daughter a tramp?!” “Well you’ve gotta be one or the other!” “STOP” “I didn’t say anything”  

the fluff harvest is very bountiful this year

october swimming

“he’s trying to save you. he thinks you’re drowning” “he just likes the taste of the pool water” as the dog licked the entirety of my father’s head in the pool

window dancing

“my god they line dance to fucking everything” 

“HANDS TOUCHING HANDS REACHING OUT TOUCHING ME TOUCHING YOU” “*rubs nipples in the middle of a crowded bar*” 

“we don’t go out a lot” “so what do you guys do then?” “we breathe. sometimes in, sometimes out.” “are you breathing back and forth at each other right now?” 

“occasionally we nap.” 

another table at the bar running a bet that i was, in fact, there with my mother in law and all of them thinking i was 16, only to find out from my mother in law when they flagged her down to ask about it that i am in fact engaged, 23, and have a bachelor’s degree.

“YOU HAVE A BACHELOR’S DEGREE?!? WHAT THE FUCK?!” 

the look on their faces was priceless

headbanging in the middle of a bar to zombie by the cranberries

very strong rum and cokes

“are you going to dye your hair like that? i can take you someplace to get it done if you want to dye your hair like that” 

having no useable water whatsoever at my apartment

the grocery store fucking us over on bottled water

the chinese takeout place forgetting an entire order

nearly getting shoved off the highway by a semi truck

my mom getting her stuff thrown into the hallway and then nearly kicked out for “trespassing” because she got exiled from her hotel room

“please just let me in there to get the rest of my stuff” “you’re not on the reservation, you’re trespassing” “then call the local sheriff’s department because i’d like to report a theft” “what room number was that again?”

picking her up, not getting home until 4am, my dad having to leave for a 12hr shift at 5am

nearly punching a hole in the wall

“at least i have a job!” “i have a job!” “no you don’t you’re a kardashian bitch” 

“yeah she has a job she’s a whore” “that was too savage” “i thought i was being kind” 

“drunk whore-ass cuntwagon slut” 

“you didn’t know i knew that word, did you?” “well, you are an adult now” “does that make you uncomfortable, hearing me talk like that?” “no. it makes me want to curse, too. FUCK.” 

“are you a first-time voter?” “NOOOOOONONONONONONONONO absolutely not” 

“i know this isn’t the music you normally listen to, i hope that’s okay” “oh no don’t worry it’s fine, there’s no way in hell i’d make you listen to my music” *five minutes later: phone rings, they have no reflections by bmth starts blaring* “WHAT THE HELL--” “...whoops.” 

paint party

“ahhh there’s the alligator!” “HOLY SHIT ARE YOU SERIOUS?” “no i’m just fucking with you x’D” “...don’t do that.” 

charlie brown

“GET IN BETWEEN THE TOES!” 

calling my mother at work because i can’t find the chocolate

my dog convincing me to take him on a 45 minute walk around the neighborhood. twice. in high heat + humidity. 

not being able to get ahold of my father all day

thinking my father was dead

my father coming home from work at 10am with surprise! a broken rib! 

the party uber

*very slowly eating my sandwich* “slow down, you’re eating too fast!” 

*taking very small bites of my sandwich* “you’re eating like a little bird! do you want me to chew that up for you? like how birds feed their young?” “...no thank you” 

my uncle in law stealing all of my french fries

finally beating lvl 1 of ms pac-man

almost hurling in a bar trash can

scrapple

my mom accidentally answering the door for the fedex guy in nothing but an old bath towel

“NUDIST!!!” 

coming home to surprise hardcore spooky decorating in my living room

slipping on a wet floor and landing on my ass

restaurant never receiving our dinner order so we had to wait an extra hour

hellfire sky

spending a total of 20 hours in a car in under two weeks

10 of those being less than 24 hours apart 

constant sleep deprivation, anxiety, and chronic illness flare-ups

#i need a nap lmfao #ramblings

[kenzieam]

Not Happening, Doll - Chapter Three (Bucky X Lev)

Rating: M (language, violence, eventual smut, angst, slow burn)

Genre: Drama/Angst

@captstefanbrandt​​ @iammarylastar​​ @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995​​ @notimetoblog​​ @captain-ariel-barnes​​ @bitsandbobsandstuff​​ @softlybarnes​​ @lovelybbarnes​​ @buckitybarnes​​ @bucky-plums-barnes​​  @moonbeambucky​​ @badassbaker​​ @citylights221​​ @empress-of-boujee​​ @chook007​​ @shynara51​​ @diinofayce​​ @casestudy-mw​​  @jewels2876​​ @damnaged-princess​​ @everythingisoverrated​​ @allmyfanficfaves​​  @clarabella960​​  @angryschnauzer​​ @wowspideyholland​​ @smilexcaptainx​​  @shirukitsune​​​ @cake-writes​​​

If I missed any tag requests, I apologize!!

*IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED OR DELETED FROM THIS LIST, DM ME*

*****************************************************************************

Levi and Bucky cannot stand each other (or rather, the former Winter Soldier cannot stand to be around the Avenger’s newest member and, like the ass he is, he won’t divulge why) and of course, they get teamed up for a new mission. It’s deep cover this time and not only do they have to work together, they have to pretend they’re MARRIED.

Heaven help them….

****************************************************************************

This is turning into a much slower burn than I thought……

***************************************************************************

The town looked quiet and Bucky was immediately suspicious. It looked too good to be true, too clean and when he voiced this, he was surprised to hear Levi agree with him, her gaze sharp as she navigated the wide streets, following the direction of her phone’s GPS. A few random people were out on their lawns or in front of garages with open doors, and they shaded their eyes and watched these newcomers, raising a slow hand in greeting that Bucky returned only after Levi hissed at him to.

The house chosen for them was tidy and neat, a large deck out front; cookie-cutter identical to the other houses on the street, different from its immediate neighbors only by color and choice of ornamental bush. As they looked closer, they noticed the startling incongruity of the front door, a bold red color.

“Think that’s a sign?” Bucky asked dryly as Levi parked in front of the garage. “They’ve already made us?”

“Well, you’re the one who wouldn’t wave.” Levi replied, perhaps even more dryly. Grabbing a suitcase from the back seat, Levi continued to the front door, fiddling with a set of keys she’d pulled from her pocket.

Bucky appeared at her side, waited until she’d unlocked the door and pushed it open before asking flatly. “You want me to carry you over the threshold?”

“Wouldn’t want you to get my ‘cooties’, Jackson.”

The ‘movers’ had been and gone; and boxes were scattered hither and yon, random bits of furniture in equally random corners. The house smelled clean but empty, not musty yet but definitely disused; Levi wondered if Jackass would object to her essential oil diffuser. Probably, asshat.

Bucky reappeared from outside, carrying the last of the ‘luggage’ and set it to the side. Rubbing a hand through his hair, grimacing as he did so, he glanced Levi’s way.

“Want to get something to eat first-“ he was interrupted by knocking at the door and a hollered ‘Hello?’

His grimace deepening, Bucky sighed and stage whispered. “Showtime.”

Rolling her eyes at him, Levi strode to the door and pulled it open. A Stepford Wife stood outside, updated for the new millennium but still a robot.

“Welcome to the neighborhood!” She trilled, her spit glands showing in her joker grin.

“Thank you,” Levi struggled to remember her manners in the light of this artificial sun. A dish was shoved into her hands and Levi clamored for a nerve-racking beat, almost dropping it.

“I’m Tiffanie! The unofficial, official neighborhood Welcome Wagon! I saw the moving truck earlier and just knew you’d be here soon, so I whipped up a casserole for you!”

Her words died on her tongue and Levi was momentarily struck dumb. Bucky appeared, pulling Levi to his side and she leaned stiffly against him, fighting to look natural.

“Thank you, it looks delicious.” Bucky leaned over and inhaled the dish, flashing a panty-dropping smile at Tiffanie who all but cooed and swooned in return. “I’m Jackson Harper and this is my wife, Madison.”

Finally finding her tongue, Levi wrested the dish to one hand and shook Tiffanie’s. “Please, call me Maddie.”

“Oh, aren’t you just precious!” Translation: holy shit, this man is totally hot and you’re totally out of your league, Madison. “Do you work at the Company?” She continued, reminding Levi of this peculiarity she’d been warned of, the townspeople’s habit of referring to the corporation as if it was it’s own entity. Interesting.

“I do,” Levi answered and, in a movement she certainly didn’t plan and would spend the next few hours analyzing and internally shaking her head over, snuggled closer to Bucky, wrapping her arm around him. Bucky hid his surprise well, only a faint tightening of his fingers on her hip giving him away, but Tiff was too dazzled by his face to notice. “Jackson works from home.”

“Oh,” Tiffanie cooed, eyes roaming none too subtly up and down Bucky. She turned, keeping a coy gaze over her shoulder. “See you both around then.” She tottered away, throwing another look over her shoulder to make sure Bucky was still looking.

Bucky stepped away and back like Levi stunk and she shut the door before turning to face him, the casserole heavy in her hands. Bucky picked irritably at his left hand; lip curled in annoyance.

“Leave it alone.” Levi scolded. “The glove is delicate, remember?”

