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sometimesanalice · 11 months

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Leave a Light On

Summary: When Bradley had given you a key to his place, what he probably didn’t expect was to find you there at 2 am sitting at the piano you’d helped him find.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 7k

Warnings: lots of pining and yearning (Minors DNI)

(this was the story I was working on back in January, before the 'Like I Can' series and anything else on my masterlist. I'm so excited to share it with you all!)

When Bradley had given you a key to his place, you imagine he probably thought you’d check on his plants every now and then. That you’d pop by to give them a quick water and then be on your way.

Maybe that you’d take the Bronco out for a quick spin, so that his baby it didn’t sit there too long going unused. You were one of a very small handful of people he trusted to drive his most prized possession. There was something special about being behind the vintage wheel with the sun on your face as you cruised along the highway, even if it wasn’t the same without him sitting there smiling next to you.

He’d already put his mail on hold with the USPS, but you knew that he knew he could count on you to rescue any stray package that might slip through the cracks and make its way to the front door of his charming craftsman bungalow.

What he probably didn’t expect was for you to be there sometime past 2 AM sitting on the creaky bench of the old, but well-loved, piano that you had helped him to find.

You should be tucked away under the comforter of your own bed, in your own room, at your own place.

Instead, your fingers are navigating over the black and ivory keys trying, yet again, to make it through a tricky passage on a song that you’ve spent the better part of the last three months trying to perfect.

He was coming home soon and you couldn’t wait to hold him, to love him, to surprise him.

Each time he leaves, it gets a little easier to miss him. You wear your longing like a locket rather than an albatross around your neck, always there but easier to bear.

Rooster had a way of filling a space in a way you’ve never experienced before. His larger than life charisma was one of the first things that had caught your attention, followed by that damn smile of his.

He was always humming in the kitchen.

Or whistling in the car.

Or playing the piano to decompress after a long day.

Or listening to something on his mom’s refurbished record player.

His presence always so tangible and warm, like a blanket pulled fresh from the dryer. With Bradley around, you could wrap yourself up in the sheer comfort of him.

And when he was gone, it was the quiet that you struggled with the most. A constant reminder of just how far away he was. No texts or calls or voice memos throughout the day. No little everyday sweet somethings that let you know he was thinking of you.

The sound of silence followed you everywhere. Its heavy companionship making itself known regardless of how loudly you sang along to his favorite songs on the playlist he had made you or how many times you played through the song you were learning just for him.

You had grown up in the silence, you knew it well.

Parents who stayed together because it was easier than splitting the house and sharing the kid. And on the rare occasions it wasn’t quiet, it was loud. The kind that was inescapable regardless of how much you buried under the covers or how far you tucked yourself away in the corner of the backyard.

Until one day the glossy, satin walnut upright piano appeared along the wall in your barely used dining room. And then it soon became your favorite way to cover the quiet and to mask the loud.

Looking back on it now, maybe your parents had wanted something to fill the silence too.

The hours and hours of lessons you and Bradley had both been forced to sit through as children was something that the two of you had bonded over pretty early on. And while he had kept up with playing, it was something that had fallen to the wayside in your life. First with school, then with a career, and now with purposeful avoidance.

There was once a time when reading sheet music had come as easily to you as reading a book. And then one day, they were just a bunch of random dots scattered in between and across five lines on a piece of paper.

There was once a time when you didn’t even need to look down to know where your fingertips were flying to. And then one day, all your fingers could do was stumble and trip over the keys as you winced at the dissonance it created.

And when Rooster had learned about your mutual musical upbringing, he had made it his personal mission to try and get you to play something for him. He was so sweet, so sincere in the way he’d ask you, all big brown eyes and hopeful smiles.

It had always made your chest tight to brush him off. It was something he clearly wanted to share with you, but that part of you ached like a phantom limb. You didn’t know what would be worse embarrassing yourself or disappointing him with your lack of skill when it was something that you used to be so proud about.

It was easy to dodge him at first during nights out at the Hard Deck with your understandable Not with all these people here’s to your practical Mozart would just bring the vibes down’s to your evasive Maybe next time’s.

And when his polite requests were met with empty answers, he took it a step further.

One night in his bed, the curtains fluttering as the sea breeze mingled with his sandalwood scent, he’d whispered into your heated skin, “I’ll get you to play something for me one of these days. Maybe I just need to find the right form of bribery.”

His teasing innuendo juxtaposed deliciously with the deliberate touch of his fingers and tongue as he’d played your body to a perfect crescendo.

It reached a point where you couldn’t stomach to see the dejection in his eyes, the hurt he tried so hard to hide when you’d deny him yet again, that you had to own up to your closely guarded secret.

The confession had whooshed out of you in one breath, leaving you feeling deflated and defeated afterwards.

When you eventually mustered the courage to look at him, he’d been wearing the softest look of understanding on his face, as if he could sense the toll it took to admit the loss of that part of yourself. Then he gathered you in his lap and held you, all while the tears of frustration simmered behind your tightly squeezed eyes.

And when he offered to help remind how to read that language without words, to help you remember the letters of the keys beneath your fingers, it had made your heart hurt a little less.

You weren’t ready then, not like you are now.

But nothing gave you as much pleasure as it did to watch Rooster seated in front of the well-worn and well-played upright piano of Penny’s at the Hard Deck. There was nothing more exhilarating than seeing him in his element so at home on the bench, scuffed and scratched from performers of the past, as he shared that part of himself with everyone in the bar.

He made it look so easy. So damn effortless. His thick fingers flying purposefully over the keys as he played from memory. His joyous enthusiasm electrifying and substantial enough to get the whole bar singing along with him.

It always drew him a lot of attention.

How could it not? He was magnetic on a bad day and captivating the rest of the time. And entirely too handsome for his own good.

Interested eyes, curious eyes, hungry eyes followed him around more often than not after an impromptu performance.

However, those brown eyes of his were always set on you.

Never wavering, never straying from you as he’d weave his way poco a poco, little by little, back through the packed bar. Handing out high-fives to people on autopilot as he passed by to return back to your side. Glistening with the sweat he worked up and grinning widely as he’d greet you with a How’d I do, sweetheart?. Those big, capable hands sliding around your waist, in the back pocket of your jeans, under your top to rest on your low back.

The two of you never stuck around for long after he wrapped up. You didn’t mind helping him find ways to put that excess adrenaline to good use. Usually in the backseat of the Bronco.

You’ll never forget the first time Bradley serenaded you. The song meant for you and you alone.

If someone were to cut into that soft, pink part of your brain, you’re pretty sure they would find that memory pressed there like flowers between the pages of a book. Forever apart of you.

It was the song that always took you right back to that little vinyl shop along the pier. And back to that date that had almost derailed it all.

When Rooster had picked you up to take you to dinner all those months ago, he had seemed a bit antsy and absentminded.

Sure, he had gotten out of the Bronco to come fetch you like a gentleman, instead of sending some half-assed Here text like your ex had been fond of doing. You thought for sure he’d be hustling you back inside after he caught a glimpse of what you were wearing once you opened your front door to greet him.

So you were surprised when he’d simply pressed a dry kiss to your cheek and escorted you to his car with a hand placed respectfully between your shoulder blades instead of cheekily in that space between your low back and ass.

That spot that toed the line between decent and indecent. That spot that made him smirk when you’d give him a pointed lift of the eyebrow, because the two of you knew exactly what he was doing. And better yet, liked it.

However, that night it was almost like he was going through the motions, like he was already somewhere else.

The car ride to the restaurant was silent except for the white noise of the highway as he drove. The circular knob for the radio set to the left.

Off.

Which in hindsight should have been your first warning, since Bradley was never not listening to the Oldies station. A vintage vibe for your vintage boy.

When you were finally seated across from him at that new trendy Thai place you had been dying to go to, his fingers wouldn’t stop tapping out some unheard tune. On the tops his thighs. On the top of the table.

His eyes were landing everywhere else other than on you. On the large leaves of the potted palms, on the ornate pattern on the gold silk that was swathed across the ceiling, on the intricate hand-painted tiles on the floor.

You’d been trying to carry on a conversation for the past fifteen minutes and were feeling completely on edge when you had to repeat yet another question for him.

The anxious feeling growing in the pit of your stomach had been getting more and more difficult to ignore. You could tell he wasn’t really there, what you were trying to figure out was whether or not he just didn’t want to be there with you.

And god, the drinks hadn’t even come out yet. There wasn’t anything for you to distract yourself with other than your water glass, and even that was already empty except for a few melting ice cubes.

His half answers and noncommittal noises were rapidly clearing things up for you.

He’s breaking up with me.

It was at that crushing realization that the waitress had returned with your drink orders. The bright orange concoction that she set in front of you had been topped with a lovely purple orchid and glittery swizzle stick.

A happy looking cocktail for the girl who thought she was going to have another great date with the guy who was saved in her phone as “Golden Boy”.

“Have you two decided on what you want to eat? Or would you like to hear the chef’s specials again?” the waitress had asked, her gaze bouncing back and forth between you and Bradley.

You could tell that she was sensing the brewing tension between the two of you.

“I don’t think we’ll here much longer, maybe just the check--”

“Sorry, if we could have a few more minutes to decide--”

You’d both started speaking at the same time only to turn to the other wearing matching faces of absolute confusion. He’d gone ramrod straight in his chair, his fingers finally still on the tabletop. The shock in his eyes was apparent, and you could only assume it was there because you beat him to the punch.

The waitress had looked at you sympathetically before saying she’d come back in check in a few minutes and then quickly spun on her heel to take her hasty leave.

It was the look that she’d given you that had really sealed the deal for you, and wasn’t that just great? You wouldn’t have been surprised if the rest of the waitstaff was already hearing about the couple fighting at Table 12 and taking bets about whether or not they’d break up.

Lucky them, dinner and a show.

You’d reached the fruity drink in front of you, the condensation from the glass leaving a ring on the table and took a large sip for moral support. Feeling the weight his stare on you the whole time as you savored the tart taste of passionfruit as it burst across your tongue.

He’d just have to wait. It was your turn to ignore him.

As you’d swallowed it down, it had left you feeling more than a little angry that it tasted so good when you were feeling so shitty. He knew how much you liked an over the top cocktail, why couldn’t he have picked some dingy hole-in-the-wall to do this at rather than ruin this place for you? The hot prickling sensation of righteous indignation filled your chest.

You really didn’t want it to drag out any longer, setting your liquid courage back down you’d met his stare and got right down to it, “If you’re going to break up with me, Rooster, can you just do it now? I’d like to still be able to order Pad See Ew in the future without thinking about you and this moment.”

You removed the napkin from your lap, folding it up primly before placing it back upon the table as you waited for the final nail in the coffin to be pounded in on the remains of the happiest-and-easiest-and-clearly-too-good-to-be-true relationship you’ve ever had.

“Wait, what? I don’t want to break up.” His eyes were wide and searching, the hurt in his voice had been evident. And it was the first time all evening that he seemed to be present with you, like your Golden Boy had finally showed up to the date. “I thought things were going well. More than well, actually.”

“Yeah. I mean, I did too. Until tonight,” you’d agreed, defeatedly. “I’m really confused here. You’ve been completely distant tonight. Not to be vain, but look at me,” you gestured to the sexy lowcut dress you’d worn for the evening. It was something you’d been saving in your closet for the right occasion. And you’d thought it was going to drive him wild, but he hadn’t even given it a second glance.

You’d leaned in a bit, lowering your voice, “It’s a boob and leg dress, Bradley. I look really fucking hot, and frankly, I didn’t even think we were going to make it here once you saw this. It wouldn’t have been the first time we’ve missed a dinner reservation. And you haven’t said a single thing about it.”

It felt like a silly thing to be upset about in the grand scheme of things, but his inattentiveness that evening had stung more than you’d wanted to admit to.

“Trust me, sweetheart, I noticed,” he’d retorted hotly. His eyes had been heated as he’d matched your movement and leaned in further across the table. “Half the men in here noticed it too the second you walked in.”

You didn’t bother trying to hold back your scoff of frustration, the man was infuriating.

“Then I don’t understand why you’re making me feel like being here- with me- is the last place you want to be right now?” You’d given up on trying to sound unaffected, this was not the evening you had envisioned. It felt like being blindfolded on a rollercoaster, unable to see what exactly you were hurtling towards.

“I got my new orders today,” he’d blurted out, his eyes trying to read yours for the reaction. “I’m being send as aerial escort for a diplomatic mission. I ship out next Monday for six weeks.”

He’d told you later that he was grateful it wasn’t a longer one, he knew he was lucky because he could have just as easily been sent away for a deployment longer than you’d actually been together.

“Oh.”

You’d known that that moment would have happened eventually with his job, so you shouldn’t have been surprised. However, it was one thing thinking about it theoretically rather than looking at a ticking clock with a deadline.

“Cards on the table, sweetheart?” He’d waited for you to nod before continuing on, “I am really fucking into you. I’m trying not to put pressure on this, because I’m pretty sure you’re my dream girl. I wanted to take you out for a nice meal, get you a couple of those complicated fun drinks you like. I even looked at the menu in advance, they have one here that they light on fire and it seems like something you would love.”

He was right, it was something that you’d love. You had even eyed it when you first got the menu, but you hadn’t wanted to get anything that would draw you more attention when you already felt like you had too many pairs of eyes on you.

“Then I wanted to take you home with me and tell you after we had a great time out. I wanted to ask you to save that Sunday before I leave for me, so that we could spend the whole day together.” His fingers had started playing that unheard tune on the table again. “I wanted to show my girl the best time, to keep her wanting to come back and to stick around. So that someone else doesn’t catch her eye, so that I don’t lose her to someone better than me while I’m away.”

His confession had your heart taking up residence in your throat. Having him lay it out for you so clearly and knowing that he’d felt as serious about you as you did about him was everything you had wanted to hear. However, one thing nagged at you.

“Bradley, you make me happy. Like really, really happy. I’ve only got eyes for you. If I’m being honest, this stopped being casual to me around our third date. And I trust you enough to know you’d tell me if this”, you’d gestured between the two of you, “wasn’t what you wanted anymore before starting up with someone else. I hope I have that same trust in return, because if you’re worried about me stepping out on you while you’re away, I don’t know how this is going to work. And I really want it to work.”

“Shit, I’m really striking out here. Batting 0 for two,” he’d sighed out more to himself than to you, leaning back in his chair and running his hands through his hair. “Our third? Really? I thought for sure after that disaster that you were going to block my number.” He huffs a laugh, cheeks turning the same shade of pink that they had that chaotic evening on the beach.

“Bradley, it was comically bad.” You couldn’t help but crack a smile at the memory of it. “You were trying so hard and you were so flustered. It was so endearing.”

“Who would have guessed getting attacked by seagulls and coming home covered in sand flea bites could have been so appealing?” He joked self-deprecatingly.

“Me, I could have. Since I was with you,” you said sincerely, “No one I’ve dated has ever put half as much effort into trying to make me happy as you have.”

The two of you exchanged a soft, tentative smiles.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you had a wandering eye or anything, I promise.” His eyes pleaded with you as he reached for your hands and threaded his fingers through yours, his palms slightly sweaty. “This deployment is different for me. I’ve never had to ask someone to wait for me before, never had anyone who wanted to. And I’ve been really in my head because I was trying to find the right way to tell you, to ask you.”

You were still getting to know all of the expressions of his face, but the look of open insecurity he was wearing was new to you. And you’d felt something deep in your chest release and unlock.

For how easily he owned a room, for how confident he could be, getting to see these tender parts of him because he trusted you with them had made you ache in the most bittersweet of ways for the man who was in front of you.

You held his gaze, taking in his anxious expression. How anyone couldn’t want this man or didn’t think he was worth the wait was incomprehensible to you.

“So Sunday the seventeenth, huh?” you’d said with a grin.

His relief was palpable as he’d squeezed your hand a bit tighter, “Yeah, baby, you up for it?”

“A perfect day with my dream guy?” you mused, squeezing his hand back, “Yeah, I think I’d be up for that. I’m up for all of it.”

Not just the date. Not just the deployment. You already knew. With him, you wanted it all.

When the waitress returned a few moments later, Bradley ordered a green curry for himself and the Pad See Ew for you. Along with one of those complicated, fun drinks that arrived with fanfare and flames, all while he played with your fingers.

And after you were finished, she’d dropped off a fluffy looking coconut covered dessert that she’d stated was on the house as walked away with a wink.

You’d totally called it, dinner and a show.

As you’d left the restaurant, he tucked you in close under his arm pressing kiss after kiss to your temple as you made your way back to the Bronco.

And later, when he had taken you back to his place for the night, your boob-and-leg dress forgotten somewhere on the floor, he’d apologized again. This time with his mouth on your body.

Twice.

It had been a fluke, really, finding that record tucked away in that small, but well-kept shop on that Sunday before his deployment.

You’d surprised him with a certificate for a haircut and hot towel shave at an upscale barber for a little pre-deployment pampering. He’d gotten his hair trimmed the day before and he was somehow looking even more sunkissed than usual. His patterned shirt was mostly buttoned up and he had on your favorite pair of jeans- the ones that might have been a bit too snug, but did devastating things for his ass.

It was the outfit he’d been wearing when you had first met.

You and Bradley had spent a lazy, perfect morning at the beach reading and lounging and trading sea salt kisses before changing and to grab a bite to eat. He’d held up a towel up around you to slip into your sun warmed dress, behaving himself for the most part. But you’d still caught him sneaking a peek from over the top of the terry cloth.

After eating a late lunch at his favorite little café that served the best cioppino, you’d popped in and out of the various shops that dotted the boardwalk near the pier. It might have been the bottle of wine you shared, but he made sure to stop at every photobooth you passed along the way, collecting strip after strip of snapshots and tucking them into his shirt pocket.

His hand staying in yours the whole time.

When he’d spotted the tiny record store, he’d cheerily pulled you along with him wanting to look for new additions for his ever-growing collection. It was his newest hobby after getting his mom’s old record player restored. You had even helped him build the sideboard he had specially ordered for it to display his prized collection in the living room of his home.

You could hear him talking excitedly to an associate about some Jerry Lee Lewis albums, who offered to take a look in the backroom for him. You never had good luck when you tried to search for specific things, so you were happy to meander around a bit aimlessly and see what spoke to you.

Casually flipping through the stacks, you’d gasped when you landed on what appeared to be the holy grail of all vinyl records ever made.

“Bradley, look!” You’d held out the record for him like a prize. And he abandoned his own search to come join you on the other side of the store.

“Soldiers’ Sweethearts, huh?” He grinned at your find, his eyes crinkling around the edges. The navy colored jacket highlighted a trio of glamourous looking women, each of the three records featured a different performer and their covers of songs popularized during WWII.

“Mm-hmm,” you’d preened, feeling entirely too pleased with yourself. “You’re a soldier, I’m a sweetheart. I’ve never seen anything more perfect in my life. I have to get it.”

“Well I’m not a soldier, technically,” he’d chuckled, as you’d rolled your eyes at him. The joke had you scrunching your nose, and his mustache grazed you as he leaned in close to press a quick kiss to it. “But you’re definitely a sweetheart, sweetheart.”

You were still trying to learn the ins and outs of that part of his life. But you’d liked how he never made you feel stupid when you had questions. More often than not he seemed excited to answer them for you, that you were interested in what he did.

Rooster gently took your newest most prized possession into his big hands, “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” Flipping the album over, he’d scanned the tracks listed on the back for the three records. “Some classics, but a lot I don’t think I know. Definitely some intriguing titles, like ‘Daddy’,” he read aloud with a raised eyebrow and a grin that could only be described as lewd.

The man was a menace and had no problem finding new ways to make you blush. You were grateful that the shop was empty except for the two of you, as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks.

“What about ‘Who’s Taking You Home Tonight’? Have you heard that one before, sweetheart?” His large body moving in and crowding yours, the smell of his cologne making your thoughts go a bit fuzzy around the edges. Your heartbeat kicked up in tempo as he brushed a piece of hair off your forehead.

That find was definitely a jackpot.

Him and those records.

“Mm, or how about ‘Make Love To Me’?” He’d murmured into your ear, his free arm slid slowly against your waist, making a home for itself low on your back. The warmth from his hand seeping through your dress and into your skin.

It was heady being the target of all his heated words and teasing tone. The pull in your low stomach getting more intense with every moment you’d stayed pressed against his hard body. You could see how his pulse was pounding arditamente con forza, boldly with force, from how close your face was to that thick throat of his. And you had wanted to--

“I knew we had it somewhere!”

The associate’s cheery announcement as he returned from the backroom startled you back into yourself. Feeling flustered you’d tried to pull away, but Bradley just kept his arm locked around you as he’d made his way to the counter.

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it. We’ll take this one too,” he stated as he’d smoothly placed your Soldiers’ Sweethearts album on the top of the pile he had accumulated. Only letting go of you to pay.

Naturally, you’d wanted to play the record the second you made it back to Bradley’s place.

He set it up for you before giving you a lingering, deep kiss leaving you to your own devices as he worked on the final few things left on his to-do list before his deployment early the next morning.

You were happy to make yourself comfortable on his wide seat couch with an Old Fashioned listening to Jo Stafford’s soothing voice with your eyes closed, wanting to luxuriate in the moment.

One where Bradley was less than twenty feet away puttering around in his kitchen and humming and murmuring to himself.

One where you could call out to him and he would be in front of you in a few long strides.

You wanted to avoid thinking about the next day and the beginning of your new normal.

One where you couldn’t expect text messages from him throughout the day.

One where concern and uncertainty would follow you around like a dark cloud until he came back home to you.

But he was here for now. And you wanted to savor it all, to soak up all of its sweet, syrupy goodness like the expensive cherry in your glass.

He must have sensed the turn in your thoughts because his sandalwood scent gave his closeness away before his voice did, “What do you say, Miss Soldiers’ Sweetheart? Can you spare a dance for me?”

You opened your eyes to see him standing before you with his hand outreached for you. The smile so gentle and open on his face, made it impossible for you to do anything other than wordlessly nod your head in agreement as you’d let him pull you up from your comfy perch.

“Apologies in advance for any injuries caused by my two left feet,” you joked a bit bashfully as he wrapped his arm around you.

“Lucky for us, I was gifted with two right feet. Don’t worry, we’ll even out each other,” he murmured.

He pulled you into his gravity, pressing your joined hands against his chest where you could feel the steady beat of his heart. The hand on your lower back urging closer, closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between your bodies. His chin rested lightly on the top of your head where you had tucked it into that safe space where his neck meets his shoulder.

take me in your arms, and never let me go whisper to me softly while the moon is low

True to his word, he’d guided you in a smooth, easy rhythm. The confidence in his steps as you were held within his sturdy arms was enough to make you feel secure in your own movement. With him you were completely taken care of.

hold me close and tell me what I wanna know say it to me gently, let the sweet talk flow

Your other hand slid up slowly from where it was resting on his shoulder to wrap around his neck, fingers threading through the fine hairs at the nape of his neck as your thumb traced the thick column of his throat.

Come a little closer, make love to me

He held you tighter, held you closer, as the song came to an end. The easy rhythm turning into a gentle sway that continued as the next song began. And the one after that.

That night in his bed he moved against you with such purpose, such tenderness. The sex with Bradley was always stunningly good, he was never content to let himself come until he’d rendered you thoroughly boneless and breathless. He was easily the best you’ve ever had, but that night it was different between you two.

The mood weighty and intense, both of you exposed in a way you hadn’t been before. But there was no mistaking the deliberate way he touched you, the unwavering way he rolled his hips against yours, the unguarded way he held your gaze as if he was committing that moment to memory as he made love to you.

He’d held you close to his warm body, his fingertips leaving trails of goosebumps, as you shivered through your orgasm. His mouth pressed against your ear as he whispered soothing sweet somethings until he followed you over the edge.

For Bradley, you were up for it. For him, you’d be up for all of it.

yesyesyes

Things were a bit too quiet for you.

You heart clenched in a different way when you looked at Penny’s piano on those evenings you spent with the Dagger Squad without him. The ache was still there, but so was a new kind of longing. Part for him, but also for yourself.

But you’d made it through that deployment with the help of your three favorite sweethearts: Jo, Vera and Anne. Although you always queued up one song in particular anytime you found yourself missing him a bit more than normal.

And when Bradley returned back home to you six weeks later, it was easy to fall right back into him. That quiet period was almost too easily forgotten when he was around to fill a space.

That night at the Hard Deck when he serenaded you for the first time, it was normal for him to strut over to the old jukebox to unplug it. His timing impeccable as always, silencing whatever country song Jake had queued up.

What wasn’t normal was the way he took you by the hand leading you directly to the old upright and pulled you right onto the bench next to him.

