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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

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One Wall Over: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: you’re new in the neighborhood, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get a warm welcome from your duplex buddy.

wc: 3k

tw: nsfw, smut, annoying noises at five am, the works

a/n: ahhhhhhhhh! I am so excited to be taking part in this collab with @suna-reversed reversed for a super sexy jjk collab! Please check out the masterlist for the collab here and the other authors! SO EXCITED TO READ THE OTHERS! (The other title I had for this work is “First of All, How Dare You” because that’s literally me every time I see my hubby Suguru, but anywho!).

Moving in was a bitch.

For the first time ever, you have no roommates, no parents, and no pets - just you and your meager belongings moving into the little, two-story duplex a friend allowed you to sublet. As you stare out of the window facing the sparse front lawn, you wonder what your neighbor is like. They hadn’t come to welcome you to the home, but you knew they existed by the sound of the bass through your shared wall at five am every morning.

You assume they’re male or a couple, but you’ve never gotten a chance to see them with your own two eyes. So you kept a lookout day after day. At exactly four p.m., you would sit across from the window with a book and keep watch, the sun streaming in and illuminating your figure and crossed legs anchored on the window sill. But day after day, you wouldn’t see anything. The neighbor’s car wouldn’t even move an inch from the previous day. Everything would remain the same until the next day when you took your perch by the window.

It isn’t until you’re out on your front lawn, slaving over the flowers you maintained for a whole month - a new record - that the sleek Range Rover drives up to the garage on your neighbor’s side of the house. At first, you don’t notice it, your eyes firmly planted on the soil at the root of your orchid tree. But then you hear a car door slam, and you look up, watching for the person who would be exiting the vehicle.

A tall, black haired man slides out of the truck and slams the door shut, his locks tucked into a half bun and a white towel resting around his rippling shoulders. He slides his keys into his gym shorts and turns to walk into the house, barely noticing you on the front lawn in an ill-fitting t-shirt and dirty yoga pants.

He’s halfway to his front door when you find your voice and yell out, “Hey, neighbor!” You wave your hand at him in hopes that he would return the gesture, but you’re sorely disappointed when he only looks your way with disinterest and walks into the house without speaking. You frown at the encounter, hoping that he would return a little while later and explain his lack of manners, but he doesn’t, and you retreat into the house once more.

______________________________________________________________________

“Unzzz, unzz, unzzzz…” Both eyes fly open at the sound of the bass on the other side of your bedroom wall, the sudden noise jarring you from your sleep.

“Ugh…” Your eyes slide to the white numbers on the clock face, which politely remind you that it’s five-fifteen AM. Don’t confront him, don’t confront him. You wrap the pillow around your ears, hoping the gentle cushion would block out the sound. But for some reason, it gets even louder, and a groan escapes your lips. There were only two more hours for you to rest, but at this rate, you’d be up until it was time for you to wake and get ready for work. That just wouldn’t do.

The grey sweatpants deposited on the floor the night before are quickly jerked on, and you pad to the front door, not caring about your appearance as you walk the length of the porch over to his front door. Inhaling, you find the will to bring your fist up and pound on the door, hoping the sound would be angrier than you actually felt. Fear ate at your nerves while you waited. A few agonizing moments later, the door is yanked open, music floods outside, and your neighbor stands before you in just a pair of black sweatpants. Nothing else.

“What?” he gripes, sweat rolling down his forehead. As your eyes take in the full sight of him, you wonder what kind of sculpted god you had for a neighbor. You could even faintly see the v that would culminate in the bulge near the crotch area of the pants, which apparently is quite--

“Uh…” You had entirely forgotten what you had come over to his side of the house for, but as he leans on the doorframe and gives you a withering stare, you suddenly remember your complaint. “Your wall is next to my bedroom. Can you turn your music down?” You place a hand on your hip, trying to seem more inconvenienced than you actually were in that moment.

“Yeah, sure.” He shuts the door in your face, and you trudge back over to your side of the house, hoping the music would soften.

But for some reason, you swear he turns it up even louder.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Why don’t you just call the landlord and make a noise complaint?” your friend wonders over the phone, the sound of a frying pan in the background slightly overshadowing her voice.