Bucky threw her a look that clearly invited her to fornicate with herself but he dropped his hand, flexing his fist with a grumble. Stark had furnished him with a lifelike skin-t0ne glove to hide his metal hand, but it was less than perfect camouflage and didn’t fit exactly, prompting Bucky to pick at it like a hangnail. It would do for long distances, but he probably wouldn’t be able to fool anyone if they actually grabbed his hand and looked closely.

Levi glanced once more towards the door and batted her eyelashes like Tiffanie. “You have an admirer,” she teased.

Bucky’s answering grumble was louder and he muttered something almost totally inaudible, but Levi thought it sounded like ‘not the one I want’. He turned and stormed away, throwing irritably over his shoulder. “Don’t fumble like that next time, I might not be there to save your ass. Remember your goddamn lines.”

Levi couldn’t help it and stuck her tongue out at his retreating back.

****************************************************************************************** “Hey, you home?” Levi called, shutting and locking the door behind her.

“Where else would I be?” Came the flat reply.

“I don’t know,” Levi snarked, leaning against the doorframe and looking inside the guest room, now commandeered as Bucky’s ‘office’. “Maybe at the hospital finally getting that stick out of your ass?”

Bucky glowered briefly at her but didn’t respond and Levi snorted in frustration, pushing away and continuing towards the master bedroom, her bedroom

“Hope you don’t hog all the covers, doll.” Bucky grumbled, moving to stand beside Levi.

She glanced at him in mingled surprise and exasperation. After telling her to ‘remember her goddamn lines’ earlier, Bucky hadn’t bothered to say anything since, choosing to organize his ‘office’ like a bull in a china shop, swearing and muttering under his breath as he tried to make sense of the mess of equipment set up for him by the ‘moving company’. Some of it was for show, in case anyone ever wanted to see what a children’s book illustrator did, but most of it was uber-top secret; monitors and speakers and other such accoutrement to aid in their spying of the neighborhood.

Levi busied herself with organizing the rest of the house, making faces at some of the shit that had been chosen as their cover, including skillfully doctored and supposedly joyful wedding pictures; Levi and Bucky, no sorry, Jackson and Maddie gazing into each other’s eyes, dressed casual at their trendy beach wedding, sharing a kiss; posing on an empty country rood in cream colored fisherman’s sweaters and L.L. Bean Boots, the stereotypical ‘autumn’ photo set.

Thankfully, some forward-thinking agent had stocked the fridge and freezer, and with minimal burrowing, Levi found a frozen dish to reheat for supper. There was no way in hell she was going to sample Tiffanie’s casserole. It was probably laced with arsenic… or laxatives.

Bucky hadn’t commented beyond a grunt when she’d called him for supper, or rather, had poked her head in his ‘office’ and snapped ‘supper, asshole’ at him; and he’d been no more loquacious the rest of the night. Only once Levi started preparing for bed did he reappear like a damn whack-a-mole with his ‘don’t hog all the covers, doll’ comment.

“Don’t even worry about it,” Levi snapped. “You’re not sleeping in here with me.”

“Why the hell not? We’re ‘married’.” He made little air-quotes with his fingers.

“I’d rather have a razor-blade enema.” Levi growled. She pointed out the door. “The other guest room has a bed, sleep there; dream of Steve or Tiffanie or who-the-fuck-ever, just stay the hell away from me.”

Something flashed in his eyes, too fast for Levi to catch, then he whirled and stalked out, slamming the door behind him.

“Anything interesting?” She called, pulling off her button-down shirt, wishing she could snap off her bra as well and fly free, but she didn’t want any snide comments from the peanut section, or even more strange, a long, silent appraising glance like she’d caught Bucky giving her every now and then. Still shirtless, she shimmied out of her pencil skirt and reached for a pair of yoga capris. Snagging a tank top, she headed back down the hallway, pulling the shirt over her head as she re-entered the doorway.

Bucky stared at her, his hungry gaze missed by Levi as the shirt temporarily covered her face, then turned blankly back to the monitor before Levi could see him ogling. She stepped in further and leaned close, eyes fixed on the monitor Bucky was himself trying to focus on. Her scent surrounded him, and he unconsciously held his breath, held in the involuntary moan that Levi’s proximity seemed intent on drawing from him.

“Not much.” He finally answered, staring directly at the monitor, his hand moved, tapping at the screen and bringing up a new feed. “Finally got one planted at 1411.”

“Good, the Kramer’s.”

“Yeah, whoever.” Bucky’s hand tightened in his lap and he cleared his throat. “What about work, you hear anything?”

“Not much, just the usual gossip. Did you start anything for supper?”

“No.”

“Why not? It’s after 5?”

“I’ve been busy.”

Levi snorted and pushed away; as she left the room, she threw over her shoulder irritably. “It’s not going to emasculate you, he-man, to enter the kitchen once in a while. This isn’t the Forties anymore.”

Bucky bit back an angry reply, embarrassed because Levi was right; he had dropped the ball today. After planting that elusive bug at the Kramer’s, he’d found himself caught up in daydreams as he sat in the office and monitored all the feeds. Dreams of Levi had stolen his attention, visions of her naked and glorious spread beneath him, straddling him and riding him like a warhorse; fuck, even just smiling at him the way she smiled at Steve. Jesus, it pissed him off, to be ensnared like this, a slave to his mind and body. She didn’t want him that way, and even if she did-

“Hey! Did you hear me?” Levi appeared in the doorway again, annoyance darkening her hypnotizing eyes.

“What?!” He snapped in return, focusing defiantly on the screen.

Levi sighed and there was such an edge of sadness in it that Bucky jerked his gaze up her, unable to disguise his concern as fast as he wanted to. But Levi didn’t seem to notice, and if she did, she didn’t believe it.

“We just got invited to a barbeque tonight, can you stand to be that close to me for a few hours?” The sadness was gone, replaced with a healthy dose of sarcasm and Bucky felt about two inches tall for making her feel that way.

He cleared his throat again before answering gruffly. “Yeah, sure… whatever.”

Levi rolled her eyes at his enthusiasm. “Fine, be ready in 15 minutes.”

******************************************************************************************* As soon as they were out of eyeshot from the Hayden’s backyard, where the barbeque was still in full swing, Levi dropped Bucky’s arm like he was on fire. Stinging from the rejection, Bucky attacked.

“You managed not to fuck up tonight, good job.”

Levi took a full step to the side and threw him a dirty look. “You too, although I’m sure if you’d smiled at Tiffanie any wider, she would have dropped to her knees and blown you.”

“Jealous?”

“Hardly.”

“Madison, Jackson! Welcome!” Another Stepford wife trilled, fake lashes creating their own breeze with each blink.

“Alison, thank you for inviting us.” Levi replied, working to lighten her voice and force a believable smile. Bucky’s arm encircled her waist and he extended his other hand at the hostess, another panty-dropping smile on his face.

Alison giggled and flicked a gleeful glance at Tiffanie before shooting a coy glance at Levi, who smiled vacantly back as if it wasn’t blatantly obvious that these two women were eyeing her man.

Levi was pulled towards a cackling group of hens while Bucky was dragged towards the suburban male equivalent and for the next hour or so, they were blessedly free of contact with each other.

“Maddie, how are you settling in?” Tiffanie cooed; eyes drawn once again to the direction Bucky had been taken. “Jackson seems to be enjoying himself?”

Hardly.

“It’s great here,” Levi replied, trying briefly to emulate Tiffanie’s coo and just as quickly abandoning it, she’d never achieve that level of vapid. “Y’all have been so welcoming!”

Y’all??

Levi was almost pulling out her geometric black bob by the time Bucky found her, the tightening at the corner of his eyes the only indication that he too was as thoroughly done as she was. A wave of relief, yes, that’s all it was, relief, flooded Levi as he moved to her side and wrapped his arm around her waist, leaning in to kiss her cheek and murmur in her ear.

“Ready to get the hell out of here?”

“Yes.” She hissed back, lips brushing Bucky’s skin. His shudder of revulsion was unnecessary, however.

They managed to hold onto their smiles until they’d left the backyard, until Levi had pulled her arm away from his.

“Christ, I need a drink.” Bucky grumbled as he fumbled with the door key.

“You can’t get drunk.” Levi pointed out.

“So, it’ll be fun to try.” Bucky retorted, finally pushing the door open so hard it crashed against the wall.

“Whatever, live it up.” Levi grumbled, striding towards her room.

“Wait-“ Bucky reached out, snagging her arm, not even sure what he was going to say himself until it tumbled out of his mouth. “C’mon, it’s pretty pathetic drinking alone, stay up and have one too, huh?”

Levi eyed his hand on her arm before directing her hard gaze on his face. She studied him for a long beat, eyes boring into his before nodding stiffly. “Okay, give me a minute.”

Biting his lip to disguise his grin, Bucky nodded and moved into the living room, pulling open the liquor cupboard and selecting a bottle and two rock glasses. Levi returned, wearing pajama pants, a tank top and housecoat open over top and Bucky sneaked an instantaneous glance, taking her all in, from her graphite-grey pedicure to the cute little top-knot she’d managed to pull her hair into.