There was already some sheet music spread across the shelf, you’d noted as he’d wiped his hands on the outside of his jeans before settling his hands on the keys. It only took you a couple bars of the intro to realize what song he was playing, already completely enamored before he’d even opened his mouth to sing.

It was your song.

Nothing in the world could ever compete with Bradley Bradshaw’s deep, raspy voice singing just for you. The significance of the song meant for you and him alone.

You heart had swelled in your chest until you thought it might burst from happiness. Never in your life had you been so thoroughly swept off your feet. It was a gesture came from his heart that made a home in yours.

Ever the showman Rooster put on a full performance, his aviator sunglasses sliding down his nose as he really leaned into it.

Your wide grin had turned to laughter when a few members of the Dagger Squad jumped in as back-up vocals, singing into their beer bottles in a way that obviously had been rehearsed. You didn’t know how he managed to keep it a secret. While Rooster was a vault in his professional life, when it came to his personal life Bradley couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.

The whole bar was having fun with the jaunty tune, some couples dancing along in smooth circles on the sticky wood floor as he crooned. He’d leaned over to place a kiss on your cheek every now and then in between verses, and you’d felt yourself fall for him even harder.

He’d pulled you into his lap once he was done playing, as the din of the resumed chatter softly cocooned you. You’d seen all you needed to know reflected in his eyes as you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss.

“Will you play it again?” you’d asked against his lips.

“Yes, ma’am.” And you rested your head on his shoulder watching his fingers get into position on the keys once more as he played the few opening notes.

Somewhere you heard a groan followed by a grumbled, “Not again.”

“Shut it, Bagman,” you bossed at him, not even bothering to look in his direction. You only had eyes for Bradley.

“You heard the lady,” he chuckled. “Shut it, Bagman.”

And then he played it again.

take me in your arms, and never let me go

You should be asleep in your own bed and not at his place with only the soft light of the lamp above his piano and a now cold cup of tea to keep you company.

Tired of tossing and turning, you’d given up on the idea of getting any sleep at your own place after the second hour of trying. Throwing on your slippers, you’d grabbed your keys and then drove over to his place, still in the oversized t-shirt you’d put on before bed, in hopes that scent of his sheets would help lull you to sleep.

But all it did was make you miss him more.

It was too quiet without his soft breathing next to you as he held you close and tucked against his chest.

Too quiet without his records.

Too quiet without his happy humming.

Too quiet without him.

The sound of the tea kettle on his gas range had helped fill the silence, but it was his piano that had called you as you had waited for the water to boil. The sheet music you had left there from the last time you were over beckoning like a siren’s song.

It was your secret.

Only for a few more days, only until he came home.

You wanted to surprise him, to sweep him off his feet the way that he always did with you when he played for you.

During that first deployment, for the first time in years, your fingers yearned for the feel of cool, smooth keys beneath your fingers.

You hadn’t even told Bradley, the one person who would understand it the most, that you’d been thinking about it. Let alone that you were actually taking classes again. Making up excuses about manicures or errands or spin classes for why you were busy for an hour every Tuesday at five PM.

The thing that had once hurt your heart the most, was now the only thing that helped soothe the ache of missing him. The only thing that made you feel close to him when you were thousands of miles apart.

You wanted that familiar comfort of making music. You wanted it because you missed him, but you also wanted it for yourself.

A co-worker had given you the name and number for her kids’ instructor, Mrs. McMullen, an elderly woman who started teaching after her husband passed away. It took you couple weeks to work up the courage to make the call, the sticky note burning a hole in the pocket of your purse you had tucked it into.

You had been an anxious mess the day of your first lesson, hands shaking like you’d had one too many shots of espresso. It felt strange, a little surreal sitting there in the body you’d grown into on the padded bench in her cozy living room. One of the walls filled with shelves and shelves of sheet music, her own personal library.

And for a brief moment, you were transported to a different year on a different bench in a different room. Now and Then. Older and Younger. Both versions of you there to learn. All too familiar, yet entirely new.

You started with the basics. A reintroduction to those lines on the page and the notes that spoke their own language for those who knew how to read it.

Your fingers wanting to move quicker than your sluggish mind, like an echo of a memory of how it used to be. You winced and apologized after every wrong note, until she put her hand on yours, her skin looked as delicate as her fingers did, and said gently, “We learn by doing, mistakes only mean that you are trying. Once more, once again.”

After that first lesson, you’d gone back to your car and promptly burst into tears. Overwhelmed tears, happy tears. That tender part of you still soft, however no longer aching.

You’d left feeling lighter as you pulled away from her house to go meet up with everyone at the Hard Deck, but also with a packet of sheet music to practice for your next lesson.

When Rooster had told you about getting his new orders, when he had asked you again if you were still up for it. You’d told him the same thing you had at that date, you were up for it all.

You would take the sadness with the sweet any day of the week for as long as he was yours.

You’d known how you would fill the space he left behind. And exactly how you wanted to welcome him home. You’d been excited to put that certain song just for him in your cart, and then tacking on one more song to your order, a song that would be just for you.

Both you and Mrs. McMullen had be surprised at how you’d been able to pick things back up over the months, you still weren’t anywhere as good as you were when you were younger, but it wasn’t nearly as daunting as it used to be. And when you showed up to your next lesson after your songs had been delivered, she was more than happy to help you figure out ways to simplify the songs a bit so that you’d be ready when he returned.

And now you’re bent over Bradley’s piano with a pencil tucked behind your ear as you played through the hardest bit of the song, you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve gone over it tonight. This morning? You were in that liminal space between yesterday and today. Where the time on the clock was just a suggestion because it felt neither here nor there.

You had practiced and practiced the song you had wanted to play for him once got home. You’re pretty sure Mav wasn’t supposed to tell you the significance of that particular song, but it had made your heart flutter wildly in your chest when he’d told you. And every time you’ve heard it since then.

It was polished, it was perfect, it was ready. All you needed was him.

The one you’re playing now con amore, with love, is the piece you pull out when you long for him the most.

The cover of the song had made you think of him from the moment you’d heard it. It was more lyrical and delicate than the original, and captured just how you felt about him. Just how much he meant to you. Sometimes you sing along with it, sometimes you just let the keys and pedals express the things you otherwise could not.

It was the song of your heart.

Your fingers trip over one of the notes yet again, probably from the lack of sleep, but you weren’t ready to crawl back into Bradley’s comfy bed. Not just yet.

Sighing, you pull the pencil from behind your ear, muttering to yourself out loud as you note the spot on the page. It was already filled with little pencil marks, some older and some newer. All made because you were trying.

Once more, once again.

Breathing out slowly, you settle your hand back on the keys-

“Can you play it from the beginning this time, sweetheart?"

Read {vol. ii} here!

He's a sneaky one, friends! I have Part 2 in the works, not to worry! We have to see how it all plays out! (put intended)

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist for the grand finale!

Here's a link to the Soldiers' Sweethearts Album, if you're curious!

But this is their song, the one Bradley serenaded her with! Jo Stafford's version of 'Make Love to Me'

I ended up making two moodboards for this part!

Here's the more colorful one! And here's the more yearn-y one!

You can check out my other stories here!

And a big thank you to Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) for letting me spam you about this one!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader #rooster x you

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ceilidho · 9 months

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Ok if this doesn't sound like an idea you'd be interested in then disregard, i don't want to bother you 🙂 BuT! It's been itching the back of my brain since forced throuple au and creepy-apartment!ghost has compounded it so:

Forced throuple but a sort of android verse with some body snatching horror thrown in for flavor. Reader's husband (Soapy boy) dies suddenly and in their grief a lot of stuff has gone into disrepair, so they mail order an android to help around the house and with crippling loneliness. The company sends Ghost, a refurbished security model now named Simon, and he ends up being pretty helpful despite the silent brooding. Hell, sometimes that even helps as scary dog privilege so you let it slide (big mistake dumby, that android is falling for you in the process of taking care of you ohhh no-).

But maybe Ghosts old security features make him super observant (obsessive) paired with his new "fix it" code make him come to the conclusion that, actually, reader could still use her husband and mail orders a Soap-bot-3000 without letting them know :O. Watch the horror unfold as Reader wakes up one morning to her VERY NOT dead husband in bed and both Ghost and Soap acting like nothing is wrong :)))), maybe some "Simon reverts fo Ghost" too as the story progresses

this is from awhile ago (apologies, anon) and so wickedly weird and cool :)))

androids that are so realistic and bodies so malleable that they almost feel lifelike, like they're flesh and blood. you never wanted to actually give in and purchase one because you have personal qualms with the idea of something so human-looking being programmable and subservient to you; it's just always felt wrong and borderline cruel, and johnny used to concur with you when you spoke about it. that was then though. years and months and weeks before the accident.

now it's midday on a tuesday and you can't even get out of bed. there are two weeks of dishes in the sink and the lawn is overgrown and the feral cats haven't stopped by in days because you haven't had the strength to get up and feed them. your voicemail's been full for days. your sister stopped by and insisted when she saw the state of your house. "at least for a few weeks," she pleaded with you. you can always return it when you're back on your feet. she's already ordered you one from 141 Labs before she's even out the door, making you promise to give it a shot.

when you open the box, you worry that you might've ordered the wrong model. the size of the android they sent you feels out of place, like he's meant for private military companies or as a bodyguard for celebrities. not depressed accountants who can't get out of bed because their husband died two weeks ago. but it's your name on the receipt, your address. so when his blue eyes flare neon when he's first activated and all six feet and four inches of him sit up in the crate (that had to be wheeled in by two delivery men, you recall with a small amount of horror), you wait patiently to introduce yourself.

maybe this one was sent to you because of the defect. he wears a mask because the only layer of skin on his face starts from the bottom of his face down. at first you roll the mask up only to shudder at the exposed wiring and metal where cheekbones should be. you roll it back down.

he comes with a name. Ghost. that's his model, you surmise from the lengthy instruction booklet you're provided. the whole situation feels weird at first; his presence in your house always catches you off guard, even though, you suppose, it's his house now too. you jump whenever you walk into a room and he's just there, silent, so large that you nearly always think Threat first before you recognize him. maybe it's not fully your fault. he makes no effort to signal his presence, moving silently from room to room when he helps carry out the garbage or swifter the living room. sometimes you catch him staring at the photos of you and johnny that still line the top of the fireplace.

you try to be equitable, insisting that he take the guest room as his own. Ghost won't hear of it, following you into your room when night falls; ominous. you have to lock yourself in the en suite to change, heart beating away because you know he's standing just outside the door, like a cat waiting to be let in. shaking hands drag your clothes down. you stare blankly at the door while you shower, fingers twitching when you pass a washcloth over your nipples.

you think there's something wrong with you. you're sick or something. you're sick or something worse because your husband died two weeks ago and the thing in your house isn't even a human and still your stomach clenches when you think of him waiting for you in your room, knowing that you're naked behind the door. it's taboo; it's not something that's done, at least not something that's spoken about. people don't sleep with their androids. recent widows especially should not be thinking about fucking their androids.

two weeks go by. you can't even think about johnny without wincing these days.

"he was your husband."

you look up. Ghost says it like a fact, not a question. you're in the living room sorting through insurance papers while Ghost vacuums under the sofa (he lifts the corner up with just a single hand; you swallow, throat already dry). neon blue eyes zip across your face when you look over at him. you wonder sometimes what he sees there, etched into the plains of your face.

"yeah." your smile is tight, pained. "johnny."

he looks back down to the framed photo in his hand, studying it. you wish you could ask him what he's thinking about, but you worry that would be just another privacy stripped. you can't ask more of him.

"what happened to him?" he finally asks, looking up again.

you feel it catch in your throat. "he, um - he." it doesn't come out. your nose stings before you can even try to get more out. you grimace, shrug instead. you try to smile again, but it's warped, unpleasant to form much less look at. don't ask, it says, whatever you do, please, please don't ask.

"you miss him?"

you blink at him, misty eyed. "ye - of course."

his eyes are so, so blue when he stares across the room at you. it's unnerving to look at; terrifying to find yourself under his scrutinizing gaze. what do androids even think about?

"I understand." he puts the photo back on the bookshelf and walks out of the room.

sometimes you catch him watching you too intensely; rare moments when he doesn't seem entirely mechanical. you wonder if one day you'll roll the mask up and there'll be skin there suddenly, a real flesh and blood person. it feels entirely possible some days. he moves too fluidly, has his own quirks and intricacies that seem newer each day.

you don't try it. the minuscule amount of professional space between the two of you is an absolute. you worry sometimes what you'll let happen if you ever let that distance collapse. already he sleeps motionlessly in the chair beside your bed, refusing his own room. he powers down with his eyes still open, the blue flickering away to a dark grey. it's only mildly reassuring.

when you open your eyes in the middle of the night though, he stares back at you, eyes dark and sightless.

you worry sometimes that you might have made a mistake, letting your sister talk you in to this.

it's the arm tucked around your waist when you're doing the shopping, freezing for a second before the hand on your hip squeezes and he pulls you towards the fruit and veg. it's the menacing stare from over your shoulder when a man approaches you in the checkout lane, offering his condolences (an old colleague of your husband's, he says) and an invitation to dinner. you open your mouth only for Ghost to answer for you.

"No." it thrums out of him, a different modulation. you stare helplessly as the man's face goes white and he makes an excuse to leave, offering you another lame apology.

it's the hand that tugs you out of the store by the back of your shirt, Ghost's voice rumbling like he doesn't know you can hear him. saying something about how you don't need another man in your house. that you had johnny and now you have him.

#i didnt get to the soap part bc this became long...sorry #ceil writing #cod simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost/reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #ghost cod #cod mw2

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simp-ly-writes · 7 months

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A Shadow Company Visit (pt.1)

Pairing: Commander Philip Graves x Designer!Reader

Summary: What happens when you visit the Shadow Company headquarters?

Warnings: 1000+ words, mentions of anxiety.

A/N: a little bit silly, this one.

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

A Shadow Company Visit Series (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) you are here

You and Philip had been dating for awhile now and you had helped to design the refurbished space of the new Shadow Company headquarters.

You hadn't beed back to the location since its completed construction just before it came to life; and Graves enjoyed keeping a very clear work-life balance. So this was you first time; dropping off the commanders paperwork that was forgotten beside a half-empty mug of coffee atop the kitchen counter.

When you drive up to the imposingly large gate, situated with turrets guarding the entrance and scanning over your vehicle. You nearly piss yourself when a smack against your roof startles your observing state. A uniformed officer comes in front of your car-window and motions for your to roll it down, asking for your identification.

You go blank with anxiousness, you had not thought about this bit while running out the house after your partner; knowing that these papers were important from the various stamps upon the beige folder.

Your eyes dart around the walls of the complex while reaching your hand towards the console to grab your phone; your breath hitches as a gun appears in your face; your breath catching in your throat as your body stills.

They demand to see your hands and you comply. You mouth not blubbering off at the speed of light explanations to your scenario and what you were reaching towards, pleading that you've never held a gun beside shooting ranges.

Your brain and heart screams for Philips presence right now. For him to take you into his arms; shielding you from the world while pressing kisses to your forehead.

Taking in a deep breath, you restart your explanation with a somewhat even tone in your voice as the officer nods their head and watches closely as you dial their commanders number and hear it ring for only a few seconds before a response if heard, echoing down the line.

Everything alright, sweetheart?

You heart explodes with relief with the sound of his voice as you begin to explain the scenario you have gotten yourself into. Eyes trailing upwards and into your rearview mirror, looking at the two other cars stuck behind your own; shaking your head and setting it against the steering wheel.

You hear him chuckle into the phone as you begin to shrink into yourself, a frown spreading across your face as your cheeks redden.

Well commander can you please, for the love of all things, get me out of this situation? Your embarrassment was reaching its capacity as you sassed Philip back in response.

The line goes silent for a moment and then you hear the distant sounds of orders being yelled down a hall before a huff. The phone is picked up once more,

See you in a few baby.

You swear you could hear the wink as the phone-line goes dead. You wait in your car, and glance around, taking a look to your right and see the same officer who is now pale in the face; your cheeks become reddened again once you realize you had kept the window rolled down and they had barred witness to your whole plead case.

No words are spoken between the two of you, you look to see that the ground was freshly wet underneath their feet as you drove through the newly opened gate while feeling guilty about the station worker.

Finding a parking spot was more difficult than you thought, overly worried that your car would block a tank or jet in the avaliable spaces, you had a long walk ahead of you to the main building. The tarmac hot against your boots with the files digging into the palm of your hand.

Viewing the space in action set shockwaves to your core as you took a minute to pause for a second and proudly stare over people using your work.

You felt eyes following your figure as your feet picked up their pace once more towards the doors. Looking yourself over-quickly and at everyone in their uniforms; you stuck out like a sore thumb in your civilian clothes as embarrassment struck you for a third time today.

Yet before you knew it, a fourth time was already glaring in your face. You didn't have a key card.

For designing this fucking place you think the hospitality would be grander... mumbling underneath your breath you look for someone you recognised, not wanting to disturb Philip once more from his work. Your eyes make their way throughout the base and the various stations in motion, you couldn't help but feel proud over your partners accomplishments; their dreams.

Next thing you know, the sounds of wizzing blades flying overhead capture your attention form the card hunt as you watch the helicopter gradually land in a designated station. Squinting your eyes down the field in hopes it's someone headed your way; the sight of dirty-blonde station chief has you crying out in utmost relief.

Kate Laswell's feet sway at the weight of your forceful hug against her body. Looking around at her task force in confusion; she looks down and smiles in relief upon seeing you and returning the hug with a chuckle.

You eventually let go of your university friend as you briefly catch up with the rest of the task force; smiles gracing across everyones features as you feel the most relaxed you had been in hours.

From conversations on spouses, funny recent mission accidents to rat infestations in cramped London apartments and taboo sharpie tattoos; a pair of arms is soon felt wrapping around your waist as you clench the papers in your hand protectively; awaiting the intruders next move.

Your eyes following the task forces tight eyes at whomever is attacking you, yet you relax at the familiar southern charm filling your ear as you hum in mixed joy and relief.

Funny seeing a little gentleman/lady like you out here. Catching up with old friends, beautiful?

You giggle and nod in reply and you feel his hands gently release the vice grip you have over the files as he kisses a thank-you to your forehead before holding the small of your back and addressing the task force in a serious demeanour; walking you all towards the main building.

╰┈➤ A/N: thank you for all the support on this post, more to come :)

A Shadow Company Visit Series (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) you are here

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holy-puckslibrary · 3 months

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sid to a furry friend's rescue!

florist!reader gets flustered during sid's calendar shoot

parents mentors for the day

chief crosby's got a date... and its not with florist!reader

... was in a bit of a silly goofy mood, forgive me (and be sure to read the endnotes!)

gif from @littlemessyjessi

This is the last thing Sidney Crosby imagined he'd come home to: another man settled in his chair.

His cat is curled in the intruder's lap, and said intruder's hand is curled over your knee. And Sidney's soup—homemade and hand-delivered—split in bowls between you.

"Thought you didn't need a babysitter?"

Sidney watches the gleeful expression wilt on your pretty face—color drained like his bank account succeeding the egregious bid he matched to make bail—with equal measures of self-satisfaction and self-contempt.

"I-I didn't, I just—"

"Settle down, Chief," the ranger laughs. "I knew our little lady here was feeling under the weather, so I thought I'd stop by after my patrol shift and keep her company while you were indisposed."

Sidney glares into the bright cerulean eyes of one Anthony Beauvillier, a park ranger in the Atlantic Coast Uplands region.

If memory serves, he was recently transferred from Waverley to Blue Mountain but resides in Peggy's Cove. This is a 50-minute detour.

In the opposite direction.

The Fire Chief's jaw is painfully tight, his blood scalding. If it were't for his, albeit dwindling, sense of self preservation, Sidney would've marched up those two steps—recently refurbished at his hand, might he add—to forcefully remove the park narc's grubby paw from your body.

Mercifully—for all involved parties, you do so shortly and of your own volition before joining Sid in your driveway.

Guilt smeared over your sickly features, your mouth parts, an explanation hot on your tongue, but all that comes is a grizzly cough that stings Sid's chest just hearing it. Despite his vexation, he's patient with you; he owes it to you both to wait it out. He hopes this is just one big misunderstanding somehow.

But, before you're able, the absolute last person Sidney wants to hear from pipes up.

"Resting, ma biche. You're meant to be resting," Tito attempts to coax you back onto the porch—back to his side—with an outstretched, up-turned hand.

(my doe / my darling — reminder: see end for important notes!)

Not as quick with his French as he'd like to be, he growls at the perceived insult. However, rather than running his fist through the opposition's teeth in your honor, Sidney defiles it.

The park ranger, and everyone else who happens to be out and about tonight, are treated to an unexpected eyeful of their Fire Chief's innermost feelings rushing to the surface. They pour into your mouth with reckless abandon, unconcerned with his public image or the utter lack of privacy; this kiss could be broadcast on the Nightly News for all he cares.

All that matters to Sidney Crosby is making his intentions known, and crystal fucking clear. Staking his claim is just a bonus.

"Well, it looks like my work here is done."

At your dazed expression and Sid's bewilderment, Tito stands from the rocking chair with a genuine smile fixed on his face. As he deposits evergreen Stetson atop his wind-swept hair, he pauses.

"Y'all have a nice night," he winks with a tip of the brim, bidding you farewell before slipping into his government-issued Ram.

As gravel crunches under the vehicle's wheels, gears click into place behind Sidney's burnt umber eyes, now gleaming with clarity.

"Nate and Emmy." — Statement, not a question.

"Please, don't be angry. They just wanted to help because... because I didn't believe that... y'know." You gesture to the sliver of space that still separates you, a bashful little smile pushing up your feverish cheeks.

He couldn't find it in himself to be ticked off about your best friends' not-so-harebrained scheme—which, honestly, deserved more credit than he would ever be willing to give it—if he wanted to. Not while standing so close he can smell the PEI tulips you've been elbow-deep in all month, and definitely not having tasted the whisper of herbal tea lingering on your tongue.

Smirking, he closes the gap with a gentle tug.

"Oh, I know." Voice dropping to a thick hush, his lips hovering a lick above your skin, "D'you believe it now?"

The pinkish skin crinkles around his warm eyes as you pretend to think.

"I could do with a little more... convincing," you ultimately quip. "But, only if you're up for the t—"

The remainder of your cajoling is overtaken by a fit of giggles as he corrals you up and across the porch. The front door slams shut with a satisfying air of finality. Though, not before little Ember slips in with you.

Chief Crosby was thorough by nature, and he'd be damned if he didn't dedicate the evening to dispelling any and all doubts threatening to take root. Feigned, or not.

—

gotcha! teehee 😋 sid really said sick germs?? no match for my LOVE!!! ALSO! tito anon, this ones for you bbyyyyy 💓💓💓💓

***** 'ma biche' was chosen because its typically humorous and rarely intended seriously, + can be considered majorly outdated (even by 60s sitcom standards)—and its not always romantic! ... it also sounds a lot like an english insult, hence sid's reaction lol (at least, according to my french-canadian grandmother who remains very confused by my random call for a french lesson on infrequently used terms of endearment lol) *****

as always, i would really appreciate if you reblogged my work, left a comment or dropped by my inbox w some feedback :) fandom runs on engagement, and so do writers!! thx a mil in advance!

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monsterblogging · 5 months

Text

Jaeger Piloting 101: How Rangers Get Into The Thing & Other Basic Stuff

Hello Pacific Rim fans, today I am doing a post on the topic of how rangers get into the conn-pod, and take control of the Jaeger, plus do a quick look at conn-pod interiors in general! I'll be using pictures sourced from movie-screencaps.com to illustrate the process.

Before I proceed, I'd like to remind folks that Lady Danger's canonical name contains a racial slur. It will be depicted here in screenshots, but I encourage fans to use the name "Lady Danger" in casual conversation, fanfiction etc. It doesn't matter if the name was referencing an old engine, it doesn't matter if no harm was intended by it; a slur's a slur.

Before the rangers enter the conn-pod, they must first suit up. This isn't something they can do on their own - they have a dedicated team of assistant techs to help them into their drivesuits. As we can see here, Raleigh and Yancy Becket's team have the name of their jaeger printed on the backs of their jumpsuits:

If you read my earlier post on jaegers, you know that drivesuits come in two layers. Here's Raleigh and Yancy already wearing the first layer, while one of their technicians assists:

Next, the technicians help them into the drivesuit's second, armored layer. On the right side of the first image is the area where the drivesuits are kept when not in use:

And then we have this thing that's pulled out of a special storage box and put over the spinal area, connecting the back of the armor together:

We also see Yancy and Raleigh pull on their helmets, and this strange liquid drains out. (It makes me think of the orange juice Raleigh was drinking earlier.) It's not clear how common this feature is, but we know it's not universal - the refurbished Lady Danger doesn't have this, and Cherno Alpha's helmets don't look it would even be possible.

