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blushing-starker · 4 years

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Having a boyfriend that's a natural rule breaker becomes even more tedious because now it's two people conspiring together, itching to shatter social norms. Sure, they won't pull the fire alarm stunt to get out of a quiz (that's more Rocket and Groot's style), place mirrors on front steps to confuse Fury and nearly give the principal a heart attack (Loki with an exasperated Thor and cackling Hela) or hire a mariachi band to follow hall monitor Alexander Pierce (Steve had joined Bucky and Sam in that one); they'd never sneak into the air vents, fill them with glitter so the haughty board of directors would be covered in pink sparkles when they cranked the ac (Clint and Nat).

Ok, they did help with that last one, buying the shimmering stuff from T'Challa's sister and slipping five jars into Clint's backpack, but they didn't actually go into the vents.

But that's not the point. The point is there are limits to their rule breaking; Tony's spot on the football team and Peter's participation in the art club too important to risk on something as silly as skipping a quiz. No, they thanked their best friends, unhooked the window lock and slithered out only after finishing and handing in the quiz. They weren't amateurs.

Still, Peter knows Tony literally couldn't have chosen a worse time for their impromptu lunch date. (Luckily, he'd expected this exact situation.)

"Tony, they don't even have bad food today. We could just wait until the bell rang to meet up and eat at the bleachers. Like we always do a day before a big game."

His boyfriend swivels around, hooks nimble fingers into his belt loops to pull Peter closer, never once stumbling even while walking backwards. The grin he shows is manic, just this side of wild to let Peter know this isn't about haunting nightmares and bouts of anxiety. This is normal, too high on a feeling Tony Stark. Which means he won't head back to school unless Peter pulls out all the stops...

He's too exhausted from last night's art project to use up energy on the puppy eyes. So he sighs, tugs on the blue varsity jacket Tony loves to show off, kisses a dimple before turning this untamed creature around.

"Come on, I found a new route to that shawarma place with MJ and Ned last week." It sounds exasperated, but Tony knows Peter will do anything to keep him happy. Well. Not anything. There's only so many times they can discuss Star Wars before simply agreeing to disagree on whether Han and Luke are pan or bi.

"What, and you tell me this now?", Tony squawks indignantly from Peter's left side, freezing nose nuzzling into Peter's neck as revenge.

Like a robber caught sneaking into a vault, he raises his hands instantly before shoving Tony away.

"Hey, you were focusing on practice! If I told you, you'd bring Rhodey, he'd bring T'Challa and then Shuri would pop up and who goes where she goes? Bucky, which means Steve and Sam, who'd already be there thanks to Rhodey and of course Clint would somehow appear with Nat. We'd be together so Ned and MJ are gonna be teasing with Betty and half the guys in our grade have a crush on Nat, or MJ or Shuri or Betty or you. So what's the end result? The entire football, soccer, basketball and swim team eating shawarma a week before the games. I am not hearing Coach Coulson scold me for you guys breaking diet again. I'm already on his list, another situation like that and I'll have to run fifteen laps around the field."

"Oh come on, you can do those in your sleep." He could, but again, not the point.

"With a weighted backpack, Tony."

"Yeah, I can see why you wouldn't want that."

"Before cycling fifteen laps and then swimming fifteen laps."

"Jesus, why would he even do that?" Tony looks at him then, disgruntled at the thought of his boyfriend doing all that.

He shrugs, doesn't want to explain Peter had done it once when it all got too much and he'd needed to release the pent up energy. He hadn't noticed Coach watching him, ready to come help if he hurt himself. They'd talk afterwards, Coulson making him promise to never do that alone. Now it became a reward and a punishment. Peter won the art contest? Fifteen everything to focus his mind and not go jumping off walls in his excitement.

His students wolfing down a thousand calories before a game? Fifteen everything so Peter would at least "time it so it's not during the season, Jesus". To be fair to Peter, Tony participated in almost all the sports teams so scheduling was hard.

"Listen, just don't eat a whole animal, ok? We can split it, eat enough," he glares at Tony, pushing through even as the puppy eyes come out, "and then head to the movies. They're showing Aliens for a few days cuz of Halloween and I already texted the guys to come during lunch."

His boyfriend, smart and sharp and witty, just blinks at him. "But we have class after lunch."

"Technically, but I convinced Mr Pym to let the class out of lab so we could all hang out. It's the one class we share so now the whole group can see it together."

Tony stops, eyes wide and mouth open.

"You, what, planned this?"

"Yeah, something fun before tomorrow to take it off your mind for a while. Or, you know, not make it stand out as much. I know how focused you get, and it's really great, having that as a goal, strategizing and taking it seriously. But I also know it can be a lot, so I thought we should all hang out since each of us has something coming up and we aren't spending much time together. Which I get, responsibilities and family and school; I just missed it and I can't be the only one, right? So yeah, this was planned. Like, two weeks ago. When MJ found the new route, it was like a sign. And I really want you to relax and enjoy the whole, I have friends that care for me and a boyfriend that loves-"

He slaps a hand on his mouth, eyes impossibly wide and cheeks flaming. Tony and Peter stand immobile, the world reduced to beat up sneakers breaking the simplicity of yellow lines on black, a flickering neon sign telling them the shawarma place is open and two hearts slowly starting to beat again after that confession.

Ned would say it's romantic. MJ would bluntly remind them it's a bad idea to stand in the middle of the road even if they're saying I love you. And with good reason, since there's the telltale roar of a car bursting with teenagers, voices howling out the lyrics to an AC/DC song. And of course Peter notices the noise of rubber swerving against gravel, the screeching of old brakes and a few terrified shrieks harmonizing with a sharp wind blasting into him out of nowhere. Before he can react, Tony is there, wrapping his arms around Peter and shoving them both into the little patch of grass that grows from a crack in dirty pavement.

There's a moment where his whole world flips, tumbles until he screws his eyes shut and prepare himself for whatever the fuck caused that noise. But nothing comes. Only a sigh blowing a stray curl away from his forehead. But a sigh? Why would?

Tony.

He gasps, jolts upright and apologizes when that just serves to jostle his boyfriend further into the ground. His boyfriend who'd flip them so Peter wouldn't be hurt. Tony is peering at him through half shut eyes, discomfort clear on the grimace he tried to transform into a sheepish grin.

"So, you love me, huh?"

It's the stupidest thing Tony Stark has ever said.

"What the fuck were you thinking? You could have gotten hurt, you could have shattered a wrist, dislocated a shoulder, torn an ACL, bent a leg-"

"This is not what I expected. Also it was a three foot leap forward on grass, I'm fine, Peter."

"Or bashed your head, or busted an arm and then what would you do for the game tomorrow? Who the hell does that?"

"The guy you love, apparently."

"That's not the point, Tony, that's unimportant because you nearly got hurt. Christ, Coulson will slaughter me if there's a scratch on you, and then your mom would be sad and I'd be sad because, what would I do without you? And don't you ever do that again, I can't take it. I am not losing you, Tony. God, why would you do that, risk so much on-"

"On you? Babe, I'd do it again. Ok, not the right thing to say based on the whole face thing you got going on right now. But just hear me out. Don't, stop hitting me, ow, why are you hitting, how are you this strong, Jesus. Ow, stop it. Peter, for fuck's sakes, I love you, you animal. Now please let go of the jacket, it'll get wrinkles."

His hands unclasp the soft cotton, Tony falling back with a groan and Peter's unhinged jaw snapping shut after fifteen seconds of letting the flies in.

It's a wonderful thing, hearing the guy he's loved for so long say it back, say he loves Peter.

It's also fucking stupid since there's even more reason to not do stunts like that.

"You're an idiot. I'm in love with a guy that has one shared brain cell with Steve. You could have been hurt, Tony. And what would that have done, huh?"

His boyfriend sighs yet again, wraps an arm around Peter to push them from the ground and heads to the car where their friends are gawking. He waves them off, offers a "Yeah, I know I'm amazing, no, I didn't break anything, T'challa, yes, I can play, Jesus, Rogers, I can read you like a book. I appreciate the worry, Bruce; Nat, thanks for calming him down. Rhodes, excellent driving. No need to hog the seats, Sam, we need to settle in. Peter, you can keep cursing me out if you, yeah, see how it's nice being fun size when you fit in my lap in a car full of people. What, I'm not walking after that, I don't care if it's til we reach the parking. Let's go, Rhodes. Pepper, I'm fine. "

Clint offers a high five. Tony responds and that's that. Out of sight, Ned gives him a fist bump and MJ keeps on reading her book. It could just be his imagination, but Tony's sure she's smiling, approval clear on her face. He preens, glad to have her blessing, and settles his head on Peter's fluffy hair.

-----

When they're all laughing in a booth, smashed together and picking food off of everyone's plate, Peter nuzzles the crook of his neck, holds his hand and squeezes it. Tony smiles, lights up and shoves at Sam's face when the trio of best friends tease him for puffing his chest out when his boyfriend ever so softly says, "I love you."

"I love you, too." The table whoops and calls for another round of food and Coca-Cola, their family grinning at them and fondly teasing the new couple. Tony grins back, high on this feeling of warmth and happiness and safety and love.

And then Peter presses ice cold lips onto his neck and he lets out a shout, pain coursing through him when a knee slams into the table. His eyes water and through the haze of agony he sees their friends exchanging cash, some grumbling and others smirking. Rhodey and MJ, he notes, are the ones that win the most. They high five before pocketing the cash and ordering dessert.

Peter kisses his cheek, smile innocent and eyes wicked. It's his own fault Tony snatches an ice cube and slips it below his Nirvana shirt. He only has five seconds to lord his victory over Peter before there's ice cream being smeared on his cheek. They battle then, accidentally sending food into Wanda's lap, Clint's hair and Bucky's face.

In less than a minute they are all covered in shawarma and participating in the fight. Peter shrieks when Tony pulls him into his lap, gets chicken on the varsity jacket and tries to wriggle away. But Tony kisses him, tastes ice cream and joy, thanks whoever decided to give him a break and find this incredible person dozing on the roof of the school with Ned and MJ one spring afternoon. Peter kisses back and, at the same time, they say, confidently, honestly,

"I love you."

This is dedicated to @drarryismyshit07

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imagine-your-party-hosts · 4 years

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Lemon Cake

Word Count: 2,385

Pairing: Bloodhound x Fem Reader

Summary: You looked ever the part of a spouse of an Apex Predator and not an Apex Predator. You did not look like you’d ever even entertained the idea of running a mile, let alone running from a blood sport. How in the worlds had you caught Bloodhound’s attention? Bloodhound, “I am the hunter the gods have sent,” looking at you, with your blush and your eyeliner and your acrylic nails, and saying, “That’s the one.”

“Hey, [Name]!”

You rolled your eyes as you picked up your phone, the television screen behind you still rolling a recording of the earlier Apex Champions. You’re smiling still however at Elliot as he stared at you; he’s too close to the phone screen, and you could see right up his bloody nostril.

“Congrats!” you told him, though you snickered all the same. “Now put on my pretty little hunter so I can talk to them instead.”

Elliot’s mouth dropped, while beside him Ajay snatched the phone out of his hands. They’re still standing in the middle of King’s Canyon, the little drone cameras still circling over their heads from the games.

“Hey, we won! You’re gonna make us that cake you promised us then, eh, [Name]?”

You grinned at her on the phone, nodding your head. “Yes! As long as you give Bloth the phone already,” you reminded her, and she rolled her eyes with a guffaw, finally passing the phone to Bloodhound, and as soon as you saw them you shrieked.

“Bloth!” You screamed like you hadn’t seen them in a decade, and, to you, it felt that way. “You looked so cool this game! Not that you don’t look that cool every game!”

You jumped up from the couch, spinning to show them the television on the wall, pointing to the still circulating image of the three Apex Champions. “Look at you! How did it feel having to carry Mirage for yet another game?”

“H-hey!!” Elliot objected from beside Bloodhound; he tried to come back onto screen, though Bloodhound turned away. “You know, I’m the one that called you out of the goodness of my heart!”

“It was hard work, elskan,” Bloodhound responded, talking over Elliot in the background. You were wearing a pastel pink knitted cardigan over a simple black cami, and when you had spun towards the television the cardigan had fallen off your shoulder, and Bloodhound longed to reach out and yank it back up before Elliot or anyone else saw.

You looked ever the part of a spouse of an Apex Predator and not an Apex Predator. You did not look like you’d ever even entertained the idea of running a mile, let alone running from a blood sport.

“I bet it was! I saw you have to get his ass up time and time again.” You two shared a chuckle at Elliot’s expense, who stood behind Bloodhound, dragging a hand down his muddy face.

You also did not look like someone that fit with Bloodhound. You were soft and plump; your hands had no calluses and your nails were done, sharp little points that Bloodhound likened to talons or claws. You had been the makeup artist for the Apex Legends televised interviews - had been, before you’d had to quit when they found out you were dating one of the champions - so how in the worlds had you caught Bloodhound’s attention? Bloodhound, “I am the hunter the gods have sent,” looking at you, with your blush and your eyeliner and your acrylic nails, and saying, “That’s the one.”

Elliot had searched your name one day, leaned back into his chair as you went for one of your brushes, and he gasped overdramatically like you’d stabbed him.

“Is this you?!” Elliot had yelled, and the other legends looked to him to see if you really had stabbed him. Bloodhound hadn’t exactly needed to be here - it wasn’t like they needed their makeup done - though they were still usually here to wait for the legends to get called to the stage.

“God, why’re you searching me on the internet? Doofus,” you avoided Elliot’s question, taking his phone from him and sitting it down on your table. You’d been doing their makeup for months now, and it was hard not to talk to someone who got up close and personal and pointed out your clogged pores.

“[Name] did professional archery!!” Elliot still had continued, looking around to the fellow legends around you two. You had rolled your eyes, pinching Elliot’s nose and turning him away back to you. “Why don’t you try out for the games, [Name]?”

“Ew!” you had yelled out with a laugh, shaking your head wildly. “Like I’d ever do something like that. I used to just do archery for fun, not to use in the games.”

Elliot had reached for his phone, though you swatted his hand away. “You participated in worlds on the planet you were on, that doesn’t seem like for fun, babe!”

Bloodhound’s curiosity had been peaked - you were the last person they’d ever expected to hold a bow in your little unblemished hands, and that’s when they realized that perhaps there were two sides to your coin.

“I’ll come home to you soon, elskan,” Bloodhound’s distorted voice brought you back to them on the other side of the phone. You jumped and swayed on your heels, grinning brightly at them.

“Please! I’ve been waiting at your suite to watch the games. See!” you turned the camera to the big king sized bed, with its fur blankets, unlit candles on the bedside table. “Can we go back to the cabin when all of this is done, Bloth?”

You knew they still had at least two day’s worth of interviews ahead of them, and while the suite Apex provided was large and warm, you missed the cozy cabin in the woods, you missed listening to the rain hit the roof through the treetops.

“Of course,” they assured you, and you grinned as you fell back onto the bed, pulling the furs over your shoulders.

“Shouldn’t you three get going? Don’t you have to get healed and clean up? And by that I mean Elliot, since he’s the most beat up,” you pointed a finger at the screen, and Bloodhound glanced over their shoulder at Elliot. “I’ll watch your guys’ interview and wait for you. I bought a new candle, I can’t wait for you to smell it!”

You were soft, and someone that needed to be protected. Your cheeks were round and red, your eyes bright and twinkling - perhaps a better question would be how Bloodhound had drawn your attention. The first day on your job you’d went to Bloodhound in their chair, smiling brightly at them.

“I’m assuming you don’t need your makeup done,” you had said, and Bloodhound had glanced up to you as you leaned towards them. “I probably shouldn’t tell anyone, but you’re my favorite legend. I’d tell you good luck today, but I doubt you need it, huh?” you had laughed, rocking back on your heels, hands clasped together in front of you. “Or do you guys say break a leg? I told Octane that, but he told me he didn’t have any. That was embarrassing.”

Once Bloodhound knew more about you they had a better understanding why you’d came up to them that day. On the outside, you and Bloodhound were complete opposites - on the inside, Bloodhound doted over you and you were indeed every part their number one fan.

“I can’t wait either, my love,” they responded, and you squealed in delight.

“I love you, Bloth. The champion of the games and my heart!” you howled out, and underneath their mask they grinned at you.

“I love you too,” they responded, and they relished in the way you bundled the furs around you and rolled around in the bed.

Elliot took the phone back and you stuck your tongue out at him, hanging up in his face as a goodbye. You had only spoken with Bloodhound for maybe a total of four minutes, but you were still left breathless and grinning goofily. You two had been together for just over a year, though you were still always giddy and lightheaded when you saw them after a long time away at the games.

Bloodhound was only itching even more to head back to the suite they now knew you were waiting for them at after the brief phone call they’d had with you. They knew you would be readily waiting with your hands in your lap, patiently on the couch watching the after game interviews for any glance of them you could get. They wanted to go back to you, to show you themselves in person, so you didn’t have to flip through Mirage and Lifeline as well for any small crumbs of them.

You indeed sat on the couch, the fur blanket thrown over your legs as you waited patiently for Bloodhound’s time on screen. Time passed well after dark, and when Bloodhound finally came back to their suite the room was dark save for the television still playing and a candle on the coffee table in front of you.

“Elskan, you’re going to burn the place down,” Bloodhound said as they approached you on the couch, and you stirred briefly.

“I hope so. Then we could just stay in the cabin forever,” you murmured to them as they blew out the candle. You reached out, tugging gently at the heavy coat they were still wearing. “That’s the new candle I got. Smell it, Bloth, it’s blueberry pancakes.”

Bloodhound turned back to you, reaching to place their hands to your legs, and you reached out, wrapping your arms tight around their neck. “I will, don’t worry. You know you didn’t have to sit up on the couch for me, beloved, you could have gone to bed.”

“Where is Arthur?” you asked instead, distractedly nuzzling into their neck, your forehead bumping against their headpiece.

“They are here, elskan,” Bloodhound assured you, reaching their gloved hand up to tangle in your hair, and you gave a quiet whine.

“Where? Bloth, can we get you out of this? I want you to kiss me.”

Bloodhound gave a chuckle, slowly tucking their hands under your thighs and lifting you from the couch. You gave a huff against their neck, though aside from that you didn’t even remark, letting them carry you to the bed where in the corner on the bed frame Arthur was perched.

“Kiss me,” you asked again when Bloodhound sat you down on the bed, though you still patiently looked up to him with your hands folded in your lap again. Bloodhound reached up to take their mask off, and as soon as they’d unclasped and pulled it up you were reaching up, placing a hand to their cheek, your thumb rubbing gently across a scar.