Grinning mischievously, Levi pulled something out from behind her back and brandished a bottle that Bucky immediately recognized, drawing a wide grin on his face.

“Where’d you get that?”

Levi had the grace to blush. “Might have ‘borrowed’ it from Thor’s stash.”

“Hand it over,” Bucky reached for the bottle of Asgardian mead and popped the cork, pouring two-fingers worth in each glass before holding one out for Levi to take; nodding her thanks, Levi accepted it and sat on the wide sectional couch, crossing her legs and leaning back into the sumptuous cushions.

Bucky sank down into the armchair opposite, resting one ankle on his knee and studied the amber liquor before taking a small sip. It burned in the best way.

“Mmmm, good.” He murmured, eyes flicking up to Levi, watching hungrily as she too took a sip, eyes closed in pleasure, head tipping back for a moment and smooth column of her throat open for Bucky to see. He looked away quickly as she opened her eyes, head dropping forward again.

“How much longer do you think we’ll be here?” Levi asked quietly, picking at a cuticle.

“I don’t know… we haven’t really uncovered anything yet, just a few whispers, nothing concrete.”

“Maybe there’s nothing here to find.” Levi’s eyes were dark like bruises in her face.

“Or maybe we just need to dig deeper.” Bucky countered quietly.

They fell into silence again, staring reflectively at their glasses and Bucky was hit with a sudden compulsion to speak.

“Levi, I-“

Levi inhaled sharply, something akin to fear in her eyes. They flicked to the wall clock and Levi suddenly stood, setting her glass on the table with a loud clink. “I forgot; I have an early meeting tomorrow. I should get some sleep, good night Bucky.”

“Hey, Levi-“ Bucky began, standing and turning to face her retreating back but Levi continued down the hallway, her door shutting behind her.

Anger hit him then, abrupt and hot; what? She couldn’t even stand to be around him anymore? Fine, what-the-fuck-ever.

The glass creaked in his hand and heat flamed his cheeks. Why was he so furious, and why was he feeling so disappointed at the same time? Fine, doll. You want distance, sure.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky and levi #bucky and lev #bucky and nika

[twdfanfic-multifandom]

"Call it plan B. Hell, call it plan Z. But I am packing the good drugs."

Daryl x Reader

*Set in season 6*

The heart monitor beeped rhythmically and Denise sighed, pulling the thermometer from Scott's mouth. His skin was a sickly shade. We didn't need a thermometer or a heart monitor to know that he was doing badly - and it didn't help that the infirmary was excruciatingly low on medical supplies.

"So what do you need?" You asked Denise while scanning the empty shelves of the room, pen and paper in hand. Daryl was perched on the edge of the windowsill staring at Scott's weak body.

The bullet wound inflicted upon by Sturgess about a week prior wasn't showing any signs of improvement, and Alexandria's make-shift doctor was becoming increasingly worried. Desperate and anxious, she'd come to you and Daryl to ask for help.

"Painkillers, definitely. Antibiotics, too. Gauze, bandages, antiseptic," she listed the various items, counting each on her finger as she named them. You stopped writing halfway through 'antibiotics'; Denise was going way too fast. You sighed and balled up the paper, tossing at across the room at Daryl. The paper smacked him square in the face and he shot you a 'what the hell?' look.

"Pay attention, Dixon. We're doing this together." 

The archer shot up off the windowsill and brushed past you.

"Yeah, yeah. Medicine and shit. Got it," he said flippantly and you rolled your eyes. Offering Denise a reassuring smile, you left the room and followed Daryl to the armory.

After grabbing the necessary weapons, the two of you hopped into a crappy blue truck and headed out of the community and towards a pharmacy about an hour's drive out. The drive felt short, and soon enough the old brakes were screeching the truck to a halt outside a dilapidated building.

The parking lot was littered with papers and other trash tumbling around lightly in the breeze, while a few walkers limped aimlessly around in front of the building. 

"Ready?" Daryl asked you as the two of you made your quiet exit from the truck, weapons raised. You nodded. As you approached, the walkers suddenly found direction and started walking towards the both of you, jaws snapping hungrily. It wasn't long before the half-a-dozen grotesque corpses were stilled and lifeless on the paving, easily taken out by your knife and Daryl's crossbow.

Without the snarls of the dead, the sound of your footsteps seemed loud as you walked towards the pharmacy. A few of the windows were smashed in but the glass doors seemed to still be locked in place.

Silently you said a prayer and hoped that it hadn't totally been ransacked. Scott's life - and maybe many others in the future - depended on these supplies.

Daryl carefully maneuvered himself through the broken window before offering you a hand, which you gratefully took.

"Stay behind me," the man instructed gruffly. The two of you had been a great team since you first arrived at the prison, and you'd frequently go on runs together. Despite the number of times you'd proved your capabilities, Daryl seemed to always be protective of you. It was kind of annoying, but it also left your heart feeling warm and you couldn't help but be grateful for the over-protective asshole with the angel-wing vest.

Ignoring him, you remained next to him as the two of you scanned the building. Much to your relief, it was clear of walkers. Unfortunately it also seemed to be clear of anything remotely useful; the shelves were barren and dusty, save for a box of condoms.

Upon further inspection you saw that it was grape flavor, and you shoved it inside your mostly empty backpack. Daryl eyed you incredulously, making you blush.

"What?" You said defensively, feeling as if you'd just been caught doing something inappropriate. "People back home might need 'em. Not everyone is celibate like you, Dixon," you teased and kept walking, ignoring the way he gawked at you.

"Whatever," the archer mumbled.

Glass and dust crunched beneath your dirty boots as you continued scouring the emptied building. It was difficult to find medical supplies considering that it was one of the first things that people scavenged for nowadays, so it wasn't a surprise to find that there wasn't even a single Asprin to be found.

"It's a bust," you said with a sigh as you mentally said your goodbyes to Scott. Closing your eyes, you leaned against the dirty wall and pinched the bridge of your nose in an attempt to release the tension building in your temples. It was something you'd done for as long as you could remember. Headaches were as frequent in your old life as they were now.

"Hold up," Daryl said as you snapped your eyes open and followed his gaze. There was a door just beyond the prescription counter. Flecks of gray paint chipped off the metal door, leaving it looking mottled and decaying. Moving forward. Daryl tried the silver handle. It didn't budge.

"I've got it." You approached the door and pulled the lock pick set out of your jean pocket. One of the reasons why you went on runs so often is because of your valuable lock-picking skills, something you had learned on the internet a few years prior to the outbreak. It wasn't something you'd ever admitted considering that it took a lot of the 'bad-ass' energy out of the skill. After about a minute, the lock clicked and you entered the room cautiously, Daryl so close behind you that you could feel his warm breath tickle your neck. You shivered and your stomach fluttered. It annoyed you how quickly he could make you feel like a hormonal high school girl. The worst part was that he didn't even realize he was doing it.

"Holy shit," Daryl muttered under his breath, snapping you back to reality. The room was fully stocked - various pill bottles, packages, and fluid-filled bags lined the racks. Scott was going to be just fine.

Rushing forward, you got to work on finding the right medicines before stuffing your bag full of antibiotics and other pills. Daryl read the labels of various bottles through his shaggy hair before shoving them into his backpack. Scanning the names of everything he was taking - Ambien, Fentanyl, Nytol, and a variety of opioids and sleeping pills - you scoffed loudly. He glanced over his shoulder at you and did a double-take when he realized you were staring disbelievingly.

"Do you realize about half of those things are more likely to kill Scott than they are to heal him? Saving him is Plan A, Dixon."

The archer shrugged and kept shoving away the heavy medication. The toned muscles moved beneath his tanned skin with every movement he made, and you were briefly distracted.

"Call it plan B. Hell, call it plan Z. But I'm packing the good drugs," Daryl said as he bagged the final bottle of pills.

"So plan Z is to put Scott in a drug-induced coma?" You asked sarcastically, shifting the strap of your loaded backpack.

"It is what it is," he said, making you laugh softly. A whisper of a smile tugged at his mouth, and your heart swelled at the sight. A small blush flushed your pale cheeks when you realized he was staring. He always seemed to stare every time you laughed, as if the sound were alien to him... and his steely blue eyes were like that of a toddler discovering something new, eyes filled with what could only be described as intrigue and wonder.

You cleared your throat and turned your attention back to the shelves filled with supplies that could determine life or death.

"So if I get shot, your ideal plan would be to pump me to the brim with some bizarre chemical concoction until I'm totally unconscious..." Your fingers traced the cool metal of the shelves, fingertips coming away covered in dust that had settled there over a few months.

"Sounds fun," you added dryly.

His footsteps stopped and I turned around questioningly, wondering if maybe he'd seen something. Instead you saw him staring at you through the strands of hair that hung in front of his eyes. He absentmindedly chewed on his bottom lip, something you'd noticed he did when he was thinking.

"Ya ain't gonna get shot," his voice was low and almost... menacing. 

"Oh yeah? How do you know?" You challenged him, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I ain't lettin' that happen," he said, his protective side coming out again. The most frustrating part about it was that there was no way of knowing whether he was protective because he cared about you the way you cared about him, or because he saw you as a sister. A lose strand of your (y/c) hair fell in your face, but you left it there in hopes that it would somehow help mask the heat that was slowly creeping up into your cheeks for seemingly no reason. Being an easy blusher was the worst.