Next up, the pilots enter the conn-pod. Note those two light gray things on the floor in the first picture; that's part of the Pilot Motion Rig. Also note the dark gray things hanging from the ceiling in the second picture; that's also part of it.

Once the pilots step into the bottom part of Pilot Motion Rig, metal clamps lock their feet into place. On the right, Raleigh is already locked in; on the left, Yancy is not yet locked in:

Meanwhile, more technicians help pilots get into the upper part of the Pilot Motion Rig.

At this point, something magical and wonderful absolutely terrifying else happens: the floor pulls away, leaving the pilots standing like:

If you look down once the floor's pulled back, it's uh. Quite the view.

In the case of Lady Danger, a nuclear-powered Mark-3, this is where technicians drop the head to connect it to the body. (The head is stored separately to reduce radiation exposure that might damage the delicate circuits.)

At this point, the Beckets are looking at this in front of them:

As the head connects, the pilot-to-pilot protocol is engaged, the computer system fires up, and the Beckets see a LOADING screen:

In the Anchorage Shatterdome, Lady Danger was wheeled out through a door on a rolling platform. At this point, the neural handshake was activated with a countdown of fifteen seconds.

The neural link is established, and you got two people in control of a Jaeger!

From here, stuff often depends on the specific jaeger, as control systems can be pretty different. For example, we see Raleigh and Yancy holding these round things in the arms they're controlling at the beginning of the film, but the refurbished Lady Danger doesn't seem to use them, and neither do the other jaegers.

I'd also like to contrast Cherno Alpha's drivesuits with Lady Danger's drivesuits for a moment, just to emphasize how different designs can be. As you can see, each pilot's drivesuit has cables connected to the arm they're controlling:

Also as I was looking at pictures of jaeger interiors, I noticed something curious about Lady Danger vs. Striker Eureka.

The original Lady Danger has a high console like this:

The refurbished Lady Danger has one positioned lower:

Striker Eureka has both a high and low console:

So make of that what you will, lol.

And that's the basics of boarding and controlling a jaeger! If you haven't seen it already I also recommend checking out my other post on jaeger lore, where I compiled everything I could find out about them from various Pacific Rim medias. And you might also read Drifting, as conceptualized by Travis Beacham if you're interested in knowing more about the drifting aspect, and maybe Drift Hangover Lore if the possibility of sentient jaegers appeals to you.

Happy monster punching, or whatever it is you people do out there. *Slinks back into the bog*

#pacific rim #pacific rim 2013 #jaegers #jaeger #image heavy #pictures #screencaps #pacific rim lore #g slur warning

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insomniumstella · 1 year

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ego’s one hell of a drug (6) | bucky x avenger!reader

summary: Steve’s silly joke happened to inspire the best, or possibly the worst, idea Wanda had ever come up with — send James Buchanan Barnes and y/n on an all-expenses-paid honeymoon in Hawaii. the problem? they cannot stand to be around each other.

warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, explicit language, alcohol consumption, sarcastic!bucky, but also a bit of asshole!bucky and sweet!bucky strangely

word count: 6,205

taglist is down below (please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list!)

WHERE DREAMS GO TO DIE masterlist

series’ SPOTIFY playlist

author's note: before writing WHERE DREAMS GO TO DIE i always thought that chapter six would be my favorite and … it is haha

The royal blue hue of the vintage Chevy Corvette glimmered underneath the bright sunlight. James was clad in a short sleeve linen shirt with the top buttons undone, exposing the smooth muscle of his upper chest. She could peep the collage of flesh and metal from where she stood outside the hotel’s glass entrance doors, observing the carefree strokes in his expression and the Ray-Ban sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. It was an unusual sight; the first time she had ever seen James wearing sunglasses.

She smiled at him, bewildered by the soldier’s newfound attitude, “is this the surprise?”

“No,” the corner of his mouth quirked up as he gripped the steering wheel with the metal hand, “it’s an apology.”

“An apology,” it was a statement hidden underneath a hint of curiosity — she let it die on the tip of her tongue, suspending the silent wonder in the humid air of Hawaii.

James leaned over to open the passenger’s door without abandoning the vehicle and nodded his head, “an apology for the last however many years I’ve been more than an asshole.”

“It’s bordering on six.”

“It’s bordering on six,” he repeated when y/n plopped into the seat, throwing an Iron Man tote bag Tony had given her as a joke last Easter on the floor and kicked it to the side, “but yes, it’s also the surprise.”

“How’d you know I love Chevys?”

“Steve,” Bucky shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was the most casual of responses, “and perhaps Natasha, too.” The sergeant admitted, pushing the Ray-Bans higher.

She sat in the vehicle dumbfounded. James Buchanan Barnes was the woman’s finest enemy, the man she had despised for five consecutive years without questioning whether the war between her and Bucky ever had a true reason, and he had just admitted to knowing that her favorite cars were vintage Chevy Corvettes.

“Steve tell you anything else?”

“He might’ve,” the smallest of smirks danced on his lips, “Natasha surely did.”

“What’d she say?” She questioned, leaning to increase the volume of the refurbished radio.

“Mentioned you love peaceful rides and hidden coffee shops,” he twisted the ignition key to start the car, the smirk on his mouth refusing to falter, “beaches and happy hours.”

“Oh, how I love happy hours,” y/n agreed, detaching her own pair of sunglasses from her tank top and planting them on the bridge of her nose to shield herself from the blazing light.

Maui’s sun was unforgiving in early summer mornings.

“Good, because we’re going on a real nice drive to search for the best sandwiches and iced lattes Maui has to offer before ending the day with a drink or two.”

The Maui Resort soon disappeared out of y/n’s view as James stepped on the gas, pursuing a narrow road, and she perched her feet on the leather seat, the sandals long forgotten.

“Should I open Apple Maps,” she teased, “Google Maps,” her voice faltered for a moment, “Waze?”

Though the woman had listed plenty of options for navigation, James could only chuckle at her instinctive response, “you genuinely do not trust me, do you?”

“I say this with all of the love and respect my heart holds for you,” she teased him yet again, “I absolutely do not.”

“Outstanding,” he shook his head, eyes focused on the road, “makes the journey that more fun.”

The soldier had been awfully quiet after they had abandoned the SPA for a speedy lunch, and she had chosen to bite her tongue about Nancy, Elijah, and Mark. To James, that was. She had texted Sam as soon as she had reclaimed her iPhone from the locker, crafting a message capable of turning The Falcon into a vigilant agent but harmless enough to keep his fears at bay.

The gala and the plan had been the lone thing she could focus on. Concern must’ve been visibly engraved into her features because, by the time dinner came, James had forged an awkward yet friendly persona, attempting to devise jokes and distract y/n from her inner turmoil. The man had not been successful, but she was appreciative of his struggles.

“You wouldn’t drop dead if I slept in the bed tonight, would you?” James had asked once the sun had fallen and the moon had appeared.

The woman had been too exhausted to argue, and though she hadn’t admitted it out loud, his presence in the bedroom had brought eerie comfort. She had been almost elated he had abandoned the couch for the soft cushions of the suite’s bed.

Last night, they had not discussed the couple’s massage, which was strange but not stranger than sleeping in a bed together. And sure — the piece of furniture in the lovers’ suite was massive, more than comfortable for two people, and both James and she had plenty of space to move around without making contact, except they had woken up in a tangle of limbs, y/n’s face nestled into James’ chest.

She had decided to avoid thinking about it too much during breakfast. Instead, her mind had returned to the only legitimate conversation the two had in the prior hours before the night had the chance to border morning. James had suppressed his pride and admitted his faults. To say it had come as a surprise—and a delight— would be an understatement.

She had nearly sworn the soldier’s words had been a bizarre hallucination because the James she had conceptualized, the mural of a man she had been painting in the past five years, would’ve never willingly confessed to mistakes and defeats.

Except, if Barnes had been able to acknowledge his crimes, she could’ve imagined herself declaring that she had been harsh, too. He had promised y/n a surprise, and she had silently pledged to act visibly grateful about it. Perhaps, sweet even.

James hadn't mentioned much more of the surprise, but he had succeeded to distract her from it, ripping out a laugh from the woman after presenting the stream of angry messages from his last date, Jennifer, and permitting y/n to read through the furious words.

She had forgotten about Nancy and the gala then, cackling at James’ exaggerations of the milk switch-up, “I was chained to the godforsaken bathroom for the entirety of the night, y/n.” The disappointed tone in his voice had roughly disguised the honest amusement. “Lonely and drained, and defeated.”

“Oh James,” she had subconsciously leaned her head on his shoulder, “the texts almost make me want to switch out the almond beverage for whole milk again.”

“The promise,” he had reminded, “I nurtured you after Jordan’s party, and you swore to cease mischievous milk activities.”

The woman had laughed, the booming sound of it saturating the lovers’ suite, “mischievous milk activities, huh?” James had remained silent, and she had teased him for the ludicrous comment, “you deserve to be punished for using such lines.”

“Innocent until proven guilty,” he had shrugged.

“As a woman of great authority,” y/n had angled her face to stare into his eyes, “I pronounce you guilty and decide upon a decade-long sentence.”

James’ pupils had been blown-wide as he gazed at y/n through hooded eyes, “your honor, there is too little evidence to convict me.”

The woman had cocked her head to the side as a faux expression of distaste painted her features, “you used a phrase mischievous milk activities, and call me insane, but if that alone wouldn’t get you a ten-year punishment, I have zero clue what would.”

“Oh, please,” James had leaned against the headboard, “allow me to tell you a story of a ghost they call the Winter Soldier.”

She had shifted positions, sliding close enough to the man that their thighs had touched, “you’re such a bastard,” the outrage had only been slightly fictitious, “why would you bring that up?”

“What?” He had rested a single arm on the woman’s shoulders. “Does it raise negative connotations?”

“Yes,” she had nodded, surprising him, “for one, the Winter Soldier has stabbed me, which took months to heal and recover from, and two,” silence had fallen upon the room for several, drawn-out moments, “the ghost has been replaced with James and I’d hate for you to associate yourself with the assassin.”

“Doll,” he had sighed, “I was the assassin. There is no way I could ever forget, it has been engraved into my existence. The title of the Winter Soldier will forever haunt me, no matter how much I run.”

“You’re quite big,” she had assessed, seemingly off-topic, “not that great of a runner.”

“Alright,” he had chuckled, maneuvering under the covers and turning off the night light, “goodnight.”

James’ tone had not held resentment or annoyance and she had allowed sleep to steal her away from the world of the conscious and into the world of the dormant without saying anything else.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: the gala is this Sunday.

The woman raked her eyes over Sam’s words. At the beginning of the week, she would’ve been more than happy to abandon the honeymoon in exchange for a mission, but as she stared at the phone screen, the Falcon confirming y/n’s uncertainty, she couldn’t help the eerie sadness from slithering its way into her heart. The two were set to leave on Monday, and Friday had sneakily crept in, drawing the end of the vacation closer than she would’ve enjoyed. A coin has two sides, she reminded herself. It was not the time to wallow in self-pity over the loss of two blissful days.

The unexpected encounter with Nancy had created space for an opportunity to save Steve and bust Elijah, bringing the remains of HYDRA, Mark, and perhaps other operatives, with him. She could enjoy today and leave as early as tomorrow morning.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: I managed to get us on the guest list.

BEST AVENGER: thank you.

She hoped Sam wouldn’t think of asking further questions.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: are we going there to bust HYDRA officers, or is there another reason you won’t say?

The spy’s prayers were not heard.

BEST AVENGER: no other reason:)

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to be on that stupid phone the whole day?” James’ voice was a lost sound in the unruly wind. “I didn’t drive an hour for nothin’, doll.” He shouted.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: you’re aware the smiley face makes the text seem highly suspicious?

Somewhere amidst the fabricated stories and his genuine feelings, the soldier had gotten comfortable using the nickname for the girl, as if it had always belonged to her and as if the couple’s history had not been riddled with petty fights and strange hatred.

BEST AVENGER: whaaaaaat:)

“It’s Sam!” She yelled, shutting the passenger’s door and sprinting to meet James where he stood on the shore. The sand clawed at her feet, attempting to swallow y/n’s every step, and she was out of breath by the time she reached the soldier. The look on Bucky’s face begged for an explanation. “Sam wants us to attend the charity gala.”

“It’s this Sunday, right?” James questioned.

“Mmmh,” she hummed in agreement, paying very little attention.

Eyes glued on the screen, y/n awaited the Falcon’s response.

SAM THE MIGHTY AVENGER: Steve wants to train in 5.

SAM THE MIGHTY AVENGER: should I inform the Captain of our plans?:)

He might’ve been teasing y/n, but she wasn’t willing to take risky chances.

“No,” James shook his head in annoyance, “tell Sam we’re not attending the gala because our flight leaves on Monday,” his hand encased her wrist, stopping y/n from typing, “and for the love of god, put this away.” There was no doubt his tone implied that her phone would soon end up in the ocean if she didn’t hide it.

“Bucky,” she snatched her wrists away from his hold, “all I need is a second,” only the word desperate could’ve been used to describe her voice.

The man towered over the girl dumbfounded. Did y/n just call me Bucky?

She stood with her face buried in the glass screen, accidentally shielding herself from James’ flustered expression. The woman very rarely, if ever, called the soldier Bucky. It had always been limited to James or Barnes, or asshole if he had done something particularly malicious to anger her, but never Bucky, and especially never Bucky willingly. On a scarce occasion, y/n would address him as Sergeant, respecting the title he had earned in the forties, but Bucky was reserved for Steve, and Sam disappointingly, who oftentimes used the name to mock the soldier, jealous of the Captain’s favoritism. Even Tony had used the nickname several times, or Natasha, but y/n was weary of it, afraid it bounded on the territory of friendship.

BEST AVENGER: DON’T YOU DARE.

BEST AVENGER: Sam, I’m BEGGING.

BEST AVENGER: those smiley faces do look suspicious, though.

Pink had crept onto his cheeks, yet James remained nonchalant on the outside, counting second after second, “six, seven, eight—“

SAM THE MIGHTY AVENGER: I trust you, but I’m not an idiot, y/n.

Sam was right. It was outlandish to believe he wouldn’t see through her dishonesty, except she couldn’t bring herself to put Elijah’s plans into visible words, and so the message was left blank. The moving dots on Sam’s screen vanished as she removed her fingers from the glass, turning the iPhone off, and shoved it into the back pocket of her denim shorts.

“The counting was unnecessary,” she forced a laugh, “besides, I’m all yours now.”

“Good,” he nodded, forcing the words I’m all yours to vacate his head, “because the coffee shop is a fifteen-minute walk away, and I was hoping to enjoy the scenic view together.”

She took a step back, glancing around. If her nose had not been buried in the gadget, she would’ve noticed the golden sand and crystal waters. “It is beautiful.”

“Yes,” he shrugged, the smallest of smirks dancing on his lips, “it’s Maui.”

“New York City can be spectacular,” she argued, half lightheartedly, “but one wouldn’t say it’s scenic because it’s New York.”

“Is it possible,” James was ready to call out her bluff, “you’re picking an unnecessary fight because you’re uncomfortable with my friendliness?”

She stared at him in disbelief before her gaze dropped to his lips and the smirk upon them, “no,” she narrowed her eyes, “maybe,” y/n’s gaze returned to his amused face, and she suddenly admitted defeat, “yes.”

“Should I insult you?” James cocked his head to the side. “Leave you on the beach in the middle of nowhere?” His hand had slithered its way to her waist as an invitation to start walking. She didn’t make an effort to remove his touch. “Make you pay for our sandwiches?”

The last question took her by surprise, “that doesn’t sound terrible. Tony forgot to reclaim his credit card after he let me use it, so technically our lunch would be on him.”

“We’re in Hawaii,” he reminded, “the food’s expensive here.”

“Are you threatening me with …. the cost of living, Barnes?” She threw a puzzled look his way, traces of merriment clawing at its edges. “Officially color me confused.”

James suddenly paused, beginning to walk just as quickly as he had halted. “I want the hostility between us gone, but you’re not exactly the easiest person to make amends with,” he admitted.

She had managed to restrain herself against a sarcastic remark. James desired an end to the interminable war between a soldier and a spy, and though she would decidedly miss the petty arguments, y/n was exhausted. Exhausted from the nasty fights, and the murderous comments, drained from the burden of clashing with James in parallel with actual missions, which mattered because they saved lives, and on unusual occasions, the world, too. She liked to tell herself that, anyway.

“Amends, it is.”

“This building does not resemble the photos whatsoever,” James snickered, peering at the woman.

The soldier had paid for the sandwiches and the coffee despite y/n’s finest attempts at convincing the man to use Tony’s card. The two had argued about it, as they often would, but she had been left without a bitter taste in her mouth afterward. It was strange, yet pleasant. Amicable James was far better than mean James.

“Mmmh,” she reluctantly agreed, staring at a dive bar at best and an abandoned hut at worst, “but Google says it has great desserts and round-the-clock happy hour.”

The wooden sign outside helped solidify the statement. Though the chalk had almost disappeared, she could read Aloha’s offer.

What’s better than $4 Margaritas? $6 Mai Tais!

“I trusted you,” James shook his head, following y/n inside, “and this is what you led us to?”

They had spent the morning at the beach, indulging in iced lattes and fluffy bread. James had packed their swimsuits, which had both shocked and terrified y/n, as he had managed to sneak into her underwear drawer without detection, but she had surrendered to his request of a swim after he had driven the two to a secret waterfall he had learned about from a random local.

The swim had been refreshing, and as she allowed the cool water to caress her skin, she had found herself forgetting about Mark and Elijah's plans. Maui’s nature had turned HYDRA into a distant memory she’d soon have to remember but could briefly ignore. There was consolation in understanding that she’d never be truly alone, for she would always have mother nature by her side.

“Stop whining,” she playfully hit Bucky in the shoulder and immediately regretted it as her flesh hit metal, ouch, “this is great.”

It was not great, judging by James' inflated expectations, for which she might've been at fault, as she had described the bar to be ritzy and delightful, but y/n found herself falling in love with the space. Granted, it was barely past two in the afternoon, and yet the establishment was peculiarly empty, creating an opportunity for unrestrained conversations.

Everything had been touched by age, too. The woman could’ve run her fingers across the heavy tables, observed the intricate light fixtures, or flipped through a stack of books in the corner — the bar had been well-loved through generations. Even the menu, stained and peeling at the corners, seemed eerily familiar as if Google had led them to a place of forgotten coziness by fate.

“Aloha!” The sound of a man’s voice rang through the space. Judging by his boyish features, she had decided the bartender couldn’t be older than twenty-one. “What can I get you?”

“A pitcher of Margaritas,” James cut straight to the chase before angling his body toward her, “what did Google say the best dessert here was?”

“Grilled pineapples and cheesecake,” the employee answered before y/n had the chance to speak, smiling at the couple.

“Right,” she threw him a friendly grin in return, “let us get that, too.”

The original pitcher had turned empty an hour ago and as y/n leisurely, but assuredly made her way through the second jug alone, she had found herself listening instead of talking.

James had noticed her peculiar silence and had tried to compensate the awkwardness with random stories, dancing around the particular topic they should’ve discussed. The memory hung in the atmosphere, so heavy it was almost suffocating.

The soldier’s next words were a breath of poisonous air, “we cannot ignore the couple’s massage, y/n.”

She paused mid-chew, raising her eyes to meet his, and loudly swallowed the bite of cheesecake, “I’d prefer if we did.”

“Look,” his speech halted as James rummaged through his brain, the visions of y/n, bare and vulnerable underneath his rough palms, igniting a traitorous fire within his heart, “I could’ve stopped,” Bucky stared at her, observing the nervous habit of pushing food around the plate rather than eating it, “you could’ve stopped me,” the sentence died on the tip of his tongue, remaining unfinished.

“I could’ve,” she agreed, licking the fork clean, “you could’ve, it’s pointless to wonder what could’ve been.” The fork hit the ceramic dish with a booming sound when it slipped from y/n’s fingers. “The massage happened, and we cannot change the fact it did.”

“Yes,” James nodded, neck sizzling hot with approaching frustration, “but that’s the thing — we never had to go through with it in the first place.” She pursed her lips together, and he continued speaking. “We chose to attend the activity, and we did it willingly.”

She shook her head, sighing. James could feel the annoyance clawing at the entirety of his body, rearing its ugly head as it often did if he spent time around the woman. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

It doesn’t mean anything, he scoffed at the foolishness of y/n’s words, does she think I’m that naive?

James settled into the chair, perching his clasped hands on the wooden surface. If she wanted to mistake him for an idiot, he’d give into the woman’s game. “Why’d you return the favor?”

“What?” She gawked at him in incredulity.

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards, “why’d you massage me?”

The spy had caught on, narrowing her eyes, “I wanted to learn.”

“Lani had left the room long before,” he snickered, “there was little learning for you to do, doll.”

James was correct. She couldn’t deny that the masseuse had abandoned the space, leaving the two entirely alone, way before James had kneaded her thighs and buttocks, and before she had offered to return the favor, sliding her gentle hands across his smooth skin. It had been therapeutic, almost, to melt away the knots in his shoulders and biceps, and when he had shifted to lay on his back, y/n had found herself concentrating on his defined Adonis belt far longer than she should’ve if she desired to retain her lust for the man a secret.

A low groan escaped from y/n’s throat, “it was educational,” she lied.

“Educational?”

“Mmmh,” she hummed, toying with the edge of the dessert plate they had shared, “I’ve never, umm, intimately touched the Winter Soldier, or, you know, anyone with a … metal arm?” y/n had not craved for her tone to convert into that of a question, and she silently cursed.

“You’ve never caressed the Winter Soldier, huh?” He chuckled, leaning back in the woven chair. “C’mon, you have always been an exceptional liar.”

“OK,” she averted her gaze, hoping to find comfort in the dirty menu.

The Rumors Are True — our $12 nachos are back!

James didn’t entirely desire to pester her. “Curiosity killed the cat,” he had remembered Steve’s words, and Steve was a righteous man with great judgment. Bucky trusted Steve, honestly and endlessly, and depended on the Captain’s help to navigate the future he had suddenly reclaimed.

Except, what could Steve, a person too shy to invite Natasha on a date, understand of James’ intricate emotions and desires towards y/n? Steve belonged to a world without gray. Details had always been either good or bad, black or white, and the space in the middle had never existed to the hero.

James was no hero, no, he resided in a world full of gray. The two might’ve been best of pals, but they were of different genetics. Once upon a time, James too had lived during simpler days, where the Red Skull was a villain, and he had been the savior without an opportunity for doubts, but that perfect world had slipped from his grasp, and whereas Steve had remained the same, Bucky had changed. He had taken lives just as he had saved them. He had been a devil just as he had been an angel, and if pestering y/n would scratch the bothersome itch of curiosity underneath his skin, so it’d be.

“We’ll always have Maui,” a smirk waltzed on his lips as he curved the conversation in a slightly different direction.

The reference puzzled her, “what?”

“We could have a lot more than memories though.” It was bold, and it was terrifying, and he had allowed the words to roll off his tongue without much consideration.

“James,” she closed her eyes, frustrated by his perseverance, “would it make you feel better if I admitted to enjoying the massage?” The woman questioned without an ounce of sarcasm in her voice. “What is it that you want from me, sergeant?”

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: Steve was informed of our gala plans.

“Honesty,” James confessed, “because our lives are riddled with lies, so yes, for once, all I yearn for is honesty.” Traces of annoyance stained his tone, and y/n’s nose, buried in the iPhone, managed to fuel his irritation.

BEST AVENGER: plans as in Steve knows we will attend or plans as in Steve knows about Mark?

SAM THE FALCON: plans as in Steve knows we will attend.

BEST AVENGER: is he angry?

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: no.

Though she was startled by Sam’s message, she had managed to detect the change in James’ body language and the gruffness in his voice. It only ignited her own irritation further.

Perhaps the soldier was correct — the faux honeymoon had destroyed the space of comfort they had once shared, and perhaps, yes, she had noticed an absence of useless arguments and death stares, but it couldn’t mean anything. She’d betray herself if it did. A woman doesn’t fall in love with a man who had belittled, discredited, and crushed her. James had been pleasant to be around lately, sure, bringing breakfast and ordering champagne before she even had the chance to ask during their late-night sessions of cracking Elijah’s case, but a couple good deeds cannot undo the five prior years of maliciousness. She had to convince herself his newfound attitude could never erase their past, and she had to do it quick, for she was terrified of letting go the last bit of control she had been holding on to.