“I love you. Please get out of this so we can sleep together,” you whispered to them, and Bloodhound’s lips twitched underneath your thumb as you grazed the cracks in their skin, turning to kiss your palm.

“I love you too. Give me just a moment, okay, elskan?” they asked you quietly, and you smiled up to them, slowly nodding as they turned away to get undressed. You sat at the edge of the bed, swaying hazily and humming to yourself, cooing to Arthur on the bedpost.

Bloodhound came back a moment later after turning the television off, that was still even now on a recap of the earlier match. “Bloth…” you mumbled as they walked towards you, reaching out to take their hand as they neared.

“You look so cute like this, beloved,” Bloodhound told you, and you grinned sleepily up to them. They reached out, pushing the cardigan off your shoulders, folding it to set aside.

“You look so cute like this, too, Bloth,” you hummed out to them. Your voice was heavy with sleep, eyes already closed as they chuckled at you. “Kiss me, already?”

You didn’t even hear them as they returned from putting your cardigan away, though you felt their hands on your cheeks, rough palms but gentle fingers splaying up to your temples. Their thumb ran over the apples of their cheeks, and you kept your eyes closed as they leaned in to kiss you. It was barely there at first, just a gentle feathering, before they pressed further, and you leaned back into the bed from it. Bloodhound was left leaning over you, and you grinned up to them as they just slightly parted from the kiss, your eyes fluttering open.

“It’s been such a long day…” you whispered to them, your breath against their lips. “You’ve worked so hard. Let’s sleep, and tomorrow I’ll make breakfast. Did you know I told Elliot and Ajay I’d make them a cake if you guys won?” you giggled, reaching up your hand to tangle in their long red hair. “I don’t know how to make a cake! Do you, Bloth? I told them I would so they’d work harder for you.”

Bloodhound was smiling down at you as your hand worked through their hair, as you laughed quietly at yourself. “We could just buy one, my love,” they told you, and you squirmed underneath them.

“No way! I’ll at least try, but if I do burn this place down making it you have to promise to cover for me, okay?” you asked them, and their hands went to your hips to settle your wiggling. They squeezed at the warm skin there, and you tittered, trying to writhe again though they held you still.

“I promise,” they told you, and the way you smiled up to them made Bloodhound forget of the games, the interviews, the pictures, and all they could think about was you below them, warm and plush and giggling.

“Thank you! Can we sleep, now?” you asked again, reaching up to pull on the strings of the hoodie Bloodhound was wearing. Bloodhound complied, leaning in to kiss you one more time before they became dead weight on top of you, and you shrieked, laughing as you reached up to squeeze their shoulders. “Bloth!” you giggled out, and you pushed to try to roll over. They let you try once, twice, and thrice they finally relented and helped you, rolling over onto their side off of you when you pushed.

You were breathless, turning to face Bloodhound, though you still reached up to tucked their hair behind their ear. “What kind of cake do you think they like?” you asked them, your hand resting on their cheek again.

“I like lemon,” they told you instead, and you grinned, nodding your head.

“Lemon it is then,” you agreed.

#apex legends #bloodhound #apex legends x reader #apex legends imagines #bloodhound x reader #bloodhound imagines #my writing #im just writing whatever i want at this point LMAO #whatever that comes to mind i have to get out at this point #i write for me at this point so sorry that the reader is ultra feminine! i like makeup and nails and idk wanted to justify how bloodhound #could like me LOL #ive been writing about cake too much im sorry #it just kinda goes hand and hand with bakery tanjirou #food tw #i dont really think the anime gifs go with apex but im trying to keep some sort of aesthetic akdanaknsma

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spnsmile · 4 years

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Title: Burn out this Love

Summary:

Complete blackout in the Bunker during a stormy night has TFW2.0 setting up candles in the war room except Dean accidentally lights one of the cursed candles that extracted a part of himself that believes he loves Castiel. A shaman comes to help but not really, resulting in the angel’s short temper and taking matters in his own hands to make Dean remember. Dean did not forget his name after.

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 9390

Tags/Warning: non/Con, dubcon, Curses, Fluff, Domestics, Established destiel

Written for @supernaturalpromptchallenge March prompt: Element: fire-candle

It was a precarious move, so Castiel silences everything of the earth’s natural orchestra always playing by his ears. From the nonstop spatter of rain on the muddy ground to the howling wind beating against the fort’s thick walls. The electrical hum silently permeating the stone confines to the droplets of water from the sink.

He narrows down the sound to the light tapping of Sam Winchester’s fingers on the keyboard. Jack’s distinct swallows of anticipation beside him. And Dean humming contentedly across the table, waiting for the next course of action to transpire.

Castiel opens his eyes. He raises his left hand with two delicate fingers like pincers and with precision, jabs it at the wooden block of his choice in the second level of the towering pile of Jenga he, Dean and Jack had been huddled around.

There’s a second of everyone holding their breath. Even Sam’s fingers have stopped typing. Dean’s eyes are so round, breath held, Castiel can almost feel his controlled excitement. But he got this.

He meticulously extracted a brick in one pull without making the almost 24 cm tower tumble. Dean sighs with a small, biting his bottom lip to keep whatever he wants to say while Jack’s mouth drops as Castiel stacks the brick up the tower deftly. He then beams at Dean and Jack when the tower remained steady.

“That wasn’t so hard. This indoor game is actually quite entertaining. Humans really are creative when left in their own devices being stuck inside their homes.”

He clasps both his hands on the table then stares at Dean.

Stuck that afternoon because of rain with no case at hand, they were easily convinced by Jack to play Jenga. At first, Dean didn’t want to participate, but one look from the angel gets him to agree. He vowed to destroy Castiel teasingly before they begin.

Except Cas isn’t prone to losing this one yet.

“Your turn, Dean.” Jack says, “Those blocks on the second and third level looks very shaky.” Dean glares at Cas

“Yeah, because somebody insisted on taking out all the foundation on the get-go. Ten minutes later and welcome to Pisa.”

“Rules of Jenga states that you have to remove a brick from a layer other than the top—”

“Like heck I’ll give you top even in this one, babe.” Dean cuts in slyly.

Castiel’s eyes narrow at his boyfriend who looks really fine with his finger-combed hair straight from the shower. He could tell by the strong smell of the hunter’s shampoo pervading the air. He is wearing his soft green top that always matches his eyes. Castiel prefers those one-color coded than the flannels, though he would never be averse to any clothing as long as it includes Dean.

Dean takes a shot in the middle of the tower, then seconds later extracted another brick.

“I got one for tops in ten seconds. Gonna get your ass next, Cas.”

Castiel only deadpans. Dean is obviously flirting with him now but he doesn’t know what to do except stare. He doesn’t remember when this had become a battle of position but he returns the intent gaze with usual deadpan.

“I was using my non-dominant hand.”

Castiel raises his left with an eyebrow up, smiling. Dean huffs in disbelief and was about to put the brick on the top of the tower when Castiel’s phone suddenly rings.

Dean yelps in surprise and knocks the entire tower, sending bricks on the table and the floor with loud thudding sounds. Castiel catches one brick on the way to the ground, watching everything fall apart. Dean groans and smacks his fist on the table while Jack smiles all cheeks like he’s been waiting for it to happen.

“I’ll help get them.” He says instead.

“Who’s callin?” Dean says grudgingly.

They all look at Castiel who’s fishing inside his coat. He shrugs at the look Dean gives him as he takes his phone out. “Oh, it’s my contact—one of the angels.”

Dean makes a face and grumbles.

“Looks like your top didn’t make it, Dean.” Sam remarks lightly from the end of the table.

“Shut up.” Dean snaps, “I’ll win Cas one of these days.”

“A foreseeable future in an alternate universe.”

“Shut up, you want me, Cas.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow scathingly

“No, but I need you to help pick up the wood, Dean. Yes, hello? Uh… yes, you did call inconveniently, I was in the middle of something—”

“My my, this wood’s hard.” Dean kneels on the floor with the voice loud enough to be heard on the angel’s phone.

“Dean,” Sam says in warning.

Giving Dean an intense look, Castiel nods on his phone then hangs up. He stands up and walks to the hunter, kneels in front of Dean who freezes at the sudden approach till Castiel reaches out and tilts his chin up. Sam looks away pointedly.

“Bad boy, Dean.”

Dean’s whole face flushes as red as a tomato.

“I understand it now.” Comes Jack’s voice, severing the spell the two had fallen under when the Nephilim appears behind the angel.

“What did you understand?” Castiel takes the bricks from the boy, feeling Dean’s eyes hot on his back. Jack nods with eyes round.

“This game is much like when people try to reach the top of heaven, but god punished them by taking out what makes them stronger together one by one. Like in the Tower of Babel.”

Dean resurfaces from the trance, blinking.

“He’s all yours.”

Castiel smiles. “It does appear to be all interrelated when you stop and think about it, though, in reality, the prophet of the lord during that time was a bad drunk who was trying to dispute ownership over a windmill farm from his brother. Eventually ending their relationship. Only because his brother refused to speak with him, thus context. But it’s more of the lesson of the story, Jack, rather than the myth behind it. I need to go.”

Dean’s head snaps up from the table.

“Why? Where are you going?”

“To meet my contact? That’s why he called, you heard him, Dean.”

“I heard him destroy my chances of topping.” Dean frowns. Castiel can see the argument rising from his face so he chooses his words carefully.

“He requires my assistance.”

Dean blinks, “Okay, wait for me I’ll go get my coat—”

“Uh, no, Dean. You can’t accompany me.” Because like most angels, this one is also wary of Dean Winchester. All angels—all Supernatural beings are.

“Stop joking around.”

“I’m not. I think you know when I am.” Castiel says drily.

“What— you serious? But we had an agreement not to go out of the house without—"

“Um… Bunker hall pass?”

Sam snorts while Castiel hesitates when he sees Dean frown deeper.

Hall pass as he understands means something about … Winchesters want to do something private which basically is like the loophole in the whole agreement. It’s that pass where they do stupid stuff or deals or meetings without the others knowing.

They all agreed to never go out of the Bunker without a partner according to Dean. If it’s a hunt, it’s usually Sam and Dean together. But if it’s grocery shopping or Dean needing to have some fresh air it’s always Castiel on tow. Castiel doesn’t necessarily require the same attention, though he treasures Dean’s company to a fault.

He doesn’t understand the confused expression on Dean’s face.

“Cas, unless it’s a date you wanna get laid at, geez, I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not. Listen to me, Dean. You really can’t tag along.”

“But it’s raining.” Dean points. Castiel tilts his head, wordless. Dean stares at him, shifting from one foot to another before his expression closes into a grim.

“Fine. Go then.”

There’s nothing much left for Castiel to do when the man leaves.

Castiel quietly watches him go. No sooner than he left, the angel heard a distinct exploding sound somewhere far and the entire Bunker is enveloped in darkness.

***

Castiel stares blankly at the wall of the kitchen to the dancing shadow of Dean Winchester. He followed Dean ten minutes later and stationed himself by the door watching Dean busy himself by the sink, washing his hands with the flashlight of his cellphone, his sleeves pushed up his elbow and humming Led Zepp Castiel is already quite familiar.

“Dean.”

“What.”

“There’s been a massive blackout,” Castiel informs him.

“Don’t I know it? What are you still doing here? I thought your gonna have a date n stuff?”

“I don’t date.” Castiel rolls his eyes. “At the very least if their name is not Dean Winchester, I do not bother.” He sees the visible tension disappear on the man’s shoulder. It gets him talking more to get on Dean’s good side again. “I’ve decided not to go. It’s raining and I don’t want my boyfriend upset even though it’s ridiculous to be jealous—”

Dean coughs several times and swings to face the angel with the back of his hand on his lips. His ears are pink, Castiel can tell even from the dark.

“B-boyfriend?” he blurts out in shock.

“Unless you prefer that I call our engagement with different terminology. I believe the word ‘boyfriend’ is what this century is calling it nowadays. Or would you prefer to be my ‘beau’?” he narrows his eyes. To be honest he will prefer anything as long as he can tell their relationship is special. But Dean—

“N-no, I like boyfriend.” Dean stammers, turning back the sink and washing the frozen meat from the fridge. Castiel smiles and walks to him. He likes it when Dean gets all flustered because of something he said. Dean’s always been like that from the beginning.

Wrapping his arms around the hunter, Castiel sighs in contentment when he inhales Dean’s scent. Dean tenses in front of him but Castiel kisses the back of his neck, urging him to relax while he presses Dean back on the counter, body solidly against each other.

“Stop getting me a boner, Cas.” Dean chuckles.

Tag: Explicit

“Mmm. Why not?” Cas smiles, brushing his hand on top of the hunter’s fly. He can feel Dean’s body going rigid, his breath hitching. “I thought you said this is what boyfriends do?” He bites Dean’s ear. Too irresistible not to do it.

“Dammit, Cas—"

“I like it when you get angry with me.” Castiel whispers, unzipping Dean’s pants and snaking his deft hand inside his boxers. Dean is hard. The way he can easily turn Dean on is mesmerizing. “Because I know you’re worried. I know you care a lot. I’d prefer it anytime than you uncaring. Love it when you’re jealous.” He nips on the smooth skin, running his tongue back to Dean’s lobes and sucking hard.

“Now you’re tripping me—fuck!”

Dean squirms back against Castiel’s body, his ass pressing hard against the angel’s hips. It’s all sensual to him, all because Dean is a very sensitive man. It’s not physical alone, though that’s what draws Dean to Castiel at the beginning while Castiel is the exact opposite.

He saw Dean’s soul first and fell in love. Gradually, they were able to piece themselves together and now what’s between is both. Castiel understands that now. Dean is turned on sensually, emotionally and it’s mutual between them. It’s everything Castiel loves about Dean. But body contact is not to be undervalued either—Dean strives to be touched, hungry for it always, he spent the rest of his life seeking company on lonely nights. Now he’s with Castiel—responding to every caress because only Castiel knows how.

So, when he strokes Dean, they both know it’s more than just touches. Dean breathes like all the air is leaving his lungs. When Castiel presses his thumb on the delicate slit in the middle of the pulsing cock, they both know the running pleasure is multiplied by the thought of who is doing it. Castiel is. To Dean.

And Cas knows how to serve him. Grabbing Dean’s hair with his free hand, he presses their heads together, his lips on Dean’s ear. “Are you going to come for me, Dean?”

It’s enough to get Dean convulsing on his palm.

“Cas— shit—” Dean's hand grapples the edge of the sink while his other grasped behind him to Castiel’s hips. His knees are wobbling against the angel. “C-Cas I’m almost—”

His voice just breaks in the most arousing way. Castiel turns Dean’s head and kisses him hard, enjoying the heat coming from the hunter’s lips, the way it’s so open in submission as dominates their exchange. He pumps Dean harder in the middle of his release, shooting off the sink’s ceiling and on Castel’s hand.

Dean groans and falls back weakly on the angel but Cas got him. He embraces Dean. Plants soft kisses around Dean’s salty throat, his hand still slowly stroking Dean’s cock till he feels it soften in his palms. Dean is breathing hard and Castiel feels a little proud to the one to do that. Things had been very peaceful around them since they both woke up from the idiot dream after their confession of love. Castiel will never forget it.

“Can I help with anything else?” he asks after thoroughly cleaning Dean with his grace and tucking his cock back in before unzipping his fly.

“You just jerked me in front of my bacon.”

“I cleaned it.”

“You just took advantage of me cause it’s dark here.”

“That is true, but you also did say that’s what humans do in the dark with four walls and blankets. We don’t have blankets—do I need to get one?”

“Unless you want to fuck me on the table?” the way Dean sounds hopeful gives Castiel a headache.

“We’ll have that when we can. For now, if you’re done fixing dinner, I will go call Sam and Jack so we can all be here. I’m sure they found the candles by now.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Candles? What are they—kids? No, use flashlights, the candles are last resorts. I have flashlights in the cabinet. Or make em use their phones.”

“I do not think that’s a good idea considering you might need your phones to communicate outside if the blackout persists.”

“Uh… You’re right.” The hunter smiles smugly all of a sudden, “Then can you be like my lamp now? You know—badass angel glowing light in the middle of the room—

“Umm, if I do that the entire Bunker will be enveloped with pure light and since it’s dark outside, the possibility of getting detected by your world’s ‘space cadets’ as you call them is at risk. So now. I do not believe it’s very smart to use my grace at all, Dean. Let’s reserved that for a real emergency.” Castiel glares.

“Geez, alright.” Dean laughs, wiping his hands with the towel hanging by his left shoulder. “Hang on, I’ll go with you to get the flashlights. Their only under the Ham radios.”

“Okay.”

“Wait— Cas!”

Dean surprises Castiel when he suddenly pulls him back, cups his face and catches his lips into a mouth to a kiss with the hunter leading.

Castiel smiles. He likes it when Dean is spontaneous like that. He lets Dean take him. When they pull away, Dean is looking at him with eyes full of love. Castiel nudges his nose on Dean’s lips and sighs. Together, they walk back to the library, all tensions obviously have been released away.

“But, really, candles?” Dean says in the dark.

Castiel uses the opportunity to pull Dean forward. “So, you can ask them. Let’s go.”

“Don’t make me trip on you—”

“You’re the one who keeps pushing—Dean!”

“Sorry!” Dean laughs, “Was that your ass or what?”

Rolling his eyes, he lets Dean pat his ass again until they reach the corridor. Sam’s laptop screen is on, the only light amidst complete darkness. In front of it, Sam looks up with Jack waiting beside him. “Finally decided to appear now, huh?”

“While you guys are playing another set of ‘Are you afraid of the Dark?’ episode?” Dean is clearly looking at Sam who rubs his forehead and nods at Jack.

“We’re waiting for Cas.” Jack explains brightly, eyes on the. “The candles are still unlit so I was thinking if you can use your grace them get them light up.”

Castiel doesn’t quickly answer but throws a look over Dean instead.

“It’s raining and there are candles. Add a cat and we’ll be calling out Sabrina. I can’t even see the candles!” Blinking hard with brows furrowing, he and Castiel steps to the table, casting looks over the place

“I’m not sure I can light all, Jack.” Castiel says solemnly.

“Sure you can.” Jack encourages.

“Just makes sure you don’t make any light bulbs burst and eyes burn.” Dean chuckles.

Castiel glares at that. He notices Dean emerging from under the table and pulling a box under the table to duck from his glare. Huffing, Castiel snaps his fingers and—

The fire flickers out of thin air from the four candles in the middle, lightening the whole war room with the dancing flames, sending their shadows tall on the walls. Castiel sees Jack beam and it made the effort worth it.