"You can't protect me from everything," you said softly, staring at the dirty floor. Your eyes stayed trained on his scruffy boots as they slowly made their way towards you. When they stopped a few inches from your own dirty boots, you lifted your head to look at Daryl. His eyes looked almost wild, slightly angry. Your heart pounded against your chest so loud you thought it would attract all walkers within a 10 mile radius.

Daryl's one hand gripped his crossbow, and he slowly lifted his free hand toward you. His fingers tentatively brushed your hair out of your face, lightly brushing over your skin at the same time.

"I can damn well try," his low voice seemed to make your knees tremble weakly, and you mentally reprimanded yourself for being so pathetic. The inches of space between the two of you seemed to be charged with electricity, making your breath slightly more shallow than you'd care to admit. He breathed heavily, and each breath that touched your face seemed intoxicating. All you wanted was to close that space between you... he was so near...

Suddenly he took a step back as if he'd been shocked, and turned away from your trembling frame.

"We should go," Daryl said as he stormed out of the room, backpack slung heavily from his shoulder. Shutting your eyes, you once again pinched the bridge of your nose and took a deep breath before following him out of the pharmacy.

Once you safely got to the truck, Daryl sped out of the parking lot and back towards Alexandria. The successful run felt like a huge weight lifted off your shoulders, and it was good to know that Scott now had a chance at survival. 

The scenery blurred past you as you looked out of the rolled down window, cool afternoon air blowing on your face. Glancing out the corner of your eyes, you noticed Daryl looking at you, his gaze lingering longer than what would be considered safe while driving.

"Eyes on the road, Dixon," you suppressed a smile as you stared straight ahead.

"Shut up," Daryl grumbled and stepped on the gas, making the noisy truck speed ahead towards home.

#Daryl Dixon #the walking dead Daryl Dixon #twd #the walking dead #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshots #Daryl Dixon oneshots #Daryl Dixon one shot #the walking dead fanfiction #Daryl Dixon fanfiction #Daryl Dixon fanfic #twd fanfic #the walking dead fanfic

[wilhelmjfink]

“It’s Them” (1/3)

ETA: SOME PPL ACTUALLY WANTED A SECOND PART SO I CHANGED IT FROM ONESHOT #6 (WHICH ACTUALLY IT WAS #5 APPARENTLY) TO A NEW TITLE AND THE 2ND PART WILL BE OUT SOOOOOON :-) -3/8/19

time to break the monotony up w/ a oneshot I pounded out kinda drunk & finished late so it’s getting posted w/o being edited or even remotely glanced over tonight..... this one is Negan x reader!!! holy shit right??!?! i know!!! i had to switch things up so. enjoy~

PS: @crossbowking i rly hope ur not mad at me for posting this i love u :,(

Prompt: “It’s them.”

You were growing increasingly more fed up with being out in the damp cold air as dusk settled onto the forest around you. You had your AR15 slung over your back carelessly so that your hands could remain tucked into the front pockets of the black jacket you were wearing, fingers frozen despite the cotton gloves you wore.

Negan’s rules had been simple: you knew where these people were coming and going, and it was your job to interfere, halting them in their tracks. A surprise visit to the group of strangers that had broken into your eastern compound and shot every single one of your comrades as they slept.

The thought made your blood boil and it coursed through your veins, offering slight relief from the brisk night air. You had friends at that compound — there were men and women there that you were sure had never even held a gun in their hands. Innocent people being slaughtered was nothing new in the world you lived in now, but that didn’t mean it didn’t anger you and that there wasn’t anything you could do about it. Vengeance was one thing that you did have, and you’d be damned if you’d let anyone take it away from you.

So you trudged through the fallen leaves and dead brush underneath your boots, already glistening with fresh dewdrops, leading your small squad of four through the maze of baring trees.

The small single beep that radiated from the walkytalky on your hip rung out just loud enough for you to catch it. Without looking down or missing a determined step, you felt down for the call button on the side, clicked it in response, and waited for an answer.

Finally, a familiar voice crackled through the small speaker. “Beta, you read?”

You threw a quick glance over your shoulder at your crew for attendance and held up a hand, signaling them to stop behind you. “Beta’s good.”

There was muffled chatter for a moment while Simon checked in with Charlie and Delta, and after they confirmed their condition, it was followed by silence.

You shifted your weight on your feet impatiently, already struggling to see just feet in front of you as the sun disappeared. There had been no sign of the group you were after yet — at least, for your squad — and you were getting angrier and angrier at Simon and Negan for sending you the direction they did incase any of your targets caught wind of the gameplan and detoured or actually discovered any of the dozens of Saviors that were roaming the area all around you.

“Everything ok, boss?”

You looked to Lola as she stepped toward you, bloodshot eyes wide in eager anticipation, itching for a fight as always. A smile crept onto your face at the sight of your friend as she bounced on her heels, glancing left and right and back and forth, the two black knots of hair falling loosely from their spot on the top of her head.

“Yeah,” you responded, looking to the radio on your hands. “Just Simon dicking around like always.”

Lola laughed dryly and nodded in understanding. “Figured as much.”

Toby swung the heavy bag from his back and dropped it to the ground with a grunt, leaving it momentarily to stretch and doubled over with a satisfied groan. When he straightened up, he opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the crackling of the radio  at your side.

“Alright everyone, listen up.” Simon’s voice was oozing with superiority he thought he had and you rolled your eyes. “They’re rounding ‘em all up by the camp off of Hudson. It’s marked on your maps, so hurry up and get your asses over here. It’s go time!”

“Got it,” you said into the speaker before tucking it back onto your hip. Toby hoisted the bag back up over his shoulders. Meyers pulled the roadmap from his own smaller pack, and Lola shined her mag light onto it.

“Maybe a half mile,” she said, trailing her pointer finger along the paper Meyers held in his hands quietly. “Keep going straight.”

You nodded. “Let’s go meet these fuckers.”

Marching on, the three followed you back into the dark forest.

You spotted the headlights from your vans and trucks before you reached the clearing, the rumble of chatter from your fellow Saviors growing as you neared them. The Sanctuary was a large community but it wasn’t the only one; there were probably fifty Saviors around you and every single one of them was just as pissed off as you were.

There was a camper parked on the far end and you curiously made your way toward it, unsure of whether or not it was occupied and if it was, you wanted to be sure it wasn’t nobody that should be on their knees in the clearing behind you.  

You retrieved your weapon from your back and poised it up and ready to fire as you pulled the flimsy plastic door open and climbed the first step inside.

“And, BANG! You’re dead.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, whipping around toward the unmistakable voice behind you frantically. Only when you found Negan and saw his cocky grin as he emerged from a darkened corner did you lower your gun and place a hand overtop of your heart just to make sure it was still beating and he hadn’t actually scared you to death.

“God, you fucking asshole,” you bit out breathlessly. “I almost shot you!”

“You need to be more careful, doll.” He crept toward you and even in the dim light the vehicles outside hardly provided in the small room you could see his perfect teeth glistening as he grinned down at you mischievously. “I could’ve shot you before you even got a chance to see me. And wouldn’t that be a shitty way to die?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved at him dismissively and stood on your toes to peer over his shoulder through the cracked blinds behind him, watching as your crew surrounded the line of strangers on their knees, circling them like vultures. “We got ‘em,” you said, almost surprised, and Negan noticed.

“Did you ever doubt that we would?”

“No, it was just getting late and I was about ready to throw in the towel and try again tomorrow.”

Still smiling, Negan shook his head slowly. “Now, that is not the girl I know...”

“Yeah, well...” you shrugged. The comfortability between you two was always present and especially welcomed at that moment, considering the long and exhausting day you’d had keeping up the unwavering front as your squad’s leader. It was unsettling sometimes how easily you could let your guard down around him. “It’s fucking cold outside, Negan.”

He slinked closer to you, his large frame towering over you so close to you that his body was radiating warmth that you were craving.

You could feel his breath on your chilled skin: “Awe, poor baby,” he crooned; you didn’t know if it was his proximity or his words that sent a chill down your spine, but goosebumps made their way over your whole body in waves.

The compliments and flirtatiousness were always present between you two but you disregarded it as friendly banter — you, unlike most women you came across, could handle a little inappropriate banter and his perverted sense of humor. Hell, most of the time, you could match it; make him blush even. But as it had always been with you and your predominantly male group of friends, harmless teasing was all that it was and would ever be. And you would be just fine with that.

But harmless teasing had left you and Negan behind some time ago, despite your attempt to simply ignore the heat that pooled in your stomach every time you caught him staring at you from across the room.

But at that moment, he wasn’t across the room, noticeably eye-fucking you with his tongue hanging from his jaw like a dog. No — he had dropped that bad boy persona and took on his role as the leader of a deadly and violent group of soldiers and held his act together with confidence and class. Over the course of the day you’d watched him go from a horny teenager to a man that would hold you down until you caved and called him daddy.

You worked for Negan. He was your boss, essentially. And part of that concerned you. But there was another part of you, a much bigger and stronger part, that excited you even more.