“I enjoyed the massage,” she shrugged, pursing her lips. The sentence was short and sweet, and she had nothing else to say, diverting her eyes back to the phone screen.

BEST AVENGER: good.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: he’s excited we’re taking initiative to mingle with government officials, but he wanted to know what spurred our sudden change of heart.

BEST AVENGER: what’d you tell him?

James dragged the flesh palm across his face. Undoubtedly, he had not been the best at expressing his thoughts ever since the accident. HYDRA had contorted the man into an emotionless assassin who destroyed everything in his path with a simple command. Those days were behind him, and if he allowed himself to dream, even a little, he’d dream for y/n in the entirety of who she was. The woman’s mind, heart, and body. It hurt because it had always taken two to tango; he had never been solely responsible for the war between them. She was wicked smart, and she could see through his attempts of candor, eagerly ignoring James’ troubles to play the fool’s part.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: we heard rumors about the reimplementation of the Sokovia Accords and want to speak with Thaddeus Ross to ease our concerns.

BEST AVENGER: did he believe you?

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: no.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: we’re going there for the Miley Cyrus performance.

She chuckled at his response. It was not until that moment that y/n realized how terribly she had missed Sam and his calming presence.

BEST AVENGERS: it’s a good thing we blasted her Plastic Hearts album on repeat for the last three months.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: about that, I might’ve promised Steve we’ll stop if he won’t alert Tony that we use his credit card without permission.

“What does Sam want again?” The sovereignty had returned to James’ tone as he abandoned the hardship of a sincere conversation with the woman. It was difficult enough to watch y/n switch into a friend for the Falcon.

BEST AVENGER: I’m willing to take that loss.

“James,” she sighed, turning the phone off and placing it screen down on the table, “there’s something I need to tell you.” The spy swallowed the lump in her throat, toying with an empty Margarita glass.

“I’m all ears.” He cocked his head to the side as the walls around him suddenly shattered.

James stared at her, eyes wide and curious, and stupidly hopeful she’d confess she had fallen for him, too. Stop dancing around the topic, woman.

She had almost dropped the act, guilt settling at the pit of her stomach. Respectable women couldn’t allow themselves to fall for men who had treated them as meanly as James had treated her, but respectable women wouldn’t engage in frivolous wars, and she had; both were to blame for the history between them.

It wouldn’t matter. The words threatening to escape would soon hold no weight because she had bitten her tongue after she had overheard Nancy, choosing to bust Elijah alone. She had stolen James’ goals of demolishing HYDRA’s remains, and she had lied the prior night when he had fervently boasted of serving the politician the justice he deserved. They’d soon return to their old ways, visiting the border of nemeses and co-workers, and the honeymoon would turn into a dreadful memory. We’ll always have Maui, y/n reflected on his sentiment.

“HYDRA is gone,” she blurted out.

James had very little time to ponder over his crushed hopes, “that’s not possible.”

“Yes, it is.” She leaned back in the chair as if to escape the intensity of his scowl. “Sam and I were texting because Elijah plans to eliminate Steve at the charity gala,” she paused, briefly closing her eyes, “with Mark Basso, a former HYDRA operative.”

James forced a laugh before drawing his lower lip between his teeth, “why would Elijah want Steve dead?” The tone of his voice stunk of mockery.

“HYDRA is gone,” she repeated, hoping the words would register in his thick skull, “except for a few independent members whom Elijah works with.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that,” his expression hardened, “but it’s a stupid theory.” It had taken a single moment for James to revert back to his old ways of discrediting y/n’s abilities.

“It’s not a theory, James,” she huffed out in annoyance, “I’m leaving this evening to attend the gala.”

“If you wanted to cut the vacation short, you could’ve just asked.”

The woman pursed her lips together, dropping her gaze to the menu.

Made fresh, always.

Bucky’s words stung more than they should’ve.

The pretend honeymoon had forever ruined y/n, for she had gotten a delicious bite of an authentic James Buchanan Barnes, and she desired another taste. The woman had realized she needed the man just as the moon needed the sun, but if betraying James was to save Steve's life, she'd betray him once more in a heartbeat.

Whispers of guilt and sorrow colored her tone, "I'm sorry."

The simple words obscured an unspoken secret, and James' illusion of a truce shattered. The spy had pursued the goal of revenge alongside James, it had not been a mistake, it had been ignorance to overlook the blazing fire to demolish HYDRA within him. Bucky had hoped she trusted him, but not only had she just ridiculed his opinion of the organization's existence, she had obtained a crucial piece of information and unabashedly hidden it.

The sergeant suppressed his anger, swallowing the lump in his throat, "how'd you find out Elijah plots to assassinate Steve?"

"It was after the massage," she slid to the edge of her seat, facing Bucky head-on despite the remorse prickling at her skin, "it was overwhelming, the gentle caresses of your hands and the scent of your cologne, I needed fresh air to clear my head," y/n admitted.

"Mmmh," James urged y/n to continue the story despite the wave of unrecognized emotions crashing over him, but hastily spoke before she had the chance to, "didn't Wanda request you give her a call?"

The woman's silence replaced the word no. She ran her tongue across her bottom lip, deciding whether a raw confession would do them any good after the heap of lies, "it was you whom I needed to escape because your touch had me utterly too hot and troubled, and hell," she drew in a shallow breath, "it was terrifying to accept that I might've started crushing on the Winter Soldier, and so I wandered around the SPA, and—"

James sighed, placing a hand on y/n's forearm, "inhale, please."

She took in a breath, much deeper than the last, "Lani guided me to a terrace, it was empty besides a random woman, she was in a formal conversation before it turned into gossip," his touch was simultaneously comforting and poignant, "the cocoon chair shielded her face, but it was evident the woman was Nancy."

"Nancy?"

"Yes," the clench of his jaw didn't go unobserved by y/n, "I haven't got the faintest idea of who she could've been chatting with, though. Nancy mentioned Elijah's gala plans to murder Steve, and I abandoned the area soon after."

A moment of tense stillness settled upon them.

"Why the fuck wouldn't you inform me of this last night, y/n?" James' words dripped with poison.

"James—"

The sergeant abruptly prevented y/n from speaking further, "you cannot hide shit like this, we had a promise to unravel fresh leads together."

"James!" She raised her voice to match his sound level. "In that stubborn mind of yours, do you truly believe HYDRA continues to exist?" She spoke again when his silence confirmed her concerns, "HYDRA is gone, and I understand it might be hard for you to concede, but it doesn't change the fact."

The spy and the soldier could never be friends, and they could never be lovers, for James would always disregard her abilities, and she would always turn to bitterness as a coping mechanism. Neither Bucky nor y/n craved change; it was uncertain. The bubble of mutual dislike was safe, and it was comforting. She shouldn’t have hidden her intentions, she understood, but she had to conceal the suspicions because James wasn’t the easiest of people to trust. The man had lived through countless wars and was too stubborn to admit his battle plans could ever have flaws.

"Elijah wouldn't kill Steve," he dryly chuckled, "he isn't bold enough for such a crime, which, assumingly, discredits the theories you've created."

"Mark would," she shrugged nonchalantly, "he's HYDRA's fallen agent." James averted his gaze away from y/n's prying eyes. "Mark Basso had been erased from history, discarded after the organization fell. Did you know the man's identified as deceased in every fucking one of our files, James? The same fucking man, whom we had just conversed with on the godforsaken boat, is identified as dead." James hated y/n's habit of emphasizing certain words during arguments.

Perhaps she was right, and HYDRA ceased to exist, but he wouldn't admit defeat. Doubtfulness had always been easier to express than trust.

"We're partners, doll," his remark surprised her, "we have worked on Elijah's case for the past four days, not to mention the eight months we had slaved unraveling his personal and professional endeavors, so why would you withhold the information about Mark Basso?"

"Alright," she drummed her fingers on the wooden table, "to be frank, I assumed you recognized him just as I did."

"Oh," he emulated the woman, "because I'm the Winter Soldier?"

"Yeaaaah," the sound was drawn-out and squeaky, "that is actually the exact reason," she grimaced in faux discomfort.

James raked his eyes over her face, briefly dropping his gaze to y/n's pursed lips, "I will not be attending the gala," he declared, standing up.

She remained seated, neatly placing a fifty-dollar note on the table, "wouldn't have guessed you would."

"Elijah Williamson is collaborating with HYDRA to reimplement Project Insight," he shrugged, gawking at her as if the intensity of his stare would miraculously compel y/n to accept his rusted, empty-of-solid-evidence, theory.

She didn't falter, and he turned to evacuate the bar.

The sergeant didn't check whether she trailed after him, and y/n swiftly leaped from the chair — James could slander her instincts for all she cared, but she'd suck on Tony's dirty toes before she would tolerate Bucky abandoning her in the middle of nowhere.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: Attachment: 1 Image

James had started the car when Sam's text lit up y/n's phone screen. She perched her bare feet on the dashboard, much to Bucky's dismay, yet he was too distracted by anger to form an audible complaint, and eagerly clicked on the notification.

BEST AVENGER: a simple gown would've sufficed.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: for an ordinary guest, yes.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: a prize in the charity auction demands a spectacular dress, though:)

TAGS:

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acmeofficial · 1 year

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Okay I've decided it's time for the intra-organization hot wheels race now here we go

Propaganda from the participants:

@acmeofficial Hey, we're the agency with Inspector Devineaux, remember? If we win this race we'll give him his own account. Chief will allow it. Vote for us to win the race to make @banananeux a thing. Plus, our car changes colors in the water so really even if there is an incident it will be way cooler than anyone else.

@teamr3dofficial Vote us. We always win against VILE in the end, so we don't wanna lose this time either.

@ask-vileofficial vote for us because we have the sexiest operatives <3 heart emoji (❤️)

@vileacademyofficial Vote for us, we have been stealing and being funny since last year. And we need this one W please cmon Rare VILE W

#acmeofficial #acme carmen sandiego #carmen sandiego #carmen sandiego 2019 #givedevineauxhisownaccount2023 #vileacademyoffical #teamr3dofficial #ask-vileofficial #hot wheels race #acme hot wheels race #uhhh yes you can trash talk in the comments too

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dianawinchester03 · 10 days

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Season 2, Episode 3 - Blood Lust

Series Masterlist

Y/N's POV

The boys and I were driving down an empty road, the middle of the day in Deans newly refurbished car. Back in Black by AC/DC was blasting through her deck. Baby was fixed up to a mint, Quinn took some work but she's locked and loaded, ready to be ridden. But I decided to just tag along with the boys until I'm ready to ride my girl again, she needed a rest after what happened to her so I left her at Bobby's.

"Woo! Listen to her purr. You ever heard anything so sweet?" Dean exclaims excitedly, a large smile across his face. Me and Sam share an amused look in the rearview mirror. Chuckling, I lean forward between the boys from the backseat, "You know, if you two wanna get a room, just let me and Sam know" I quip jokingly. "Seriously, Dean. It's weird" Sam chuckles.

"Awww, don't listen to her, baby. She's just jealous" Dean caresses his steering wheel, flashing me a sly wink. I scoff along with Sam, as we all share a laugh. My heart warms to see Dean so happy for once. "You're in a good mood" Sam points out a bit surprised. "Why shouldn't I be?" Dean asks curiously. Me and Sam shrug, "No reason" We say in unison.

"I got my car. We got a case. Things are looking up" Dean smirks widely, his tone filled with excitement. "Wow. Give you a couple severed heads and a pile of dead cows and you're Mr. Sunshine" I shoot jokingly. Dean laughs along with Sam at my statement, "How far to Red Lodge?" Dean asks. "Uh, about another 300 miles" Sam answers.

"Good" Dean smirks, his foot went heavier on the gas. Speeding up down the empty stretch. Me and Sam held on for dear life as he flies down the road.

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Red Lodge, Montana

Sam, Dean and I were now in Montana, posing as reporters to the police sheriff in order to collect data on the case. They were dressed in suits and ties while I was dressed in a baby blue floral blouse and a black above-the-knee pencil skirt. We sat in his office, across from him as we questioned. "The murder investigation is ongoing. That's all I can share with the press." The sheriff says to us.

"Sure, sure. We understand that. But just for the record. You found the first, uh, head last week correct?" Sam asks professionally, pretending to take notes on a pad. "Uh-huh" the sheriff responds. "Okay, and the other, a Christina Flanagan" Sam goes to ask but the sheriff cuts him off. "That was two days ago, is there any-" The sheriff is interrupted by a knocking at the door.

"Excuse me, sheriff" A young blonde woman knocks at his door, tapping the watch in her wrist. Indicating times up, "Alright." He nods at her. "Sorry, gentleman and lady. Times up. We're done here" The sheriff dismisses, ready to get up. "Wait, one last question" I try to stop him. "What about the cattle?" Dean quickly asks.

"Excuse me?" The sheriff cocks his eyebrow. "You know, the cows found dead...split open, drained, over a dozen cases" Dean further says, giving the sheriff and knowing look. "What about them?" The sheriff scoffs. "So you don't think there's a connection?" I add. He turns to me confused, "Connection with...?" He trails off. "First, cattle mutilations...now uh. Now two murders. Kind of sounds like ritual stuff" I say superstitiously.

"You know, like satanic cult ritual stuff" Dean adds, shrugging a bit. The sheriff looks between all of us before bursting out laughing and pointing at us. We all roll our eyes at this, "You..." The sheriff laughs, it descends when he sees the serious looks on our faces. "You're not kidding" He says dryly. "No" Sam responds, shaking his head.

"Those cows aren't being mutilated. You wanna know how I know?" The sheriff asks firmly, clasping his hands infront of him. "How?" Dean asks. "Because there's no such thing as cattle mutilations. Cow drops, leave it in the sun...within 48 hours the bloat will split it open so clean it's just about surgical" The sheriff explains with a sarcastic smile.

"The bodily fluids fall down into the ground, gets soaked up because that's what gravity does" He talks to us as if we were 5 year olds. "But, hey, it could be Satan" He says sarcastically. "What newspaper did you say you work for?" He asks us suspiciously. Dean clears his throat awkwardly, "World Weekly News" Dean answers unsure. "Weekly World News" I correct.

"World-" Dean stutters. "Weekly World" Sam corrects. "World- I'm new" Dean chuckles nervously. The sheriff narrows his eyes at us, "Get out of my office" He says firmly.

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Later that day, the boys and I headed over to the Candler County Hospital Morgue. We threw over some lab coats we found in a supply closet to blend in. I swung the door open to the morgue, a young man sat at a desk looked up at me. I flashed him a coy smile before looking down at his ID badge to see 'J.Manner' with his picture.

"John" I guessed his name. "Jeff" He corrected with a wide smile, getting up from his desk. "Jeff. I knew that" I chuckle flirtatiously. From the corner of my eye I see Dean cocked his eyebrow before rolling his eyes. "Dr. Dworkin needs to see you in his office right away" I say urgently, to Jeff to get him out. "But Dr. Dworkin's on vacation" Jeff says. I come up with the first lie I could think of and say,

"Well he's back and he's pissed. And he's screaming for you, man. So if I were you I would.." I say quickly, letting out a low whistle so he could skedaddle. Jeff did exactly that, a look of horror on his face. "Nice job, Princess" Dean snorts, giving me a wink. I scoff chuckling, "Thanks, charming" I chuckle as Sam closes the door behind him.

"Hey, those Satanists in Florida, they marked their victims, didn't they?" Dean asks us, getting straight into work mode. "Yeah. Reverse pentacle on the forehead" Sam answers. "Huh, gross" I mutter cringing as Dean hands me a pair of latex gloves, along with Sam. "So much fucked up crap happens in Florida" Dean agrees as we snap on our gloves.

Sam opens the door to one of the body deal storage refrigerators, pulling out the tray with one of the victims body. The corpse was headless as expected and there was a large plastic container was at its feet, presumably it's head. "Alright, open it" Dean says to Sam. "No. You open it" Sam quips back defensively. I roll my eyes at this, "Jesus, you wussies. I'll open it" I groan, taking the container off the tray and resting it over on the table.

I could feel their glares at the back of my head, but I ignore it. "We're not wussies" Dean scoffs offended. "Whatever" I mutter. They come up besides me as I I take the lid off the reveal the mutilated head of a young girl, Dean flinches back in disgust as Sam grimaces. My heart gave out for her. "Well, no pentagram" Dean mutters. "Wow. Poor girl" Sam sighs heavily, I nod in agreement.

"Maybe we should, you know, uh, look in her mouth. See if those wackos stuffed anything down her throat." Dean suggests. "You know, kind of like the moth in Silence of the Lambs?" Dean pats me on the small of my back. I chuckle at his movie reference as Sam nods, "Yeah, yeah, go ahead" Sam agrees, pushing the container closer to Dean. He turns the container back to Sam, "No you go ahead".

Sam looks at him confused, "What?" Sam scoffs. "Put the lotion in the basket" Dean smiles smugly. I roll my eyes at them, "Oh for Christ's sake. And you have the gall to say you're not wussies" I huff, earning a snicker from Sam as Deans smile drops. I turn the container to me, taking a deep breath before clearing my throat.

Using my gloved fingers, I pry her cold mouth open. A chill running up my hands as I do so, my stomach began to churn as I stuck my fingers in her mouth searching. "Fellas, get me a bucket" I ask them quickly. Dean immediately gets the bucket near the mops and broom. "Find something?" Sam asks hopefully. "No, I'm gonna puke" I groan, gagging in disgust.

Sam gives me an unimpressed look, "Right, and we're the wussies" Dean snorts, resting the bucket next to me, a triumphant smirk on his face. "Would you like to stick your fingers in the dead girls mouth? No, I didn't think so!" I snap at him, his smirk dropped as I dug around in her mouth. I shook my head, taking my fingers out as they peered beside to me to take a look.

"Wait, lift her lip up again" Dean tells me. "What?" I scoff. "You want me to throw up" I groan, "No, no, no. I think I saw something" Dean defends, lifting her top lip up. "Yeah, I think I saw it too" Sam leans closer. My eyebrows shoot up to reveal what seemed like a hole in her gums. "What is that, a hole?" Dean questions, Sam then puts his finger behind it, pressing it slightly.

That's when a tooth came retracting and my stomach dropped. Vampire. "It's a tooth" Sam says. "Fellas, that's a fang" I point out, my mouth agape as Sam gasps. "A retractable set of vampire fangs. You gotta be kidding me" Dean groans, letting go of her mouth. "Well, this changes things" Sam mutters. "Ya think?" I quip sarcastically. The boys gave me a sympathetic look at my tone.

________________________________

The boys and I pulled up to a nearby bar later that night, we assumed it to be the vampires hang out spot in the area since it's near where the girl was killed. We all have each other a look before exiting Baby and heading towards the bar. Dean opened the door, gesturing for me to go in first all gentlemanly like. I flash him a sly wink before walking in, I'm pretty sure I felt his eyes on my ass so I added an extra sway to my hips.

Sam walked behind me into the crowed dark bar as Dean closed the door. We scoped our surroundings carefully, "How's it going?" Dean greets the bartender as we approach the bar, "Living the dream. What can I get for ya?" The bartender dryly responds. "Three beers please" Dean says, the three of us taking seats at the bar. Sam and Dean besides me, "So we're looking for some people."

Sam says to then bartender. "Sure. It's hard to be lonely" The bartender deadpans. Sam chuckles lightly along with me and Dean. "Yeah, that's not what he meant" I say in a coy tone, taking out a $50 bill I had stuffed in my bra. His eyebrows shoot up, along with Sam and Dean at my move as I slide it across to the bartender, he glances down at it intrigued before taking it up.

Sam clears his throat, "Great, so these people, they would've moved here about six months ago. Probably pretty rowdy, like to drink" Sam explains. "Yeah, real night owls, you know? Sleep all day, party all night" Dean adds, sipping his beer. I felt a weird sensation on my back, almost creepy. Almost as if someone was staring at me. I turnt my head to see an African-American man who was smoking a cigarette, his eyes trained straight at me and the boys.

"Barker Farm got leased out a couple months ago. Real winners. They've been in here a lot. Drinkers. Noisy. I've had to eighty-six them once or twice" The bartender says. The man breaks his gaze with me when he realized I noticed him, I got a strange vibe from him but I ignored it. Probably just some creep. The boys and I share a look before turning back to him, "Thanks" I say kindly before we all finish our beers.

We rest out empty beer bottles down at the bar and begin to head out. I made sure to look back in the seat where the man who I caught staring at us was, now empty. Gone. His mug still half full, the half finished cigarette crushed in the ashtray. "Wait, fellas" I stop Sam from opening the door. "What's wrong, y/n/n?" Sam asks me concerned.

"There was a guy in the corner, over there. He was staring right at us when we questioned the bartender" I whisper to them in a low tone, nodding my head towards the table. Their eyes flicker to it and then back to me, "You think he's still outside?" Dean whispers back. "I don't know, let's walk down the alley and see if he follows us" I suggest. They both share a look before nodding.

Sam opened the door as me and Dean walked besides him. I still felt as though someone was watching so I scanned my surroundings to make sure but no one was there. They both gave me a look that said, 'Ready?'. I nodded in response as we made our way down the alley, my father's machete tucked up my sleeve of my leather jacket.

The boys walked besides me as usual, me in the middle as we strolled down, we heard footsteps padding towards us as we bent the corner around the bar. We all quickly hide away in a dark corner, where he was sure not to see us. The footsteps stopped, so the boys and I took that as a go. Jumping the man in a sneak attack.

Sam and Dean both grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him against the wall, "Smile" I grit my teeth at him, pressing my fathers machete to his neck. "Show us those pearly whites" Dean growls at him, slamming him harder against the wall Sam's help. "Oh, for the love of-" The man groans. "You wanna stick that thing someplace else? I'm not a vampire" The man tries to defend himself. We all still glare at him, not convinced.

"Yeah, that's right. I heard you guys in there" The man says smugly. "What do you know about vampires?" Sam growls. "How to kill them. Now seriously, sweetheart. That knifes making me itch" The man widens his eyes at me, I cock my eyebrows at him and tilt my head a bit. I give Sam a look and he slams the man harder into the wall, "Hey! Woah, easy there, Chachi" The man snarks at Sam before raising his hand up.

He lifts his upper lip to show us his gums. It didn't have a hole like the girls one in the morgue. "See? Fangless. Happy?" He grumbles. The boys and I share a look before slowly retracting. They let him go as I slowly draw my blade always from him. "Now, who the hell are you?" The man asks us.

We were now by Gordon's, the man who we almost decapitated, car. "Sam and Dean Winchester. And Y/N L/N." Gordon says excitedly, pulling out a side cabinet from his backseat with a load of blades. Sickles, machetes. You name it. "I can't believe it. I know I met your fathers once? Great guys, even greater hunters" Gordon says with a wide smile. "I heard they passed....I'm sorry" Gordon says apologetically.

"Not to pry. But is it true that a vampire killed F/N?" Gordon asks me. My eyes snap up to him, I just nod in response. "I'm sorry" He says genuinely. I just shrug at it. "That's big shoes. But from what I hear, you guys fill them. Great trackers. Good in a tight spot" Gordon says. I roll my eyes at his fake flattery.

We all give him a suspicious look. "You seem to know a lot about our families" I say in a dry tone. "Well word travels fast. You know how hunters talk" Gordon says causally. The boys and I share a look at this. "No, we don't actually" Dean says. "I guess there's a lot you dads never told you kids, huh?" Gordon says. "So, um. So those two vampires, they were yours, huh?" Sam asks.

"Yep. Been here two weeks" Gordon responds nodding. "You check out that Barker farm?" Dean asks. "Just a bunch of hippie freaks. Though they could kill you with that patchouli smell on them" Gordon chuckles. "Where's the nest, then?" I ask. Gordon chuckles again, scoffing a bit before retracting the cabinet back into his car.

"I've got this one covered." He says, I roll my eyes at this. "Look, don't get me wrong, it's a real pleasure meeting you guys. But I've been on this thing for over a year" He tells us. "I killed a gang back in Austin, tracked the nest all the way over here. I'll finish it" He assures us firmly. "We could help" Dean offers. "Thanks. But I'm kind of a go-it-alone type of guy" Gordon narrows his eyes at us.

"Come on, man. I've been itching for a hunt" Dean tries to reason. "And I would love to hand it to those bloodsucking killers" I add pervasively. I notice Sam give us a side look at this. Gordon shakes his head, "Sorry. But, hey. I hear there's a chupacabra two states over. Go ahead and knock yourselves out" Gordon offers before getting into his car.

He locks the door before telling us, "It was real good meeting you, though." He smiles at us. "I'll buy you a drink on the flip side" He smirks, flashing me a wink. I cringe in disgust at this, not interested whatsoever. He then starts his ignition before driving off. The boys and I share a look at this.