“And this,” comes Dean’s voice. Nobody saw him put another candle on the table. They found him already with a matchstick at hand, scraping the corner and tipping down the thick wax candle with an X-mark—

“Dean—wait—!” Sam begins, but too late— Dean lights the candle. The moment the flame flickers on the candle, Dean’s eyes roll back with white balls showing and he drops on the floor out cold.

“DEAN!”

“It’s a cursed object, obviously. Are you sure you’re with proper hunters? One look of the object and—”

“It’s a long story—there’s no electricity when you need it. I could power it up, but Sam says— anyway, just come here—I don’t care if it’s raining. I want to make sure he’s going to be okay after the candle dies out—” Castiel listens to the shaman’s mundane complaints while the angel stands outside the corridor right outside Dean’s room.

His body is still shaking as he relieves the memory of Dean fainting after lighting the cursed candle. Saw something leave Dean’s body that made him reach for the hunter and clutch him close. Protecting Dean at all costs. In the end, after determining it was a cursed candle from the box that Jack brought in the room unwittingly, Castiel resorted to calling his only resource for magical objects, The Shaman, Sergei.

After sending a photo of the nasty candle he wants to melt, his opinion changed drastically upon learning that Dean’s life force is connected to the candle. Now it became the most important thing for him.

“Be quick, I’m warning you, Sergei.”

Castiel hangs up and sprints back to Dean’s room. He can still feel his heart wild against his chest anxiously. The way it happened— he saw something get sucked away from Dean’s body when he lit the candle. Sergei only confirmed his suspicion which didn’t make him feel any better.

But at least it wasn’t any candle about death….

Sam brought his rechargeable lamp in the room that lit the entire vicinity conveniently. Sam looks up questioningly when Castiel comes in and Cas had no choice but to give him a curt nod.

“Yes, Sergei says it’s a curse.”

Sam’s face turns pale. “And? What kind of curse?”

“I don’t know… Sergei’s not sure but he says it could be of Japanese origin but apart from that we still have to wait for Sergei to confirm. He still wants to come over and see for himself.”

“Okay, that’s a plan.” Sam stands up and palms his face. “But I’m still going to search around lore books about Japanese curses then. I don’t trust Sergei. Do you?”

He frowns up at Sam. “I have every reason to doubt Sergei. He will be under my watch once he’s here. He should not be left with Dean. And even if it is the only threat of the cursed candle, I still would not relax until I see Dean as himself again. I’m afraid so trusting Sergei is the only thing we have for now.”

They all look at Dean fast asleep on his bed with the candlelight burning over the table by his wall.

Everyone knows it is Castiel who will be watching over Dean for the rest of the night. Sam left the room to do research in his room and see what else he can find with an extra flashlight at hand. Jack decides to let Cas and Dean alone and once everything is quiet, Castiel naturally focuses on Dean.

He sits beside the hunter’s bed, eyeing every feature of Dean he’s already memorized by heart. One look and he can tell something is missing, though whether it’s for the best, he is not one to decide. He places two fingers on his friend’s forehead and sighs. He closes his eyes, heartbreaking again when he could not reach onto Dean’s soul.

Castiel stays inside Dean’s room for the better part of the night, watching for any slight changes or disturbance over the hunter’s peaceful slumber. There’s none. In fact, Dean barely stirred on the bed unaware of the raging weather outside. If it was not for his chest moving steadily, Castiel would worry about his life.

He spends an hour like that, just staring at Dean’s face for the rest of the evening, recounting his freckles, noting those that faded and delighting himself in finding new ones.

He touches Dean’s forehead from time to time, let his fingers run down the soft hair. Let’s his warmth fill the empty vessel of his boyfriend. He knows it’s unnecessary, but he could not stop. Won’t. He’d do it even with a hairbreadth of grace left in his body.

He stares at Dean.

Achingly. Longingly. Willing those eyes to open for him again. So, he waits. He always waits for Dean. It only seems proper because it’s Dean who made him realize how waiting can sometimes be unbearable. Time is a concept no angel understood before.

Until Dean.

Nightmares didn’t visit Dean that night. Dean does not have any reason to fear, Castiel is beside him. The true nightmare is waiting for Dean alone in the silence of the night. So, if someone asks Castiel if he has any fear at all, Castiel will think of this moment and tells them he does.

***

The Shaman arrived around half past nine, two hours after Dean’s collapse. By then power was still absent, making it difficult for Sam to use his laptop. The Bunker’s generator hasn’t worked since the last invasion in the fortress.

Descending from the metal stairs with wet shoulders from the rain outside, he cast his eyes at the faces waiting for him by the war table looking like a phantom in black apparel, the lights of candles whipping in his presence.

“Has he woken up?” Sergei asks deadpan.

“Not yet.” Castiel shakes his head, “It’s only been two hours. Are you sure the lasting effect of the candle is only 7 hours?” Sergei looks pass Sam to the entrance of the corridor eagerly. He turns to Castiel again.

“Yes, unless you use the other two candles then the curse will continue.”

Castiel and Sam exchange looks. The Shaman raises an eyebrow.

“There are three candles for the shrine ritual,” he begins slowly, “together the three can have significant influence over the balance of nature. Do you mean to tell me—?”

“I kept the other candles in the box.” Sam presses his lips.

“Very well, please bring them into the room. Castiel? Can you lead the way?”

Castiel did not say anything. The look Sam gives him is meaningful, but since the hour is dire, the two decided to do as the Shaman says. Castiel leads the way to Dean’s room while Jack accompanies Sam to the storage room.

Once they reach the hunter’s room, Castiel quickly checks on Dean. The hunter is still fast asleep with no sign of any disturbance in his absence. Sergei doesn’t wait. He slides past Castiel and takes a look at the hunter from head to toe, then walks to the candle still burning bright by the table.

Castiel watches Sergei’s movement with his brows slowly furrowing.

“Will he be okay?” he stands beside Sergei, expression softening at Dean’s sleeping form.

“I need some time alone with him. The spell for—”

“No.”

He meets Sergei’s eyes but the final word is apparently with the clouding of his face.

“Fix him.” He says sharply, “And don’t do anything suspicious or I’ll smite you.”

Sergei quirks his eyebrows. “Always the Russian method with you.”

Castiel doesn’t like it. Truth be told, he’s wary of repeatedly asking the Shaman for help. He’s been pushing Sergei to the limits, always asking for favors they both know would never be compensated. It’s only a matter of time before the Shaman gets back to him. Sam shouting in the corridor at the top of his lungs seems to be the cue.

“Your other Winchester needs you.” they both look at the door but Castiel did not move from

“What are you not telling me, Sergei?”

“CAS!” Sam appears by the door, breathless. “Cas! Don’t let him near Dean!”

Castiel doesn’t ask why. He grabs Sergei by the collar and lifts him up the air before Sam can even finish. He’s been alert from the beginning— expecting danger lurking around and with an unconscious Dean, he’s not about to put his guard down.

Sergei is clutching his wrist tightly, choking as he writhes against Castiel’s hold. Castiel whose eyes gleam darkly, fixing the Russian with his penetrating stare.

“What…” he says, dangerously calm, “are you not telling me?”

There’s a groan on the bed. Castiel distractedly looks down at Dean stirring. Sergei chuckles and presses something hot on his hands. He feels his whole body becomes rigid—the ability to move gone from whatever the Shaman did.

“No!”

Sam comes forward, lunging at Sergei who was leaning on Dean’s side. He grabs him by the shoulder to take him out but in the middle of the struggle, everyone sees him rise from the bed.

Castiel swallows hard. He feels his grace trying to reach out to him but couldn’t—his grace is locked away. But it’s not this that gets him worried.

It’s Dean. Dean is now fully awake, staring at Sergei with unblinking eyes.

“Shit.” Sam whispers.

That doesn’t bode well for Castiel.

Smite. Absolute smiting.

This is the only thing Castiel can think about when he heard the truth about the curse on Dean and Sergei’s intentions for his friend.

Apparently, the cursed candles are used in Japan’s ancient, most famous and terrible curse-a ritual done mainly by jealous and wronged lovers. The three candles are only part of the instruments— as Sam reads.

“…dressed in white and a trivet worn like a crown with three candles burning in the night, a doll made of bound straw and wooden hammer or long iron spikes… They would have in their possession a part of the victim they want to curse—a hair, skin blood, fingernail, even photographs and perform the ritual by any Shinto shrines and time to the Hour of the Ox, witching hour where yurei and yokai spirits come haunting…”

Castiel is only half listening. No. He is emitting a certain air of danger for the Shaman bound by the chair in the war room. Dean is still in his room with a headache while Jack stands outside his door. Half of Castiel’s mind is with Dean, sensing his every movement but he could not. He knows something is different and it’s that he will extract from Sergei by force.

He points his blade menacingly at the Shaman who pulls away from the pointed blade as far as he could. Castiel doesn’t mean to make contact. He can only see blood.

“That’s not the entire story behind this, is it, Sergei?” Castiel glowers. Sam joins him with arms crossed, glaring at the Russian.

“The candles have been used before and was stashed away with the remnants of the curse left in it. What I don’t understand is why lighting one would be harmful to anyone who uses it.”

“Not harmful, of course not. You do not understand the power of words entangled with pure hatred and love, do you?” Sergei begins hooded eyes on the hunter.

Castiel jabs his knuckle on Sergei’s jaw. It connects—Sam doesn’t even bother stopping the angel whose glinting blue eyes burned on the Shaman.

“Tell us everything before I kill you.”

“Cas…”

Sergei harkens a laugh but obliges. “Dead spirits linger on earth, you know, because of their attachment to the mortal world. And when I say attachment, we speak of their sentiments. Very dangerous even for mortal people to possess. Anger, hatred, injustice… bound to materialize when given too much power over poor souls. Now, Japanese witches, they have different sources of power with their deeper connection to the pagan gods their culture have embraced. More resources, more creativity when it comes to Witchcraft you in the West would never achieve.”

“What about you?” Cas asks.

“I’m Russian. Shaman, Castiel. A chosen profession by necessity. We do not need to keep the Supernatural hidden in the East. We bask in them. The people worship them. Acceptance of the Supernatural passed down from generation until, well. The invasion of West insisting on their god.” He looks pointedly at Castiel who continues to glower in his direction.

“What has this got to do with Dean?”

“The three-candles-curse stand for hatred, jealousy, and intent to harm. If passed on, these emotions are also transferred to the next caster. It doesn’t matter if you light the three, put it on your head like a crown. Once lit, the emotions will flood the caster and urge them to continue the curse till done. Your boyfriend—” he nods at the door, “who only lit one will only be affected by the chosen candle. The question here is which one did he light? The one for hatred? For jealousy? Or the intention to harm? We’re about to find out.”

Castiel hears the quiet footfalls of Dean followed by Jack coming from the corridor. Sergei sees them too, standing at the door with the hunter’s gaze quickly falling on the Shaman. His face is pale, Castiel can see dark lines under his eyes. But above that, he sees Dean’s soul has been clouded. Dimmed. He grits his teeth then pulls Sergei’s collar.

“It doesn’t make sense. If those negative emotions will transfer to him then why—why are you getting involved?”

“Ah, I did not say it will affect him in the same way.” Sergei says with a malicious glint in his eyes, “For if a person does not intend to do harm nor feel any certain hatred over another… if this person only accidentally lights the candles without any then what’s left will be the root of the magic which is—”

“Cas, what are you doing?” Dean growls, frowning. “Get away from him.”

Sam steps forward to meet Dean halfway while Jack follows behind the hunter uncertainly.

“Dean, this guy doesn’t want to help you, okay? He’s here to screw with us!”

Dean frowns. “What are you talking about? He won’t hurt me. Get out of the way, Sammy.” His green eyes swim towards Sergei, the dull eyes slowly gaining fire of determination. Castiel stands his ground as he understood how Dean’s eyes melt softly—and to the angel’s horror—

“I love him.” Dean reasons.

The blade falls on the floor with a solid thud.

Castiel takes a lungful of air, eyes not leaving Dean’s. Beside him, he hears Sergei’s dark voice, “Be careful, angel. The curse is twice bound. You don’t want to burn him, do you?”

What is the root of all curses that spark from emotions…?

Of course.

Love.

Dean is left in his room alone, cuffed and all after punching Sam for getting on his way. He was only stopped when Castiel and Jack take him too and locked him away.

“Don’t kill him yet, Cas,” Sam says before they part. Sergei has just smugly admitted he wanted to get back on Castiel even for just 7 hours by taking Dean’s affection. He knew this was gonna happen and its only Sam who’s stopping him from burying his angel blade on the Shaman. Sam takes care of Sergei, promising to throw him somewhere far where Dean would never reach him. Castiel is left to take care of Dean, so take care of Dean he will.

The lasting effect of the curse is until the candle dies out which Castiel left in Jack’s care. He trusts Jack. The fire wasn’t in any danger of dying its fire soon anyway. His heart breaks at the thought, but he can’t be weak. Dean needs him now. As long as the man doesn’t start proposing to Sergei, that is.

Sam told him to clear off Dean until the next five hours but Castiel made no promises. He knows the curse will be lifted on its own yet, he can’t. It’s Dean and no sooner than Sam left the Bunker around dawn, he finds himself traipsing down the hallway to the end of the corridor

Dejected atmosphere greets Castiel when he opens the door of the room. Dean has fallen silent with his wrists cuffed together on the table. He looks up when Castiel enters, but his green eyes swiftly look behind the angel-like he’s expecting someone there. Disappointment fills his expression and Castiel mirrors him. That is. Until he gets a hold of himself.

Sam said they will be laughing this out after the five-hour mark. That Dean would be so embarrassed to declare his undying love to the Russian Shaman who he will hunt for the rest of his life. Castiel doesn’t find it amusing. He saw Dean back there— he saw how Dean’s innate ability to love was robbed of the man.

If Dean was going to hunt for Sergei in the future, he better does it quickly before Castiel gets there before. He closes the door behind him and locks it.

Dean sits up with wary anticipation on the bed. Castiel eyes him predatorily. He sheds his trench coat first, folding it carefully at the back of Dean’s chair.

Dean in love with someone else? Now that’s laughable.

Dean is his.

Dean belongs to him.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Where is he?”

Castiel’s lips thin. He wants to say the Shaman is dead. Sergei will be once Castiel gets Dean’s heart back. He runs his hand on his tie before carefully pulling it away.

“Sam escorted him out of the Bunker. For your safety.” He says very quietly.

“Gee, thanks. Way to keep me in line, keeping away the only person who can straighten me out.” Dean kicks the side table enough to make Castiel finally look at him.

“Stop it. Destroying things won’t make you get your way. You’re only hurting yourself.”

“You know what the best way for me to actually not hurt myself?” Dean sneers, “Is for you to let me go!”

“I’m afraid I can’t let that happen, Dean. No. You’re only going to follow Sergei.” Castiel’s eyes are cold. “No, you stay here. With me.”

The man huffs angrily like it’s the last thing he wants in the world. If only his Dean can see himself now. Refusing Castiel’s company in the same room they’ve shared many times. What irony… but Castiel’s not about to let that stop him.

There’s a reason why Dean is locked here with him. He begins to unbutton his shirt, eyes gleaming when he sees Dean watch him warily.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Have you really forgotten our little secret, Dean?” Castiel asks, walking to the bed in two steps and stops in front of the man.

Dean looks up defiantly and Castiel finds himself like that. The number of times he and this man had gone against each other from the first time they met, Dean shines brighter like that. But when cornered like this like a prey, Castiel would rather Dean be a fighting soldier than a trapped animal.

The thought of Sergei touching Dean sets stone-cold dominance in his being. A possessive feeling of ownership takes him. Castiel suddenly becomes afraid of where it will take him as he touches the hunter’s chin and lifts it so the can peer him in the eyes, albeit a little dimmed, are still gorgeous green.

“I won’t let anyone, have you. Not by force.” He strokes Dean’s cheeks which turn the deepest shade of red. Dean still responds to him. At least, his body remembers this.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Dean swallows, eyeing Castiel’s open button shirt revealing a mass of strapping muscles like he’s never seen it before. But Castiel sees it. That look Dean reserves for things he wishes to taste but daring not to take—he’s seen that numerous times.

“We’re different. You and I…we’re—”

“Connected?” Dean meets his eyes and strange enough there’s a glint of hunger in those green that Castiel never expected to see—not until the curse is lifted, but it’s there.

“You seem to understand it, Dean. That you are under a curse and whatever you feel for Sergei—”

Dean sighs, his head tilting back. “I don’t feel the same about you.”

Castiel freezes, his heart falling on the floor. He needed to remind himself that this is not Dean talking. That Dean—his Dean— would never say that to him. That once this is over, Dean will apologize and Dean will want him again.

No… this Dean wants him.

He has to believe in that.

Leaning down, he tugs the cuff when he stretches Dean on the bed, pulling on his leg till Dean’s arm stretches above him. The hunter growls at the sudden prone position, but his eyes widen when Castiel unbuckles his own pants and let it slip down the floor. He feels Dean’s eyes follow his hard cock—because Castiel will always be hard for Dean—so when he crawls on top of Dean, he knows he’s got attention.

Dean has told him many times how he is fucking turned on when Castiel is naked waist below while still wearing his white unbuttoned tops. Dean’s fantasies Castiel is always willing to oblige. He casts his eyes down on the hunter when their faces are leveled.

Dean doesn’t move, it’s him breathes that rapidly changes. With eyes bulging, breathe hitching, Castiel feels his heart thumping at what’s about to happen next.

Heart leaping as he recognized Dean’s soul trying to reach to him, he takes hold of Dean’s shoulders and grips him tight. He doesn’t look away and the hunter remains silent.

Slowly, he pushes Dean on the bed, falling with him till Dean is on his back, breathing heavily, the lump on his throat unsteady as it bobbed up and down. Castiel straddles him, melting Dean with the amount of hunger in his eyes.

“You remember this, don’t you?” he whispers, stripping Dean from the lovely green shirt. Castiel tosses it and begins on Dean’s black undershirt when a hand jabs on his chest suddenly. Dean is blinking at him with fear and uncertainty.

“It’s not you I…Sergei—” Dean suddenly struggles to say.

Castiel doesn’t show his dismay. He conceals it. He knows Dean is fighting, knows Dean wants him to help him, to fight with him. So whatever doubt he has about what he needs to do next, he pushes it down. Dean’s clear eyes begin to cloud. It’s the curse.

He’s losing Dean.

Oh, a shaman is really going to die.