“But you said you didn’t have any problems with him, Mariela.”

“Yeah, Geto was nice enough and didn’t bother me much. Not sure why he’s being such an ass now.” You hear an oh, shit on the other end, and Mariela hisses into the receiver, “Hey, y/n, I have to go; the risotto is burning. Call me back if you have any other issues, okay?”

“Okay.” You hang up and toss your phone on your desk, trying to focus on the words in front of you but failing as the sound of the bass filters through the other side of the wall again. For the fourth day in a row, you’ve been subjected to the sound of pure noise coming through the other side. Tonight was absolutely not the night, mostly because you had a presentation that took you all night to finish, and the clamor was interrupting your prep work for the bright and early eight o’clock meeting. You feel like Squidward, subjecting yourself to the endless noises from the grunting to the bass to the sound of weights clanking back into place.

It’s the sound of Geto’s groaning that sets you on edge the most. If it weren’t for the added noise of weights, you’d be convinced he was fucking someone. There was no way he could make so much noise and not know that he was disturbing your peace. Hadn’t he ever heard of headphones?

You snatch up your set of earbuds on your desk, place them in your ears, and try to turn up lofi music as loud as it will go. But that doesn’t work. Even relocating to the living room didn’t seem to fare you well, and you wonder if he truly had cranked up the music higher than before just to annoy the hell out of you. Finally, you toss your earbuds down and slam your computer on your coffee table.

You’d had enough.

Stomping over to the front door, you fling it open and bang on Geto’s door, hoping he would answer it in a rage so you could let out your frustrations. But when the door flies open, he’s dressed in only a pair of gym shorts, this time the outline of his dick even more apparent. But you’re not focused on that. You point a finger at him and inhale to begin your tirade; sick and utterly over his shit.

“Hey! Can you fucking turn it down?” Geto stretches out a hand, and for a minute you think he’s going to grab you by the shirt, but he pulls you inside by the wrist, crushing you against his chest. “What the hell?” You push away from his sweaty chest, backing into the closed door harshly.

“Lower your damn voice; the neighbors will hear,” he chastises, and turns away from you to grab the water bottle on the counter. The muscled man takes a long swig, then wipes his face with the towel right next to it.

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, but I’ve never been so disrespected in my li--” As you talk, he’s advancing on you, pushing back his long black hair back behind his ears and getting too close for comfort. Once he’s right up on you, you gulp hard, fully intimidated by his size and stature. The music suddenly stops, and you’re left in silence.

“I’m listening,” he mutters, staring down at you. “Please, continue.”

“I was saying…” your throat dries up. “What I meant was…” Your eyes travel from his chest to his navel, and then to the hand pressed against the doorframe.

“Uh huh…” He nods, squinting his black eyes at you. “You said you’ve ‘never been more disrespected in your’… life, right?” You don’t reply. Rather, you can’t reply. All of the words you could have ever said are now gone from your skull. “I highly doubt that, y/n.”

“H-how…”

“You’re Mariela’s friend. I’ve seen you quite a few times before you moved in here. Never thought I’d be living so close to you, though. Mariela’s subletting, isn’t she?”

All of these questions. And you can’t reply to a single one because he’s practically squeezing you between the door and his rock-hard abs. Or are you pressing yourself against the door to get away from the heat emitting from his body - oh, fuck; you don’t know.

“But I had to get your attention somehow.” The admission startles you so bad that you accidentally knock the back of your head against the door, touching the point of contact in pain and hissing slightly. Geto hums at your blunder, then pushes off of the wall to turn away from you. As he rotates, you catch a glimpse of his erection, now fully apparent in the atrocity that is his shorts. “The yard work wasn’t effective, the trips to the gym and back barely worked; shit, by now I would’ve thought you would throw yourself at me the first chance you got. I guess I had to make you mad enough to confront me.”

“You literally looked at me and said nothing the first time I saw you!” you retort, throwing your hands up in the air. “Then you almost bit my head off the first time I came over to tell you the music was too loud.”