________________________________

We decided to trail Gordon's car, eventually ending up at an old mill. We watched as he got out and entered. We waited a couple minutes before the roaring sound of an electric saw filled our ears. We all bolt into action and jumped out of Baby, running towards the sound in a hurry. We're met with the sight of Gordon being held under the saw by his neck on a ledge by a man wearing a mechanic outfit.

Sam hurried up the ledge and pulled Gordon out of the way, the man turns and flashes his fangs at me and Dean. Dean grabs an old spear and swings at the man, headfirst. I drew my feet back in a swift motion and kneed the vampire in his stomach, sending him stumbling back into Gordon's previous position under the saw.

Dean raised the spear over his head before driving it through the vampires gut, earning an animalistic painful roar from him. My eyes flickered to the saw and a nasty idea came across my mind. Vengeance, hatred, grief swirled around my noggin. Without thinking, I grabbed the saw and pulled it down onto the vampires neck.

Decapitating him in a slow painful manner. His blood splattered across my grim face, while glaring at him, I clenched my jaw as the vampire roared again in anguish. His head was finally off clean and went tumbling back. I got this sick feeling in my stomach after killing him, it wasn't nausea, that's for sure. I thought I would've enjoyed it more.

I turnt to the men to see Sam with a look of disbelief on his face, a proud almost lustful smirk plastered on Dean's lips and a impress look on Gordon's, his mouth agape. "So I guess I gotta buy you that drink now" Gordon says impressed. I don't answer, my bloodied face stoic.

________________________________

We're all now back at the barber we're at earlier. Dean and Gordon were hankering down a pitcher of beer, celebrating. My cigarette tucked between my lips as me and Sam sat upright in our seats, our eyes narrowed in Gordon's direction. My stomach was still churning from killing that vampire. It didn't feel as good killing that vamp as much as I expected. I relished in killing Kate, the bitch who took my father too soon from me.

But this time didn't feel as good. Gordon didn't rub me the right way at all. Now I know what you're saying. 'You barely know the guy, Y/N. Give him a break.' But something about this guy is already getting on my nerves. Blame it on my ESP thing or whatever you want, something isn't right with him.

A waitress approaches our table and rests down four shots. "Here you go" She says kindly, Dean goes to dig in his pocket to pay for them but Gordon stops him. "No, no. I got it" He says, handing the waitress the money. "Come on" Dean cuts in. "I insist" Gordon says firmly, shaking his head. "Thank you, sweetie" He smiles at the waitress. "You're welcome" The waitress responds sweetly before walking off.

Gordon picks up his shot along with Dean, "Another one bites the dust" He smirks. "That's right" Dean smirks back before toasting, both downing the shots. "Y/N" Gordon says before chuckling. "You have that big-ass fang one hell of a haircut, sweetie" Gordon smiles at me. I narrow my eyes further at him, simply nodding, crushing my burnt out bud in the ashtray in-front of us.

"Yeah, atta girl princess. You did good" Dean congratulates me, flashing me a wink. Normally I'd swoon at this but I wasn't in the mood at this time, it still made my heart flutter, his praising rising a heat in me. "Thanks" I responded softly. "That was beautiful, absolutely beautiful" Gordon continues to compliment. Both me and Sam scoff, rolling our eyes.

"You two alright? What's the matter, Sammy?" Dean asks us concerned, realizing we're on edge as he takes a sip of his beer. I make eye contact with Dean, trying to tell him with my eyes, 'I don't trust this guy'. But he doesn't pick up on it. "Yeah, we're fine" Sam answers for the both of us in a deadpan tone. "Well, lighten up a little, Sammy" Gordon tries to cheer him up.

My eyes widened slightly when Gordon called him Sammy. "They're the only ones that get to call me that" Sam retorts in a dry tone. Gordon's face drops, I notice Dean smirked proudly, "Okay. No offense meant. Just celebrating a little." Gordon says awkwardly. I'm not gonna lie, I had to hold back a laugh at this. I felt special because normally whenever we call him Sammy, he always groans 'It's Sam' or rolls his eyes unimpressed.

"A job well done by Princess Y/N over here" Gordon smirks at me, flashing me a sly wink. My nostrils flare, my eyes twitching at this. I couldn't help but notice Deans grip tightened around his beer mug. "Don't you dare call me that" I growl at him. "Woah, woah" Gordon puts his hands up in surrender chuckling, Deans eyes snap over to him in fury.

His eyes flickered between me and Dean before his mouth formed the shape of an 'O'. "Sorry, man" Gordon chuckles, patting Dean on his knee. "Didn't mean to disrespect you or your girl" He grins widely. Deans anger seemed to diminish, his eyebrow cocked. Normally, I'd feel pleasant or have butterflies in my stomach when someone mistakes me for Deans girlfriend.

But coming from this jackass, my eye twitched. My fists clenched in my lap, the table began to shake slightly. Causing Gordon to look confused and stunned. "What the fuck?" Gordon muttered, trying to not make all the beers fall over. Sam and Deans eyes snapped over to me in fear when this began to happen. "Hey, hey" Dean whispers to me, resting a hand on my thigh.

"Relax" He says calmly, caressing my thigh gently, a pleading look in his eyes. My stomach fluttered, my eyes snapping back over to Deans. My heart rate quickened, my anger slightly diminishing. The table then settled, the shaking stopping in an instant. "How the hell did you do that?" Gordon gasps, his eyes wide. Dean chuckles nervously. "I don't know what you're talking about" I shrug innocently, narrowing my eyes at him.

Gordon cocked his eyebrow at me, unconvinced. The whole time this was happening, Sam looked like he was holding back the biggest laugh. A wide smirk on his face. "Look, I'm not gonna bring you guys down. I'm just gonna go back to the motel, you coming Sammy?" I turn to Sam. "Yeah, let's go" Sam says, getting up from the chair along with me.

Dean sighs disappointed, "You guys sure?" He asks, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Yeah" I respond simply, following behind Sam. "Sammy, y/n/n." Dean calls out to us. We turn to see him shaking the keys to the Impala at us. "Remind me to beat the buzzkill out of you two later, alright?" Dean quipped, tossing me the keys. I quickly catch it, scoffing at the fact that he'd rather stay here and get shit faced with Gordon.

Sam gives Dean his classic bitchface as we walk out towards the exit. Sam then opens the door, gesturing for me to go first. A mischievous thought crossed my mind. "Wait" I stop Sam. "What?" He asks me confused, his hand still holding the door open. A smirk rises on my face, his eyebrows raised at my expression and then I focused my gaze on Gordon's beer mug in his hands.

In mere seconds, it suddenly slipped from Gordon's grip and spontaneously combusted mid air. The glass scattered across the floor along with the beer. "Shit! Ahhh!" Gordon yelps, getting up quickly. "How the hell did I drop it?! Waitress!" He exclaims, calling the waitress over to clean the mess up. Sam bursted out in hysterics, causing Deans eyes snap over to us.

His face dropped, shooting me an unimpressed look, shaking his head in disappointment. I smirk back at him, shrugging nonchalantly, "Now, we can go" I say to Sam smugly, who's biting his fist from laughing. I strut out the door, adding a sway to my hips. Sam followed behind me, still laughing as we exit. Closing the door behind us. Sam hunched over, his hands on his knees. "Dude, you gotta teach me that" Sam exclaims in hysterics.

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We entered the motel room, bad mouthing Gordon. "He's a snake I tell ya, something isn't right about that guy" Sam rambles as we strip our jackets off. "That's exactly how I felt! I mean; who the fuck does he think he is? Calling you 'Sammy' and me 'princess' " I agree, huffing as rest Deans keys gently on the table next to my machete. I grew a bit silent, my mind flickering back to the vamp as I sink on my bed.

Sam notices this, so he asks, "You okay?" He asks concerned, sitting next to me on my bed. "I don't know" I sigh, leaning back on the headboard. I cross my arms over my chest, relaxing a bit as I throw my feet up on his lap. "When we found out that that dead girl was a vampire. My dad came rushing back to my mind. And I was partially excited to kill some bloodsuckers." I admit.

Sam gives me a sympathetic look, "But then when I killed that guy. It didn't feel right, you know? I expected it to feel more satisfaction that I took away one more monster like I usually do whenever we gank em. But it felt....off" I sigh, shaking my head. A lump growing in my throat, "Hey" Sam says gently, resting his hands on my shins. My eyes meet his, tears ready to fall as my bite my lip.

"You did what you had to do. I might not like the guy, but he was gonna kill Gordon. And he might have killed us." Sam assures me, offering me a small smile. "F/N would've been proud" Sam says softly. I scoff back a chuckle, wiping the tear away from my eye before wiping my nose. "Have you met the man?" I ask sarcastically, chuckling. Sam chuckles, shaking his head in amusement.

"He would've found someway to complain about what I did wrong, probably would've told me I should've burnt the corpse too, just in case" I chuckle, shaking my head. "You got me there" Sam admits, chuckling along with me. He pats my shin, indicating for me to take my feet off his lap. I do exactly that, he then gets up and goes over to his bag. "What're you doing?" I ask curiously.

"Calling Ellen to find out about this Gordon guy" He responds, taking out his phone. He searches for Ellen's contact, sinking back next to me in the bed. He puts it on speaker and it rings a couple times, "Harvelle's Roadhouse" Ellen answers. "Hey, Ellen. It's Sam Winchester and Y/N L/N" Sam responds. "Sam, Y/N. It's good to hear from you" Ellen says happily. "You kids okay, right?" She asks us concerned.

"Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine" I assure her. "We got a question though" I add. "Yeah, shoot" She says. "You ever run across a guy named Gordon Walker?" Sam asks. "Yeah, I know Gordon" She confirms. "And?" I ask for her to further continue. "Well, he's a real good hunter. Why you asking, sweetie?" She asks. "Well, we ran into him on a job and we're kind of working with him, I guess" Sam informs her.

"Don't do that guys" Ellen quickly warns us. Sam and I share a panicked look at this. "I- I thought you said he was a good hunter" I stutter. "Yeah, and Hannibal Lecter's a good psychiatrist." Ellen mutters. "Look, he is dangerous to everyone and everything around him. If he's working on a job, you kids just let him handle it and move on" She instructs us firmly. "Ellen-" Sam goes to say but she interrupts him.

"No, Sam, Y/N. You two just listen to what I'm telling you, okay?" She says firmly. Sam and I can't believe what we're hearing, we were right. "Yes ma'am" We both respond in unison, "Good, you kids stay safe okay?" She says in a mother tone. "We will. Thanks Ellen" I finish before Sam hangs us, scoffing as he tossed his phone aside. "I can't believe it. We were right" Sam shakes his head.

"We gotta call Dean" He goes to pick his phone back up to call him. "He won't answer, he never does when he's drinking. Unless it's him drunk dialing" I say, taking the phone away from him. He sighs, nodding in agreement at the fact. "When he gets back then, he needs to know" Sam says, getting up from the bed. "I'm gonna get a soda, want anything?" He asks me, walking over to the door.

"Yeah, a coke and if there's a vending machine. Get me some chips" I nod, reaching into my pocket to give him the money. Sam chuckles, waving it off, "I got it, coke and chips" He repeats my order, before opening the door to head out. "Thank you!" I call out as he locks the door. I sigh heavily, plopping back onto the bed.

A few minutes have passed and I was getting bored with my thoughts, so I decided to take a shower. I pick up my towel and toss it over my shoulder, headed to the bathroom. My ears perked up when the door opened, footsteps echoed through the room. Sam might be a giant, but I know damn well he doesn't have four feet. Luckily, I had my gun still in my jeans.

Thank you dad for always pestering me to be prepared even when in the bathroom. I pulled my gun from the back of my jeans swiftly before pressing my back against the wall. I heard a sniff come from the room, "I can smell her, she's in here" A familiar voice said, but I couldn't pinpoint who. Vampires. Fuck, I left my machete on the table. Great. I clenched my jaw before revealing myself, "Hey blood breaths!" I bellowed, shooting at them.

It barely grazed them, they grunted. Now bearing their fangs at me. I recognized one of the guys, he was the bartender we questioned earlier. I tossed my gun aside as my eyes nervously flickered to the machete on the table, with a wave of my hand. I summoned into my grip, I swiftly swung at the first guy but missed, he raised his foot and kneed me in my stomach.

I groaned painfully, gasping for air when the vampire shoved me into the wall. I went flying back and the machete slipped from my grip. He then picked up a phone to knock me out but I ducked, he ended up going headfirst into the wall. I swiftly dived to the ground for my machete, the bartender from earlier grabbed me by my feet, but I pulled back and kicked him off, causing him to stumble into the table.

With another wave of my hand, I sent the other man crashing into the nightstand. I swiftly did a kipup, charging at the bartender. He dodged my swing quickly. I didn't notice I had my gun in his hands, the last thing I saw was the butt of my gun going straight at my head before everything went dark.

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I groaned from pain in my head when my eyes flickered open. Everything was dark, I could feel my hands were bounded behind my back and something was over my head. Definitely a bag. "I swear, if anything happened to my little sister. I'm gonna kill you!" I hear a familiar voice growl angrily. His tone pained. It was Sam. "You're barely a couple months older than me dude" I mutter, my head still pounding from the gun butt.

Then suddenly. Someone pulled the bag off, my vision was still a bit blurry but when it readjusted, I opened my eyes to see the bartender who attacked me earlier in the motel room. "Oh thank god, I thought you were gone" Sam breathes out in relief. "I'm fine, just a little tied up" I respond dryly, moving my bounded hands behind my back slightly.

"Shut up. Both of you!" The bartender growls at us, bearing his fangs in our direction. Our eyes widen in horror at this as he snarls, inching closer to my neck. My heartbeat quickens in fear, but I keep my game face on because these suckers could smell fear. "No!" Sam screams. "Wait. Step back, Eli." A woman's voice orders the bartender to not sink his fangs into me.

He glares at her where she's stood in the doorway before backing away from me, retracting his fangs. His angry deathly gaze trained on me, "My names Lenore. I'm not gonna hurt you guys. We just need to talk" The woman steps in, introducing herself. Me and Sam scoff, "Talk? Yeah, okay. But I might have a tough time paying attention to much besides Eli's teeth" I snarked at her, my eyes flickering over to him and back to Lenore.

"He won't hurt you. You have my word" She assures me calmly. "Your word? Oh, yeah, great. Thanks" Sam huffs, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Listen lady. No offense, but you're not the first vampire we've met" Sam retorts with sass. "We're not like the others. We don't kill humans. And we don't drink their blood. We haven't for a long time" She explains calmly. "What is this? Some kind of joke?" I scoff, rolling my eyes.

"Notice you're both still alive." She points out. Me and Sam share a look at this, our eyes flickering over to Eli and back to Lenore. Sam chuckles ironically, "Okay, correct me if I'm wrong here, but shouldn't you be starving to death?" Sam counters. "We found other ways: cattle blood" Lenore tells us. This surprises us, "You're telling me, you're responsible for all the-" I say but she interrupts me,

"It's not ideal. In fact, it's disgusting. But allows us to get by." Lenore says. "Okay, why?" Sam asks. "Survival." She simply puts it before crossing her arms over her chest. "No deaths, no missing locals, no reason for people like you guys to come looking for people like us...we blend in" She continues to explain. That's not what I expected from a bloodsucker whatsoever.

"Our kind is practically extinct. Turns out we weren't quite high up the food chain as we imagined" She says calmly. This triggers a switch in me, my mind flashing back to my father. "Great, no need for any of you parasitic leeches running around killing innocent people, now would we?!" I growl at her, tugging at my bindings. I notice Sams face drop at my outburst, while Lenore's is taken back by my anger, a look on recognition on her face.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you lost someone dear to you by one of our kind, havent you?" She calls me out, I just narrow my eyes at her. My jaw clenching, "Not all of us are like that, we just want to survive" She assured me, a sympathetic look on her face. "Why are we explaining ourselves to this killer?" Eli spits angrily at me, cutting into the conversation. "Eli" Lenore says in a warning tone.

"We choke on cows blood so that none of them suffer. Tonight, they murdered Conrad and they celebrated" Eli growls in disgust, sounding grief stricken. "Eli, that's enough" Lenore snaps. "Yeah, Eli. That's enough" Sam sasses, "What's done is done" Lenore says to Eli calmly, before turning to us.

"We're leaving this town, tonight" She reveals to us. "Then why did you bring us here? Why are you even talking to us?" I quipped. "Believe me, I'd rather not" She scoffs honestly. "But I know your kind. Once you have the scent, you'll keep tracking us. It doesn't matter where we go. Hunters will find us" She says calmly, realization dawns on me. "So you're asking us not to follow you" Sam voices my thought.

"We have a right to live. We're not hurting anyone" She responds. "Right, so you keep saying. But give us one good reason why we should believe you" I scoff. Lenore then leans down, both hands on the sides of the chair I'm tied to. Her face inches away from mines, i hull fearfully, not daring to look her in her eyes. "Fine. You know what I'm going to do?" She says menacingly.

I don't answer, my jaw clenched, "I'm going to let you two go" This surprises both me and Sam. We share a stunned look, "Take them back. Not a mark on them" Lenore orders Eli. He smirks, inching towards us. Before placing a bag on Sam's head and then mines. I feel him grab me by the shoulder and begin to walk us out. I count the steps in my head as we walk,

I hear a door open before another set of hands grab me. A couple more steps and then a car door opens, the person tosses me in along with Sam. The bag stayed on as the ignition started. I began to count the second of the ride, making sure to take in mind every turn, left and right. Not too long after the ride, they untie us.

Tossing us out the car. We both hit the cold gravely ground in a thud. We pull the bags off of our heads to see we're back at our motel. I try to get the make and model of the car but I didn't get to see it in time. "What the fuck just happened" I mutter to myself, Sam then helps me up. "I have no fucking idea. Let's go" He responds as we dust ourselves off and make our way to our room.

We open the door to see Dean with Gordon at the desk. Deans eyes widen when he sees us, "Where have you two been?" He asks. "Can we talk to you alone?" Sam asks him in a monotone voice as I glare daggers at Gordon. Dean then turns to Gordon, "You mind chilling out for a couple minutes?" He asks Gordon. Gordon shakes his head and we all make our way out our motel room.

I lock the door behind me as Sam starts. "Dean, maybe we gotta rethink this hunt" Sam says to him. "What're you talking about? Where were you two?" Dean asks us confused. I sigh, "In the nest" I tell him. His eyes widen, "You guys found it?" He says in shock. "They found us, man" Sam tells him. "Wha- How'd you guys get out? How many did you kill?" Dean asks us.

"None" I tell him. Dean is in disbelief. "Well, guys. They didn't just let you go" Dean says. "That's exactly what they did, Dean" I stress. "Alright, well, where is it?" Dean asks a little too eager. "We were blindfolded. We don't know" Sam says calmly, giving him a weird look. "Well, you gotta know something" Dean presses. "We went over that bridge outside of town. But, Dean, listen. Maybe we shouldn't go after them" I tell him.

"Why not?" Dean cocks his eyebrow confused. "We don't think they're like other vampires. I don't think they're killing people" Sam tries to explain to him. "You're joking" Dean scoffs, not convinced. He looks between me and Sam, now realizing we aren't joking. "Then how do they stay alive or undead, whatever the hell they are?" Dean queries. "The cattle mutilations. They said they live off of animal blood" I tell him.

"And you guys believed them?" Dean asks a bit amused, probably thinking we're being naive. "Look at us, Dean" Sam gestures between me and him, letting out a nervous chuckle. "They let us go without a scratch" Sam points out. "Wait, so you guys are saying...? No man. No way. I don't know why they let you guys go. I don't really care. We find them and waste them" Dean shakes his head. Determined to kill them before walking away.

"Why?" I call out to him. He then turns to me, "What part of 'vampires' don't you understand, y/n? If it's supernatural, we kill it. End of story. That's our job" Dean says firmly. "No, Dean. That is not our job! Our job is hunting evil. And if these things aren't killing people, they're not evil!" Sam defends. "Of course they're killing people. That's what they do, they're all the same thing guys. They're not human, okay? We have to exterminate every last one of them." Dean argues.

I rub my head in frustration, "No, Dean. I don't think so, alright? Not this time" I try to remain calm. "Gordon's been on those vamps for a year. He knows" Dean says. "Gordon?" Sam scoffs. "Yes" Dean answers. "You're taking his word for it?" I scoff. "Yes" He answers again. "Ellen says he's bad news" Sam tells him. Dean raises his eyebrow at this, "You guys called Ellen?" He asks.

"Yeah" Me and Sam respond in unison. "And I'm supposed to listen to her? We barely know her. No, thanks. I'll go with Gordon" Dean rolls his eyes. "Right! Because Gordon's such an old friend" I snap back sarcastically, chuckling humorlessly. Dean looks offended by my words, "You know, y/n. I expected more from you" He scoffs disappointed before walking away again. I'm confused by this, "What's that supposed to mean?!" I call out to him.

He turns to me, "Nothing. Okay." He shrugs it off but I press. "No, talk your shit Winchester. Since you're so trusting of Gordon." I snap back, sarcasm seeping through my tone, crossing my arms over my chest as I wait for his response. He shakes his head, "You killed that vampire, no hesitation. What's wrong now?!" Dean argues. "I was saving our asses from getting killed! Just because I killed that vampire doesn't mean I trust Gordon!" I argue back.

Third Person POV

The argument between Dean and Y/N was getting heated, Sam looked on. His eyes flickered between the both of them nervously as their voice escalated, echoing through the empty motel parking lot. Feeling like a child of divorce, looking at his parents fighting for custody.

"For someone who went through what you went through, I'd expect you to hate vampires more!" Dean shouts.

"I do hate them. Trust me, I do but they're not killing anyone, Dean! I'm not gonna kill innocent people!" Y/N retorts back defensively.

"They're not innocent, Y/N!" Dean yells.

"So you trust you old friend Gordon but not us?! Your brother and your longest friend?! Why can't you just take our word for it?!" Y/N shouts back, frustrated at the fact that Dean was trusting Gordon more than her and Sam.

"Because you're being stupid!?" Dean retorts.

"Excuse me?!" She scoffs in offense, shouting enraged.

"A vampire killed your father and you're willing to leave a pack of bloodsucking monsters to run free because they claim to live in peace! He'd be disappointed in you, it's an insult to his memory!!!" Dean bellows.

The second he said that, he regretted it instantly. Y/N is taken back by this, her mouth snapped shut at Deans words. While Sam is agape in disbelief at the harsh words that left his brothers mouth. That was the last thing Y/N expected to leave his mouth. Her heart panged painfully, already feeling like she disappointed her father and now Dean had to go and confirm it.

Had it been anyone else, it wouldn't have bothered her as much. But coming from the man she loved, it stung like a son of a bitch.nA bubble of humorless laughter left her throat, the anger rising in her body. "Okay" She says calmly, before turning away. Y/N drew back her fist before right hooking Dean across his jaw. Deans head snaps to the side, grunting in pain, surprised from the punch.

Not expecting there to be such a kick from that. Dean might be Sam's brother but he was internally cheering on Y/N for punching his brother, he damn well deserved it from what he just said. And honestly, if y/n didn't do it. He would've done it for her. "Fuck you, you don't get to say that!" She growls at him enraged. Her nostrils flared with hot steam practically rushing out of it.

Dean nurses his jaw, his eyes wide when he notices Y/N's eyes glassed over to a ball of white. The only time he's seen this was when f/n died, and in the hospital when she saw him but he had no memory of it. Then with a wave of her hand., She sends him barreling back into the Impala next to them. "Woah! Easy!" Sam tries to hold her down, he clutched onto her but Dean was still pinned to the car.

"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THAT!" She screams at him, she loosens her mind grip on him as Sam holds her, trying to calm her down. Her eyes went back to her normal (e/c) ones. Dean peels himself from the car, "You can hit me all you want, princess. Toss me in the air or flatten me like a pancake. It won't change anything. I'm going to that nest." Dean says in a deadpan tone.

He knew what he said was crossing a line because Y/N would not only, never say something about like that John to him, despite not liking the man. Instead, she'd console him and comfort him. But being grief stricken himself, he allowed his anger to get the best of him. Hurting the woman he loved,

"We won't tell you where it is" Sam takes Y/N's defense. "I'll find it myself" Dean snaps back. He then gives y/n one last look, she didn't dare to look at him. Not allowing her eyes to meet his, his heart dropped. Scared that she'd never look at him the same, y/n's eyes were glued to the floor. Trying to take deeps breathes instead of letting her anger getting the best of her. She didn't want to hurt anyone, especially the boys.