Castiel’s eyes bulge as the realization hits him hard.

Whatever Sergei said about wanting Castiel to be jealous—because that’s what he means when he told Castiel ‘Be careful, angel. The curse is twice bound. You don’t want to burn him, do you?”

He figures it out that instant—that Sergei’s intention is not for Dean but for him. Dean will be under this love spell for seven hours, crying for Sergei’s name in his sleep. Something that is truly unforgivable for the angel who then will have to suffer intense jealousy.

This… here right now… is extreme jealousy and hatred within him… the intent to harm all because of love. Castiel’s heart dies inside him. He is an angel, a heavenly being. He is not supposed to be bound by such negative emotion and yet—

He closes his eyes. It was too late to go back now.

Sergei has succeeded in cursing him through Dean.

His fingers curl clutching the hem of Dean’s black shirt. That’s not gonna happen. Dean looking at him like he’s a stranger even when his body is reacting, that’s not what they promised. It was stolen from Dean.

No… Dean was stolen from him.

He knows he can wait it out, knows there’s actually no reason to do this but just the thought of Dean thinking he’s in love with someone else sends fearsome anger rippling all over his body. With a growl, he pushes Dean’s black shirt up roughly, brushing the mound of muscle with the heel of his palm. He begins kissing the hardening bud ever so sensitive under his mouth.

“No…” Dean grunts, hands clutching the angel’s shoulders “Get off— I want Sergei!”

The name awakens something primal inside Castiel. Jealousy or what not— innate possessiveness or what not—this is torture!

“You’re not putting much of a fight.” He sucks Dean’s nipples hard, making Dean squirm but Castiel stays one hand on his other pectoral, rubbing the unattended nipple with his fingers. Dean’s cries are so pleasing and both painful as Castiel faithfully continues his ministration for the next five minutes, rolling and flattening his tongue until the bud is hard. He grazes his teeth on the erect bud making Dean yelp and squirms beneath him. He applies the same suction on the left nipple, feeling the hunter writhe on the bed, trying to free his leg until Castiel grounds their hips together. He presses hard on Dean. The man groans softly.

Castiel frowns and looks down Dean’s pants to find the only possible reason is Dea still wearing his pants. Smiling, he gets up, straddles him and begins working on Dean’s belt.

“Wait—Cas…” his voice whimpers when Castiel pulls his pants and boxers down in one swift movement and throws it on the floor. Dean tries to hide his cock by crossing his legs, but Castiel is taking none of it. Pushing Dean’s legs apart, hands firm on his thighs, he let his palms ground Dean’s legs on the bed. Dean moves his ass, his cock twitching beneath him where he couldn’t see.

Sighing, Castiel slides both palms from the hunter’s knee caps down to the root of his cock. Both hands take it, Castiel’s body follows as he leans in, elbows keeping Dean’s leg open till the tip of his mouth touches the head of Dean’s cock.

There’s a stifled groan from Dean. Castiel closes his eyes. He erases the thought that Dean’s not thinking about him. That Dean is thinking of that dead-shaman walking. He digs his fingers on the man’s smooth thighs, sucks the top of his cock, before burying himself on Dean’s hole. He eats Dean, takes pleasure in the man’s cries until he can feel the live wire ready to explode. He takes Dean’s cock again to his lips, kisses the head gently before stroking him twice, eyeing Dean’s reaction.

“Cas—I’m—oh fuck!”

Castiel pulls away and sternly gazes up the hunter who whimpers and looks down in confusion. Tears slide from the corner of Dean’s eyes.

“Say my name,” Castiel commands.

“What…” Dean blanks out.

“Say my name. Tell me to fuck you, Dean, or I will leave you here for five hours—”

Dean’s eyes widen. He begins to tug on his cuff.

“Don’t—Cas, I—” he breathes out unable to say it. He shakes his head when Castiel begins to rise, “Cas—Cas please—” tears spring up from his eyes, “don’t—Cas, please—”

Castiel sighs. He strokes Dean’s cock, relaxing when Dean responds with trying to fuck in his hand. It’s easy to swallow Dean’s cock this time feeling like they are back to normal. He gets Dean to call his name again and again. He doesn’t need any release or Dean’s hand on his cock. He only needs Dean to say his name, all the while making his silent apologies.

He gets off with swallowing Dean’s cock straight down his throat and sucks, tasting Dean’s salty tang so different from his sweat. Feeling Dean’s familiar cock inside his mouth makes him forget everything. This is just him and Dean showing love and affection. Nothing has changed. He wishes that because now he understands he is taking Dean against his will.

He sucks Dean harder, making him scream and thrust in his mouth. He drags his mouth slowly across the hard length, pulling up only to kiss the reddening head before diving down again. He sucks Dean dry as only he could. Making Dean clutch on the wrinkled blankets with unbidden lust driving him to the edge.

“Cas… that’s enough, I’m—coming…!”

Castiel buries his nose deep the curls of Dean’s cock. He chokes and nearly pulls back but Dean closing his knees at the back of his head urges him to take him again.

Dean’s dirty sound fills the room as well as his cock swelling inside Castiel. He feels the turbulent sensation in Dean’s stomach and pulls up a little as Dean’s come shoot inside his mouth. Dean cries to the last spurt as Castiel sucks him through his orgasm.

He pulls out with smacking sound of his lips, eyes glowing with Dean still writhing under him. He holds the hunter’s softening shaft and stroke him again.

“Unggg…”

“Dean. Say my name.”

“Cas…!” the hunter complies tearfully.

Dean won’t stop calling his name after that. Not when he flips him to his stomach and licks his hole, not even with three fingers inside Dean, he doesn’t. It takes a while before Dean’s pliant body is ready for him. Castiel raises Dean’s hips from the bed and sets a pillow under his torso. Dean breathes heavily on the bed but did not say anything, probably in fear of Castiel leaving him in the middle.

“Don’t worry, Dean…” Castiel says, letting Dean feel the head of his cock, sliding between his cheeks, rightfully filling Dean with lube. “I got you… just… just keep calling my name. Please, Dean.”

He can feel his heart pounding in his chest. Dean makes a small sound but Castiel did not wait. He presses himself inside Dean, watches the muscle around Dean’s hole contract as he slowly slices him in half. The feel of Dean’s tight ring makes Castiel groans until he is sliding deeper and bottoming in.

Fuck.

“Oh, fuck! Cas!” Dean’s breathe catches.

Castiel doesn’t let him think. Closing his eyes, his thrust become wild. Dean cries his name when the jolting of their bodies becomes too intense and Castiel is wrapping his body around Dean’s back, a hand taking hold of Dean’s cock because that’s how the hunter wants it.

He fucks Dean for an hour and more—doesn’t even care if he heard Sam knocking on the door. He covers Dean’s mouth until Sam walks away, most likely getting the point after he hears Dean’s moans when Castiel hits his prostate again and again.

“Good boy.” Castiel whispers, pounding Dean, spooning the hunter with his cock deep in Dean. He drags the fucking to torturous slow, then catches pace again, breaking Dean’s moans and cries of pleasure. And all that while, Dean can only call him.

Castiel did not stop—not until the fifth hour where he has Dean on his lap resting. Keeping Dean so close seems to be the only way to make sure the curse passes without any glitch. That Dean is still with him. Sam did not bother him anymore. Castiel hopes he’s got Jack distracted not from all the noise Dean has made in the last five hours.

The hour strikes.

Dean lifts his chin from Castiel’s shoulder looking worn out and confused. Castiel quickly sits up straight but the hunter did not make any attempt to climb down his lap. He just stares hard at the angel, eyes large and disbelieving.

“Dean—?”

“Cas?” The hunter rubs his eyes. “Hey, babe…”

Castiel’s eyes fill with tears.

“Cas? Cas, what’s wrong?” concern fills Dean’s face. It was over.

The angel shakes his head and wipes his eyes. He’s just glad. “How are you, Dean?”

“You’re asking me that now? Why are you crying?” Dean gets on his elbow and pulls Castiel’s head to his chest, cradling him lovingly. “Cas, babe, talk to me.”

Castiel sniffs. “I… I made a terrible mistake.”

“Huh?”

“I… I fell under a curse. Curse of jealousy, Dean.”

Dean’s face relaxes as he wipes the tears from his angel’s cheeks resting on his naked lap. “Are you kidding? I feel jealous when it comes to you all the time—if you call that curse then lemme tell you again—I’d rather have you, cursed or not!”

Castiel takes a moment to take that in, and then slides his arms on Dean’s waist.

“Me too, Dean… I love you so much…”

“Me too, babe I—no wait— fuck! I just remembered that fucking nightmare!”

“What—” Castiel stares up but Dean just grabs him closer and snuggles on his neck. “I thought I lost you! You weren’t there in that dream!”

“Dean?”

“It was so dark and I couldn’t find you… but I knew you were there, I could hear you calling my name… you made me want to call you…”

“Dean…” Castiel’s eyes water, settling his hand across the hunter’s body, “I’m sorry.” Castiel cries and Dean holds him close. Confused and a little afraid, Dean pulls from him looking scandalized at the tears streaming down the angelic face.

“Cas—d-don’t cry! What happened?”

Castiel controls his emotions and explains about the candle, the curse and the Shaman who is about to die by tomorrow. Dean looks aghast after the story, his hands clutching tight on Castiel’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Dean—" Castiel looks devastated. He keeps pulling Dean closer, keeps putting his head against his boyfriend’s chest afraid of Dean’s answer.

Dean pats his head gently.

“Don’t be an idiot. So, you ravished me. Ain’t that our deal?” Dean tells him. He cups Castiel’s face so they look deep in each other. “Well, fuck. I get fucked by my boyfriend and I loved every second of it.”

“Dean…”

“Cause if not, and this body rots waiting for you? I think I’d really go mad.”

Dean pulls the angel in a hot searing kiss with their tongues meeting. Castiel moans in the kiss and let Dean lead, gently putting arms around him and pulling him down so the hunter is on top of him.

Dean pulls back as he perches on the angel’s chest, his eyes twinkling.

“Can I top?” he asks, tone of excitement unbidden.

Castiel blinks. “But aren’t you tired? We just—”

A finger pressing on his lips stops him from talking. Dean’s face is red and he’s looking around Cas body with hunger.

“Cas, with you babe on the meal, I’d never required sleep ever again.”

***

“I hope you understand your dead the next time I see you.”

Castiel rumbles on the phone that evening. Dean is tucked tightly on his right arm, cuddled beside him so closely while he sleeps peacefully. The only time that day when Castiel can relax with the curse finally lifted. He was staring on Dean’s face quietly, remembering all the expressions when his phone rings and an unregistered number of flashes. The angel knew at once who it was.

“What can I say? It is sweet revenge—”

“You’re dead.”

“Come now, Castiel—”

“I have. Many times, inside Dean.”

There’s silence on the other line.

“I shall try to remember this then, your weakness is quite spot on.”

“If you mean Dean is my weakness, then yes.” Castiel looks away, teeth grinding, “but he’s not weak. Dean is stronger than I will ever be, but if you hurt him again—”

The phone gets snatched from his hand. Castiel turns to see Dean sitting up with a dark look on his face.

“Listen up, asshole. Call Cas again and I’m gonna be after you for the rest of your life. If you’re the maniac intent on death—fuck you—I will get you. And this is not even what you did to me. Show yourself here and I’ll show you the meaning of evil spirit.”

He doesn’t wait for the answer. Dean hangs up and threw the phone away.

“Stop talking to the guy!” Dean scowls downcast at the angel who’s staring at him quietly.

“Are you okay now?”

Dean rolls his eyes. He pulls next to Cas and drops his head on the angel’s shoulder.

“Are you?” he asks, wrapping strong arms around Castiel’s torso and heaving a deep sigh. Castiel copies him and buries his nose on the hunter’s hair feeling mildly content now that Dean is beside him and awake.

“I’m fine now. You’re in love with me again.” He whispers before cuddling Dean with both arms now clawing around him. Dean chuckles, tilting his head up so he and Cas can look at each other.

“Told you the only times I won’t love you is when I’m dead or—”

Castiel embraces Dean closely, their cheeks pressing warmly together.

“It’s okay. I just want you to love me now.”

Dean falls silent for a while before he crawls up on top of Castiel and begins kissing him gently. The angel lets him, a contented sigh slipping from his lips.

“I’m not just in love with you, Cas. I’m also a sucker for you, babe, also very much crushing on you now and horny.” Dean whispers when he gets around Castiel’s ears and begins licking inside. Castiel sighs. “If this aint my kind of love, I don’t know what else to call the urge to tie you up and just make you mine forever. Okay? So, cheer up.”

He pulls back, arms stretching from where he keeps both his hands on Castiel’s nape.

“Stop crying. I don’t want to see you crying just for fucking me. In fact—let’s keep the fuck and forget that asshole. Bleh… just imagining you thought that I—”

“It wasn’t the nicest thought I ever had.”

“Well, he’s not touching this hole any time soon.”

“I’ll soon be out of words to describe how dead he is when I see him.”

Dean finally nods and they cuddle for a few moments. Until Castiel flushes when Dean grinds his ass straight on his soft cock with a sly grin on his face. The man is just so happy to tease him after learning of Castiel’s tendency to get jealous. Dean watches intently, his tongue licking the topside of his lips.

He grinds harder, smirking. “So… did you just let me top?”

“I did but it’s a one time offer.” Castiel smiles holding Dean’s waist.

“Change your mind, I’ll never ask a hall pass ever again.”

“Dean, I am not that possessive.” Castiel narrows his eyes.

Dean smiles at him meaningfully. He smiles back and they snuggle closely again.

Castiel understands that this was not even a condition but an offer. He wonders before why humans are prone to jealousy. He understands now. It roots from loving. This is also where other evil stems from. Where all the curses gather around.

In time. He thinks. He’ll make up for that mistake—of being too human—maybe when he faces his own time but right now, Dean Winchester is here who says he’s still gonna take him, cursed or not.

#supernaturalpromptchallenge #destiel fanfic #element fire #prompts #deancas #ao3

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vertigoseokjin · 5 years

Text

Be Okay

Sweet Pea x OC

Part 2

“Why're you messing with my head? Took me days to get out of bed I need to move on I need to move on Just let me Let me, go”

Be Okay- Too Far Moon

Ahh this is my first ever writing I’m posting! Feel free to leave criticism, enjoy!

Ariane Cogan practically bounces into the White Wyrm in an odd show of her excitement. Ariane is typically seen as one of the more detached serpents, similar to Sweet Pea, she is always very careful in who to let past her many, many walls. Also, her lack of emotion to the majority of people she interacts with doesn't help to disprove the rumors. However, today is a special day. After countless nights crying to Fangs and Toni, they all decided on today, November 18th, being the day the ice queen finally confesses to her lifelong crush. They both reassured her that Sweet Pea felt the same towards her as she did to him. Although they never explicitly asked, they claimed they could tell based on how he acts towards her.

The pair have been best friends since before Ariane could even think. Their first official meeting was 14 years ago, when Ariane's parents forgot her at a local park. The three year old stumbled upon a little girl crying on a worn down bench.

"Hey stupid. Why are you crying." He masked the care he had with anger, the one emotion he already perfected at such a young age.

"I'm not crying!" She pauses to rub her reddening brown eyes and wipe her runny nose. "And don't call me stupid... cutie!" Ariane internally slapped herself. Out of all the insults she learned in her brief years of living, she let her mind speak for her instead. He called her stupid and she called him cutie. She wanted to take the words back as soon as she yelled them at him. Her own internal conflict led her to miss his blushing cheeks.

Other than meeting her best friend that day, she also quickly learned thinking on her feet was not her forte.

She spots him almost immediately thanks to his large frame.

"Hey cutie." Ariane teasingly comments while walking towards the much taller male, knowing his hatred of that nickname. Sweet Pea almost instantly grabs her by the waist and carelessly tosses the girl over his shoulder. "Pea! Put me down you giant!" Ariane practically squeals. She playfully beats on his back at an attempt to get him to release her, but her hits feel like bug bites to him. Not painful, just really annoying.

"You do this to yourself, stupid." He insults her before gently placing her next to Toni, then collapsing on the seat next to her. Sweet Pea's naturally places his arm around Ariane's shoulders and subtly pulls her closer. Although their actions are normal for any other day, Toni and Fangs are especially on edge today given the circumstances. Unfortunately, Fangs took Sweet Pea's show of affection as a green light.

"Tell us what happened!" The shorter boy suddenly shouts. Ariane wishes Sweet Pea placed her next to him so she could dig her elbow into his ribs. However she settles on angry facial expressions directed towards him, where Sweet Pea wears a confused appearance. He quickly removes his arm from Ariane in his confusion. Sadly, Fangs never mastered the art of subtly like the other three young serpents did. "Why are you guys giving me those fac-" Toni successfully cuts him off with a hard kick to the shin that leaves him howling in pain.

"Fangs and I are going to grab a drink." Toni snaps through gritted teeth. She grabs Fangs by the back of his neck and drags him away from the pair.

Ariane and Sweet Pea sit in one of the most awkward silences they've experienced in their entire friendship.

"So," he breaks the tension, wiping sweaty palms on his black jeans. "You know anything about what just happened?" He finally asks the question. Ariane refuses to meet his eyes in her humiliation. The thought of confessing to her best friend seemed like a perfect idea 30 minutes ago, but now she'd rather clean FP's truck for the next three months than sit next to the person who used to make her the most comfortable.

"What just happened?" Ariane asks stupidly in her nervousness. Sweet Pea can't help the scoff he releases. He finally turns to look at her and the pair make eye contact before he flicks her harshly on the forehead. She lets out an annoyed whine before punching him on the arm.

"Don't play stupid Cogan." He asks sternly, taking her face in his hands as he usually does during a serious conversation. They both know Ariane can't lie to him, which is why he always forces eye contact during conversations like this.

"I don't know what just happened." She tries to escape his grip, but the warmth of his hands provide security even though he's the main reason for her anxiety.

"Cogan..." he warns. "You know I'm going to find out. Better now than later." She lets out a deep sigh, gently pushing his hands away from her, instantly missing the safety that leaves when his hands do.

"You're gonna hate me."

"Cogan, I couldn't hate you even if I wanted to. You know you can tell me anything. Just say it. If someone's hurting you I can-" she quickly cuts him off by grabbing his hand.

"No, no one's hurting me. I'm fine just... look..." she takes another long sigh trying to collect her thoughts. "I don't know how to tell you." Ariane spent numerous nights practicing in front of her mirror or to Toni on how to tell him, but now that they're actually in the moment, it's like she forgot all her practice.