“I didn’t expect you to come over the first time. Besides, I couldn’t figure out anything smooth enough in that short amount of time.” Geto shrugs, his shoulder muscles moving like water in the dim lighting of the living room. You look around at the furnishings, noting his impeccable taste in wood and red suede in conjunction with his minimal exercise equipment. “Coffee? You look like you’ve been up for a while.” He leans over a coffee-maker - one of those fancy ones that you’ve seen on TV - and slides a plain coffee cup into the holder.

“Uh, no thanks.” You turn to the door and begin to open it, but Geto clicks his tongue thrice.

“You’re just going to leave without getting what you came for?”

You pause for a moment, then turn back to look him over once. “Don’t you mean what you brought me over here for?” A lazy smile spreads across his face, and that’s when you realize that he’s charming, but not necessarily as suave as you first imagined. You shut the door and walk over to him, examining his physique as if you hadn’t just helped yourself to his tall, statuesque figure already. He allows you to look him over, eyes dedicatedly following you.

“Like what you see, doll?” You don’t get a chance to answer as he pulls you into his chest with a smooth movement, then presses his lips against yours. You instantly open your mouth so he can slide his tongue inside, and he does so without hesitation. Hands grasp at your flimsy night shirt, pulling it over your shoulders as he backs you up against the wall, hiking one leg up and wrapping the other around his waist.

As both of your hands tangle in hair, fabric, sweat, you wonder how long - just how long - he’s wanted to do this. But your train of thought is rudely interrupted by his lips trailing kiss down your neck and to your collarbone, where he pauses for a second, catching his breath. Fingers dance through his locks and he peers up at you for a second, drinking in your flushed expression and breathy exhales.

“Geto, please, I--” You’re silenced again by his lips, his thick fingers rolling past the waistband of your night shorts and right to your core, where he nestles them into your heat with ease.

“Goddamn…” The rumbling of his voice vibrates against your chest, and you gasp, feeling every stroke of his fingers inside of you. “So fucking wet… just for me.” Your vision narrows in on the black eyes watching your every move, the angle of your face, the way you tilt your chin to the side and shakily exhale. Everything is perfect. Maybe even better than he imagined at first. But you don’t know that, and you really don’t care to know. All you want is release and for that release to be at Geto’s hands. When he removes his fingers and hoists you onto the suede couch, your first reaction is to cry out in shock.

His hands roll your shorts down to your knees and then press your legs open, spreading you for him to examine.

“You’re a mess down there… perhaps I should help you clean up.”

“Huh?” The double entendre is completely lost on you in the heat of the moment. You watch as he leans down, then moves to lick your core with a flat tongue, stroking up before he goes down again and repeats his action twice. Your head finds the soft cushion of the pillow in ecstasy, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding.

Geto hums down below, fully appreciating your taste before sucking on your clit, hard. You yelp, shooting up, but his hand presses you back down, eyes still closed. Fingers make their way up to your breasts, tugging at your nipples leisurely before tightening and pulling with more tension. “Oh, god, please…” Your hands find his head, and at the sudden application of pressure, he grunts again. And you’re left there in agonizing pleasure, dangling between an orgasm and a build-up of pressure, one stroke away from tumbling into the cavern of blissful unawareness.

Geto stops without warning, pulling back to watch you as he still tweaks your nipples with varying degrees of firmness. You tug at his shorts in a silent plea for him to discard them, and he waits a minute before sliding them off wordlessly. His length is impressive, you note, his cock springing free from his shorts and angled upwards a little. A condom is produced just as quickly, and he rolls it over himself before spreading you a little wider to accommodate his length. When he nudges his cock at your slit, you realise he’s a little breathless and shaking, but that all goes to the back of your mind when he slides inside of you with little resistance.

“Fuck, doll, that’s--” He groans just as you moan, both of you relishing the expanding feeling. “God, that’s perfect.” You whimper at his praise and bring your hands to his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he begins to pump into you. Geto’s lips find your neck and he sucks a hickey on your left side, placing another one neatly below it while his hands cup your ass.

“Does that feel good?” He whispers and you nod, completely at a loss for words. But soon, it’s not enough, and your fingers dig into his back. He’s fucking you slowly… too slowly.