Her newfound powers were getting the best of her, she barely knew how to control it and it only came in times of desperate need and anger. She was scared, scared of herself, scared she'd hurt someone else. Someone she cared about. Dean turns to walk back to the motel room.

"Dean, wait" Sam calls out to his brother. Following behind him. Y/N then follows behind Sam. Dean opens the door to see it empty, "Gordon?" He calls out for it but no answer. "You think he went after them?" Sam asks. "Probably" Dean answers. "Dean, we have to stop him" Y/N says panicked. "Really, Y/N? Because I say we lend a hand" Dean scoffs.

"Just give us the benefit of the doubt, would you? You owe me that" Y/N pleads. Deans heart pangs, guilt rising again. She didn't take long to use that one against him but he deserved it. He nods firmly, "I'll drive, give me the keys" He says to her calmly. Y/N goes to pick up the keys where she left them on the desk, when they came back from the bar. Only to see it now gone. "He snaked the keys" Sam gasps.

________________________________

"I can't believe this. I just fixed her up too" Dean grumbles in annoyance as he hotwires the Impala. The engine spluttered for a couple seconds before starting. Dean sighs, looking over to Y/N next to him in the passenger seat, her eyes were trained on a map along with Sam in the back with his own map.

Dean clears his throat awkwardly, "So, the bridge. Is that all you got?" He asks her gently. "The bridge was for and a half minutes from their farm." Y/N responds dryly, tracing her finger on the map. "How do you know?" Sam asks surprised. "I counted" She says, turning to Sam and then back to the map.

"Damn, should've thought of that" Sam grumbles to himself for not thinking in the moment. While Dean gives her a proud smile which she didn't acknowledge, his smile dropped as she continued. "They took a left out of the farm, then turned right onto a dirt road. Follow that for two minutes, slightly uphill. Then took another quick right and we hit the bridge" She explains, her finger tracing the trail on the map.

"Impressive" Sam chuckles, impressed by her tracking skills. "You're good." Dean commends her. "A monster pain in the ass....but you're good...with a mean right hook" He adds, smirking at her before putting the Impala in drive. Y/N scoffs, rolling her eyes as she held back a chuckle. Sam shakes his head at their version of saying 'I'm sorry'. At least they made up and aren't gonna fight, Sam did not want to get caught in the middle of that.

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The car was filled with awkward silences as they made out way down the stretch, headed towards the bridge. Dean would look at y/n with a pained expression when she wasn't looking, and she'd do the same when his eyes were on the road. Sam speculating the entire time, his lips tucked into his mouth as he looks between the two, praying for the awkwardness to subside.

After following Y/N's directions, they stumbled onto a house. Parked outside was the same car that Sam and Y/N was transported in back to the motel. Y/N didn't recognize it but Sam made sure to get a good look at it. "Look, that's the car they tossed us out of. This has to be the house" Sam points out. Dean then puts the car in park and they all jump out.

They made their way up the porch to see the door was wide open, they all shared a look at this before walking in. They entered the living room, stumbling upon Gordon and Lenore. Lenore was tied to a chair, blood dripping from open wounds as Gordon wielded his knife dripping with Dead Man's Blood, torturing Lenore. Gordon turned his head to the trio.

Sam and Y/N's eyes widen in terror at the sight. "Sam, Dean, Y/N. Come on in" Gordon greets them. "Hey, Gordon, what's going on?" Dean asks warily. "Just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man's blood. She's gonna tell us where all her friends are" Gordon responds as if what he's doing is casual. "Aren't you sweetie?" Gordon smirks at Lenore menacingly, who's choking on her own blood. Heaving from the poison.

Sam and Y/N clench their jaws, "Wanna help?" Gordon turns to Dean. "Look, man-" Dean begins a bit nervous. "Grab a knife. I was just about to start in on the fingers" Gordon days before slicing Lenore's wrist with the bloodied knife. Her arm seared from the poison, making her grow weaker. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey, let's all chill out, huh?" Dean tries to ease the situation. "I'm completely chill" Gordon says calmly.

"Gordon, put the knife down" Sam says warily, taking a step forward but Dean and Y/N out their hands out to stop him. "It sounds like it's Sammy that needs to chill" Gordon smirks. "Just step away from her, alright?" Y/N tries to reason. Gordon turns back to Lenore who's choking weakly, and back to them. "You're right" He says to Y/N before dropping his knife on the table.

"I'm wasting my time here. This bitch will never talk" He says grimly, before taking up his machete, pulling the cover off of it. "Might as well put her out of her misery. I just sharpened it, so it's completely humane" He snarks at Sam and Y/N. "Gordon, I'm letting her go" Y/N says before taking a step forwards to help Lenore.

Gordon holts her in her actions by pressing the knife to her chest, "You're not doing a damn thing" He growls. Deans heart drops, Sam tries to reach out for Y/N but, "You take one step closer, I'll slice the bitch" Gordon threatens. Y/N puts her hands up in surrender, "Hey, hey, hey. Gordon, let's talk about this" Dean tries to get Gordon to take the knife off of her. "What's there to talk about? It's like I said, Dean. No shades of grey" Gordon retorts.

"Yeah, I hear you. And I know how you feel" Dean responds. "Do you?" Gordon cocks his eyebrow, his machete still pointed at Y/N's chest. "The vampire that killed your sister deserved to die. But this-" Dean tries to resin but Gordon chuckles darkly, cutting him off. "Killed my sister?" Gordon smiles darkly. "That filthy fang didn't kill my sister. It turned her. Made her one of them. So I hunted her down and killed her myself" Gordon reveals, his knife still against Y/N's chest.

They're all taken back by this, "You did what?" Dean mutters. "It wasn't my sister anymore. It wasn't human. I didn't blink. And neither would you" Gordon points the blade to himself, then to Dean and back to Y/N. "So you knew all along then? You knew about the vampires. You knew they werent killing anyone" Sam says in realization. "You knew about the cattle, and you just didn't care" Y/N scoffs.

"Care about what? A nest of vampires suddenly acting nice? Taking a little time out from sucking into innocent people and we're supposed to buy that?" Gordon chuckles. "Trust me. It doesn't change what they are" Gordon points at himself with the machete before turning to Lenore with a hate-filled gaze. "And I can prove it" He turns back to Y/N. He grabs her wrist in a flash, slicing it. Before gripping her in a chokehold.

Sam and Dean don't think. They just act, pulling their guns out and cocking it at Gordon. "Let her go!" Dean growls at him, enraged. "Now!" Sam yells. Y/N tries to break from it but he's too strong. "Relax. If I wanted to kill your bitch, she'd be on the floor already. Just making a little point." Gordon says calmly, his machete pressed to Y/N's throat as he held her arm dripping with blood out.

He then moved her closer to Lenore, holding her arm over the convulsing vampire's face. The blood then dripped from her arm and onto her face. Lenore bared her fangs, snarling for more, "You think she's so different now?" Gordon snarks at the Winchesters. "Hey!" Dean yells, "Still wanna save her? Look at her. They're all the same. Evil, blood thirsty." Gordon says menacingly.

Lenore retracted her face, "No, no." She says pleadingly. "You hear her Gordon?" Sam motions towards Lenore. "No, no" Lenore groans, trying to control herself. Gordon's grip loosens on Y/N, allowing her free. "We're done here" Y/N growls at him, "Sam, Y/N. Get her out of her" Dean orders the two younger hunters. "Yeah" They respond in unison.

They both help Lenore to her feet, wrapping each of her arm around both their shoulders. "Come on, hun. We've got you" Y/N says gently as they help her limp out of the room. Gordon goes to move but Dean still at his gun cocked at him. "Uh-uh. Uh-uh" He warns him to stay put. Gordon holts in action, putting his hands up in surrender.

"Gordon...I think you and I got some things to talk about" Dean says to him dryly. "Get out of my way" Gordon says. "Sorry" Dean smirks. "You're not serious" Gordon scoffs. "I'm having a hard time believing it too, but I know what I saw. If you want those vampires, you gotta go through me" Dean warns. Gordon takes a look at his knife before sticking it into the table besides him.

"Fine" He shrugs nonchalantly. Deans smirk widens, he then uncocks his hun before disarming the click into his hand. Stuffing it into his pocket. Gordon takes the opportunity to right hook Dean, who stumbled back but quickly recovered. Retaliating with his own right hook. Gordon then pulled his knife out from the table making Dean groan.

He tried stabbing Dean twice but he dodges before grabbing Gordon by his arm and throwing him into the wall. The knife was still in his hand so he head butted him twice, knocking his hand against the wall to disarm him off his knife. "What're you doing man? You're doing this for a fang?" Gordon groans as Dean held him by his throat.

"No. I'm doing this for my girl who's throat you held a knife to!" Dean growls back, right hooking him again. Gordon turned to Deans back was faced to the doorway. "Come on, Dean. We're in the same side here" Gordon pleads. "I don't think so you, sadistic bastard" Dean snaps back. Gordon quickly blindsided him, elbowing him before kicking Dean into a wooden table.

It crashed in impact, Dean shakes his head. Dazzled from the fall as he groans in pain. Gordon inches closer to Dean, "You're not like your brother. You're a killer like me and y/n." Gordon says. Dean quickly trips him but knocking him at the back of his knee. He then straddles Gordon, throwing punch after punch at his facts.

"Keep...Her..God...Damn...Name...Out...Off...Your...Fucking...Mouth!!!" Dean screams, punching Gordon with every word that left his mouth. He then grabs him by his shirt and throws him into a glass cabinet. Turning him around and then tossing him against the wall. Gordon tries to hit but he's too weak, Dean quickly grabs his arm. Putting it down.

Right hooking him again twice before holding Gordon under his arm as if he's gonna hit him a reverse DDT wrestling move, he drags him into the other room before 'accidentally' walking into the wall. Sending Gordon's headfirst into it, earning a groan from him. "Oh, sorry" Dean feigns a sarcastic apology.

He then places him on a chair and begins tying him to it. "You know. I might be like you...and I might not. Y/N is certainly nothing like your as" Dean tells him before leaning to whisper in his ear. "But you're the one tied up right now" He smirks, as Gordon glares at him.

________________________________

The sun has risen and Gordon is still tied to the chair as Dean paces the room Gordons knife. The front door opens and shuts, Y/N and Sam walk into the room to see Gordon tied up. Their eyebrows raised, "Did we miss anything?" Sam asks. "Eh, not much" Dean shrugs. "Lenore get out okay?" Dean asks them. "Yeah. All of them did" Y/N answers, glaring at Gordon.

"Then I guess our work here is done" Dean smirks at Gordon. "How you doing Gordy? You gotta tinkle yet?" Y/N taunts Gordon, earning chuckles from the boys. Gordon rolls his eyes not answering. "Alright" She snorts. "Well, get comfy. We'll call someone in two or three days, have them come out, untie you" Dean further taunts, walking over to the table. Sticking the knife into the wooden table.

"Ready to go, Dean?" Sam asks. "Not yet" Dean says, walking over to them. "I guess this is goodbye" Dean chuckles, fixing his hair. "Well, it's been real" He smirks, drawing his fist back before punching Gordon so hard. He chair went toppling back along with him to the ground. Sam grimaces holding back a laugh along with Y/N. "Okay, I'm good now" Dean clears his throat.

"We can go" He says simply before walking out. Sam and Y/N share an amused look before leaving the house. As they walk down the porch, Y/N turns to Dean. "Hey, Dean?" She says. "Yeah?" He answers. She preps herself, taking a deep breath. "Clock me one" She clears her throat. The boys look at her in disbelief.

"What?" Dean scoffs, "Come on, come on. I won't even hit you back. Let's go" She screws her eyes shut. Dean scoffs a chuckle as Sam shakes his head, snickering. Deciding to leave them be as he walks back to the Impala. "No. Im not gonna hit you, Princess. I'll never hit you" Dean shakes his head. She peeps one eye open, "Come on, you wuss. Put the your morals aside for a sec. And that's coming from a raging feminist. You get a freebie. Hit me. Come on" Y/N tempts him.

"No, y/n." Dean says firmly. "If I'm being honest, I deserved it" Dean admits, rubbing his jaw. Y/N sighs, "So did I" She admits. "What?" He's taken back. "You were right, dad would've been disappointed in me. Hell, I'm sure he's probably rolling in his grave right now" She bites her lips. "Are you kidding me?" Dean scoffs. "Y/N, you and Sam just saved innocent people. Sure, they were vampires. But you did the right thing. He would've been proud" Dean assured her, resting a hand on her shoulder.

Her eyes flicker up to to his, "You don't know that" She holds back her tears. "I'm so sorry, princess. I should've never said that." Dean apologizes sincerely. She nods, accepting his apology. "I wish we never took this job. It's jacked everything up" She scoffs. "What do you mean?" Dean asks her, taking his hand off her shoulder. She takes a deep breath, "Think about all the hunts we went on, charming. Our whole lives" She begins. "Okay?" Dean says.

"What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing, you know? I mean, the way our dads raised us-" She sighs. "Y/N, after what happened to mom and then your mom....they did their best" Dean tried to reassure her. "I know they did. But they weren't prefect" Y/N says. Dean shrugs in agreement, "But the way they raised us to hate those things. And man I HATE them. I do, I miss daddy every single fucking day" She grits her teeth.

"When I killed that vampire at the mill. I didn't even think about it. I expected to enjoy it. I did for a moment but not the way I wanted to." She admits. "I just- I don't know how we do it" Y/N sighs. "Because it's in our blood. Every instinct told me to kill, Lenore. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill them all" Dean admits. "Yeah, but you didn't" Y/N points out. "That matters." She adds.

Dean gives her a soft smile, "Truce?" Y/N puts her hand out for a shake, "Truce" Dean smirks, taking her hand into his. Their eyes meet and in a flash Dean pulls her by her arm into a hug. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Y/N chuckles into the hug, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "You really are a pain in the ass, you know?" Dean jokes, his face buried in her neck.

"Guess I might have to stick around and be a pain in the ass, then" She quipped back, pulling away from the hug. His arms still around her waist while her arms are still around his shoulders. Her eyes flicker down to his lips, along with his eyes flickering down to her.

Meanwhile, Sam was sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala, watching the two as if they were a chick flick he was indulged it. "Just lean in, man. It's not that hard. Come on" Sam mutters to himself as the twos eyes pierced into each others. He rolled his eyes when he saw Y/N took her hands off of Deans shoulder and awkwardly cleared her throat along with Dean, who's face was flushed. "Wussies" Sam scoffs.

They then begin to walk back to the Impala, "Thanks" Dean genuinely thanks her as she opens the back door. "Don't mention it" She smiles softly, before jumping in. Dean takes a moment to recollect himself before jumping into the Impala. Putting it in drive and hitting the road for whatever awaits them.

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Authors Note: Ohhhh the angstttt ahahah. Hope everyone enjoyed!! And trust me when I say, this slow burn is killing me too LOL *cue villainous laugh* This chapter is unedited and I plan on coming back to edit.

@hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19 @deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur

Xoxo

51 notes · View notes

twstfanblog · 9 months

Text

*~Family Feud~*

AN: This has been done for DAYS I just didn't get a chance to read it over because I dropped two outfit descriptions in this and I wanted to draw them out. Instead, I decided to get this out and stop hoarding it. XD

Also an introduction to one of my Twist OC's I'll do my best to get a proper bio of him and link it at a later date.

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: Toxic family dynamics, Disregard of adopted family, She/They Yuu OC. My own canon of Silver's backstory mixed with canon.

Pairings: Mallus x Yuu

Enjoy~!

Starter, Part 1(Pomefiore), Part 2 (Heartslabyul), Part 3 (Here)

Diasomnia was strangely desolate, something that Louis wasn't really expecting. He would have thought the dorm would reflect Briar Valley. The times he'd seen the valley, it was full of lush vegetation, life seeming to spill out of every corner. The only place that looked vaguely like these densely packed dead woods was the royal castle of the Draconia’s. But, even then, the castle had a beautiful rose garden. At the thought of the Briar royalty he scowled, his resolve only growing as he stomped through the woods. Eyes roaming through the trees looking for someone.

Louis Durand was the eldest son and crown prince of Ulstead, one of the longest-standing royal families of Twisted Wonderland. Honey-blonde hair and aurora-colored eyes showing his heritage of the Knight of Dawn. His light-plated iron clinked, gold and iron mix giving off a pale sunshine hue, added protection from his basic princely attire. Long hair braided back and pinned with his family’s crest acting as a crown.

Soon he finds someone, his eyes widening before a smile breaks out on his face. He picks up his pace seeing the figure under the tree slowly open his eyes. Silver hair and dressed in a black and green military uniform, Louis couldn’t keep his voice quiet as he ran closer, " Beau!"

Matching aurora eyes snap open at the name. Silver sighs under his breath, not sure if staying asleep would be better or worse in this situation. Instead, he stood up, waiting for the prince to reach him and for the common argument to start.

Malleus walked with Yuu, smiling at the pout on the human's face, "Why are you so upset, my dear? It's a lovely day and I have you all to myself. Why the long face?" In hand was his spinning wheel wand. He didn’t have his pen in such form normally, But while in his dorm uniform, the staff was perfect for the overall look. Plus, it felt good to wear such regal wear with his child of man in their own new dorm uniform of Ramshackle.

Lilia himself was delighted seeing the outfit, saying Yuu looked like a troublesome fairy he had a run-in with long ago. A light tealish green button-up shirt with bluebell-shaped sleeves. A darker grey-teal vest over the shirt, a series of leather belts wrapped around their waist to hold an assortment of things, one of which being a bag of marbles. (For purposes Yuu told the others.) The vest had multiple tail ends, layering into a rough jagged line like the edge of a leaf. Leggings patterned with asymmetrical lines to mirror shattered glass. The look was pulled together with a pair of leather pirate-style boots that folded over their knees and a worn-looking navy captain’s hat, refurbished lightly to match the color of their dorm better.

Malleus himself could see what Lilia meant when Yuu wore their new uniform. Though it was a collaborative design by Divus and Yuu, the final result came out very close to the common fashion of Briar Valley. And with their temper and short stature (Compared to him), Yuu truly reminded him of the trickster fairies of the woods. Oh, the times Malleus had to keep Silver from being led astray by little wings of glitter. At the very least, Yuu gave kisses instead of deceiving the innocent…Well, Yuu does the same but it was normally unlethal. Now looking down at his lover, he smiles, tilting his head at the pouting human. He wonders if he could get away with calling them a pixie. He chuckles, raising an arm to place around their shoulders, “Come, let me hold you.”

Yuu huffs, leaning away from Malleus' arm as he tries to bring them closer. They glare at the tall fae, crossing their arms across their chest, "You know very well I wanted to meet your grandma. And you have the gall to stand there, looking cute, and call me over here after you already sent her home!"

The laugh Malleus let out was loud like thunder, it would almost be threatening if not for the warmth in his smile. He leans down, forehead resting on Yuu's as he looked into their eyes, "Are you truly upset you couldn't meet my grandmother? Or are you upset you haven't been able to embarrass me in front of my maternal figure like you've done your other lovers?"

They scoff, turning around to walk away from Malleus, but didn't try to move when he wrapped his arm around them. Yuu rested against his chest, sighing forlornly as they placed their hand over their forehead, "All I ask is to look into your grandmother and have her look back at me…"

"..." Malleus laughs, standing up and moving Yuu to face him directly, "You know, I may consider introducing you to my grandmother more if you stopped insinuating she is the void."

"Have you ever seen your grandmother and the void in the same room? I haven't." They laugh at Malleus' smile, pulling him down and leaning in to kiss his cheek. Giving him another seeing how the fae beamed under the physical affection.

Their sweet moment was interrupted by shouting, the sound of it getting closer and closer. Sharing a look, Malleus stands back to full height, a hand placed on the middle of Yuu’s back, the two of them walking toward the sounds of arguing.

"-before someone sees us, we should go!"

"Louis, please just go. I'm not having this argument with you again…"

Yuu blinks at the unknown boy trying to pull Silver through the woods, the gray-haired boy digging his heels into the dirt. Silver looked more annoyed than distressed at the manhandling, but, Yuu still pulled her golf club from the back holster Crewel had designed for them, "Hey! The fuck’s going on here?"

Her shout was enough for the both of them to look over in surprise, giving Silver the chance to finally slip out of the mystery boy's hold. The 2nd year was quick to join them, standing just slightly behind Malleus on his side in his normal position as a retainer. For whatever reason it made the boy glare, frowning fiercely at Malleus.

"Still insulting the Ulstead crown with your display, I see. He should be in jewels and celebrated! Not set to the side to be forgotten and overlooked by your people!"

Malleus' mirthful attitude was gone, a bored look on his face as he looked down his nose at the armor-clad boy.

Seeing Malleus wasn’t going to grace the stranger with an answer, Yuu spoke up. Their golf club swinging lazily to tap against their calf, "While I agree Silver is a national treasure, you can't just be grabbing and dragging people around like they owe you money."

The stranger opens his mouth, poised to start yelling at them too before he freezes. Looking at them, his eyes widen in shock, "You're human?"

"Good eyes, now explain yourself-"

"Fair maiden you must come with me at once! This land of fae and fowl isn't safe nor suitable for humans!" He reached out, moving to grab onto Yuu's wrist only to be forced back by a crackle of green lightning.

Yuu was just as surprised, blinking when Silver pulled them farther behind Malleus and missing the prominent anger in the fae's eyes as dark clouds began to gather above them.

Malleus’s eyes seemed to glow the darker the area became, his face a deadly edge of sober as he tilted his head slightly, "You dare try to abscond with my treasures? I would think your family knows a dragon does not give from their hoard so lightly…"

The stranger matched Malleus' expression, taking a step forward before he was interrupted by Silver sighing.

"Louis. Please. Just go home. I've long made my choice and I would like it if you and your family to respect it."

“They’re our family!” Louis' face crumbles, a hand reaching out in a pleading motion toward Silver, " Beau, please just come home with me. We can talk this out with the family and see if you've been cursed like father thinks. If all is well we can go from there."

Yuu casts a confused look toward Silver, raising an eyebrow, "Beau?"

Silver shakes his head, not wanting to explain, missing Malleus locking eyes with Louis. A smug smirk grew on the fae’s face before he spoke.

" I would like it if you left my brother be. He doesn't wish to speak to you."

"He is not your brother you accursed, bastard!"

"Now, now. There's no need for all of this yelling…"

Lilia dropped down from above a few paces away. Instead of his normal dorm uniform, he wore a tight thorn pattern long-sleeve top, the high neckline hidden by a false collar and a bright green tie with a complex-looking knot. Long pants tucked into knee-length lace-up boots. His oversized jacket was replaced with an open-back vest in the dorm colors, long coattails trailing behind him. The look pulled together with his normal dorm accessories, the vest showing off the spiked spine brace the Diasomnia students regularly wear.

His youthful face was strangely in a neutral expression. He looks to Louis, not even flinching at the glare. Turning to him fully, Lilia gives a polite smile, trying to calm the enraged boy, "Prince Louis. I understand the campus is open to all visitors. But, you are aware Silver doesn't wish to speak to you or the other Ulstead royals unless it is at the yearly treaty festival or you’ve called ahead of time."

Louis stomps forward, getting directly in Lilia's face to snarl, "His name is Beau, you thief!"

"Enough!" Silver steps forward, standing beside Lilia and only stopping at the hand gripping his arm, keeping him closer to Lilia, "I will not let you talk to my father like this."

"He isn't your father!" Louis looks to Silver, eyes pleading, "Beau, no matter what they've told you, they're lying to you. They aren't your true family and all we want is for you to come home to us…"

Silver’s face clenches, almost winning in the fight to not grimace. His fists ball up at his sides, turning his head away from Louis as he muttered, “Who I care for isn’t your choice to make…”

Lilia glances at Silver from the corner of his eye. Seeing Silver's anger, he opened his mouth to calm his son, only to have Louis speak before him.

"He won't love you like a real father would. You know that. You'll be dead and gone long before he even has time to care about you."

That was enough to make Silver crumble, the 2nd year hunching into himself hoping to hide away from the other's hurtful words.

The sound of thunder and lightning was deafening. The dark clouds overhead that had eclipsed the sun were almost meaningless as a single bolt of lightning illuminated the grounds, striking dangerously close to the group. Both of which were ignored by Lilia, scooping Silver into his arms.

Placing the taller boy onto his hip and supporting his legs while glaring at the human prince, "If you'll excuse us, my son seems to be under the weather. I'm going to get him inside to rest."

Lilia doesn't look back, walking away like Silver weighed less than nothing in his hold. Even with his confused expression, Silver soon relaxed, properly latching onto his father and resting his head against the top of Lilia's hair.

Yuu looks over to Louis, frowning at the other human's intense glare at the retreating figures, "You know, as a fellow human? That was extremely fucked up, you know that, right? Like severely fucked."