"Take your time. We have all night." He brushes aside a strand of her brown hair and rests his hand on the side of her neck before the redness in her cheeks explodes to her entire face.

Like their first meeting as children, she lets her mind speak before she can think.

"I like you." She suddenly blurts out, squeezing her eyes shut in fear of his reaction. "I've liked you for the last three years but I've always been too scared to say anything. Toni and Fangs convinced me to just do it, which is why they were both acting weird- or weirder than usual I guess- and I didn't want this to ruin our friendship or for you to hate me, I think I'd die if you hated me - not die that's a strong word but I... I'd be really upset and- and I don't know. But I really like you, Pea." Ariane finally puts an end to the nonstop flow of words from her mouth. She keeps her eyes squeezed shut, but she feels Sweet Pea remove his hand from her neck.

This is it. The end of our friendship. She sadly thinks.

"Pea, just say something? Please?" The shaking girl forces herself to open her eyes and look up at the boy causing all this pain for her. "Okay, okay, can we just forget I said anything? I'm sorry... I-"

"Ariane." He suddenly cuts her off.

Oh no. He never uses my first name. The thoughts fly through her mind and she can't stop them. The use of her first name feels foreign coming from his voice, but she has to accept it's going to be like this for the next... forever. He's going to hate her and they'll never go back to being like they were.

"Yes?" The first tear slides down her cheek as she hurriedly wipes it.

"Look," he pauses to let out a long sigh, "I'm sorry if I ever did anything to make it seem like I like you. Hell, I always thought the names and touching was best friend shit but now I feel like I shit." He humorlessly laughs. "Honestly, I've only ever seen you as a friend." There's a long pause that leads them sitting in a very uncomfortable silence. "I had something to tell you today too, but now I don't think it's the right time." He laughs again.

"No, just uh... what is it?" Ariane forces herself to ask, refusing to look at him.

"I'm seeing someone." He adds the words bluntly and quickly, like he's not tearing her heart out with those three words.

"Oh! Wow. Good for you! Who? Since when?" She tries her best to be happy for him.

"I don't think it's necessary for you to know right now." He doesn't mean to make the words come off so coldly, but he's too shocked at her confession to watch his tone. “Like, no offense, but did you really think we would work? You and me? You know you’re not my type. I like... tall girls, pretty girls. You know?” Similarly to Ariane, he speaks before thinking.

"Oh, yeah, you're right.” Ariane cuts him off, she doesn’t think she can handle hearing about her flaws anymore. Especially from him. The typically cold girl tries to mask her hurt by keeping her tone expressionless as she does when talking to anyone else. But this is Sweet Pea. Her Sweet Pea. The one she could always be honest to and tell anything to. She ruined their entire friendship because she couldn’t control her stupid feelings. “I think I'm going to head home now. I'm sorry again, Sweet Pea. I'll... see you at school?" She already starts backing away from him before he can respond.

"Wait, Cogan-" she doesn't stay close enough to listen to his words. Ariane doesn't know if she can take it.

Now that the heartbroken girl is at a safe distance away from him, she freely lets the tears fall down her cheeks, red from embarrassment. She seeks out Toni with her blurred vision.

Ignoring the dirty and the bewildered looks from other serpents, she quickly finds the pink haired girl.

"Oh my gosh Ari, how did it-"

"Can you take me home? Please?" The trembling in her hands doesn't relent as Toni's eyes widen in panic.

"Of course, let me just tell Fangs and grab my keys, okay babe?" She talks to her like Ariane's a child, which is probably what she looks like right now. With her wide eyes filled with tears, small hands clutching Toni's jacket, hair messy and a few strands covering her face, Toni's never seen the seemingly heartless girl like this. "I'll be right back, just sit here, okay?" Toni leads her to an empty stool at the bar and gives her a tight hug, before scurrying away to quickly gather her things. Ariane lays her head on the bar, crying quietly to herself. A hand on her back causes her to jump up.

"Sorry, just me. Fangs. Uh... Toni told me to keep an eye on you, I can probably guess why. I'm sorry I didn't catch your hints." Fangs rambles, the feeling of guilt unable to leave. Maybe if he just kept his damn mouth shut. "He's an idiot, just so you know. Anyone would be lucky to-"

"Please stop talking." She chokes out, not trying to be rude, but also not in the mood to listen to anyone right now.

"Right, right. I'll just sit here with you." He comments awkwardly, placing himself in the stool next to her. "So, the weather-"

"Please stop talking." Ariane repeats, much more sharply, hoping Fangs will get the message. Luckily the tense situation is saved by Toni.

"Okay, I got my shit. Let's go babe. Bye Fangs!" Toni grabs Ariane by the wrist and quickly leads her out the bar, doing her best to cover her tear stained face from the nosy serpents. "You'll be okay babe, I promise."

Even with her friends reassurance, she doesn't know if she believes her.

She doesn't know if she can really be okay after this.

Let me know what you thought and if you want another part! Thank you!

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rickstexaschick · 6 years

Text

Right Path, Wrong Time

It was the end of my first week and I’d had my worst day yet. Why I took this sales job, I had no idea. I didn’t have a clue about shoes. My shoe preference was flip flops.

Throughout the day, my phone buzzed with texts from Rick.

”Hey. What r u doin?”

“Working. What else?”

"I have a huge boner with your name on it."

"Cut it out. I'm at work."

"Think I need to come in and get this bad boy measured."

"Don't you dare..."

I had a mental image of him strolling into the store and laying his huge cock out on one of the old fashioned Brannock foot measurement devices, and I burst out laughing. Customers and co-workers looked over at me.

Two more hours crawl slowly went by. I thought this day would never end. The customers kept coming in. School was starting in a few weeks and it was as if the store had announced a special "Mother/Daughter Back to School" sale. Every client coming in was a duo or trio of a mom with 1 or 2 daughters. Everyone wanted to try on at least three things in two different sizes. Nobody bought anything. I could barely keep up. I had to skip my lunch, it was that busy. Soon a huge stack of shoe boxes was piling up on the back counter, waiting to be restocked.

My phone buzzed again.

“How’s the world of high fashion foot wear?”

"It's shit. This job sux. I hate my life."

The phone buzzed. I ignored him and tried to restock as many rejected shoes as I could before another customer came in. My phone continued to buzz from time to time but I was too busy to look at it. Two more hours pass. Only one more hour to go, then my shift would be done.

“How’s it goin’? Ready to quit yet?”

“Fuck off. I’m busy. Home after 5.”

"PS: I hate my job. Sorry I told you to fuck off." Because I didn't mean it, really. I know he was just trying to cheer me up.

Finally, my shift ended. I stayed long enough to put away the remaining rejected shoes from the customers I’d waited on. The store was still pretty busy, with three more hours to go before it closed. I grabbed my purse and got out the door before they asked me to stay an extra hour and help to restock everybody else’s as well. I checked my phone as I walked to my car. No more texts. Huh.... I called him. No answer. Really?

I got home to my small apartment, expecting to find him sitting on my couch, watching tv. Instead, the place was empty and dark. Well, fuck. Really?! He’d texted me all goddamned day... Was this because I'd told him to fuck off?

Slightly pissed off, I went into my bedroom and undressed. I took a long, hot shower, then changed into a pair of baggy sweatpants, an old soft t-shirt, and my favorite flip flops, then went to the kitchen to nuke a TV dinner. I ate it while watching the last of the 6 o'clock news, then dumped the plastic container in the trash and rinsed my fork off in the sink. That’s when I saw the 2-portal chip on the counter, resting on top of a piece of paper with a note written in Rick’s usual, barely legible scrawl.

”Babe, push this once when you get home. Don’t wear your damn flip flops. R.”

Huh. I stood there, inspecting the chip. I’d only seen one once before. Same situation: sitting on a note in the kitchen, waiting for me to find it the first thing in the morning when I came out from my bedroom, sleepy and yawning, and still wearing the over-sized t-shirt that I had slept in. I hadn’t had any coffee yet, and wasn’t exactly awake. I didn’t read the note before I picked up the chip, and accidentally pressed it while I was standing there looking at it.

And suddenly found myself standing in a crowded alien nightclub, still with a bad case of bed head hair, barefoot, and my tits clearly visible through my white shirt. And, if I bent over just slightly, it was obvious to anyone who glanced in my direction that I wasn’t wearing any panties, either. I was mortified. Rick was torn between being annoyed with me and laughing at me.

Actually, I don’t think he was very torn because he was mostly laughing. And he refused to leave before he finished his drink.

Eventually, he let me put on his lab coat. Eventually. Then we'd.... Well, suffice it to say that things ended on an "up" note.

I stood there, remembering all that, while looking at the chip. It was the size of a silver dollar, deep gold in color with a stylized “R” on one side and an engraved image of The Citadel on the other. I’d never been to The Citadel, but Rick had told me that that’s what it was, so....

Maybe I was meeting him at a bar or a club again. I went back to my bedroom and traded my sweatpants for a pair of jeans, a more decent top, and kicked off my flip flops in favor of comfortable low-heeled boots. Got back to the kitchen and picked up the chip, took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and pressed it.

With a sizzling pop, I was standing in a dimly lit clearing that was bordered by tall, dark trees. The ground was soft, almost spongy beneath my feet. There were little hillocks here and there, covered with soft moss. After the harsh fluorescent lights of my kitchen it took my eyes a few moments to adjust. Off to the west the sun was setting. The air was warmer here, but not as humid. It was heady with the sweet scent of flowers. A breeze blew overhead, sounding like the soft chorus of a string quartet. The music swelled in volume as the breeze approached, then trailed off as the breeze passed by. Quiet, single-toned musical notes followed its course; they were in perfect harmony with the breeze quartet. They sounded like the strings of a harp, each an individual note, softly plucked, then echoing away into silence.

I looked up to the source of the music and gasped with delight. Clusters of huge, cream-colored trumpet-shaped flowers were hanging head-down from vines growing high above in the trees. I watched as each flower became suffused with a softly colored light as the breeze moved it, producing the note. Each flower glowed in a different color than its neighbor and had a different tone. Tiny sparkles of color drifted down like fairy dust from the heavy-headed stamens protruding from the center of each flower. The sparkles and the light in the flower gradually faded along with the sound, until another breeze came along and gently moved the bloom again. The flowers’ musical tones and colors changed each time. I stood there listening to the beautiful sounds. Fascinated, I cranked my neck back so I could take in the amazing technicolor show above me that accompanied the music.

It was like Mother Nature’s version of a Pink Floyd Laser Light Show. After my crappy day at work, this place was more soothing than a glass of wine and a hot bath. The stress of my day and my irritation with Rick drained away and I felt immediately at peace. I wanted to lie down against one of those soft little mossy hillocks and stare up above me. I could have laid there for hours.

It was then that I realized that one or two petals from each flower had drifted to the ground and continued to glow with their soft colors. They almost appeared to be deliberately laid out in a path along a trail which led out of the clearing and deeper into the woods. The petals lay only along this trail, none had fallen randomly anywhere else. When I looked at them, they began to glow more brightly, then dimmed again. They did this in sequence, over and over, leading off into the distance. The message was obvious: “Come this way...”

I walked along this pretty path of petals. If I happened to step on one, it would emit the same single-note tone that it had rung when it was part of the flower, and its light would slowly darken to black as the tone faded away. The path gently curved back and forth, then gradually began sloping uphill. I looked back the way I had come and realized that the ground behind me was only partially lit with the few petals that remained untrampled. And I couldn’t even see the clearing anymore. The sun had set and it had rapidly grown dark, and also colder. I had just been too distracted to notice. I wish Rick had told me to bring a jacket.

Off in the distance to my left a deep howl called out. It sounded very much like a wolf but I couldn’t be sure what it was, since I clearly wasn’t on Earth anymore, Toto.... I smiled grimly to myself. To my right, somewhat closer to me, an answering howl sent shivers of fear down my spine.

Oh, my Holy Fucking Jesus. Where in the fuck has he sent me? Trying to stay calm, I increased my pace to a fast walk, taking care not to step on the petals anymore. No use calling more attention to myself than I already had, and I might need the path of light to direct me back the way I had come. A third howl sounded out behind me, still some distance away, but definitely closer than the other two. I took a chance to look back over my shoulder and realized that the path of petals had disappeared and the woods were completely dark. Ahead of me the petals were lying farther and farther apart, their light definitely dimmer than when I'd first started on this fucked up adventure. I didn't have a flashlight, or even my cell phone.

The howls echoed eerily around me again, closer.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the bloody fuck?! I started to run, pelting uphill along the path. It seemed to go on forever and after several minutes I had to stop and lean over to catch my breath as I clutched at a painful stitch that dug into my side. I’d definitely let myself get out of shape, and the soft ground was hard to run on, not to mention being uphill. I could feel hotspots on my feet where blisters were starting to form---these boots were not made for running, that's for sure. (Despite my growing fear, right then Nancy Sinatra popped up in my head, right on cue...)

My mouth was dry with fright and all the running. I licked my lips, trying to generate some spit. Over my panting gasps for air I heard another howl off to my left, definitely closer. Choking back a sob of fear, I took off running again, silently grateful that, whatever Rick had gotten me into, at least the bastard had told me not to wear my flip flops...

tbc

#RickSanchez Rick and Morty

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spookyspaghettisundae · 6 years

Text

To Be or not to Be

It’s the weirdest thing when you meet your former best friend, and you have nothing in common any more.

Bonnie was at the shopping mall to grab a new book. She loved spending her weekends curled up in a blanket, reading a good story while drinking a hot tea, only stopping for the occasional food, bathroom, or vinyl break.

Her professor had left early today because she had been having a migraine attack, which left the afternoon of most English Literature students at the university, including Bonnie, wide open.

Her mind occupied with what book to buy and what ice cream to complement it with, Bonnie didn’t even see the young man who had stepped in her way until she almost ran into him.

“Got any change?” he asked.

Without looking at him, Bonnie replied, “Not really. I prefer spending the little money I have via credit card. It seems counterintuitive, but it somehow works for me. I spend less when I’m not sure how much I have left.”

“He didn’t ask for spending tips, he just asked for a little change.”

The voice seemed strangely familiar.

“Well, I don’t have any, okay?”

The face looked familiar, too. So much so that Bonnie said, “Belinda, is that you? I didn’t recognise you with that green hair and your, ahem, new look.”

“Belinda? Who calls you Belinda these days? This is Bindy. And she’s a proud fuck up, just like we all are,” the man in Bonnie’s way howled.

“Don’t scare her like that, Buck. Bonnie is a delicate soul.”

“Bonnie. Another potential B for our exclusive club. Wanna join the ‘Five B’s’, make it the ‘Six B’s’ instead? Bindy has been lonely lately, and you’re kinda her type. For some reason, she likes bookworms.”

“Shut up, Buck. Don’t listen to him, Bonnie. He’s just trying to get a reaction out of you. Besides, I’m not even looking for someone new. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

Belinda paused for a moment before she smiled and added, “But Buck is right about one thing. This will be a pretty lonesome weekend for me. Alone in the woods with two couples. We’re going on a little trip, you know. A weekend getaway in the hinterland. Billy knows the owner of what he calls an oasis in the mountain woods. Don’t try to explain to him that an oasis is always situated in a desert. He’s hell-bent on using the phrase.”

“It sounds cool,” said a small guy with a half shaved head. He was sitting next to a lanky man with long bleached hair who said, “It fucking does, babe.”

They were both wearing skinny jeans with holes at the knees and a The Clash T-shirt. That generally seemed to be the uniform look of the group.

Bonnie looked at the ground as she said, “An oasis in the forest is indeed an oxymoron. Unless, of course, he’s referring to the secondary meaning of the word ‘oasis’ as a refuge. Then it’s perfectly fitting. Either way, I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

“Of course not. You never wanted to hurt anybody’s feelings. So I’m sure you won’t hurt mine when I ask you now if you’d join us on our little trip?” asked Belinda with a slightly shy yet beaming smile.

Bonnie looked back down at the floor as she answered, “I already have plans for the weekend.”

“Do they involve other people, or will you be alone in your apartment watching sad movies all day long?” said the young man called Buck, who was still standing much too close for Bonnie’s comfort.

“Not sad movies but a good book will be my companion this weekend,” she replied, looking up defiantly. “Plus, I have a paper to finish. I’d rather stay in.”

“Oh, come on, Bonnie, live a little,” said Belinda. “How often have you stayed in a mansion? And the two of us will have a lot of time to catch up while these four keep each other company.”

“Keep each other company? We’ll fuck each other’s brains out. At least Billy and I will. I don’t know about these two prudes,” said the tall guy with the bleached hair while pressing his boyfriend’s hand.

“Who are you calling a prude?” The girl with the pink short hair grabbed the buttocks of Buck, who grunted with what seemed delight.

“Stop your squabbling,” said Belinda, “you’re scaring my friend off. Please, come with us, Bonnie. I promise you they’ll behave. It’ll just be like old times, when we were the Two B’s, just that it’s now the Six B’s.”

Bonnie smiled while her thoughts were racing. It would indeed be nice to spend some time with Belinda, Bonnie had missed her quite a lot over the years. And her story-filled mind craved an actual adventure in real life. But she also really needed a quiet weekend alone, it had been a stressful week.

Plus, her feelings were a little hurt. Back in the day, the Two B’s had only been the two of them, Belinda and Bonnie, nobody else was allowed in the club. That had been the rule.

Apparently, that wasn’t true any more.

Bonnie felt hurt on a deep, personal level. It even went so far, that it ruined the treasured memory of something she had never shared with anyone, not even Belinda.

Because Bonnie had always thought of the Two B’s as the “To Be's”, a reference to Shakespeare’s “To be or not to be”. Every time they had called themselves by their club’s nickname, Bonnie couldn’t help but think of that famous line: to be, or not to be, that is the question.

She cynically thought that in terms of their friendship being unique, the answer had to be a “not to be” after all. That realisation made Bonnie pretty sad and stung quite a bit, but then, to her surprise, her thoughts turned somewhat angry.

Billy, Bobby, and Becky weren’t even names that started with a B, there were just nicknames that started with a B. Those certainly weren’t their birth names. Unlike Belinda and Bonnie, those were proper B-names. And Buck, what kind of name was that? Was that even his given name or just some random word he called himself?

Bonnie didn’t care to find out. The more she thought about it, the more she was looking forward to her time on the sofa with a good book in one hand a an ice cream cone in the other.

* * *

Three hours later, Bonnie got out of the one car they had all shared, thinking that she really needed to work on her ability to say “no”. She had been cooped up in the middle seat in the back of the car with Belinda to her right and Buck and Becky to her left.