And he knew it, too; standing there before you with his lips hovering so close to yours that the minuscule distance between them began to actually, physically hurt. So standing there with Negan, toe-to-toe, you caved and let the hype and adrenaline of the day’s events consume you and without giving yourself another second to contemplate it, you closed the small space between you two impatiently.

The second that your lips touched his it was like a switch had been flicked on inside of him, as if he’d been posed restlessly at the starting line waiting for the gunshot that told him to fucking go. The simple act had given him all the permission he’d needed and you let him guide you backwards until your back hit the wall and he pinned you up against it deliciously, fueling the fire that was burning in your veins and had you yearning for him, refusing to smolder and burn out until you had every inch of him in the palm of your hand — literally and figuratively.

Just as his normal behavior always flaunted, he was cocky and dominant with his kissing as well, biting on your lower lip and tugging gently and eliciting an unwilling moan from you that only seemed to drive him on. He let out a low growl in response and the sound itself could’ve melted you on the spot. In fact, you wouldn’t have been surprised if the whole RV around you went up in flames from the energy he was emitting.

His large hands explored your body the best they could with the layers you had on, fumbling with the buttons on your coat until they could make their way inside the heavy material and slowly move up and down and ghost around your breasts tauntingly. He knew exactly what he was doing — you were making a point to not remind yourself that. And it wasn’t hard considering his movements had you like putty in the palm of his hand and he manipulated and rolled you between his fingers hungrily.

When he pinned both of your wrists in one hand overtop of your head you felt your knees weaken and threaten to give up underneath you. But the second that his mouth left your lips and dropped to the nape of your neck you were both interrupted by a voice right outside of the door.

“Let’s meet the man!”

You weren’t sure why you panicked and shoved him off of you, panicking at the thought of anybody seeing you, even if it was just Simon. Nervously you looked to Negan to gauge his reaction to your sudden change of heart but he seemed to understand and simply stood up and retrieved Lucille from where she was propped up against the counter.

Simon knocked to alert Negan and he headed toward the door, readjusting the red scarf around his neck and bringing a hand up behind his head to smooth down the hair your wandering hands had tussled.

With a smile in a wink that almost had you jumping back on top of him, he grabbed the door handle and gave you one last provocative up-and-down, running his tongue over his perfect teeth like a snake. “You come out whenever you’re ready, baby girl.”

And with that, he stepped out of the camper, letting the door swing and slam shut behind him.

When you were positive he’d left from earshot, you let yourself fall onto the cushions behind you with a deep sigh.

“What the fuck have I done?” You asked yourself quietly, unable to stop the laughter from bubbling up into the words. You really backed yourself into a corner. Next time you saw Negan he would want to finish what you had started. Did you want to finish it? You wouldn’t have kissed him if you didn’t. So what does that mean for you as a Savior? He’d have to kill you to get you into one of those skimpy black dresses and call yourself a wife. You would sooner take a job on the fence.

You should’ve known it was bound to happen sooner or later — that was always how things went. You weren’t his ‘right-hand’, but you might as well have been. You were a team, a good match in temperament and skill, successful in most things you did together. You could deny it all you want, but that spark had always been there, and you tried to ignore it only to make it much more obnoxious than it had already had been.

He had to respect you to some degree beyond a comrade to never make a serious move on you before, right?

It was scary to connect with people in the new world; scary to find somebody that made you feel something than other than basic survival instincts and could make you forget about the way life had changed. It was dangerous and you were just asking to be hurt, never being able to prepare yourself for when he was inevitably ripped from your grasp.

You knew that for a fact because it had happen before, and you weren’t sure if you could handle another loss.

Not knowing if they’d gotten lost, abandoned you, been killed or tortured or eaten alive. That was the hard part. Not knowing.

But if you wanted to live, you couldn’t dwell on things like that. You know there were certain people who would want you to move on and be happy and find comfort in somebody else’s arms, regardless of how narcissistic, cocky and borderline delirious they could be.

You shook the whirling thoughts from your head: you didn’t couldn’t in the dark and reminisce all night. You had a job to do.

Retrieving your gun from where you’d discarded in on the table you straightened yourself up, making sure to settle your own messy hair back into a relatively decent ponytail, and forced your personal feelings back down where they belonged: buried underneath more pressing matters.

You opened the door as quietly as possible as to not draw attention to yourself, and it would’ve worked had Negan not been staring in your direction as if he’d been waiting for you to emerge. He was on the other side of the group he had lined up, kneeling before him, all 10 or so avoiding his gaze except for the guy in the middle whom he was crouched in front of.

He smiled when he saw you. “There’s my girl.”

Your face flushed red and you cursed yourself for it, not wanting to show any sign of anything more than a professional relationship with Negan but also furious with him for stopping his big, dramatic facade to acknowledge her that way in front of the large crowd around you.

You sunk back into like in front of your squad and felt Lola nudge you harshly with her elbow, so much so that it knocked you off balance and you snapped back angrily at your friend and glared at her from over your shoulder. But it was hard to be mad at her as she stared up at you wide wide eyes and an even wider smile, telling you everything you needed to know about what she was thinking and how she felt about it all.

Negan stood up and sashayed around the group like the prima donna he was, though he spoke nothing but truth with no exaggerations, his recap of all your people the strangers before you had killed brutally successfully bringing back the anger you’d forgotten about for just a few moments.

Out of the corner of your eye you caught sight of a man hunched over under a blanket, covered in blood you presumed had to be his with how badly his body was trembling.

Negan has begun one of his theatrical  scenes and was slowly circling the strangers with Lucille outstretched before him but you couldn’t focus because you were still squinting in the dark, struggling to see the face of the injured man across from you because something felt wrong about him. You couldn’t explain the odd feeling you were getting from him, trying to make out his features in the shadows of the headlights as Negan passed by him slowly, taunting him with his scare tactics.

Then, like a freight train, it hit you. Hard.

Recognition.

He was familiar — the strong arms and broad chest, shaggy hair that casted over his eyes as he hung his head weakly. But when Negan stepped by him, sticking Lucille in his face menacingly, he actually rose his eyes and glared up at him, fearless and unwavering.

The strength was your first hint; the shadows lifting from his features and revealing a face that turned your previously boiling blood into pure shards of ice.

Your stomach dropped. The wind was knocked from your lungs. The world was tilting dangerously around you and you felt like you were going to keel over. But you had to know for sure.

You looked to the person at his side. And the next one. And the person next to them. And then to the man in the middle and you were sure you might’ve passed out of Lola didn’t catch on and wrap a gloved hand around your elbow, whispering something unintelligible that you could hardly hear. And while you so badly wanted to just turn around and assure her you were fine, you found that you lost the ability to form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences.

The only words that you could manage to squeak out, barely audible, felt so distant and so wrong on your own tongue: “It’s them.”

:o

wouldn’t this be an incredible 2 parter!!!!! *wink nudge @crossbowking dont hate me lol xx*

@crossbowking @jodiereedus22 @apossiblegentleman @mtngirlforever @sourwolf-sterek32 @winchester-angel @qrangr @cole-winchester @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @twdeadfanfic @crazyaboutnorman @thatsoragan @deliciousassafrasssandwich @bunnymother93 @96ssi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @ima-mther-fckn-starboy @thatsoragan @lonewolf471

#the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead negan #negan fanfiction #negan x reader #negan imagine #negan thirst squad #twd #twd negan #twd fanfiction #one shot

[mewnimessages]

Shepherds opening

Julie had made this trip many times before. One thousand, nine hundred, and fourteen miles. Distance from her home in Reno Nevada and her college the University of Illinois. It usually took her four days to complete it, but then there was that time she did it in three. Lots of coffee that trip. The thought made her smile as she watched the vast, empty, cold landscape in front of her fly by. She was just over halfway, not too far from Walcott Wyoming. She wasn’t planning on coming home for Christmas break, but decided at the last minute it would be a nice surprise for her parents. They had put so much into her education and helped her anytime she needed it, she thought the least she could do is be there during the holidays. It was cold today though, according to her overhead console thermometer it was 31 outside. And gray. So gray. She hadn’t checked the weather but wasn’t too worried, her parents had gotten her this car, a used Jeep Grand Cherokee as a graduation present and it was four wheel drive.