"I quite agree with my child of man." Malleus' face was stone cold, his tinted lips curling over a fang as he snarled, "It was fucked."

“What’s fucked,” Louis somehow made the vitriol in his voice even harsher, eyes glaring into Malleus’ cold green iris, “Is stealing a prince and making him a guard to the enemy of his nation.”

Malleus leans in, a small smile showing his fangs as he spoke in a soft mocking tone, “He wasn’t stolen by fae hands. Nor are we enemies, the treaty was signed nearly 20 years ago Prince Durand.” His smile drops, voice almost a growl, “You’d do well to remember that.”

Louis’ hand reached toward his sword, managing to draw it out only a few inches before a force slammed into the hilt of the blade, forcing it back into the sheath. The head of a golf club resting on top of the rounded metal of the weapon, Yuu’s dark eyes glaring into his own morning dews, the silent promise clear in their actions. He huffed, his glare only barely softening as he addressed Yuu, “Stand down, maiden. I don’t know why you’ve allied yourself with this fae, but he is not to be trusted.”

“With all disrespect? What I do with the future father of my child is none of your business.”

Malleus’ magic forms around Yuu faster than she could swing and faster than Louis could grab her. The green aura glittered around her, lifting Yuu into the air and away from the human’s out-reaching hand. Louis glared at the prince, his hand clenching into the open air.

Louis closes his eyes, trying to calm his breathing before looking up at Yuu, “You…Miss, you can’t be serious! The Draconia family is founded on the wicked deeds of the Thorn Fairy herself! To be a human and want to continue that line-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Yuu was now lounging in the air, golf club resting over their crossed legs, “I’m going to do my best to be…polite with my reasonings. I don’t care, I just don’t care. I like Malleus, so I find no issue in doing him this kindness as his close platonic-romantic friend-soulmate. The choices I made to carry the potential apocalypse baby are just that. My choices. Just like Silver apparently chose to be Silver instead of Beau. Learn to live with it. Cope, seethe even. But don’t make it our problem when clearly you’re the only one bothered.”

The expression on Louis’ face was odd. A strange mixture of anger yet heartbreak, the type of look that spoke of internal struggle. Yuu almost had enough time to feel bad, opening their mouth to give some kind of comfort, before the human royal’s face steels.

Louis stepped back, rolling his shoulders into the proper position and looking into Malleus’ eyes with a neutral expression, “Apologies for my outburst Prince Draconia. I will take what you said into consideration. Good day to you and your…” His face fights against the sneer he wants to pull, “Consort…Good day.” With that, he spins in his iron-plated heel, stomping his way back toward the dorm’s mirror.

“...” Yuu turns to Malleus, still floating in the air, “Put me down.” Malleus raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t take his eyes off of Louis until he was well in the distance, “Why…?” “I’m gonna beat his ass.”

A smile breaks across his face, looking out from the corner of his eye to see the glare on the prefect. Yuu never failed to entertain, always having a gesture or words that would pull him from sour moods and episodes of sorrow. Be it a physical reminder of their friendship or a verbal assurance of their shared devotions, Yuu always made him smile, even when he didn’t want to.

Malleus shakes his head, “No. You have no need to engage in combat with the likes of him. You are my consort after all.” He starts to walk toward the dorm, keeping Yuu suspended in the air with his magic. In their current mood, they were more likely to ignore his words and chase the prince down than listen. His thoughts reminded him of Silver and Lilia’s emotional states, the urge to check on them growing once Louis’ presence was fully gone.

“Oh, is that gonna be your new favorite word? Because you’re gonna make Jamil and Azul jealous. They can only call me ‘girlfriend’ for now.”

“I suppose they can cope then. Seethe even.”

“Stop stealing my words! You make it sound so much fancier when you say it.”

Malleus chuckles, bringing Yuu closer to place another kiss against their cheek, “Cope.”

Diasomnia’s dorm was massive, scary, and regal. It was also peacefully quiet when Malleus and Yuu walked inside. The families that were chatting away in the common area had all vacated, leaving the room bare except for Sebek, Lilia, and Silver. The pearly-haired human was sleeping, head resting on Lilia’s lap while the short fae caressed his hair.

Walking to the couch, Yuu sat beside Lilia, Malleus taking the armchair that Sebek instantly jumped up to stand beside.

"So I have to ask, why the outfit change?"

Giggling, Lilia turned to look at Yuu, a sneaky smile on his face, "While I normally, as you say 'serve cunt', I decided to change into something semi-respectable since I knew visitors of the valley were coming." He gestures mildly to his new outfit, "As such I picked something that echoes my old war armor."

“Well you failed, you’re still serving cunt, good sir. But next question…Who was his royal dick?” Yuu asks, their voice hushed even though they knew Silver wasn’t going to wake up with anything less than Sebek screaming in his face.

Lilia sighs, “Prince Louis Durand. Crown prince of Ulstead and…” He sighs again, the force of it almost fully deflating him, “And Silver’s twin.”

“He has one of those?”

Sebek scoffs, rolling his eyes but refusing to say anything. He grew up dealing with the human prince’s numerous visits. Louis would do everything he could to exclude Sebek, but Silver was just as vigilant in making sure he was involved. Once, Silver held onto Sebek’s hand and refused to let go for the whole visit. It took both Baul and Lilia to pull them apart once Louis had left, Silver claiming he couldn’t unclench his hand.

“Yes…It’s a long story, but by fae laws Silver is mine and his blood family isn’t too happy about it.”

Yuu tilted their head, “I wouldn’t be either, this is extremely suspicious. Lilia, you said you found Silver on the ground.”

“I-” Lilia realizes what Yuu was insinuating, snapping his face up to pout at the prefect, “I did.”

“Lilia, how do you find a baby prince on a random forest floor?”

The pink-haired fae huffs, arms wrapping tighter around Silver’s sleeping form, “Well, I did! Believe me or not, I found him fair and square. He even picked me over them so they have no right to complain…”

Yuu smiled, always loving to pick at Lilia when the older fae would get annoyed with her, “Your story is falling apart. Did the baby pick you or did you find him, Lilia? What is it you want me to believe?”

Lilia was fast, a hand reaching out and pinching Yuu’s ear to tug on it. He hisses out a shush while she squirms in his hold, “Hush, let me tell you what happened…”

Silver was led to the palace throne room, his small hand gripping onto Sir Baul's as the old fae stared ahead. He was stern as usual when he came to collect him, but the look he had when he called Silver made his stomach twist. Sebek had gone quiet again, only waving goodbye as Baul led him from the room. He didn't know what was happening as the double doors of the throne room opened. On one side of the room stood his father and on the other side stood a group of strangers wearing the same colors as the people who stormed their home.

Days ago, he and his father had to flee to the palace when a group of human knights broke down their door in the middle of the night. Silver had never felt such terror, watching his father fight off a squad of intruders before scooping him into his arms. He had jumped from the bedroom window, Silver only in his pajamas and Lilia still smelling of burning flesh from iron as he sprinted into the woods.

They reached the palace, a number of fae knights riding into the woods at his father's report. He wasn't proud of it, but he cried when he had to leave his father's arms. The short fae smiled and teased him, saying he was only getting bandaged and to not be so silly. He was sulking about later in his brother's Malleus’ arms. He was six years old, he shouldn't be crying as such anymore.

Over the next few days, Silver was with Malleus for most of the day. Sebek joined them and was oddly soft-spoken, the younger boy looking at him pained and heartbroken but wouldn't tell him why. He would hear voices echoing in shouts in the halls, unknown knights staring at him. Their eyes made him nervous before Malleus whisked him away. But now, in the throne room, Malleus was standing beside the queen, looking upset and refusing to meet his eyes. Even father wouldn’t look at him, only the glamourously dressed family standing on the other side of the room would look toward him.

Her Majesty spoke, her voice an odd mix of cold yet cordial, “Silver-”

The unknown woman, who Silver now realized also had a crown in her braided warm brown hair, snapped. Her soft smile turned into a vicious frown as she rounded to the Queen, “His name is Beau.”

Her Majesty simply sighed, just barely keeping from rolling her eyes, a hand held up to calm the guards and Malleus, “Child. You are being offered a choice on this day. It is your choice alone if you return home with either Lilia Vanrouge or the royal family of Ulstead, the Durands. Make your decision judicially, you will not gain another.”

…

Silver looked over to the strangers. Whatever anger the woman had felt was gone, leaving behind a kind person who reached out to him before pulling her hand back to her chest. Looking at them closely, he fully saw just how lavish their clothing was, soft and bright colors unfound in the valley since so many made their living working with nature or potions (It’d get dirty so quickly). Delicate light fabrics with sewn-in gems and woven gold threads. They looked at him with such hope. Around them, guards of that knight stood showing chests of gold shiny board swords and armor. A boy who looked so similar yet different from him smiled, a stuffed bear held tightly in his arms.

He waved, bowing his head in a show of respect for the visiting royalty, but the beaming grins they gave back to him didn’t ease the discomfort he felt. He was sure the woman was one second away from rushing over to him and taking him in her arms, never to be seen again.

To the other side was his father. Standing silently and still, so unlike himself it made Silver more uncomfortable than the overly friendly strangers. Father stood in just the cloak he had on when they absconded to the palace, the black cloth hiding his body and long hair tied into a low ponytail. He wouldn’t look at him, he wasn’t even smiling. Silver had never seen his father so…impartial. It was frightening, but it only cemented the fact Lilia was his father.

Looking the fae over, Silver’s mind brought to light just how much he knew about his father. He knew the exact cloak he had managed to grab. A flash of yellowish-green peaking from the hood. The fruits of his and Sebek’s sewing lesson from weeks ago. Silver knew in that hood was a crudely stitched-in bat (From when he was in the war his father told him, to keep others from stealing his cloak), a simple bright green oval, a chartreuse blob to mimic a crocodile, and a simple ivory-colored smaller bat. Father always stated it was his lucky cloak.

Though he tried to hide it, Silver knew his father’s hair was streaked with blocks of white strands. They were debating on which color he was going to dye it next. Silver was so close to convincing him to try orange, he knew it’d look ridiculous, but his father would do it if he could persuade him properly.

And the final secret Silver could easily see was how his father fidgeted with the bracelet he had gifted him. It was something of a nervous tick, the fae would at times look into the distance and simply tape his sharp nails against the seeds. Sometimes Silver worried he would break the charm one day, only to watch the same worry overtake his father would he seemingly tapped too hard.

He wasn’t sure of the severity of this decision, but he had his options and his choice was clear.

Silver squared his shoulders, keeping his eyes trained on his father as he walked towards him. His stride only stops when the woman gives a heartbroken cry of ‘Beau’. He looked over his shoulder, seeing the strange family crumbled, tears gathering in their eyes. The woman all but falls to the floor, being held up by her husband who looks at him in disapproval. The boy’s expression hurts, it’s pleading, heartbroken. Silver strangely felt for him the most, but he couldn’t leave his father to his lonesome.

Before long Silver was standing right in front of Lilia, bright aurora-colored eyes trying to catch glittering magenta ones. Lilia laughs, short and almost damp. He finally looks at Silver, expression pained as he fights back his tears, “You wish to go with me?”

Silver nods, not a moment of hesitation, “I’m ready to go home now father.”

Lilia doesn’t hesitate either. Scooping Silver into his arms, tucking his son’s face into his neck and walking from the chamber at a quick pace. Silver hears chaos engulf the room, the woman from before starting to scream in anger and Her Majesty raising her voice to demand she calms herself. Silver looks up from his father’s collar, catching hauntingly similar aurora eyes before the doors close behind them.

“Of course the Durands never let it rest. Maleficia was honest with them…” Lilia sighed, looking down at a sleeping Silver, “Silver doesn’t count as ‘Stolen by Fae’. As such there was no trade, so no proper test could be given and Silver was left to pick where he went.”

“Did they not…think he would pick you? I mean you were his dad for his whole life…”

Malleus sighed from his chair, eyes gazing into the green fireplace, he hint of annoyance curling his lip, “My grandmother warned them of that likelihood. But they were insistent on Silver knowing he’d want to be with ‘his blood’...” Malleus wouldn’t speak of the shouting match that broke out when Lilia fled the room with Silver. But, he was just as smug when his grandmother smiled and explained to the wailing queen that Silver had made his choice.

“The silly boy really just walked up to me with no doubt in his heart. But, from there, the Durand family was calling at our home near weekly.” Lilia sighs, remembering the string of panic attacks he’d gain waking up to iron-clad knights banging on his cottage's front door. The number of letters he’d start to just burn in the fireplace, each one detailing and painting him as a wicked being for stealing a vulnerable infant from his loving home.

Yuu scoffed, leaning back into the couch, “What? So they just show up every few days to bother you guys and shout that you’re not a real family?”

“Not nearly as much as before. But basically.” Sebek sighed, shaking his head in mild irritation, “The king and queen have stopped coming so often, only at the yearly Peace Treaty celebration held at our borders.”

“They stopped visiting around Silver’s 10th birthday…Louis still spends his summers camped out in the woods with his posse.” Malleus pouts, the windows darkening as his mood briefly soured, muttering under his breath, “They keep sending him gifts heavy in iron though…”

Lilia caresses Silver’s head, smiling at his serene face, “Louis always tried so hard to be by Silver the first few visits. He was more docile when beside him, but when anyone tried to detach them, he’d throw such tantrums.”

Malleus looked to Lilia, eyes lidded in annoyance, “Tanturms. Lilia, he stabbed you when you tried to wipe Silver’s face.”

Lilia waves Malleus’s words off, ignoring Yuu’s surprised laughter, “It didn’t even draw blood. Barely counts as a stab.”

Lilia would never lie, but he never told the whole truth either. He never told Maleficia the truth the night he brought a human baby for her blessing and he thinks he never will. He didn’t lie, he never stole Silver. But, he never told anyone the whole story.

He met the Knight of Dawn the night Maleaonor died, the knight had saved both his and Malleus’ lives. They barely spoke, eyes meeting before the knight turned around. He told him and Baul to run, that he’d deal with whoever entered the tunnel after them.

It’s embarrassing, Lilia thinks to himself sometimes. The fact that simple action was enough to make his heart flutter, in the moment he attributed it to his adrenaline. But he still blushed and whispered under his breath a basic blessing as a thank you.

Lilia thinks he’s cursed to take care of the children of those he loves. He cared about Maleficia for taking him in and then he became Maleanor’s keeper. He loved Maleanor and Revan, Malleus was more his mother’s son than his father’s he’s realizing. And only once his heart fluttered and now he’s staring down at a sobbing infant.

He wasn’t sure why he walked to this old place, taken over by the people who killed his friend and orphaned his charge. But a part of him was happy he did. Two children in a basic bassinet, one sleeping peacefully while the other wailed. How his sibling didn’t wake up worried Lilia, but he decided to tend to the screaming one first.

One blessing later, the baby’s golden hair turned Silver. At least whoever took care of them would be able to tell them apart now. Soon he pulled away from the bassinet, leaving the awake infant to start crying again. It pained him to leave the poor dears, but they were human and he was a fae. He couldn’t look after them properly. So he’d drop a hint to the Human kingdom, something about hearing the sounds of a crying baby in the abandoned ‘First Castle’.

It was easy to connect the dots when the neighboring kingdom spoke of the joyous event of the queen birthing two twin boys. Lilia was fine with that, those boys deserved a happy home full of love and care. One he could not give, not since his own efforts took so long to even hatch Malleus. A human child can’t live as long as it takes for him to muster enough love for a child to be raised on.

But only a week later, walking through the woods in his late-night musings, he hears a familiar cry. In the silver band of moonlight, he finds that same infant crying nestled in the roots of a dying tree. The basic nightgown was gone, the baby simply wrapped in a blanket, though surprisingly a thin gold chain with a familiar golden ring. Lilia so badly wanted to turn and walk away, maybe leave another tip to the humans they seemed to be missing a whole baby.

Instead, the infant cried, tiny pudgy hands reaching out to him for comfort. He really had gotten weak in his old age. Sweeping the baby into his arms he hummed the lullaby he’s been singing for centuries. And as the baby slept in his arms he smiled, walking back to his cottage, “Guess I will be taking care of you after all, aren’t I little one?”

Lilia didn’t take this child. He never even lifted him from that bassinet when he found both of them. This wasn’t kidnapping nor an act of theft. He was simply taking in a child he found in the woods and that’s all anyone had to know.

“Hmm…You need a name…Silver, Like a moonbeam in the dark…” He laughed, pressing a kiss to the soft strands, “And for your hair!”

Lilia wouldn’t tell the whole story, but he didn’t lie. He found Silver in the forest and he was his son.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #yuu oc #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #mallyuu #malleus x yuu #malleus x reader #twst malleus #malleus draconia #silver vanrouge #twst silver #twst sebek #sebek zigvolt #twist oc #diasomnia

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sunlightmurdock · 1 year

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The Dawn Patrol | Prologue | Bradley Bradshaw

Masterlist | Next Chapter | PLS VOTE

Arriving a day late, with a broken taillight, in the middle of the night, Bradley shows up to his new posting in the Florida Keys and finds himself mixed up with something sinister.

Warnings: themes of kidnapping, murder and death as well as predatory male characters, age gap: reader is 24, Bradley is 32. All chapters detailing sensitive topics will have more detailed warnings. Kind of unhinged reader, she’s a little feral but we love her. Will be smutty from literally the get go but as always specific warnings will apply — minors dni.

May 2nd 1986

Lottie is last seen on the Sugarloaf Marina at twelve-oh-six. Just after midnight, already a while past her curfew. It’s well lit, visible from the Sugarloaf Channel Bridge which leads down through the keys.

She is wearing a yellow halter top, white shorts, denim jacket. Some reports say that she‘s barefoot on the marina, others say that she was wearing some white sneakers. Took them off, lost them, wasn’t wearing them in the first place; she was right by the beach, the detail doesn’t matter in the beginning. Those kind of crossed wires aren’t the kind that are easily tripped over. She was wearing the shoes, but that won’t ever matter.

That bridge is almost always busy, especially so at this time of year, tourists moving from one key to another or heading down from Miami or central Florida.

By this point in the journey, people tend to start checking their surroundings again. The Overseas Highway has been refurbished into a main coastal highway between the cities of Miami and Key West — its been like that since the fifties. Offering travellers a roadway through a tropical savanna environment and access to the largest area of coral reefs on the U.S. mainland.

If Bradley Bradshaw had looked to his left at exactly midnight on that night in May, as he crossed the mile marker on the Overseas Highway, he would have been the second to last person to have seen Lottie Rivera. Alive, standing at the payphone at the edge of the beach, tears streaming down her face and blood on her knees.

He hadn’t looked. It’s something heavy to consider, all of the things in your peripherals that you’ll never know where there. What would have happened if he had seen her. He isn’t sure that he would have stopped. He isn’t sure that she wouldn’t have gone missing if he did.

The radio is playing Tears for Fears’ hit from last summer, Bradley’s still wide awake; he has been driving for six hours straight and he doesn’t feel ready to stop. His destination is coming up. There’s something so melancholy in the synth pop, he hasn’t really ever listened to the words as much as he does that night.

Going fifty-five, the ocean passes him by on either side. Steady streams of traffic, tourists pouring into town for the summer. Nothing ever lasts forever. He almost scoffs, wanting to spit back at the radio, wondering if some sick DJ is out there sending him this message just to spite him. Instead, he tousles his hand through his curls, resting his head against his hand.

The reminder that he has crossed the threshold and now resides on the wrong side of thirty sits in his knees, more so in the dull ache that has come to rest in them at some point over the last six hours.

He’d trade in his soul before he’d ever consider trading in this truck, but he has to admit that the bronco has its downsides. ‘75 model, fresh blue paint job, wagon style with a removable hard top and a freshly detailed white leather interior. Bradley paid sticker price for it back in ‘81; it remains his pride and joy today.

The leather looks pretty but his ass has been numb since he passed Fort Pierce. On the highway like this, the gears are steady as they are, he can stretch out his left leg a little but the right has a job to do.

Even with all of these aches and pains, his gut would let him keep on driving until the front wheels hit the Gulf of Mexico. Running sway’s funny like that — it all feels so definite when you’re getting in the car. Knowing when to stop’s the harder part. This time around, he has a destination.

Seems a little too close for his liking. He hasn’t ever been here before, never this far south in the US. But Navy? — That’s someone fucking with him. His dog tags rest around his neck now, tangling with the chain that holds his badge.

Six years of service, nothing to show for it but the chain around his neck and a couple of bad dreams now and again. This work suits him better than the Navy ever did. He’s got Admiral Simpson to thank for where he is now. Yet, the thought of looking that man in the eye and shaking his hand makes Bradley’s stomach churn.

Rooster passes by the Sugarloaf Marina at twelve-oh-six. The moon’s sitting high in the sky, it’s full and it’s a dazzling white. Too bright to not notice that tonight’s a full moon. Rooster’s eyes are on it as he passes right by the marina. He never once notices Carlota Rivera in her abundantly clean, white reebok club c’s or her little yellow halter neck that her mom had told her that she would be too cold in.

No, the first time that Bradley will see her, she’ll be missing one of those sneakers and her left ankle will be bloated and twisted abnormally. Her tanned, Italian skin will be a sullen grey and her naturally slim body will be bloated from the days in the water.

But for tonight, she’s alive, at twelve-oh-six, standing beside a payphone with a smile on her face.

His posting isn’t anything to do with Lottie. It’s a simple strangulation in a Navy barracks. Someone taking hazing a little too far. It’s shut and closed but it gets Bradley out of the city, and that’s all that had mattered. It’s none of his business tomorrow morning, when her Mom calls the Monroe County police department, bawling her way through a missing person’s report. It’s none of his business until six days later.

For tonight, his only business is getting to his new apartment and the remaining thirty minutes that'll take. He rubs his calloused hands over his eye, feeling it pulse in complaint under his fingertips. Sitting up straighter, he exhales slowly and blinks until he feels a little more awake.

Grabbing his suitcase and duffel from the back of his truck, and the keys that he had mailed to him two days ago, he sees his apartment for the first time as he’s setting foot inside of it. He knows that his landlord thinks he’s insane, putting a deposit down and four months upfront for a place that he had apparently no interest in seeing. That doesn’t matter. It’s better than he was expecting.

Two bedrooms and open-plan living space, pre-furnished, first floor with a balcony that faces the Garrison Bight Marina. He pulls open the sliding door and steps out onto the beige tile, leaning his palms on the wooden slatted railing that brackets the front of his balcony.

A perfect view of all of the yachts he’ll never be able to afford. Sea air, salty and thick. He heard that there was a small storm here the last night that carried through into this morning. Even if he hadn’t heard that, he would know. He can feel it surrounding him, like it’s holding him in place. Maybe fate.

A police siren whoops once and he looks up to the end of the road. He can just about see the police cruiser marked Key West Police, its lights are on but it isn’t after anybody. Not at first glance anyway. The aging, sunburnt driver leans out of the window and holds the radio to his mouth, “Make the right decision, Finch.”

And then the perpetrator comes into view. Police description would mark her as early-twenties, curly perm in a large denim jacket and a denim skirt with the same kind of faded wash to it, advancing on foot — well, heel, westward towards… Rooster glances to his left, having to squint to read the road sign under the dim-neon of the street light. Not alone, there’s another girl with her. Female. Early-twenties too. Laughing her ass off.

“Come catch us, Marshall!” She calls back towards the cop in the car. He looks exhasperated and already out of breath, but not surprised. This isn’t the first time he has chased the two of you. You’re intoxictated. Rooster can tell from the perpetual squinting grin on your face, the bubbly laughter — and most prevalently, the brown paper bag and glass wine bottle peaking out of it in your hand. He doesn’t have to be a detective to figure that one out.

Briefly, you glance upwards. You follow the feeling of eyes on you and land on him, the handsome brunette on the first floor balcony. Tired looking but pretty, bathed in a pink flush and wearing a barely buttoned cream over shirt. Your grin widens as you give a nod of acknowledgement to your solitary audience member.

“Yeah, if you can run that fast!” You call back to the cop in the car. Hayward Marshall, the shiniest turd of the Key West police department. Not a bad guy, but a narc nonetheless. “Fuckin’ pig!”

At that, the cop at the end of the road growls loudly in annoyance and finally pops open the driver’s side door. Rooster’s lips quirk softly as he watches the two of you turn and run. The cop waits for a beat, then quickly catches on. There’s no point in chasing you.

Rooster hears the door to the police cruiser slam as he steps back into his apartment. Without turning the lights on, he closes the patio door and drops down onto the couch. Exhausted to the point that even closing his eyes hurts, sleep comes for him much more quickly than the usual tossing and turning, ebb and flow of consciousness. Carlota Rivera takes her last breath at 1:49am. Rooster’s laying on his back on an uncomfortable could that might’ve been new in ‘73, just about asleep. The blinding sun streaming through the window wakes him again at dawn.