Those two had been sharing a seat and had been furiously making out for the whole drive. Sitting next to them had been uncomfortable to say the least.

After everyone had stepped out of the car, the others walked over to the lawn. It was lined with a row of greyish white stones of all different shapes and sizes. The five youths lifted various of the little rocks and put them down again, getting more and more frustrated with every stone.

“Are you sure that’s our way in, jackass?” said Bobby.

“Yeah, blockhead. It has to be under one of these stones. The stone’s fist-sized, that’s all I know, ahem, I mean, remember,” replied Buck with a sideways glance at Bonnie.

“Good thing you brought me with you then because I just found it.” Becky put down a small rock and handed the key over to Buck.

“Everything’s better with you around, baby. Who would I screw if you weren’t here?”

“Yourself,” interjected Bobby, which made everybody laugh. Even Bonnie couldn’t stifle a chuckle.

Bonnie entered the house last. Its big, impressive entrance hall had a marble floor, and two wide hallways branched off to either side. But what really caught Bonnie’s eye was a long polished wooden display table with beautiful stone sculptures on top. All three of them were about the size of a wine bottle and depicted dancing fairies. The car keys were hanging from the forearm of the middle one, and it almost looked like the keys were a part of the sculpture’s attire. Behind the table, a broad, polished wooden flight of stairs went up to the upper floor.

Becky and Buck were already stumbling up the stairs. They were half tripping, half making out, as they moved towards what was probably the bedrooms, scattering the house key and several items of clothing all over the steps.

From her left, Bonnie heard Bobby howl, “Jackpot. There’s a lot of expensive-looking booze in the liquor cabinet.”

“Then let’s get shit-faced. There’s not even any reception out here, so we’ve got nothing better to do anyway,” was Billy’s answer. It was coming from the same direction.

Bonnie went the other way, down the hall to the right. There was a door not far down the corridor labelled “Guest Bathroom”. From there, the hallway continued around a corner to the left. Bonnie turned the corner and suddenly stood in a wide kitchen.

It had a country-style wooden look, and a long row of windows straight ahead directed the view to a huge and well-kept garden.

There was also a row of smaller windows to Bonnie’s right, where the stove and sink were located right next to the fridge. The refrigerator was currently open and half of Belinda’s body seemed to be lost in the vast space it opened up into. Bonnie had never seen a fridge this huge in all her life.

Belinda had a disappointed look on her face when she closed the large silver door.

“It’s turned off. There’s nothing in there.”

“Well, there’s always the cupboards,” said Bonnie with a smile.

Half an hour later, the house was filled with the lovely smell of a hearty home-cooked meal that mostly consisted of canned food. Bonnie and Belinda had both always had a knack for cooking and used to cook together quite often, so they managed to create a rather delicious meal even though they had no fresh ingredients at hand.

Becky put the first two plates of noodles with “tomato sauce à la surprise” on the long wooden table. It had eight chairs to go with it and was clearly meant to host rather big and fancy dinners, which made it perfect for their party of six.

Buck and Becky entered the room and joined Billy and Bobby on the white sofa that was standing not far from the kitchen counter, which served as a room divider.

Buck sneered at Bonnie as he said, “We wanna eat our lunch over here, sweet Miss Proper.”

“If you make breaking conventions a rule, it becomes just another convention. But have it your way, Mister Rule Breaker,” said Belinda while bringing two plates over to the group situated around the coffee table.

Bonnie followed Belinda’s example and took the two plates she had just put down on the big table with her when she joined the others. There was hardly any room for the plates since there were already a half-empty bottle of expensive vodka and six shot glasses on the coffee table, but they managed to make it work somehow.

They sat around the small glass table, most of them sitting on the floor and putting their food and drink on the couch, ground, or their laps.

The lovely alcove by the windows looked like a mess after they had finished their meal. Becky had managed to spill tomato sauce on the delicate white fabric of the sofa, but no one seemed to care. Buck just flipped the cushion over, and that was that.

Bonnie was piling all the plates and cutlery into a tower of dirty dishes and was about to carry them to the kitchen, when Buck insisted on everyone sharing a toast. He was smoking a cigarette, using a gorgeous small ceramic bowl that had been sitting on the windowsill behind him as an improvised ashtray.

“But I don’t drink. I’ll just wash the dishes while you guys go ahead,” said Bonnie.

“What’s one drink, dear Miss Proper? I’m sure you can handle that much,” roared Buck.

“It’s not that I can’t handle it. I just don’t like the taste of alcohol.”

“Just one shot. It’s over quickly, and then you can wash it down with a tea or whatever it is that you do enjoy the taste of.”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you a chicken or what? One shot won’t even make you drunk. And I will be offended if you say no and that goes for the others too.”

They all seemed to agree, judging by the chorus of voices that followed. Bonnie was fed up with being treated like a child by most of these people, most of all Buck. So she took the shot glass he handed her and emptied it in one big gulp. She didn’t cough and didn’t even bat en eye as she put the glass back down on the table.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to wash the dishes. I don’t like living in my own filth.”

“Damn, woman. Maybe you have a backbone after all,” said Buck as Bonnie was already walking over to the sink, balancing the tower of dishes in her hands.

After Bonnie had put the dirty dishes in the sink, she noticed Belinda behind her, bringing over the shot glasses and the defiled ceramic bowl. In the background, the others were climbing out the window behind the sofa they had just sat on, trampling all over the couch while making their way to the lovely garden, completely ignoring the big slide door only a few paces away from them.

“They’re nice people once they warm up to you. It just takes them a while to let someone new in,” said Belinda while putting the glasses and bowl into the kitchen sink.

While Bonnie was still thinking about how to respond, Becky shouted from the garden, “Are you coming, Bindy? You can bring your friend.”

“Scratch that. Let little Miss Proper wash the dishes. She can join us once she’s done,” added Buck.

“Real nice people. I’m sure you’re right about that,” said Bonnie. “But I actually agree with Buck here. I prefer doing the work before play. So you guys go ahead, I’ll catch up with you later.”

“You sure? Thanks. Honestly, I’ve been dying to explore the garden. There’s this ominous slope and I want to see where it leads.”

“You go have fun, Belinda. But be careful.”

Belinda rolled her eyes and smiled as she squeezed Bonnie’s hand. Then she walked over to the sofa and climbed out the window.

Bonnie could see the others through the kitchen window while she was washing the dishes. They were standing over by the drop, looking down towards the unknown. Buck put his hands on Billy’s shoulders, pushing him forward as if he was trying to shove him over the edge, but then pulling him back. This earned him a not so soft punch in the stomach by Bobby, whose long blonde hair was blowing in the wind.

Bonnie focused on the dishes again and was a little startled when there was a soft knock on the window in front of her. Belinda smiled at her through the glass and beckoned Bonnie to follow her as she passed through to the right, following the others to a covered veranda. Bonnie couldn’t see what was over to that side because there was a waist-high wooden fence obstructing her view.

She could only see rays of golden late-afternoon light passing through the narrow slits in the fence and shadows dancing in those beams as the others moved behind it.

Being done with the dishes anyway, Bonnie decided that it was time for the fun part to begin, so she went over to the sofa, sighed at the bootprints on it and climbed out the window, too. She walked over to the wooden veranda through an open door in the fence, joining Belinda who was standing in front of a metal cage.

Belinda was staring intently at whatever was in there while grabbing Bonnie’s hand. Bonnie squeezed her friend’s hand as well and turned to see what was in the cage.

At first, she thought it was a big dog that seemed to be hiding in the shadow of the fence. But as her eyes adjusted to the darker environment of the cage, she saw that it wasn’t. The creature was much more humanoid and seemed to be squatting while its hands touched the ground. It looked completely dishevelled and seemed to be wearing scraps. In fact, the more she looked at it, the more Bonnie realised that “it” was the wrong pronoun to use. This was a woman, hiding in the shadow of the calf-covered cage. The scraps she was wearing barely covered the most delicate parts of her body.

Her face seemed to be scarred, like someone had cut her mouth open towards her ears and left a thick brownish-pink scar.

“Is that …? Is she …? Where are the others?”

Instead of saying anything, Belinda pointed her free hand at a little shack in the big cage. There were muffled noises coming form that direction, but Bonnie had almost no time to notice them because the dirt-covered woman started crawling towards them. She was moving in a strange way that didn’t seem human and was weirdly choppy.

“Are you okay, Miss? Do you need help?”

Belinda squeezed Bonnie’s hand and shushed her. The woman in the cage was still moving slowly towards them, demanding all their attention with her strange not-quite-human looks and movements, when the others suddenly burst out of the shack and came running towards the cage’s door, which had been ajar the whole time, unbeknownst to Bonnie. The terror in their eyes sent shivers down Bonnie’s spine, who took a step back, ready to run. But Belinda was still clutching Bonnie’s hand, and as Bonnie tried to pull her back and away from the cage, Belinda was frozen in place, staring at the woman crawling in the cage.

Bonnie’s gaze followed that of Belinda, and she froze as well. As the woman slowly opened her mouth for an unnatural hiss, not only her lips parted but the scar tissue also gave way to reveal an unusually long row of pointy teeth.

Bonnie stood there mesmerised, and she barely noticed how Belinda let go of her hand, screamed, and stared running, calling for Bonnie to follow.

The others had reached the cell’s door and pushed it open, so that it slammed against the metal frame of the cage, startling Bonnie into action.

She ran off the veranda and onto the lawn, perceiving that the others had already gained a lot of ground and were running towards the slope that was the natural border of the property.

“The drop is too steep,” screamed Belinda while considerably slowing down her pace.

“I’d rather take my chances crossing the river down in the valley than staying here with the family’s freaky pets,” shouted Bobby.

“Me too, babe,” were Billy’s words as he ran over the edge and disappeared quickly.

Becky fell onto the lawn and gave a little scream, which made Buck turn around and help her up before he dragged her behind him towards the edge. They had almost left Bonnie’s field of vision, holding hands, running as fast as they could, when two shadows showed up behind them, seemingly out of nowhere, and threw them to the ground.

Two monsters looking similar to the woman with the scarred cheeks except that they were apparently male, loomed over the two lovers on the ground and howled in a way that made Bonnie’s blood freeze. She had come to a standstill next to Belinda, staring helplessly at the scene.

As the two monsters lowered their huge mouths towards their victims and ran their claws into the lover’s backs, another shadow ran past them and down the slope in fast pursuit of the two young men.

Bonnie, suddenly aware of her situation, tore her gaze from the ghastly scene in front of her, and pulled Belinda towards the window of the villa.

“Come on, Belinda, we’ve gotta get to the mansion and barricade ourselves in there. It’s our only chance. We can call the police in there. There must be a land-line phone somewhere.”

Her words actually reached Belinda despite her frozen state, but they had the opposite effect of what Bonnie had intended.

Belinda suddenly turned on her heel, violently broke free of Bonnie’s grip, and started running towards the slope, following the others to what could only be seen as certain doom. With her friend out of reach, Bonnie screamed at the top of her lungs, “Belinda, what the fuck! It’s this way!”

As if shocked by Bonnie’s sudden out-of-character profanity, Belinda actually turned around and started to move towards the villa instead.

Bonnie had already reached the window and was climbing in when the unnatural hiss from before came from the veranda. She turned her head just in time to catch a glimpse of the woman who had mesmerised both her and Belinda, before Bonnie slipped through the open window and into the parlour.

Standing on the sofa, Bonnie was holding the window open, ready to slam it shut as soon as Belinda joined her.

Bonnie watched her childhood friend run towards her, with the two dead bodies lying on the ground behind her. The monsters that had been feasting on them had finally let off and were now heading for the slope instead, joining the chase of the boys whose screams were echoing in the vale.

Belinda was getting closer to the window, and Bonnie felt a wild, almost fiery hope growing in her chest. But then she noticed the two lovers in the background getting up from the ground.

Those two looked at each other with animal-like eyes, and their faces moved in towards each other as if they were about to kiss. But instead, they sank their teeth in each others flesh, biting the others neck with animalistic delight and ripping out pieces of muscle with long, pointy teeth. As they slowly ate each other with pleasure, their mouths tore open all the way to their ears, showing an unnaturally long row of teeth ready to devour each other as well as anyone else.

Bonnie screamed a very high-pitched, long cry as she saw that carnal display of consuming love, which drew the attention of everyone around. Belinda turned her head mid-run, which made her lose her balance and stumble, and the monsters that had been Becky and Buck only mere moments ago looked up from their bloody embrace.

They looked at Bonnie for a moment and then focused their attention on Belinda. Their desire for prey must have beaten their lust for each other because they both stood up in almost perfect synchronisation, moving in a strangely choppy way.

Belinda, who had fallen onto the ground, shrieked at the sight of them and then started crawling towards Bonnie and the safety of the mansion. As their eyes met again, both young women saw a terror in the other’s gaze that was beyond anything they had ever seen before.

Bonnie waved her left hand in a frantic motion and yelled, “They’re gaining on you, Belinda! You won’t make it in time crawling. Get up and run!”

Stumbling to her feet, Belinda accelerated her run while the monsters got closer to her as well as the window, making Bonnie’s heart pound faster and faster with every step they drew nearer.

With their inhuman speed, the two monsters had almost reached her when Belinda made it to the window. Bonnie wrapped her right hand tightly around Belinda’s forearm, ready to pull her in when the look on her friend’s face suddenly made her stop.

Belinda’s eyes went from alight with hope and adrenaline to black with despair and pain in an instant. She looked down at her own belly and tears ran down her cheeks while she tried to suppress a groan.

Bonnie’s eyes followed those of Belinda and arrived at her belly, where she saw a thin red line form from Belinda’s chest to her navel. It erupted into a gaping hole, spilling blood and little bits onto the windowsill and all over the white couch. Little droplets got sprayed all over Bonnie’s blouse, face, neck, and forearms, making her feel strangely wet and warm.

Looking into her friend’s terrified eyes, Bonnie saw the monsters bloody faces coming ever closer and their clawed hands gripping Belinda’s torso.

Without a conscious thought, the hand that had been ready to pull her friend to safety now pushed her away instead when Bonnie drove Belinda into the two monsters while she slammed the window shut with her other hand.

The expression in Belinda’s eyes went from sheer terror to utter disbelief as she realised what had just happened. Bonnie had slammed the window shut before the three outside hit the ground, and she was already on her way to the kitchen when the two monsters started feasting on her childhood friend.

When Bonnie arrived at the entrance hall, she could hear claws scratching against the front door. Panicked, she looked around and saw the key still lying on the stairs. She grabbed it as fast as she could and ran to the door, practically throwing herself against it as the doorknob started turning.

The sudden impact must have startled the monster, giving Bonnie enough time to shove the key into the hole and lock the door. She silently cursed the fact that she couldn’t just walk out the front door and drive off back to civilisation to get away from this nightmare and maybe even get help for the others. Perhaps there was a way to reverse this transformation. With science and medicine being as advanced as they were nowadays, there was still some hope, wasn’t there?

The scratching at the door started again and was followed by loud banging noises. Horrified, Becky ran over to the display table and took the car keys from the arm of the dancing fairy. Then she walked past the sculptures and took a running start, so that she ascended the stairs two steps at a time.

While running upstairs, Bonnie couldn’t help but notice that whenever someone went upstairs in a horror story, they usually ended up being the next victim. But she obviously had no other choice. Bonnie suddenly knew what it was like to be the character the reader or movie-goer cursed at for doing the stupid thing.

At the top of the stairs was a big open space filled with many beautiful works of art: more sculptures, several old as well as modern paintings, and even the furniture clearly consisted of artisan pieces. There were several doors, and on instinct, Bonnie opened the one that was straight ahead.

She entered the master bedroom. Sweeping the room with her gaze for a way out, she couldn’t completely ignore its beauty. The wide open space of the gabled bedroom held a gorgeous light-coloured wooden desk and chair, and a big closet to go with it.

There was a canopy bed with untidy bedclothes – this was most likely courtesy of Becky and Buck – and behind it, the room opened up to a balcony that went along the whole length of the room, overlooking the garden. Bonnie recognised the balcony as a possible way out, but then again, the garden wasn’t at all where she wanted to be.

A little door to the left caught Bonnie’s eye when she was scanning the room. She went over there and opened it, which was how she found herself in the master bathroom. She hardly noticed the bathtub, toilet, and towel racks, but instead focussed her attention to the dormer window next to the washbasin.

Following her instincts once more, Bonnie climbed out the window and onto the roof. The sun was slowly setting behind the gable as she started her ascend. The tiles were easier to navigate than she thought, so that she reached and straddled the house’s topmost point in no time.

Now, all Bonnie had to do was to climb down the other side of the roof and find a way down the facade of the building on the other side to get to the car. She figured that that shouldn’t be too hard because from up here, she could overlook nearly everything.

Scanning the area, Bonnie’s heart sank, and her newfound enthusiasm went as quickly as it had come. Even though they hadn’t spotted her yet, she could see the monsters everywhere. There were several in the garden, two of which looked like Bobby and Billy, who must have been caught down the slope and came back up to join the others.

Other monsters, some of the original cage dwellers by the looks of it, were circling the premises. Even up on the roof, Bonnie could still hear someone banging against the entrance door, making it infinitely harder to reach the car.

Yet that was still her best bet. If she could divert their attention somehow – maybe by throwing a roof tile to lure them away from the door and the car – she might be able to escape. Feeling hope’s spark kindled once again in her chest, Bonnie made her way down the other side of the roof.

She had only swung her leg off the gable to begin her descend when she heard a scratching noise behind her. She froze mid-motion and then slowly turned her head towards the noise. Even in her despair, Bonnie had to smile. It was always the harmless-looking ones.

The woman from the cage lifted herself up the edge of the roof as if it was no feat at all, and then pulled up Belinda in one smooth, sweeping motion. Both of them stared at Bonnie with eyes filled with hunger.

Slowly but surely, and with her gaze fixed on the approaching monsters with their long rows of teeth glistening in the setting sun, Bonnie started climbing down the roof towards the car and towards freedom.

To be, or not to be, that is the question that would be answered for Bonnie shortly.

—Submitted by Lone-Eyed

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jonsa-creatives · 7 years

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This week’s Author of the Week is Lemoncake_Chioni ( @jen-snow on tumblr) !

We’ve long been a fan of Jen’s work (click here for her fics on AO3). Her angsty stories are beautifully written and her sexy smut is blush-inducing!

Do yourself a favour and head on over to devour her stuff - and leave her some kudo and comment love whilst you’re at it! Oh - and if you’re not already following her - get on that too! @jen-snow

As always, below the cut you can find some excerpts from our Author of the Week....