Then the snow came. Not too bad at first, but she could tell it was sticking. As the wind blew across the plains, little white fingers began to reach across the road. She was good at lying to herself, that much was for sure. She thought, “It won’t be bad, I’ll get past Walcott and see if I can find a place to stop for the night, head out in the morning.” A few minutes had passed, she glanced up at the temperature, 27. “Damn” she thought, “Its dropping quick.” Now a nice blanket of white had formed across the road, windswept and forming small drifts. She reached up and turned down the radio to a low murmur, too distracting, her knuckles whitened as she gripped the wheel tighter. She kept her eyes straight ahead, wondering if it was going to let up soon, maybe she could drive through it. She had to make it at least to exit 238. She couldn’t remember if there was anything on that exit, but she could get off the interstate see if anyone knew anything about the weather. There always a gas station she laughed. With bad coffee. The wind was blowing so hard she could barely see ahead of her, she reached down and put the Jeep into four wheel drive, just to be safe. She slowed down to about 45, and kept her eyes out. She didn’t like to admit to herself but she was getting very nervous now. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“SHOT DOWNNNNNNNN IN A BLAZE OF GLORYYYY” Screamed her phone. “SHIT!!”, Julie cursed as she reached over for her phone, knocking it into the passenger seat. She reached over, trying to see who would be calling her now, as all her friends in school knew she was going home. The Jeep hurtled along at 45, drifting onto the snow covered break down lane. She grabbed the charger cord and started to reel the phone in. She grabbed it and silenced it, her mom. Of course. She just let it go to voicemail. She looked back up and panicked. As she was drifting off the right side of the road. “SHIT SHIT SHIT” she gritted as she pulled the wheel hard back to the left. The Jeep slid around, she fought the wheel, then let go, hoping it would correct itself. The wheel miraculously came back to center, she gripped it again and slowed down again, now going just 30, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Damn, that could have been bad” she said to no one in particular. She glanced up at the temperature reading again, 17. “Holy hell” she thought, its dropping. It seemed to be snowing harder, she could feel the wind pushing her all over the highway. She wondered though where all the traffic was. She hadn’t passed an east bound car for over an hour, they may have closed the highway. If they closed it eastbound, then they must have closed it west. Probably back at Laramie.

About 5 minutes later, she noticed it. At first she thought her mind was playing tricks on her. But it was really there, a car. Or truck. The headlights were rather dim, but there was still a gray glow in the sky so she really couldn’t tell. Looked to be about half a mile behind her, as it would disappear over the crest of the rolling hills out here. And the apex of the long sweeping curves. The wind was far worse than it had been, but now she felt a little better. At least she wasn’t the ONLY one out in this mess. And if the worse happened, at least there was another human being there. Another person. That alone relieved her. She felt more at ease, and bumped her speed up to a blistering 45. Well, blistering for her anyway. She glanced back up at the temperature again, 08. She had NEVER seen cold like that. She noticed her feet were getting cold, even though she had the heat on full blast and the defroster. She notice ice had started forming on her side windows. Never thought it would be that cold coming through here. She had seen snow, and cold temperatures in Reno, but nothing like this. Even when she came through here last winter, it was in the 20’s.

She glanced in the rearview mirror. The car had gotten much closer, maybe a hundred yards away. It was getting darker, and she could tell the lights were much dimmer than they should be. And its big. Must be a truck she thought. Or maybe a van. Round headlights too she thought. Must be old. She just kept heading up the interstate. She hadn’t seen a mile marker post for a while, but with the snow, wind, and her laser like attention to the road in front of her since the little spin she hadn’t really been looking. “ This is taking forever” she thought, I should be at the next exit by now. She started getting nervous again, thinking maybe she missed it.

Impossible she thought. I wouldn’t have missed an entire exit. She was starting to regret her visitor now. The van was closer. Real close. Actually much too close. “Back the fuck off asshole” she said again, this time to the van behind her. She was worried that he would hit her if she messed up again. And that’s all she needs, a wrecked car in the middle of a blizzard miles from help with limited cell service. She glanced down at her phone, the red light shined back at her. No service. Great. She looked ahead, and saw a ramp, not 20 yards ahead. Shit, almost missed it. She guided her suv up the onramp. Then she noticed it wasn’t the exit. It was a rest area. Of course. She thought well at least I’ll get Mr. Follow too Close off my ass. She glanced up at the mirror. No. Oh, no. No fucking way. The van was still behind her. “Don’t panic” she thought, maybe he is just pulling off to wait out the storm, or take a piss. Who knows. She pulled into one of the parking spaces to the left, and put the Jeep in park. As she sat there idling she noticed the van pull up behind her. And stop. Blocking her in. Not good. Not good. Not good. The van sat there, it was loud, she could here it over the wind. It didn’t sound powerful, just badly taken care of. She could see it well out of the side view mirror. The dim light of the rest area lights lit up the van well. It was defiantly black. And beat. Looked old, 60’s maybe? . It was a panel van, a work van of some sort she noted, no windows on the side. It looked rough. She heard a loud creak, and saw the van rock. She looked in the rearview mirror and saw the door of the van swing shut. She could see a scripted writing on the door, in chrome. E….E something. She sat there, scared. Not sure what to do, then she noticed the man walking up her drivers side. He was wearing an old and torn heavy coat, boots, and a wide brimmed hat he was having to hold on with one of his hands against the win.

He stopped at her window. She looked at her phone, pretending not to notice him. He reached out with his hand and rapped on the window with his knuckles. No gloves. His hands must be frozen. She looked up and gave a nervous smile. She put down the phone, making sure he could see she had one, and rolled down the window about two inches. “Hello” she said, “Can I help you sir?” As he looked at her his expression did not change, he looked beaten. Like a man who went to work everyday and hated his job, then went home and hated his life. “Hey, I’m sorry, but I need you to come with me, something has happened.” the stranger said against the wind. She looked at him and let out a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” she asked, trying not to show how terrified she was. “No, ma’am but you must come with me, I’m sorry but I cannot let you proceed any further. There was an accident.” “Um, unless you’re the police, I’m not getting out of my car, so if you don’t mind please move your van so I can get out, please?” Now she was completely about to lose it. “ Julie, you have to come with me. You will die if you don’t, I promise you, I hate doing this, but its your only chance, you must trust me.”. She looked at him, her eyes wide. “ How the fuck do you know my name, who the hell are you?!!?” She screamed at him. “Please, just come with me Julie, its cold out here and I’m not going to physically force you. I hate that. Just please, come with me.”

Julie was freaked out. She didn’t know what to do but she sure as hell wasn’t getting in the official rapist van of the Midwest. She rolled back up her window with out a word. She looked in front of her, didn’t look to bad, but what if she got stuck, no way she could get her self out before he got to her. The stranger stood there shaking his head. “Every damned time” he thought and started walking back to his van. She saw him turn his back and start back to his van. This is it, she thought. Now or never. Victim or victor. She put the Jeep in reverse and floored it. The stranger didn’t even flinch as the suv came within inches of him. The Jeep plowed into the front fender and door of the van pushing it to the side, she threw it back in drive and took off for the onramp. “YES” she screamed to herself. “GO BACK TO FUCKING GOATS ASSHOLE!!” She screamed even thought she knew he couldn’t hear her. Exit 238. There will be people at exit 238. And around here there will be people who have guns. He won’t follow she thought. No way he is that dumb. But how did he know my name? Why didn’t he just pull me from the car? She was confused but she knew one thing, no way was she getting in his van on her own free will. That would be suicide. As she pulled back on the highway she looked in her mirror, no sign of him. Excellent she thought. He is probably looking at the damage she did to his van. She hoped she had fucked it up good. What if he knew her parents? What if he was really there to help? Stop. Stop it. Your already trying to rationalize this to yourself, she thought to herself. Just get to the exit, find people, call the law. That’s your goal.

The man stood by his battered van. Its always the same. Always. They never have the faith. Oh well, the chase is on. He stepped up into the van, closed the door, and went after his prey.

Julie was starting to relax, she had done pretty well calming herself down and then it all went to shit. Headlights. Dim. Round. He was back. And catching up fast. She threw caution to the wind and accelerated up to 60 mph through the drifting snow. Looking back at the van which was now less than 50 feet behind her. A momentary lack of attention and she saw the headlights disappear in the rearview mirror. Shit. She was sliding sideways again but she wasn’t getting it back this time. The Jeep slid off the left side of the interstate and slid down the slope of the median backwards. She came to a rest, upright and rattled, staring at the van, now sitting still, the wind blowing the steam of the tailpipe around as it sat there idling. He didn’t get out, he just sat there, staring out the drivers side window as the wind whipped around the van. Waiting, hoping, that she would come and ask him for help, that she would get past her fears. No dice, she stared back, wondering why he didn’t come after her. Why he didn’t get out of the van. This was the perfect opportunity. She sat there for what seemed like days, wondering what to do next, when a voice in her head screamed, floor it, get out of this ditch, your not far from your goal now, you can’t give up. She did just that, the engine of the Jeep roared as it clawed and slid its way up the median and back onto I-80, just feet from the front of the van. The stranger just watched her, and cursed the fact that she was once again on the run.

Back on the road again, headed west she came up over the hill and saw it. Lights! The exit! Finally, civilization. She kept edging up her speed, and once again, the van was gaining. She kept her eyes on the goal, now only 200 yards away, she started heading towards the exit, turning on her turn signal out of habit. As she started heading down ramp, she got loose once again, spun around completely and hit the guardrail on the right side of the ramp backwards. This was bad. Really bad. She felt herself get thrust back into the seat as the back of the jeep crumpled into the rail. The rear window busted, and the Jeep bounced back out into the middle of the ramp. As she came to a stop, she saw the headlights bearing down on her from the interstate. She closed her eyes, gripped the wheel and prepared for impact.