“M-more,” you whine, and he delivers his thrusts faster, pumping into you and moaning loudly. Your fingers find his face and angles it towards your raised head so you can kiss him on the lips. He offers you that mercy - a deep, languid kiss - while he plows into you with abandon. Pleasure is the only thing on your minds - you just so happen to have found it in each other’s arms - and your orgasm is just within reach.

“Geto, I’m close…” His response to your words is to lift your left leg a little higher so it practically hung off the couch and in the air, deeping his strokes until they settled against your cervix, like someone tapping a soft rhythm into your stomach. “Shit, like that.”

“Yeah?” he exhales, looking at your face with a blissed-out expression, his cheeks reddening. You raise your hips to meet his with each thrust, hoping your orgasm would arrive before Geto came. There isn’t much you can do though, besides writhe beneath him and pull him closer to you, thereby making you and him almost inseparable. He’s merely rocking into your hips now, cock barely rolling out of you as before. And you can’t deny that it feels like heaven, not when you’ve been so frustrated for so long.

“I’m gonna cum,” Geto hisses into your mouth, and you nod, constricting a little to urge him on. What you fail to realize is that the constriction was just what you need to tumble over into the abyss of thoughtlessness, and your mouth opens to let loose a guttural moan as Geto fucks you faster and faster, chasing his own orgasm on the heels of yours. “Oh, shit,” Your neighbor sinks into you one final time, shooting his cum into the condom, but pumping in stuttered strokes as if he were really letting loose inside of you.

When you both fall from the heights of your sex-induced high, shoulders and heads are draped where there is comfort and space, little exhales from his mouth fanning across your breasts. Geto lifts off of your sweaty chest and looks you in the eyes before breathing:

“Maybe I should start my days with this instead of a workout.”

#geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen getou #getou x reader #jujutsu kaisen geto #getou suguru #geto smut #getou smut #jjk smut #jujutsuhub collab

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viking-raider · 3 years

Text

Southern Generation - Part V

Summary: The morning after Lily and Sy’s night in the barn, the magic doesn’t last as long as they both hope, but neither does the darkness that falls over the farm.

Pairing: Syverson/OFC

Word Count: 8,274

Warnings: M - Language, Violence, Attempted Kidnapping, Blood, Protective!Sy, Mentions and Light Smut, Fluff, Angst, Flu/Cold, Soft!Sy, Trypanophobia

Inspiration: I always wanted to write a Sy story.

Author’s Note: Thank you to @wondersofdreaming for all the love and support.

A harsh and wet sounding cough filled the bedroom, making Lily curl up on herself, shivering, and groaning as her body throbbed under the mound of blankets Sy had covered her up with, when her first round of coughs woke him, mid-morning.

“I'm here.” Sy called, coming into the room with a cup of steaming hot tea and a small saucer of dry toast for her. “Here.” He whispered, setting the cup and plate on the nightstand and fished Lily out of her blankets, then fluffed some pillows behind her back so she was comfortable, when she sat up.

“Thanks.” Lily replied, her voice weak and raspy.

“You're welcome.” He replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she nibbled on the toast. “Do you have any cold medicine?” He asked, going into the master bathroom, to open the medicine cabinet.

“I don't think so.” She answered, hoarsely.

Sy frowned into the open cabinet, drumming his fingers against the door and tapping his foot on the worn, black and white penny tile floor, trying to make a decision and calculation, before making up his mind and swung the cabinet door closed.

“All right, I'm gonna shoot over to store and pick up some cold medicine for you, maybe a bag of cough lozenges too. I know your throat must be killing you by how raspy your voice is.” He said, standing beside the bed and gently pressed his palm to her flushed and sweaty forehead. “Yeah.” He nodded, pressing his lips together.

“Do you need anything before I leave?” He asked, staring down at her, tenderly.

Shaking her head, Lily rubbed her goose-bumped and shivering arms. Frowning a bit more, Sy moved around to his side of the bed, nicking his hoodie off the back of a chair, and held it out to her with a gentle smile. Letting out a soft huff through her nose and smiling back, Lily took the black garment from him and slipped it on. Sy kissed the top of her head and went downstairs, grabbing his keys off the small table by the door in the entryway and left for the store, fifteen minutes away.