Baelor

She blinked and held out both of her arms to him. He kicked off his boots and climbed onto the bed, pulling her into his lap. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. As he held her to him, he made himself ask the question. "Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head. He swallowed. He wouldn't be able to handle the answer to his next one. "Did- did he touch you?"

He cursed himself as he felt her hesitate. All you have to do is listen. She had to endure more than that. "No," she said eventually, "well, he did, but, not, not like- he couldn't. He said he wouldn't."

Jon sighed in relief, but he could feel Sansa tense up in his arms. She pushed against his chest, pulling away from him. "But what if he changes his mind? Tomorrow or the day after? A fortnight from now, or in a moon's turn?"

He stared at her, mouth hanging open. "And that's not even the worst of it," she whispered, clasping a hand over her mouth as soon as she'd said it. He grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "What, Sansa? Tell me!"

She was close to tears now. "Joffrey came to me, after you left. He said if his uncle was not up to the task, he'd show him how to do it. He said he'd put a babe in me himself and make you and Lord Tyrion watch."

It seemed his anger had been depleted for the day. He could only stare at her, his own face undoubtedly reflecting the horror and disbelief on hers. She seemed to understand his inability to respond to her, but then her hands started clawing at her long white throat. "I can't- I can't breathe, Jon."

He pulled her to him again, trying to ignore the feel of her soft, warm body against his and started rubbing her back. "I'm here, sweet girl, I'm here."

After a while she took a couple of deep breaths and he felt her go rigid again. "I can't, Jon, I can't. I can't let one of them take my maidenhead. I don't want either of them to put a babe in me. Help me, Jon, please!"

Unintended

She's looking around the café, probably trying to find a good table and Jon tries to sink back into the wall. She must think he's an idiot or a creep after yesterday. In those first few months after Ygritte died, it used to happen more often. He'd see a flash of red hair or hear a voice that sounded like hers, and he'd draw in a sharp breath, his heart starting to beat faster and for a moment he would think it was her. It had been months, but yesterday it happened again. It was the messy red hair that did it this time. He'd never seen the girl like that, her hair was usually sleek and straight. He liked that wild look on her, especially combined with the way her cheeks were flushed pink.

Of course he blew any chance he might have had with her with his awkward bumbling. It's unbelievable, he thinks. He meets so many women in his line of work, but talking to a pretty girl off the job reduces him to the shy teenage boy he once was. It doesn't matter. He's dated other women before, but he always ends up feeling guilty and disconnected. Even the few casual encounters he had felt wrong.

She's spotted him and for a moment she stands frozen in place, but then, to his surprise, she's walking over to his table. He can't help but take in the way her hips sway when she moves those endless legs, which are exposed from the ankles all the way up to her mid-thighs. He takes a gulp of air and tells himself to stop staring and meet her eyes.

She's standing at the other side of the table, lifting the strap of her purple bag higher over her shoulder and biting her lip. "Hi," she greets him with a shy smile. He tries to smile back at her and chokes out: "Hi."

The upper half of her body turns away from him, facing the counter. A blush is creeping up her cheeks. "I- I was really sorry that I couldn't stay yesterday and I- um- was wondering if your offer still counts?"

She's looking at him expectantly. He clears his throat. "Err- offer?"

She looks down at her feet and licks her lips. "Well- I think I remember you offering to buy me a coffee..."

He stares at her for a moment. "Oh, I did. Yeah, sure, I- ah"

"I mean- you don't have to pay for it," she cuts him off, waving a palm at him, "and I understand if you changed your mind. Maybe you were just being nice and - I don't know what I'm trying to say..."

Give Me Your Heart and Your Soul (smut)

He used his fingers and lips and teeth and tongue to lavish attention on her breasts, taking his time. When he released her right nipple from his mouth, she cried out. He glanced up, dread crushing his heart, but her eyes were blown wide with desire and she was grinning at him.

He refocused on her body, admiring his work. Her skin was flushed and littered with darker red spots from his beard and teeth and there was a large purple bloom on her neck. Her nipple was blue, fine lines spreading out onto the white flesh of her breast, resembling a star.

He lowered himself onto his knees, adjusting himself through his breeches and let his hands rest on her hips. This was it, the image from his dream. Her scent was intoxicating. He nuzzled his face into the hair covering her mound and inhaled deeply, breathing her in. She opened her legs and he released his breath at the sight of her soft pink flesh, letting it wash over her damp folds, drawing a whimper from her lips.

At the first swipe of his tongue, Jon groaned and Sansa's knees buckled. He steadied her and rose to his feet again. He released her pushing off his boots and deciding to rid himself from his ever-tightening breeches. She blinked at him. "Lie on the bed," he instructed her. She shook her head. "No, not the bed."

He nodded, kicking off his breeches. "Alright then," he growled, scooping her up and carrying her to the desk. He sat down on the chair and hooked his hands under her knees to pull her to him. "Now watch," he told her, "I'll show you how a man pleasures a woman with his mouth."

She propped herself up on her elbows to follow his instructions. He held her gaze for a moment, before inclining his head to focus on the feast before him. He nearly sobbed at the sight and smell of her arousal. A wicked grin spread across his face as a thought occurred to him.

"Perhaps something else first," he mused. Her brow furrowed. He slipped his fingers between her folds and wiggled them, collecting her wetness. He felt the muscles of her cunt twitch against his hand. A whimper of protest escaped from her lips as he pulled his hand away, tendrils of her juices forming between her lower lips and his fingers.

He drew his wet hand down over his face, nuzzling into it. He heard her gasp. "See?" he asked her, taking in the look of bewilderment on her face, "I'm yours."

He flicked his tongue out to lick his hand clean, groaning at the taste of her on his tongue. "Don't look away."

He hooked her legs over his shoulders, holding her steady with one hand on the small of her back. He started lapping at her folds, lightly at first, only teasing his tongue around her clit, carefully avoiding direct contact. He suckled and nibbled at her lower lips, dipping his tongue into her from time to time. He could tell from her moans that she needed more.

So did Jon, so he ripped away his own smallclothes to fist his throbbing cock with his still lightly damp hand and closed his lips over her nub. Sansa bucked her hips and mewled, sending shudders down his spine. At his answering moan, she threaded her fingers through his curls, pulling hard.

The sharp pricks of pain sent jolts of pleasure down to his groin. He hummed and sucked and licked as his hand tugged harder and faster and he could feel both of their bodies tensing up. Sansa lay back and started grinding her hips against his mouth and he had to still his hand to keep himself from finishing then and there.

Her back arched off the desk and she peaked with a cry, almost tearing out his hair and soaking his beard with her juices. He kept sucking until she stopped shuddering. He removed her legs from his shoulders and moved her up the desk, standing over her.

Her flushed face was the loveliest things he'd ever seen, her bottom lip bleeding from where she'd bitten it to stifle her moans and her eyes dark and heavily lidded. He forced himself to keep the strokes on his cock slow and soft so he could ask her: "Do you want to be mine?"

She nodded, so he growled and climbed onto the desk to straddle her waist. Finally, he increased the pressure and accelerated the movements of his hand, until he could feel his balls tighten and the coil at the base of his spine snapping. He watched his seed spill onto her pink nipple and the blue one and the soft skin of her breasts, grunting and howling. Mine! Mine! Mine! he chanted as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him.

He braced his hands on either side of her head and bent down to kiss her and lick the blood from her lips. He pulled back to rub his seed into her creamy skin, sighing contentedly. Suddenly, he remembered to ask: "How did you like the demonstration, my lady?"

She pulled her fascinated face away from the hand that was still moving between her breasts. She smirked before assuming her queenly expression again. "Well enough, Your Grace, but I'm afraid I lost my focus at some point. You might have to do it again sometime."

Also highly recommend Discord & Unions because it is EPIC and Silk & Fur purely because Jon is wearing stockings!

#jonsa #Jon x Sansa #Author of the week #fic recs

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harrystupelo-blog · 7 years

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Sleep On The Floor

Harry inhaled deeply, the smell of sun cream and ocean water filling his nostrils. The grass was cool under his bare feet and his bare shins were being tickled by the wind. He had on his favorite sunglasses and an old t-shirt and swimming shorts paired with a snapback. Harry smiled softly to himself, enjoying the warm breeze and sounds of happy people surrounding him. He truly hadn’t felt this at ease since his time in Jamaica - there was something about sun and sand and good company that made him so relaxed. The sun was beginning to set over the horizon, causing the entire area to turn a beautiful golden shade, and the air was full of barbecuing food, sweet sangria, and chatter-filled music and dancing. He had a glass of champagne in his hand, his phone in the other. He’d just left behind a giggling Jeff and Glenne who seemed fully ready to start making out in the middle of the dance floor, and he was dodging couples left and right, but he didn’t at all feel alone. He was surrounded by people who loved him, however tonight, he had eyes for only one girl, his daughter.

Harry followed a chattering laugh, the familiar sound filling his ears and bringing him peace and calm. Fixing his snapback, he set down his glass and crouched down, lifting up a familiar, tiny being and spinning her around, peppering kisses to Maya’s face. She squealed, wrapping her arms around her dad’s neck as her little legs wrapped around his upper body, fitting into her father easily. Harry nuzzled his face into her shoulder, her baby-soft skin smelling of soap and distant seawater. She had on a pink sundress over her swimsuit, her hair freshly washed and in a small bun at the top of her head. The two were in Hawaii for his friend’s wedding, and the rehearsal had been earlier that day. Since Harry was the best man, he’d spent a lot of the day at the stag party for Jon, his old friend who was getting married, while his daughter spent the day at the beach with Glenne. Harry hadn’t seen Maya all day, and he had to say he missed her. They would be in Hawaii for the next few days, and so far it had been nothing but relaxation and fun. Harry loved spending time with his girl, and he loved not having to do anything but spend time with friends and in the sun. He wished life could always be so simple.

“How are you, Birdy? Fun day? Were you a good girl for Auntie Glenne?” Harry asked. He picked up his glass, pocketing his phone. With Maya chattering away at his hip about her fun day, he bounced her up and down with every other word, small giggles spurting out of her lips. Harry grinned, nuzzling his cheek against her’s before placing her on the ground once they were in a clearing, less partygoers and children dancing around. He took a sip of his champagne, smiling curiously at his daughter, who was looking up at him expectantly. “What do you need, sweet girl?” he murmured, getting on his knees before her tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “Do you need to use the toilet? Are you hungry?”

“Daddy, can I have some apple juice please?” she asked, reaching for his glass. Harry let out a breathy laugh, kissing her nose softly.

“No can do, baby girl. This is special, uh, adult juice.” He was never very good at coming up with things on the spot. He smiled, kissing her forehead and smoothing out Maya’s frown lines. “Come on, Birdy, Dad will get you some juice. And crisps, too? Sound nice?”

Maya nodded, sighing a little. She reached up to hold her father’s hand carefully, her other hand gripping his shorts, staying close to his side through the crowds of adults she didn’t know. Harry scooped her into his arms, visibly feeling her body relax as she resumed her chattering easily. Harry pressed kisses to her forehead as he listened, stroking the back of her head carefully while also trying not to spill his drink.

Opposite the grassy, crowded party and onto the beach, a few couples and children were either lounging in the cool sand or enjoying the waves before the sun set. Harry smiled at Maya, sat beside him in the grass and humming to herself as she sipped her apple juice. Harry had since replenished his own, uh, juice, and he had his arm stroking up and down her back as she sipped and talked to him about how Glenne had braided her hair today after her bath. Jeff and Glenne joined them after a bit, when Maya was leaning against Harry’s side and playing with his white sunglasses, ones she dubbed his “Willy Wonka glasses.” Jeff patted Harry’s shoulder, leaning in to give Maya’s forehead a kiss as Glenne pulled her into her lap, Maya happy to sit with three of her favorite people. She couldn’t really explain it, but she always felt very safe around Jeff and Glenne - and her father, of course. He was her safest person. It was difficult for her to reason it with herself, but she knew her dad would go many lengths to protect her and make her happy and safe.

“Jeff, do you have an adult juice too?” Maya asked curiously, pointing to the red drink in Jeff’s hand that certainly wasn’t just cranberry juice. Harry rolled his head to the side, eyeing Jeff carefully. The man wasn’t drunk; he would never hang around Maya if he were anything but sober, both he and Harry knew that, but he wasn’t exactly...good at censoring himself around kids.

“Daddy said he has adult juice,” Maya said, frowning and reaching forward to take a sip of Harry’s water bottle that he offered her, Harry wiping some that dribbled down her chin.

“Yeah, it’s adult juice,” Jeff nodded, trying and failing to keep a straight face. Glenne rolled her eyes, playing with the straps of Maya’s dress. “You wouldn’t like it, babe. Too sour.”

Maya frowned, then, taking another sip of Harry’s water, Harry smiling at the confused expression on her face, lying on his back with his forearms supporting him, smiling softly. Maya was truly growing up to be a beautiful girl - her eyes were the same green as Harry’s, her dimples soft and her hair curly and unruly. She was a happy, gentle girl with so much love surrounding her, just as Harry had grown up. He ignored the comparisons to their bodies - Gemma liked to giggle to him that just as Maya was a little chubby from baby fat around her middle, Harry had some of his own around his hips, too. (He refused to admit he’d gained Dad Weight, refused. Plus, it had only been a few pounds. That didn’t count.)

“Uncle Nick said that adult juice makes Daddy dance a lot,” Maya said casually, finishing the last of her crisps and wiping her hands on the grass, sliding Harry’s sunglasses over her face. Harry’s mouth opened in shock, Jeff and Glenne howling with laughter. Harry sat up, Maya squealing as he lunged for her, falling over her feet as she stood, hiding behind Glenne, who was laughing and trying not to spill her wine. Harry tried to grab for Maya, laughing when she went under his arm, but he looped his other arm around her bum and swung her into the air, holding her firmly as he spun her around, his glasses sliding off Maya’s face.

“Daddy, no!” she laughed when he, gently, took them off her little face, putting them on his own head and kissing in between her eyes.

“I’m gonna toss you into the ocean, I’ve had it with you,” he growled, giggling when Maya gasped and tried to squirm out of his arms. Harry stood in the ankle deep water, still warm but not as warm when the sun was up. Maya flailed her legs and kicked him in the nads once or twice, causing him to wince as Jeff laughed loudly.

“One.....two....three...” Harry said, jostling her and pretending to drop her into the ocean, nuzzling his face and blowing a raspberry to her shoulder with each count. He set her down gently on her feet in the ocean, the water hitting just below her dress. “Careful, Birdy, hold my hand please,” he said softly - although the water was clear as day, he didn’t want Maya to fall in and get upset from the cool water. “Stay with me, okay? We can swim tomorrow morning before breakfast.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Maya nodded, keeping a firm grip on Harry’s hand while also treading carefully through the water, her feet bare like Harry’s were.

“Push him in, Maya!” Jeff called, Harry turning to give him the finger when Maya wasn’t looking, but in his distraction, two tiny hands pushed his thighs to the side, Harry flailing into the knee-deep water, his swimming trunks and grey t-shirt immediately soaked. He reached for Maya, Glenne cheering behind them as he pulled the squealing girl into his chest, her dress becoming as soaked as he was as she gasped and giggled, holding onto his neck as he laughed, holding her tightly as he stood. Harry made quick work of finding a thick towel to wrap her in, cradling her to his chest like she was a newborn. “Let’s go dry off and get cleaned up before s’mores, yeah?”

“Are you tired, Birdy?” Harry asked softly, running his hands through Maya’s hair. The two had taken quick showers and Harry had gotten Maya into a sweatshirt and shorts, bringing a blanket along with them as they joined the group back down on the beach, sat by a roaring bonfire that kept them all warm and happy. Maya had spent much of the evening playing in the sand with the other children she had befriended on the trip, but after she’d started yawning she found her way back to her father, who pulled her into his lap wordlessly and wrapped her in the blanket he brought for the two of them. Maya was sleeping off and on on Harry’s chest, her head right where his heart was beating and her hands loosely clutching his red Hawaiian t-shirt. It was past ten o’clock now, and Harry couldn’t help but agree with the small nod Maya gave to him, her eyes fluttering. It had been a long, fun day for the both of them, but now it was time to say goodnight. Harry bade his goodnights to the group, keeping Maya in a bundle of blanket in his arms, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t wake the sleeping girl. As he made his way back to their hotel, a short walk away, Maya hummed, her face raising from Harry’s chest, her hair mussed against her face.

“Daddy?” she whispered in confusion, Harry shushing her gently.

“Go back to sleep, Birdy, s’just me. Let’s go to bed, yeah? Long day for us. We’ll have fun tomorrow,” he promised. As long as his daughter was safe, well-fed, and warm, he didn’t need anything else. So when he laid her down in his bed instead of her own and she nuzzled into his chest immediately as she peacefully slept, he figured he was doing something right with this parenting thing.

#masterlist #my writing #harry blurb #harry drabble #gender neutral

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illneverrecover · 7 years

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the biggest tag ever

@joz-stankovich tagged me in this because they are so sweet and kind, bless.