It never came. She felt the cold air drifting in from the broken rear window. The wind rocked the Jeep. She could easily hear the loud, rough idle of the van. Idle? She opened her eyes, the van sat at the top of the exit ramp. She looked at it, no longer scared, but confused. She put the Jeep in park, and waited to see what happened next, even though her mind screamed at her to drive away. The drivers side door of the van opening snapped her out of the trance. She frantically pulled the Jeep into drive and looked again, but he wasn’t coming toward her. The stranger was just standing beside the open door of the van. Staring at her. She started getting angry now. Really angry, she rolled down the window of the Jeep and screamed “ What the hell do you want!!” The stranger, straining to be heard over the wind and blowing snow yelled back “You, to do the right thing, and come with me. I told you, there has been an accident. You must come with me.” She looked at the man, who was only about 30 feet from her and felt less threatened, but she knew he wasn’t going to get her in that van. The stranger spoke again, “You have half an hour, I’ll be right here. After that, I’m leaving.” And the stranger stepped back up into his van and shut the door.

She rolled up the window wondering what the hell the man meant. He still sat there, in his battered van. She put the Jeep in gear, and pulled down the ramp toward the light that had attracted her before. It was a truck stop. Not a chain place, more of a mom and pop type of deal. She limped the injured Jeep into the parking lot and parked 2 spaces from the door. There were no other cars in the lot, but looking through the windows that spanned the entire front of the café area she noticed it had many customers, looked to be at least 30 people in there. Sane people she hoped. She got out of her car, and walked toward the front door, as she pushed it open, she welcomed the warmth and stillness of the air. She walked up to the counter, and yelled to the man behind the counter, “Please help me, I’m being chased!”

The man behind the counter barely looked up, a couple folks nervously laughed. “What the hell is wrong with you people! Call the fucking police, I’m being chased by a lunatic in a van for fucks sake!” The man behind the counter looked up at her, “Hey there, my name is James. Now just calm down, your safe now. But we need to clear some things up for you. Go over and talk to Grayson over there, he will set you straight.” She wanted to run back out the door, run back to her Jeep and see if she could make it to another exit, but she felt the answer was in this diner. Again, her mind told her to get the hell out of there, but she knew in her gut that she need to talk to the man called Grayson. She walked over toward the man that the counter fellow had pointed at. He was a large man, gray hair peaking out from a tattered Purina Feed ball cap. But he looked kind. She walked over to the booth where the man was sitting with a cup of coffee. Only about 4 minutes had passed since her last encounter with the stranger. She didn’t know how much more weird shit she could deal with tonight. But she decided to find out.

Grayson just looked at her for a few moments after she sat down. He looked over at James, “Hey, would you get this young lady a cup of coffee.” She shook her head as to say no, but he looked at her and said “Your gonna want it, how do you take it?” “ Lots of cream, lots of sugar” The old man looked over at James again, “You hear her?” “Yeah” said James. “Ok, miss. While he is getting that, let me clear up this fella in the van for ya. We have all encountered him. Everyone of us. And we all misunderstood his intentions.” She cocked her head slightly to the side “What the hell do you mean misunderstood his intentions? The son of a bitch ran me off the road, he is trying to kill me!” “Miss” said Grayson “Did he once touch you? Did he once force you out of your car, even though he had ample opportunity?” “No.” She said, “But what the hell is he doing out there? He is going to get someone killed. And why havn’t you called the police yet?” “Miss, first off, trust me, he isn’t going to get anyone killed here” he chuckled. “And second, there is no phone here. Look around you for a minute, tell me what you see.” She glanced around, many different people in the restaurant. All different walks of life, two booths down from them was a man in a suit. Behind him, a older couple who must still think it’s the early 70’s based on the way they were dressed. Over on the other side of the counter were several different people, all seemed to be dressed from different decades. 60’s, 70’s, 80’s and 90’s.

“I don’t understand, what’s going on here?” “The man you have been running from is a transporter. He brings souls to where they need to be. Miss, I don’t know what has happened to you, all of us in here do not know what happened to us either, but you are most likely dead. We are in a state of limbo, we cannot leave. I see my old truck out there right now.” He motioned out the window to an empty space. “But I can’t leave here in it. Oh, I can go out, start it up, and head up the exit ramp, but as I reach the top I am suddenly headed back down toward Old Peterson road out there. There is no where I can go to leave here. Now, its not too bad here, its warm inside while it’s a snowy, windy, mess out there, not bad at all.” He continued “But honestly, I would almost rather be judge and sent into damnation than stay here. We have no sense of time really, I don’t remember if I have eaten, or if I have slept. I don’t even remember if I have gotten up to take a piss. My coffee cup is always at the same level. I have no idea if I had this conversation with you already 50 times. The only way we can even remotely have an idea about the time we have spent here is when a new guest arrives. Would you mind telling me what year it is?” She sat there, stunned. Not sure of what to make of this. “Um, its ah, its 2009.” The old mans face dropped. He couldn’t believe it. Last customer they had was back in 1992. He looked her right in the eye “Miss, I have been here since the summer of 64, at least as far as I can remember. Well, I guess you can pick yourself out a booth, there is some nice folks in here, you will enjoy all their stories, but after a while you will start to forget if they are yours or theirs” She looked at him, almost ready to cry. It had been 18 minutes. “The man” she said. “The man said he would wait half an hour. What did that mean?” The old mans eyes lit up. “That means you still have a chance! Go, go now. Get in his van. Trust me, no matter what fate he has for you, its better than the one your choosing now. Please, no one has ever said he would wait. You must catch him before its too late.”

She didn’t know what to do, what to say. The man looked at her “Go! Goddammit, get out of here! NOW!” She got up, almost falling, ran past James holing her coffee, pushed open the door to the café, and ran to her now battered Jeep. Start she thought. Start for the love of God start. The Jeep roared to life, she put it in reverse and slung the Jeep around toward the exit. James looked over to Grayson, “Do you think she will make it?” “I sure as hell hope so, I would like someone to beat this shitty cosmic game.” The folks inside the diner went back to the polite conversation, as they had been doing for decades. As she pulled back out on the road she pulled up to the exit and headed up the wrong way to I80 West. Two headlights stared back at her, he was still there. She never thought she would be happy about that. 27 minutes. She pulled up to the front of the van and slid to a stop. As she got out, the vans driver side door opened, once again. The stranger stepped out. “You coming or not?” he said. “I don’t have a choice do I.” She replied. “Sure you do, that’s what it’s all about. Choices.” “ I’m coming.” she replied.

She walked over to the passenger side of the van, reached for the handle and opened the door. She noticed the script on the door again, Econoline. Huh, she thought. Wondered what that said. One mystery down. She got into the passenger side of the van as the stranger was closing his door. She reached over to pull her door shut, and noticed two threaded shafts where the window crank and door handle use to be and hesitated, she looked over at the man again. He just looked over at her and said “Sometimes people decide to leave after they have made the commitment to come with me. Its just insurance.” She looked back at the door, knowing once she closed it, short of breaking the window, only he could open it. She sighed, reached out and closed the door. The stranger put the van in gear, and slowly swung the van around, heading east in the west bound lane.

“So, what’s the deal? Am I dead? Are you, like, an angel?” Julie asked breaking the silence. The stranger replied “Your not dead, not yet. And no, I’m not an angel. I simply have a job to do. I have a debt to pay. Some people don’t get the second chance I have been afforded, so I do my job.” She stared at him, though it didn’t seem to bother him. She thought for a second, well, he is probably use to it. “So, um, do you have a name?” He replied, “Frank, Frank Patterson.” Short and to the point she thought. “So,” She continued, “How does all this work. And what accident are you talking about? I don’t remember any accidents.” He looked over at her, first time since he started driving, “You didn’t regain control the first time you lost it on the interstate. You actually rolled your car over. A plow driver came upon you a few minutes after, in fact the EMS has just arrived. You have a pulse. But your fading. You injured your head pretty badly. I am trying to get you back, because your time is not scheduled to be up. But I don’t know if we will make it.” She just sat there, not sure what to feel, what to think. It was all so surreal. “The people at the café, do you” He cut her off. “Never been there, I’m not allowed down that ramp. Those are people I couldn’t help. People I failed. You see, there are places like that all over the world. Places where lost souls gather, they are not necessarily bad people, but they are not going to make it any further. That is their eternity.” She mulled it over, trying to think of questions to ask, but drawing a blank. She looked behind her and noticed the back of the van was blocked off by a large piece of wood painted black. She didn’t know what to say, she asked “So, what’s with the wood?” This caught the stranger off guard, he looked over at her, kinda confused. “Well, honestly, its easier to heat the van without having to heat the entire cargo area.” He continued, “That’s the first time anyone has asked me about that since 1964.” For the first time, she saw a small smile form upon the strangers face.