His first shift with the Monroe County PD is tomorrow morning, an 8am start. Lottie’s whereabouts remain unknown from that morning. She was already dead, but she wasn’t in the water yet.

Rooster has today for himself. First, is a shower. He doesn’t bother to shave, that can wait until tomorrow. Second, he unpacks the essentials. Not that he packed much more than that.

Finally, he walks outside into the morning sun with a pair of gold ray-ban caravans and a faded baseball cap. It’s already warming up, in the high seventies before Rooster’s watch even ticks past seven. He walks over to the railing and looks out over the docks. It hosts a fleet of about eighty yachts, big ones that could easily make the trip across the ocean to Europe. He’s surprised to see as many of them as there are.

Taking off his sunglasses, he’s even more surprised to see the feral minx that was outside of his window last night, howling laughter like a damn coyote, now standing on the deck of a thirty-five thousand dollar boat. You’re showered and dressed, and flushed with a remarkably healthy glow considering how drunk you were a couple of hours ago.

Hair tied back into a loose ponytail, curls decorating the sides of your face, wearing a white tank top and classic blue denim cut offs. Resting his elbows against the railing, he thinks back to your treatment of the police officer from last night and finds himself glad to have left his badge in his bedroom. He’s technically still a cop, even if he tries to distance himself from all of that.

If he wasn’t alone and unobserved, he would pretend that he knows what you’re doing. Fiddling with different canisters and wires. All that crap has never made too much sense to him. He likes fancy cars and cool boats, he just doesn’t really get them. Now, planes? — They were much easier to understand than cars ever were.

Salty, warm morning air and half a packet of mints in, your sinuses are more than clear and your eyes have only just stopped streaming from under your sunglasses. As much as you know you shouldn’t have been out last night, drinking as much as you were, it helps to know that you’re got access to the best freshly squeezed orange juice known to man on this boat.

Usually, you’re pretty aware of your surroundings. A young lady has to be in this day and age — that’s what your grandmother would say, right before you’d teasingly remind her that there’s little that’s ladylike about you. But, you don’t notice the handsome brunette that’s watching you until you turn with a heavy canister in your hand, grunting softly.

It’s clear that he’s been there for a while, he’s settled in against that old railing like a statue, just studying you. It’s almost refreshing that it’s not some sun-spotted, viagra fuelled retiree standing there and slobbering all over the path as he watches you work. But, it’s still a random guy that makes no effort to look away, even as you narrow your eyes at him through your sunglasses.

“You got a staring problem, or something?”

Rooster’s lips quirk upwards as you confirm every suspicion in his mind that you’re the girl from last night. He gives you a slow shake of his head and nothing else. He’s handsome. Tanned with pink cheeks, sunglasses that fit his face well and a shirt that’s pleasantly tight around his biceps. You’re seeing him for the first time now, last night is too much of a drunken haze for you to remember the brief encounter that you had.

If he came up to you in a bar, you’d let him buy you a drink and maybe fuck you in the backseat of his car. Truck, he probably drives a truck. He’s probably Navy. It’s growing increasingly easy to identify the men that turn up around here for a summer or two.

“Y’know, to most people, that means stop staring.” You tell him, setting the empty gas canister down onto the dock for you to carry back later. His lips quirk up further. Almost really smiling at you now.

“‘M looking at the boat.” Rooster shrugs calmly, still smiling softly. You push your sunglasses up onto the top of your head, swiping several tight curls with them. He’s not looking at the damn boat. You’re pretty when you’re glaring at him like that. All riled up like a pissed off kitten.

“You wanna see it up close? — Can wipe the deck with your face if you’re feeling brave.” You bite back at him. This time he grins at you, truly amused and still leaning on that rickety old railing. That’s the thing about working at Garrison Bight — you spend just as much time fending off slimy old men as you do actually working.

This guy doesn’t look that old. Or that slimy. He’s older than you, certainly. You can see that from the nice watch he’s wearing, the sunglasses, the dated baseball cap. Definitely Navy. Poor fella picked the wrong place to approach you, anywhere other than work and you’d happily play along.

He gives you a small shake of his head, settling back into that comfortable, amused smirk. “Not that brave,” He teases, turning his head finally to actually take a look over the yacht. Three floors, not including below deck. Huge. Beyond impressive. “I’ll keep on looking from right here, if that’s alright with you. Got a pretty nice vantage point from over here.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, lifting your palm to shield your eyes from the glaring morning sun. “Have you got a wife or something that I need to know about?”

“Not that you need to know about,” He shrugs, “She keeps herself occupied most days.”

Finally, he gets you to break. You smile across the gap between the yacht and the railing, amused by his joke. You set your sunglasses back on the bridge of your nose and tilt your head at him, giving him a quick look up and down.

“You ever had your dick sucked on a yacht?”

…

tags:

@thedroneranger @cherrycola27 @perpetuelledaydreaming @raisehailpraisedale @khaylin27 @sharpsapphic666 @fudge13 @slutfordw @averyhotchner @hangmanscoming @bradshawseresinbabe @diorrfairy @phoenix1388 @alm334 @princess76179 @cherrycola27 @wkndwlff @xoxabs88xox @galaxy-moon @itsmytimetoodream @sugarcoated-lame

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw au

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rainymoodlet · 1 year

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adriana moreno for juniper’s bachelorette by @wrixie!!

she was made at 3am in a ouid haze i promise we all just had a joint vision of hot pierced partner for juniper fhshhdd

adriana moreno is a del sol valley-based auto mechanic who’s looking for love and a chance to settle down!! after years of focusing on her garage and her own career, she’s realized that the nuances of the dating world have slowly passed her by: but that doesn’t mean she’s out of the game entirely!! juniper doesn’t know what’s comin’! 🧨

full name: adriana moreno

age: young adult (28 years old)

sexuality/pronouns: lesbian, she/her

traits: (bodybuilder) hot-headed, maker, outgoing

adriana likes: handiness, cracking ill-timed jokes, refurbishing old cars, driving w/ one hand on the wheel, experimental food, any dog on this green earth, being the mom friend, not taking anyone’s crap, not backing down in a confrontration, leather jackets

adriana dislikes: dancing (she has two left feet), appeasing sims, introverts, coffee with cream, doing anything “for the aesthetic”, disingenuous people, cartoons, synth/electronic music, karaoke, and performing for a crowd in general

* she also has all her in-game likes and dislikes accordingly!

she’ll be a private dl for wrix if chosen!! i am so excited to see another bachelorette challenge on my dash and to see another olevera challenge to boot! 🥹

#ts4 #ts4 screenshots #ts4 edit #ts4 bachelorette challenge #junipersbc #sim: adriana #||#i know i have more prioriiitieees 😩 but i got hit by the cas bug!!#if chosen you can do whatever you like w her visually!! i tried to do a more maxis-match style for her!#i am so excited to see the entries for this bc #and i really hope y’all join me in makin’ a sim!!#i’m planning on doing sim reqs after the first rose ceremony so keep those in mind 👀#once i get them… done 😭#but yeahhh adriana!!! 🥹 she’s a lesbian mechanic and is tired of bein single!!#who wouldn’t want a chance w juniper 👀#if you’d like any more info i can ofc give it!!#lorelei for rebouks’ taught me to use the same cc across all outfits so there’s a small amount of cc #so she’s fully packaged and ready to go! 💪

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ghostismybbygorl · 1 year

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Ahem

WHERES WHAT 141 DRIVES AND HOW THEY DRIVE

Price

So price has two cars a land rover for transporting things from base or if he's taking the team out for some gathering

He also has this baddie a old ford bronco that he refurbished. This car is his baby he only takes her out when its nice and warm

He drives like a old man.

Both hands on 10 and 2 or on hand on the steering wheel the other smoking a cigar.

Definitely drives the speed limit and obeys the traffic laws. He hasn't had a speeding ticket in 15 years

Ghost

So this mans drives a fast car and i will die on this hill. Have you seen him drive in las almas this man does not know how to drive a truck

He drives stick too

So i see him driving a subaru brz in black or maybe pink

I saw the pink one and i love the color of it

Also think id be funny if he just pulls up and everyone thinking its this frilly girlie pop but then this 6'4 man wearing a skull mask pop out of the car like its nothing

(I really want the pink car)

If you ride with him youre a survivor of his driving

This man drives FAST one hand on the wheel starbucks in the other. He ALWAYS drives with one hand and he's madly good at backing in and parallel parking.

Dont let him on the autobahn or he'd go as fast as his car can go

He has multiple speeding tickets its insaine that he still has his license

Hes a pro car weaver too if anyones going too slow hell pass them at

Soap

Since he's an outdoorsy guy i kinda see him drving a toyota 4 runner

Its got all the bells and whistles and he loves to take it mudding after a good rain storm

He's a pretty chill driver he drives with one hand on the steering wheel and the other out the window.

He listens to his music on full blast so you can hear the rumbling of the speakers if your behind him

He does the california roll on stop signs

He goes ten over the speed limit but if hes on highways he usually goes 20 over

Gaz

Jeep lifestyle

He loves his wrangler and he'll go off roading with soap on their days off

Very chill driver he'll drive like 5-10 over 20 if hes in a rush

His hand position on the steering varies sometime its at 10 and 2 other times he drives with one hand

He's never gotten a traffic ticket and would probably cry to price if he did

He's gotten in a wreck before and it didnt leave a scratch on his jeep

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diabolus1exmachina · 1 year

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Aston Martin Victor (1 of 1).

Meet the Aston Martin Victor, a one-off commission made by the company’s Q division and utilising a greatest hits package of learnings from the One-77, Vulcan and Valkyrie hypercars. Knowing where to start is tough, but let’s go bottom up. Underpinning the whole thing is a refurbished carbon monocoque chassis from the One-77, which is also where the Victor’s front-mounted 7.3-litre V12 engine has been sourced. It produced 750bhp when the One-77 launched a decade ago which – said no one ever – is not enough. It’s been sent back to Cosworth for another fettle and has returned producing a significantly more terrifying 836bhp (and 606lb ft of torque), still without a turbo in sight. Yep, 836bhp via natural aspiration. The noise is going to be good, isn’t it? It drives the rear wheels via a six-speed manual gearbox – in place of the One-77’s automated unit – making this the most powerful stick-shift Aston road car ever. There is a ‘bespoke motorsport clutch’, and I probably don’t need to explain why.

Helping its driver manage all of that are the inboard springs and dampers of Aston’s track-only Vulcan, with ginormous Brembo carbon-ceramic brakes and racecar-esque centre-lock wheels at the end of them. Clothing the whole lot is a carbon body inspired by the brutish Aston Martin Vantage of the 1970s and 80s. Yet thanks to a development programme that’s utilised computer fluid dynamic testing, it produces more downforce at 100mph than Aston’s current GT4 racecar. Probably welcome given the sheer muscle beneath. The rear lights are inspired by those on the Valkyrie, while if you head inside you’ll find a steering wheel nicked from the Vulcan programme. The paint scheme is a twist on the green-on-tan you’d associate with a classic British sports car, the exterior a dark shade called Pentland Green and contrasted with satin carbonfibre. Despite looking burly, the whole thing weighs less than the slender One-77 it’s so heavily related to. And the name? Following Vulcan and Valkyrie, you might presume it’s an aeronautical reference. We’re told it’s a nod to Victor Gauntlett, though, boss of Aston Martin when it launched the V8 Vantage its aesthetics have unsubtly taken inspiration from.

#Aston Martin Victor #Vulcan #Valkyrie #Cosworth #One-77

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nobody7102 · 1 year

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The Thing About Sunday: Part 5

Pairing: Preacher!Rhett Abbott x Reader

Warnings: 18+, Pregnancy, Smut, unprotected P in V, oral (F receiving), Fluff

A/N: Ahh the awaited Part 5

NOTE/DISCLAIMER: All characters in this story are of age (Rhett being late 20s/early 30s, Reader being mid/late 20s), if it isn’t clear in-story all actions/situations are consensual between the major of the characters if there is anything I missed in the warnings please let me know, but don’t be rude about it

Main Master-List

Part 4

——

Sitting in the gravel, Rhett slowly sank to the ground with Y/N still in his arms as he reflected on her words, staring off down the road until he was broken from his trace by Y/N’s body shaking as she tried to stifle her sobs “I-I… I’m so s-s-sorry Rh-Rhett” she cried into his shoulder causing him to hold her tighter.

“No no no Sweet Lamb” he cooed, brushing her hair down “you have nothing to be sorry for” he turned to kiss the side of her head “I’m the one who should be sorry…” he mumbled “...lets get you up Lamb'' moving one arm under her legs, he lifted her up bridal style, carrying her back to his truck. Arms moving to wrap around his shoulders, she hid her face in his neck, continuing to mumble ‘i’m sorry’ over and over until he got her into the cab of the truck. Rhett took her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to her’s “Y/N look at me” his words were soft as his thumbs brushed away the tear stains that littered her cheeks.

And he kept asking, pressing kisses around her face as more tears made their way down from her eyes until she met his gaze. His cobalt iris started to well slightly as he gave her a light smile “We’re gonna figure this out… okay? We’re gonna do this together, but you have absolutely nothing to be sorry about” his voice started to waver seeing how she finally calmed and relaxed. “You have nothing to be sorry for…” his words shook, letting his thumbs caress her cheeks for a few more moments before he made sure she was buckled, closed her door and rounded the truck to the driver's side. As he drove, he kept one hand on the wheel as the other held Y/N’s. Letting her squeeze his grip as tightly as she needed till they started to pull up to the house.

She sucked in a breath “Your parents!” her voice quivered as she turned her head to look at Rhett as he turned off his headlights.

Shaking his head, he brought her hand to his lips “It’s okay Lamb, they won’t know” Rhett pulled up in front of the old barn, or at least what was the old barn. The panels on the outside and roof had been replaced and repainted from what could be seen. “My dad and I finally fixed up the barn… It’s mine now” he reassured putting the truck in park before he exited the cab and rounded it once more to help Y/N out, before walking her into the barn.

The only time Y/N had been in the old hay barn was when she went with Trevor to get a calf that had wandered onto the Abbott property. Then the barn was rotting, covered in bird shit and filled with hay.

Now the barn was refurbished, decorated by Cece no doubt with touches here and there of couches or paintings Rhett had bought to make the space fit him better. Insulated something she could tell instantly from the heated floor that met her bare feet and the warmth that surrounded her. And the hay loft had been turned into an actual loft that now held the Master Bedroom, stairs now replaced the former rickety ladder that had led to the second level. Everything on the first floor was open, savefore the bathroom.

Turning on the lights Rhett led Y/N over to the couch, sitting her down and grabbing another blanket to lay over her lap before he sat on the edge of the couch. “Do you want anything Lamb? Water? Are you hungry?" shaking her head. Rhett took her hands in his, bringing them up to his lips, warming them before kissing the back of her hand “... So you’re really pregnant…”

Closing her eyes, she leaned against Rhett’s shoulder “I’m sorry… I know you probably we-”

“Hey hey hey” he moved to cradle her jaw “I meant what I said earlier… You have nothing to be sorry for” he moved to kiss both of her cheeks “...Listen, we can do whatever you want Lamb” his thumb caressed her cheek “If you don’t wanna do this, I will be right with you and you don’t have too… but if you wanna keep this, we can make it work… Okay?” he watched her nod “But either way you can stay here with me Lamb, and we… we can finally stop hiding… just be us” he hummed.

Causing Y/N to scoff “Yeah and have the town throw a hissy fit… the Preacher and the Sunday School Teacher, how cliche…” she shook her head as tears started to well in her eyes once more.

“No Sweet Lamb” he took her hands in his once more “Sweet Lamb, It dosen’t matter what the fuck anyone else says''

“...What about the baby… We’re not married Rhett what’s gonna happen if-”

“We could get married” Rhett quickly cut her off

Tilting her head slightly to the side she shook her head “Rhett I-”

“No” he insisted “You think I’m joking but I have never been more serious in my life Y/N” standing from his spot he walked into a corner of the kitchen, pulling open a counter drawer he grabbed something before walking back over “Y/N I’m not suggesting this out of pity or to look like some kind of hero” sitting back down he ran a hand threw his hair before turning to Y/N “We love each other, we know that and nothing else matters” Taking her hands he placed a small box into her palms.

Looking down at the box a gasp caught in Y/N’s throat “Rhett” her voice shook

“I was planning on waiting a few more months” he shook his head “But waiting it what caused me issues last time” Furrowing her brows, Y/N’s eyes darted back up to meet Rhett’s “I thought I had enough time to tell you how I felt before you left for college, but then you left early… then you came back and applied to work at the church” he chuckled. “I waited four years to tell you how I felt… I’m not waiting any longer for this” he moved to rest his forehead against hers.

“Rhett…” Y/N whispered as tears rolled down her cheeks

“Are these happy tears?”

Y/N laughed, one hand moving up to cradle his jaw “Yes.” she hummed “Yes these. Are very. Happy tears.” she emphasized every punctuation by kissing his right cheek, then his left, before finally kissing his lips “Yes… Yes”

Moving to wrap his arms around her waist, they buried their faces into each other’s necks. A laugh took over Rhett as he pulled from her neck, kissing Y/N’s lips before sliding off the couch onto his knees in front of Y/N.

Resting his forehead against her stomach “Hi little one… How ya doing in there?” Setting the box on the couch, Y/N’s hands ran though Rhett’s hair as he conversed with the blueberry sized life they had created. “Know that you are already so loved” he hummed “...our miracle” he planted a kiss on her stomach before leaning back on his haunches taking her hands once more “Have you been to a doctor yet.”

Shaking her head, she ran her thumbs over the back of his palms. “No… I-..” she sighed “I had a suspicion like a week ago… but the test came back negative, and I don’t know why but after we hung out and you dropped me off… I just had a feeling and so I took another test, that’s when it came back positive”

Nodding, Rhett took a moment to process “So this really is new… Well” standing he held his hands out for Y/N to take before helping her stand “Why don’t you take a shower… I will start to make something to eat” his hand trailed up her arm, he kissed her cheek feeling her nod.

“Shower sounds nice…” leading Y/N over to the bathroom, Rhett showed her how to work the shower before leaving her to it and starting to move around the kitchen, making food.

As soon as the door was shut a weight was lifted off of Y/N’s shoulders as she leaned against the bathroom wall, relief consuming her.

She would be free, free to finally be with Rhett, free from the judgment of her family. To live as she wanted. Smiling, Y/N pushed off the wall and started the shower, letting steam fill the room and fog the mirror before she undressed and stepped into the shower.

After she’d washed her hair and scrubbed her body of the dust, dirt, and stress of the day she stepped out of the shower. Towel wrapped around her form, she smiled seeing how Rhett had laid out one of his shirts and a pair of her panties that he no doubt had taken weeks prior. Taking the shirt in her hands, she hummed smelling remnants of Rhett’s cologne on it.

Once dressed, Y/N cracked the door open and stuck her head out, watching as Rhett moved around the kitchen. Tiptoeing over to the couch, Y/N’s eyes caught on the small box that she still had yet to open.

Snagging it off the couch and popping open the lid, her eyes lit up at the small gold band homing a light green gem at the center. Pulling the ring from the box, she slipped it onto her finger before making her way into the kitchen.

Sneaking up behind Rhett, her arms snaked around his torso as she pressed her face into his back.

Chuckling, he glanced over his shoulder before taking her left hand. Noticing how she put the ring on, he smiled before pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Have a good shower?” feeling her nod, he turned to wrap his arm around Y/N. Pulling her closer he kissed the crown of her head before motioning to the stove. “I wasn’t sure how you’ve been with morning sickness and all that, so I made rice and heated up some pot roast… I know it’s not really much but I-”

Cutting him off, Y/N pressed a smiley kiss to his lips before breaking away “It’s perfect” pressing another kiss to his lips, as she lingered, Rhett’s hands came up to cradle her face to deepen the kiss.

Holding a fist full of his shirt, Y/N hummed as Rhett’s hand moved to turn off the stove before his hands drifted down to her waist. Pushing the shirt up, trailing his hands up her shirt, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

Her hands moving up to tangle themselves in his hair. A moan left Y/N as Rhett licked into her mouth, trailing his hands lower, Rhett grabbed at Y/N’s thighs, signaling for her to jump. Following his subtle want, as soon as her legs were wrapped around his waist, Rhett turned to move up the stairs to the loft.

As Rhett walked up the stairs, one hand held firm on Y/N’s ass holding her up, the other crept under her shirt. Leaving goosebumps in its wake as he toyed with her breasts, his lips moved to her neck. Y/N’s hands fumbled with the buttons of Rhett’s shirt before she was able to push it away from his shoulders. Her hands roamed his shoulders with a feather touch before grazing over his tattoo and down his chest, a giggle came to her as she felt his chest hair beneath her fingers.

Before she knew it, Y/N was dropped onto a bed as she let out a squeal “What’s so funny Little Lamb?” he raised his brow, a smirk tugging at his lips as he untucked his shirt from his waistband and threw it somewhere in the room before crawling onto the bed.

Sitting up to meet Rhett, Y/N shook her head “Nothing…” she hummed as their lips met “...Just wondering how I got to be so lucky…” wrapping her arms around his neck. Rhett braced one hand on her waist and the other on the bed below as he eased her to lay back down.

Pulling away once Y/N’s head rested on the comforter, he chuckled “I should be asking you that” his hands moved to push her shirt upward past her breasts he groaned.

Painting her with hickies as Jackson Pollock would a canvas, as he worked on turning her skin into a splocky mess of red and purple. Y/N’s hands tangled into his hair as she craned her neck to watch as he continued on his path downward, stopping at her breasts, he took her into his mouth as he tweaked the other. A breathy moan filled the air as Rhett pinched her nipple between his teeth, giving it a slight tug before he placed a kiss to it and scooched down further, moving her hands to hold onto the comforter before his fingers wrapped around the waistband of her panties and slowly pulled them down her legs and throwing them off into the abyss of the room.

Watching as he sat on his haunches, Y/N’s knees knocked together as she smiled at him. Which he returned, and as he kept eye contact his hands moved to her knees. Pulling them apart before leaning down and resting one of her legs over his shoulder. Kissing along the inside of her thigh, as soon as he was inches away from his goal, he bit down on the soft skin causing Y/N to squirm beneath him. “Rhett~”

“Aww, already so needy” he mumbled as she whined.

Placing a kiss to the teeth mark on her thigh, his lips lingered before he delved down to her cunt. Taking one long lick along her slit before his lips locked onto her clit

“Fuuuck yes!” White knuckling the comforter, Y/N’s body would have curled into herself if it weren’t for Rhett’s hands pinnering her hips down to the mattress. Brushing his nose against her clit, Rhett’s tongue licked into her.

“Please. Please. Please” She panted as the heel of her foot dug into Rhett’s back as he practically made a hole in the bed from his hard he was rutting his hips into the mattress.

Pulling him up from her, Y/N moved to sit up. Taking off the shirt before pushing Rhett to sit straight and moving to undo his belt.

Rhett smiled as he watched her fiddle with the button of his pants, he let her work, and once she had unzipped his pants his hands flew to take her’s. Easing her back down onto the bed before he threw off his pants and boxers, letting them land somewhere in the room.

Crawling back up her body, every so often planting kisses as he went till he reached her lips. His hands worked to wrap her legs around his waist. “You’re my perfect little Lamb” he smiled as he slipped his cock into her folds. Y/N’s hands flew to his shoulders, but before they could settle to fully brace herself, Rhett took her hands in his own. Lacing their fingers together he planted their hands above her head as his thrusts started slow.

“Oh fuuck” Y/N moaned not caring who heard before she rested her head into the crook of Rhett’s neck “Fuck Baby” Her hands tightened around his as he continued his thrusts, soft and slow, filling her to the hilt.

“My Little Lamb… Perfect in every way” He panted “You’re gonna look so pretty Lamb” He huffed “All swollen… full of me” He moved to hold her hands down with one hand before he took his other. Hooking his thumb on her bottom lip as his fingers rested under her chin, he brought her gaze to meet his “Sweet Little Lamb… you’ve bitten the forbidden fruit and now look at you…. Full with my cum and swollen belly full with my child” he smirked feeling how she fluttered around him at his words before leaning down to her ear “... And now… You’re Mine” He growled as his pace picked up, hand moved back up to hold her’s as his thrusts grew feverish.

“I’m yours!” She mewled, letting her legs tighten around his waist. Nodding he kissed along her jaw “That’s right Lamb. Mine” He emphasized with a thrust “...My Wife”

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