Lily nibbled on the last bland triangle of toast and was about to wash it down with the few remaining sips of her warm tea, when Aika started barking downstairs, making Lily sigh. It was a common occurrence, Aika loved lounging on the window seat in the living room and would go ballistic when she saw a squirrel, even more so, when the door was closed and she couldn't blow out of the screen door and chase after the poor, puff-tailed critter. She had told Sy, countless times, that he should just put a doggy door in either the front door or in both the front and the back doors for Aika, solving the issue of the German Shepherd barking and clawing at the door until it was opened for her.

But, even then, she would rush out onto the porch, scan for the squirrel, see it had disappeared and whine at her and Sy about it for the rest of the day, or until the next squirrel or chipmunk showed its plump face.

Throat far too sore and voice too weak, for Lily to yell out to Aika, she set her teacup aside and got out of bed, a strong shiver racing through her as her bare feet hit the cold floorboards. She had just made it out of her bedroom and into the hallway, when she heard distant whimper and Aika go eerily silent. Frowning, she slowly went down the stairs leading from the top floor into the kitchen, jumping in her skin and Sy's hoodie at a deafening slam that filled the otherwise quiet house.

The kitchen floor gently creaked under her feet as she slowly crossed it, to peek around the corner into the living room and entryway. Hugging herself against the wall, she didn't see anything. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but the feel in the air was anything, but ordinary. Aika was nowhere in sight, and Lily didn't hear a peep from her. She knew it wasn't Sy either. He couldn't be back from the store yet, even if he was, Sy was a mountain of a man, his footfalls were always heavy as he bumped around the house, and he would have called out to her, announcing he was back home.

None of that was happening in the dead silent house.

Her hands started to shake and she felt lightheaded, gripping the wall to keep herself steady, tears blurring her eyes, as nausea filled her stomach. She knew what this silence was, it was a silence she had feared for almost ten years, a fear she had been slowly learning to forget, but had started to build around her again.

Lily climbed the two flights of stairs up to her and Jak's second floor apartment, lugging her heavy shoulder bag with her. She was returning from an early afternoon class, already tired and wishing she didn't have one more class later that afternoon as she slipped her key into the deadbolt and opened the door. She froze in the open door, taking a moment to figure out what was wrong. When she realized that the tv she had left on when she left that morning for her first class was off.

A cold shiver raced down her back with a shuddered breath as the apartment door slowly closed behind her. The apartment was silent without the tv going in the living room, which was never a good sign. Usually, when Lily returned from her early afternoon classes, the tv was still on the news or whatever channel she had left it on when she left that morning.

On the days the tv was off, when she got home?

“Where've you been, Bunny?” Jak's voice asked as he entered the living room, arms crossed over his chest and looking cross.

“Hey there, Bunny.” A familiar voice chuckled behind her.

Lily yelped and spun around, pressing her back against the wall. “Jak.” She whimpered, looking up at him.

Jak was different from the last time she had seen him in Richmond, four years prior. He was still tall and lean, eight-ish centimeters shorter and nearly twenty kg lighter than Sy was. His ash blonde hair was pulled up into a bun and the sides of his head were shaved, his cheeks stubbly and his bottle-green eyes boring into her, like a power drill. The last time Lily had seen him, he had the traditional boy cut and his face was smooth, the camouflage of a good, church going boy.

But, there wasn't a trace of that boy now, that façade had broken away to the true monster residing inside the man, Jakson Abernathy, had turned into.

“I've missed you so much, Bunny.” He said soft, reaching out and gently brushed the knuckle of his forefinger against her flushed and feverish cheek, then brought it to his lips, licking off the tear he had collected.

Lily gulped, the agony of her sore throat forgotten in her panicked fright, facing him. “Please, Jak.” She pleaded with him, her voice a soft and raspy whine. “Just go. We don't have to do this. You don't have to do this.” She told him, hands twisting up in the pouch of Sy's hoodie.