“So, how many have there been, you know, before me?” He didn’t answer, he just kept staring ahead. She pushed on, “Will I remember any of this if I, um, survive?” “Miss” he said, “I am trying my best to save your life, I already saved your soul, so technically, I did my job. All these questions are breaking my concentration.” She looked over at him, “Well I am so sorry but I’m just caught a little off guard here buddy, I was just on my” She stopped, it finally sunk in. She may never see her parents again, her friends, anyone she knows. She tried to hide it but tears started running down her face. He looked over at her, “Oh, come on. Don’t start that. Jesus. Maybe if you hadn’t kept running you wouldn’t be in a race for your life right now.” “ Don’t give me that SHIT!” She yelled at him. “Who in their right mind would get into a van with the way you were acting. Being all cryptic and shit asshole. Where do you get off trying to blame ME for this!” She was breathing hard. She was pissed. He kept looking ahead “Excuse me miss, but I’m not the one who wrecked her Jeep am I. Look, if you survive this, you may have some memory of what occurred. Are you going to tell everyone what happened? About all of this? What would be stranger, me asking you to come with me because there was an accident or me telling you that , oh, I’m sorry, but your hanging in the balance of life and death and since I’m playin the Grim Reaper today how bout you come with me and we will get this all sorted out.” He got agitated. “ Look, this isn’t an easy job, I am not allowed to touch you, I am not allowed to convince you, I have to get you from where your going back to where you need to be. It’s a shitty job but its what I have to do. I don’t like it, but I don’t have a choice, YOU DO! So please lady, cut me some slack. I didn’t have to give you any extra time when we got to the exit, but I figured I would be nice and see if we can let you enjoy your life. You want to go back? Fine. I’ll turn it around right now.” She sat there stunned. “I’m sorry, its, its just been so much to deal with all at one time ya know.” “I know,” The man replied. “Just trust me ok, its all about faith. So please, just trust me.” She sat there for a couple minutes. They rode in silence. “The wood, its not just to keep it warm in here is it?” He looked over at her, “No. It isn’t.” “Then why..” “Some people do bad things in life. I cannot allow them to make it to the exit. They MUST be judge. So those people, those people I CAN force.” She nodded. They rode in silence again.

She saw the lights first. The red, and amber flashing lights up ahead. Looked like spastic Christmas lights. Then she saw her Jeep. A mangled mess of metal, the paramedics were just now lifting someone up on the stretcher. Her. She looked over at him, “Can, can they see us?” “No” He replied. “No, they can’t. I’ll pull you up close, you can return to your body by simply laying down on it. I wish you the best of luck, and a long life. She just sat there, the man pulled up about twenty feet from the ambulance, stopped the van and got out. She started to feel sick. It was so twisted to know that you might die, in just a few moments. She was startled when the man opened her door. He looked over at her, “You ready? There is a bit of a time limit.” “Yeah, I’m ready.” She said. She stepped out of the van, and started walking over to her, body. It felt weird. She say them working on her, struggling to keep her body alive. She turned back, the man was still standing next to her open door. “Hey! One more question.” “WHAT!” he yelled back, against the snow and wind. “What’s with the van?”. For the second time that night, and in a long time, he smiled a little bit. “Company car.” And with that, he, and the van, faded into the blowing snow.

[taztaas]

Nearly Witches ch. 2

This was supposed to be a drabble. It blew up. Takes place in a modern (90′s-ish) AU. Part 1 also on AO3 This is a repost! I figured reblogging and adding to the first post was not a good idea.

Taako didn’t have any friends because he was a selfish asshole. Kravitz didn’t have any friends because he was a creepy weirdo.

They lived in a small town. Taako was openly gay and unashamed of it, so he got a lot of shit. And he wouldn’t take that shit laying down - Taako was all sharp angles and his nails were even sharper - so he got in a lot of trouble. Also, he was a loudmouth.

Kravitz was mostly left alone but there was talk. People whispered behind his back, intentionally loud enough for him to hear. He had strange interests, he was too quiet - which was apparently unsettling - and worst of all, he was a rich kid. He stayed out of trouble, but got blamed for it often.

Kravitz couldn’t say how he and Taako met. They just… drifted together. They didn’t have much, if any, common interests. They weren’t really friends or anything. They just ended up hanging out, more often than not. Usually at Kravitz’s house.

Kravitz lived alone in one of the largest houses in town, his parents were overseas and they trust him to manage. And he does. His grades are above average.

Kravitz had never been to Taako’s place. He knew the address, and he knew that Taako shared the apartment with a guy called Magnus. He had seen Magnus around at school - big guy, more brawn than brain. Kravitz couldn’t imagine why someone like Taako was shacking up with a guy like that but it was none of his business. Taako never told him and Kravitz never thought to ask.

Kravitz stepped outside. He locked his door and zipped up his black hoodie to fight the chill. He was still shaking, he didn’t want to be in the house anymore. He didn’t have any idea what to do. Magic didn’t actually exist. It shouldn’t have been possible, but fucking somehow , he had managed to summon the goddamn God of Death and she had taken Taako. Kravitz had no idea why, but it was obvious enough that it was his fault.

He was the one who figured it would be fun to fuck around with dark magicks. He thought it would be cool. Taako had been uncharacteristically opposed to the idea the whole time. Usually he didn’t give a shit about anything.

Taako didn’t say it straight, but now, looking back, Kravitz could see that all the annoying jabs had been in an attempt to divert Kravitz’s attention from the ritual.

Fuck.

And now Taako was gone. Kravitz felt like shit. Taako was probably dead. God of Death and all that. But Kravitz had to be sure. If Taako wasn’t dead, maybe he could be brought back. Somehow. With magic and shit. Another ritual. Something!

Kravitz had no fucking idea what to do. He couldn’t call anyone, no one would believe him. Not that he had anyone to call.

Kravitz started walking. He had to get away from the house where the fucking God of Death appeared and took his… friend? Kravitz shook his head, he didn’t want to think about that right now. He pushed his hands into his pockets and felt Taako’s ridiculous lighter. He squeezed it. For reassurance, or something.

It wasn’t too late but was dark out. Kravitz looked up at the sky, it seemed empty.

“New moon…” He muttered, and briefly wondered if it had anything to do with anything.

He walked under the dirty yellow light of the street lights, cold slowly seeping into his bones. With a start he realized he was heading towards Taako’s place. He stopped.

He should tell Magnus. Kravitz had no idea about Taako’s family, but Magnus might. They deserved to know. Magnus wouldn’t believe him, but at this point Kravitz didn’t care about that. He had to tell someone . He kept walking, now with a goal in mind.

Taako’s place was a dingy two-story apartment building. Kravitz took the stairs to the second floor and knocked at the correct door. He heard someone rushing to the door, and when Magnus opened it, Kravitz could see his face falling. He had been expecting Taako, obviously.

“Ummm… Hi?” Magnus said, and Kravitz swallowed audibly. He looked away, clenching his fists in his pockets.

“You uh- You don’t know me, probably, sorry,” Kravitz babbled, before he caught himself. “I’m Kravitz and-”

“Oh, you’re Taako’s boyfriend!” Magnus said with an excited grin. Kravitz blinked. Then he reeled. He felt like his legs were going to give out.

“Wha- What? No!”

“Really?” Magnus squinted at him “He talks about you a lot.”

“No, really!" Kravitz waved his hands in front of him, as if dismissing the notion.Taako talked about him? "We aren’t- aren’t dating.” They weren't even friends.

“Oh”, Magnus said simply. “Where’s Taako anyway?” Kravitz froze.

“Yeah… about that…” He said unsurely. Suddenly suspicious, Magnus straightened in front of him and fuck, he was a really big guy.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know-” Kravitz breathed out, “I don’t fucking-”

“You better start talking, buddy.” Magnus almost growled , and Kravitz felt very much threatened.

“You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

Kravitz closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. “The Raven Queen took him.”

Silence. Kravitz opened his eyes to see Magnus’ reaction, but there wasn’t any. Kravitz was starting to wonder if he should duck or run away. He braced himself for Magnus' answer.

“I don’t believe you.” Magnus said finally.

“I know! I know it sounds impossible, and it is! But... Taako was at my place and I was doing this ritual-”

“You were doing what?”

“Fuck, it’s like magic okay? You draw some shit, you light some candles and say some shit. It wasn’t supposed to work. Magic isn’t real!” Kravitz hurried to explain, talking with his hands as much as with his mouth. “But when I was done and I turned around, Taako was fucking gone and there were raven feathers on the floor! The Raven Queen must’ve come and-”

“Move.” Magnus said, interrupting Kravitz's tirade.

“Huh?”

“Move.” Magnus repeated, and Kravitz took a step back. Magnus stepped out, pulling his jacket on and locked the door. “Come on,” he said and started walking. Kravitz followed.

“Where are we going?”

“I have no fucking idea what’s going on, and apparently you don’t either, but my friend is gone and we gotta do something.”

“You have- You have an idea?” Kravitz hardly dared to hope, that Magnus fucking Burnsides had just had an goddamn epiphany.

“Well… sorta.” Magnus said, scratching at his chin. “I know this guy, he’s like, a priest or something.”

“A priest?” Kravitz deflated. Magnus shrugged.

“Hey, I don’t know but I’ve seen enough movies where you kick demon ass with holy water and stuff. So I think this is our best bet.”

Kravitz couldn’t believe that he was getting into Magnus Burnsides’ dirty pick-up truck. He couldn’t believe he was gonna meet a priest and tell him that he had performed a dark ritual in his bedroom.

But it wasn’t like he had a choice. And Kravitz wanted to- no, he needed to get Taako back, and he and Magnus, they were on the same side here. The unicorn lighter felt heavy in Kravitz's pocket.

TBC

#the adventure zone #taz fic #taz fanfiction #taz #taaswrites #taz fic: nearly witches #nearly witches #drabble #taakitz