THE LAST:

1. DRINK: water, I’m lame. 2. PHONE CALL: today at work, I call patients all day long. Last personal call was to the doc for my kid. 3. TEXT MESSAGE: my last text was to a group text with my husband and our two friends - “We still bringing yeungling to Denver though, right??” (We leave for Denver Comic Con on Thursday morning and Yeungling is a good ass beer, ok???) 4. SONG YOU LISTENED TO: Black Sheep - Metric 5. TIME YOU CRIED: Oh god, probably two days ago or so? HAVE YOU: -6. DATED SOMEONE TWICE: yes, then I married him, so it worked out alright. 7. KISSED SOMEONE AND REGRETTED IT: eh, not really? 8. BEEN CHEATED ON: yes 9. LOST SOMEONE SPECIAL: Yeah - my husband’s granny passed away last year, and we were super close. She always supported us even when we were young and dumb, and inspired me to become a nurse so she is missed immensely. 10. BEEN DEPRESSED: yes 11. GOTTEN DRUNK AND THROWN UP: ugh yes, though its been quite some time since that’s happened (thank god)

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS:

12-14: purple, black, red

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:

15. MADE NEW FRIENDS: Yes! I’ve made so many awesome friends through tumblr and mystic messenger, it’s kind of crazy and I love it. 16. FALLEN OUT OF LOVE: no 17. LAUGHED UNTIL YOU CRIED: Yes, so many times, most recently yesterday. My husband took me on a date to celebrate our dating anniversary (13 years we’ve been together, wtf) and was being stupid in Target and I couldn’t handle it 18. FOUND OUT SOMEONE WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU: yeah, but that stuff doesn’t really bother me. 19. MET SOMEONE WHO CHANGED YOU: Yes - in the last year, I met my daughter, and she’s changed me the most. 20. FOUND OUT WHO YOUR FRIENDS ARE: I mean, I’ve always known. There are a few people I’m not as close with but I wouldn’t say we aren’t still friends. Life happens. 21. KISSED SOMEONE ON YOUR FACEBOOK LIST: Yes, I kiss my husband daily (I can almost hear @feelsgood-anon saying GAAAAAAAAY)

GENERAL:

22. HOW MANY OF YOUR FACEBOOK FRIENDS DO YOU KNOW IN REAL LIFE: All of them. I don’t use FB as much as I used to but I keep it pretty private. 23. DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS: a cat Harlow, and two corgis - Eevee & Winry. 24. DO YOU WANT TO CHANGE YOUR NAME: I’ve never been a huge fan of my name but I’m used to it, I don’t even know what I would change it to. 25. WHAT DID YOU DO FOR YOUR LAST BIRTHDAY: Every year for my birthday, God blesses me with a new Star Wars movie (seriously, they either come out near or on my birthday - December 15th) so it usually evolves going to see those. Last year we saw Rouge One & I also did a Krampus Pub Crawl and it was awesome. 26. WHAT TIME DID YOU WAKE UP: 11:30 pm, 12:40 am, 1:30 am, 4:00 am, and then for good at 6:33 am (thanks a lot, tiny human). 27. WHAT WERE YOU DOING AT MIDNIGHT LAST NIGHT: Sleeping, I’m an old ass woman. 28. NAME SOMETHING YOU CAN’T WAIT FOR: I’m so excited for Denver Comic Con this weekend! A week away from work in a different city, dressing up and nerding out with my friends. It’s gonna be dope. 29. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU SAW YOUR MOM: December. I live across the country from my family. 30. WHAT IS ONE THING YOU WISH YOU COULD CHANGE IN YOUR LIFE: Oh god, I’m really not sure? I wish I could spend more time doing things that I love and figuring out myself, I guess. 31. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING RIGHT NOW: I am watching The Bachelorette because I have a trash kink and I enjoy screaming about it weekly with @zombolouge 32. HAVE YOU EVER TALKED TO A PERSON NAMED TOM: My first crush was on a kid named Tommy if that counts. 33. SOMETHING THAT IS GETTING ON YOUR NERVES: Work being stupid. 34. MOST VISITED WEBSITE: Tumblr, AO3, my email, reddit. 35. MOLE/S: I don’t have any, just some freckles. 36. MARK/S: I have a scar from an ice skate (lmao true story) on my wrist, two surgical scars (one on each wrist) from my carpal tunnel surgery, a c-section scar, a scar on my knee from a door jam, and numerous tattoos and piercings. 37. CHILDHOOD DREAM: A singer who ONLY sang slow songs. Obviously. 38. HAIRCOLOR: Right now, it’s bright red again (yaaaassss). Naturally, I’m poop brown. 39. LONG OR SHORT HAIR: In general, or mine? Mine’s medium ish I guess. 40. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON SOMEONE: Saeyoung, Jumin, Zen, Masamune, & @serensama 41. WHAT DO YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF: I like to think I’m funny and I’m fun to be around? Physically probably my eyes. 42. PIERCINGS: my ears & my nose. 43. BLOODTYPE: B+!!! 44. NICKNAME: Jackie is a nickname, haha. My real name is Jacqueline. Other than that? Jack, Kiki, JG, Nurse, Hey you, Have you ever seen that show Nurse Jackie?, Babe, Mama, Babes, other inappropriate names my husband gives me. 45. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: married 46. ZODIAC: Sagittarius & Dragon 47. PRONOUNS: she/her 48. FAVORITE TV SHOW: I recently just finished The Handmaids Tale, Seraph of the End, and American Gods, they were awesome. Game of Thrones, Westworld, Stranger Things, and so many anime that I probably shouldn’t list.

49. TATTOOS: I have 7 - a huge shoulder/back lace piece, a sugar skull & French phrase on my back, a sparrow on my chest, a tree of life on my hip, a shooting star on left foot, and a phrase in Italian on my right foot. I need mooooooreeee 50. RIGHT OR LEFT HAND: right 51. SURGERY: bilateral carpal tunnel surgery bc I’m an old ass birch, c-section, wisdom teeth removal. 52. HAIR DYED IN DIFFERENT COLOR: My hair has been every color, haha. I’ve been dying it since I was 13. Brown, Blonde, Red, Pink, Purple, Blue, Orange/copper, combinations of all of those. 53. SPORT: I like watching football, hockey & baseball 55. VACATION: I’ve been on a bunch throughout my life all over, though my most recent favorite was my trip to Mexico with husband & friends after his most recent deployment. 56. PAIR OF TRAINERS: I legit couldn’t think what trainers were?? why am I so stupid??? Probably my grey chucks.

MORE GENERAL:

57. EATING: dick. I mean... what? 58. DRINKING: nothing, currently. 59. I’M ABOUT TO: fart around on tumblr, catch up on AO3 61. WAITING FOR: Wednesday to be over with, so I can get ready for my long weekend and Denver! 62. WANT: uhhhh a million dollars? not to work tomorrow? A PONY.

63. GET MARRIED: I already did, hopefully won’t need to do that again 64. CAREER: I am a Registered Nurse & BSN and I currently work in a Gastroenterology & Hepatology clinic.

WHICH IS BETTER

65. HUGS OR KISSES: I love hugs but there is just something special about kisses. 66. LIPS OR EYES: eyes 67. SHORTER OR TALLER: I’m pretty fucking short, so I need someone taller to reach all of the things. 68. OLDER OR YOUNGER: eh, I don’t really care. 70. NICE ARMS OR NICE STOMACH: oooooh arms 71. SENSITIVE OR LOUD: I like both. 72. HOOK UP OR RELATIONSHIP: I’m a relationship kinda gal. 73. TROUBLEMAKER OR HESITANT: I’m a well known troublemaker, woops.

HAVE YOU EVER:

74. KISSED A STRANGER: No. Well, kind of? I kissed a girl who I didn’t realize I knew but apparently we went to high school together. 75. DRANK HARD LIQUOR: of course, probably more than I should. 76. LOST GLASSES/CONTACT LENSES: Not my glasses but I’ve totally lost contacts and it suuuucks 77. TURNED SOMEONE DOWN: yup 78. SEX IN THE FIRST DATE: No 79. BROKEN SOMEONE’S HEART: Yes, though it was never intentional :/ 80. HAD YOUR HEART BROKEN: yes. 81. BEEN ARRESTED: nooooo 82. CRIED WHEN SOMEONE DIED: of course 83. FALLEN FOR A FRIEND: yes, this is how most of my relationships started.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

84. YOURSELF: on occasion 85. MIRACLES: sometimes 86. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT: No. I like the idea? But not realistically. 87. SANTA CLAUS: No, though my dad had us fooled FOR YEARS. He even got us gold buttons with the initials ‘SC’ on them and said they were from Santa. He was a sneaky bastard. 88. KISS IN THE FIRST DATE: sure? I haven’t been on a date with not my husband since I was 15 soooooo 89. ANGELS: Of course, it’s the only way I can describe some of the cherubs I’ve met through here.

OTHER:

90. CURRENT BEST FRIENDS NAME: I have many different people that I would consider my best friends that I talk to daily, but if I had to pick one, It’d be my husband probably - Aulin. 91. EYE COLOR: green! 92. FAVORITE MOVIE: Too many to name, once again (i’m awful at picking favorites) but Howl’s Moving Castle & The Princess Brides are two classics.

This thing is a BEAST so I won’t tag anyone - if you are interesting in doing this, consider this your tag!

#ooooh boy this was a long one!#i love doing these things though haha #and i love reading them #i'm nosy #but i don't blame anyone if they don't want to #tagged #jackie gets tagged #jackie jabbers

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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If There Is Such A Thing (Katya/Violet)- Fryshook

Casual routine can only be casual for so long.

AN: One may be inclined to consider this a sequel to Gutted, but I’m not gonna tell you what to do.

Additional notes can be found on Ao3.

Violet was in California, watching snapchats of snowfall in New York from what they had come to consider their side of Katya’s bed. It was hard to pay attention, however, with Katya huffing and lolling his head around restlessly next to them.

“What’s wrong now?” Violet said, monotone, not looking up from their phone. “What’s wrooong, poodle?” They reached over to stroke the other queen’s wild hair. Katya leaned into Violet’s touch and sighed.

“Can I be real with you for a second?” he whispered, holding Violet’s wrist. Violet nodded, putting their phone down. “I want to be in love.”

“You’re so old-fashioned.”

“I know.”

“Moping about love when you got a hot piece of ass in your bed.”

Katya snorted, reaching under the covers to squeeze the ass in question.

“I love you,” he said, his voice deep and creepy. Violet rolled their eyes and groaned.

“Don’t start with this shit…”

“I do,” Katya sat up, looming over the lounging queen, running his hand down their narrow chest, stopping to dig his fingers into Violet’s hipbone. “Darling,” he smiled as his hand went lower. “how many times do I have to say it? I am completely… Utterly… Lustfully–”

Violet poked him hard in the ribs, earning a pained yelp from the other queen. Katya flopped back to his side of the bed, rubbing his sore side.

“Then why the fuck you moping, bitch?”

“Because!” Katya shot an irritated look at Violet, who shrugged, like, you asked for it, pal. “Christ. You know what I mean. This,” he waved his hand, “is wonderful and all, until you hop back on that plane, probably in the middle of the night, again, while I’m sound asleep, leaving me to fend for myself in a sea of thirsty, drunken… social media mavens…”

“Poor thing,” Violet said, watching Katya get lost in thought for a moment. Violet rolled their eyes and sat up to plant a kiss on his cheek. Katya caught them before they could pull away.

They had been doing this for a while, now.

Violet liked – no, Violet loved that they could spend the night, or a weekend, or nearly an entire fucking month with Katya doing truly insane things, and then go home thousands of miles away and never once worry about him becoming possessive, or weird, or crazy. Beyond the usual, at least. The only real drawback of their situation, really, were the hours of Violet’s young life they had sacrificed listening to Katya fret about Trixie Mattel and the string of flighty geeks who kept letting her down.

“It’ll never last,” Katya would say, every time, shaking his head and staring out in the distance at some lonely pink dystopia Violet could only imagine. “He doesn’t get her. I can tell.”

“Jesus Christ,” Violet would mutter. “Just go fuck her, already.”

And every time Violet said this, Katya would give them the same exasperated look and say: “Don’t be stupid. Trixie has standards, unlike some people.”

And Violet would curse and laugh with Katya until they couldn’t, usually because Katya’s tongue was in their mouth.

Back in bed, Violet wrapped their long arms around him, breaking their kiss to mumble something against the older queen’s shoulder.

“What was that?” Katya asked, dropping a kiss on top of Violet’s head.

“Don’t make me say it again,” Violet sighed. So he didn’t.

Violet didn’t think much of it when they did, eventually, go home and start this thing of sending Katya random selfies throughout the week. Always with a clever caption, of course. Sometimes Violet quoted poets and great thinkers, like T.S. Eliot and Lana Del Rey, if they felt their words properly reflected the beauty of said selfie. The thoughtful captioning may or may not have been a Katya-exclusive practice.

And sometimes Katya would respond - always something gross and/or weird, and never sexy (except, maybe, the dick pic with the tiny plastic hands wrapped around his boner (Violet was still deconstructing their feelings about that one) - and that was that.

It did occasionally lead to some awkward moments. Like when Violet’s trade noticed the camera and tried to squeeze into frame.

“Could you, um,” Violet waved their hand dismissively at one such guy who’d followed them home from the venue. He was pretty and stupid, but they had both orgasmed over a half hour ago and Violet wasn’t sure what the hold up was. “Move?”

“Um,” the guy - Ike? Ivan? - blinked, hanging off the edge of the bed. Violet stared at him, waiting.

“Look… babe,” Violet began, “that was great. Really fun. But you’re in my light.”

“Oh,” Ike-or-Ivan grunted. “Okay. Can we at least take a selfie? You said we could at the club, but then…”

Violet rolled their eyes and sighed. “Okay,” they said, “but it has to be the double dog filter and then you have to get the fuck out.”

Violet stopped sending the pictures when they heard that Katya had started pursuing some hot young artist in NYC who made erotic sculptures out of animal teeth, or some shit. They weren’t jealous of the relationship, whether it was real or not – there had been plenty of attempts between the two of them – They were just a little… irritated, with the fact that Katya had the nerve to be very visibly dating, of all things, a fetish artist in New York fucking City.

Perturbed was maybe the better term. Irked? Violet was irked when they saw Katya snapchatting from the studio, or posing over a ramen bowl with the handsome European fucker, and all they could hear in their head was that phony Russian idiot saying: I want to be in love.

Ugh, Violet thought, tapping through Katya’s 520 second snap story. I need to get laid.

“It’s okay to be sad,” Pearl said one day over coffee. They were on a plane headed west and Violet had quickly veered their conversation to a new topic once Pearl began listing the familiar faces she was planning to see in L.A.

Violet looked at her. “Sad about what?”

“That guy Katya’s seeing.” Violet’s eyes narrowed.

“Why would I be sad about that? Good for her.”

“Well,” Pearl drawled, “you’re definitely not happy about it…” Violet rolled their eyes, returning to their Twitter feed. “If it makes you feel any better,” Pearl said, “I did hear that Katya dicked down some clingy bilingual twunk in Austin last week. So it must not be that serious.”

Violet stared at Pearl.

“Clingly twunk, huh?”

Pearl nodded.

“Oh, Pearl,” Violet muttered. “You always know what to say.” Pearl smirked and patted Violet’s knee.

“There, there, buttercup…”

Monday night at Micky’s. Katya would be there. He never missed it.

Pearl slipped away to go catch up with Detox, leaving Violet to play it cool by the stage while they waited to see that stupid idiot walk in.

They were about to give up and go find Pearl when they heard a head-rattling cackle float through the door.

Violet stared at Katya for a few minutes, waiting to catch those bright eyes, before finally pulling out their phone and sending a text: bitch have u been wearing that damn shirt for a week straight?

They watched from across the room as Katya read the message, lifted his head up and just like that, spotted Violet across the room. Laser accuracy.

Katya grinned. Violet tried to stay cool, but they couldn’t help themself; it felt like their face was broken open.

Violet didn’t make their way to Katya, though. They’d come this far; It was Katya’s turn, now.

They stood their ground by the stage as Katya disengaged from his entourage, dodging a couple drunk fans as he cut his path to the young queen. Violet held their arms out for a hug and Katya leaped into them, wrapping his legs around Violet’s waist. Violet howled, gripping the dead weight of him for a moment before letting him down.

Violet made a show of looking around. “Where’s the bratwurst?”

“Franz?“ Katya laughed. “Franz is home.”

Violet swallowed a little vomit and pointed to the ground, mouthing, “here?”

Katya looked at Violet quizzically, shaking his head, thumbing East.

Ah.

“Too bad,” Violet said, “I’m dying to meet him.”

It was as if Violet had never left. They kiki’d hard; they discussed work and Trixie Mattel’s love life (which was much more optimistic these days, thank you very much), and brutally read each other until Violet let their gaze, their lips, their hands linger and Katya finally said, “I’m ready to go home, now,” and Violet nodded, their hand warm in Katya’s grip.

In the dark of Katya’s apartment, Violet said, “I missed you,” and Katya smiled into the skin of their neck, “I can’t believe how much I fucking missed you.”

“I can,” Katya said, his hand crawling up Violet’s thigh.

“Who’s that?” Violet asked, when the texts started coming and didn’t stop.

“The bratwurst,” Katya said, grabbing his phone off the nightstand. “He misses me.”

“So it’s true,” Violet drawled, suddenly uncomfortable. Too much light shined in on this side of the bed from the window. Violet didn’t remember that, and now it was giving them a headache. “Katya has finally found that great love she’s been looking for…”

“He’s… sweet,” Katya replied after a moment. “Good heart. Beautiful dick.” He cast a quick glance at Violet, who was pretending to read their twitter feed. Katya returned his attention to his text. “You would like him.”

“I don’t,” Violet said simply with a shrug. “He sucks. Fuck him.”

“He does, and I do.” When Violet didn’t laugh, or react at all to this response, Katya studied the young queen for a moment and added, quietly: “What are… why are we doing this?”

“What? What’s the matter?” Now Violet felt that trademark Chachki Petulance™ start to take hold and sniffed, “Afraid Franz isn’t gonna like you traipsing off to fuck an old friend once in awhile? Well,” Violet scrolled their phone aggressively, not really seeing anything but red, “Doesn’t really sound like a healthy modern relationship to me, Barb.”

Katya was staring at Violet, now, concern etched into his features. “He doesn’t mind,” he said, and Violet felt a pang at the idea that Katya had asked permission, or even told this guy about their… thing, at all. It was a strange sensation that they hadn’t felt in years. “If he did,” Katya continued, cupping Violet’s cheek and turning them to face him, “I wouldn’t be seeing him. I thought you understood that.”

Violet was quiet for a moment before finally saying, “I don’t.” They searched Katya’s eyes, not even caring how fucking ridiculous they sounded. “I don’t understand anything anymore.”

Katya had never looked at Violet like that before. He held their face in his hand, Violet’s jaw twitching in his grasp, before letting his grip slip to the back of their neck.

After a long moment, Katya said, “Okay,” and leaned in close. “Let me explain, then. As clearly as I can.”

He kissed Violet, who held him in place, clinging tighter than they intended.

“Je suis moi,” Katya began, moving to Violet’s cheek, to their jaw. “Et tu es tu,” their neck. “Et nous sommes nous,” Collar bone. “Et nous voici…”

“Idiot,” Violet sighed.

“…and I want that.”

Violet knew they were supposed to laugh, or swear, or something; but they couldn’t do any of that because a dangerous burning sensation seared their eyes. They took Katya’s face in their hands and brought him down to lay his head on their chest, holding him there as they drew a ragged breath.

“Brian,” Violet said, the emotion in their voice mangling his simple name.

Katya didn’t move. He stayed where he was, Violet’s hand in his hair, their heart hammering against his ear, and said, “I know.”

#katya zamolodchikova #violet chachki #pearl liaision #vatya #fryshook #rpdr fanfiction #submission #canon compliant

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