“Move on.”

Jak snapped forward in a burst of rage, grabbing her by the throat and pinning her to the wall, the back of her head thumping against it with a hard smack. “Move on!” He roared, spittle flying from his lips and hitting her face. “Move on! I've been looking for your ungrateful ass for five years and the only thing you have to say to me is, move on.”

Lily's lips started to change color as the pressure of his hand around her throat increased, her arms shot out and gripped his arm, digging and scratching at his forearm and struggling against him, black and bright spots flashing in her eyes.

“I'll move on, when we get back home.” Jak told her, his thumb moving out to wipe across her lips.

“No, I'm n-not going w-with yo-u.” She choked, struggling to breath.

“Yes, you are.” He growled, nails breaking the skin of her neck. “You belong to me, since the day I met you, you've been mine. You think that fucking caveman loves you?” He taunted her. “You think him fucking your little cunt means he loves you, you're a fucking idiot. He's just fuckin' you for room and board, once he gets his fill and bored of you, he'll skip out.”

“But, me?” He brought his face closer to hers, their lips brushing. “I will always love you, Bunny. I will always come and find you, take you back home, where you belong. I'm the only one for you.”

Lily tried jerking her head sideways, away from his lips, but only earned a punch to the gut, knocking the teeny bit of air left in her body out.

“You always make shit so complicated.” Jak grunted, between gritted teeth. “Some things never change.” He berated her, shaking his head and about to strike her again, when the crackle and pop of tires on the driveway up to the house reached them.

“Fuck.” He hissed, hearing a car door slam, knowing Sy had returned from town.

Sy searched the cold and flu aisle of the small Celina store, trying to figure out which one would be best for her. “Why do you need eighty products that do the same thing?” He mumbled to himself, looking between the liquid and the pill form of the medicines. “Liquid would be easier for her to swallow, though, with her sore throat.” He reasoned, finally picking a product, then grabbed a bag of cough lozenges, even stopping to grab a bottle of her favorite juice, before heading for the check out line.

He sighed, impatiently shifting foot to foot, as the long line slowly progressed. He glanced at the other two open cashier lines, but they were even longer than his, making him growl, wanting to get back home to Lily already, before he froze, realizing what he was feeling. Lily and her place had become home to him. A real home. More of a home to him than his apartment in Austin or the place where he grew up with his parents. He felt like he belonged there with her and Aika, as if the three of them had created their own little family on the rag-tag farm.

So, when he finally got through the line and paid for his items, he rushed back home to her.

Quickly searching the kitchen, Jak grabbed a knife from the knife block on the kitchen counter beside them, then changed his hand from her throat to the back of her hair, turning her around and pressing her back against his chest. They stood in the kitchen, the tip of the knife pressed into Lily's throat, while they heard the screen door open and Sy's cautious footfalls step into the entryway.

“Lily?” Sy called out, his body tensing. “Aika!” He slowly set the grocery bag down on the floor, his nerve endings coming to life. “Hello?” He barked, his jaw tight, instinct telling him something was deeply off.

Jak pushed Lily forward, moving with her to stand in the entryway of the kitchen and living room, his and Sy's eyes meeting. Both men looked each other over, squaring each other off, trying to find their weaknesses and strengths, whether they could successfully take each other on; and win. Sy was purely confident he could take Jak out, but what he wasn't sure of, was if he could get to Jak before he hurt Lily with that knife he was gripping.

“So, you're him.” Sy said, his eyes hard and locked onto Jak, his blood was pumping and his hands were clenched into such tight fists, his knuckles were white.

“I am.”

Sy nodded, pressing his lips together. “If I were you, I'd let her go.”

“And if I were you, I would take yourself back out to your truck and leave this place.” Jak replied, motioning out the living room window to Sy's truck. “She's mine, caveman.”

Sy chuckled. “I don't think so, boy.” He grinned, taking a step forward.

“Ah!” Jak barked, taking a step back and pressing the tip of the knife harder into Lily's neck, a bead of blood trickled down and disappeared into the neck of Sy's hoodie. “Unless you want both of us to lose her, you'll back off.”

“I'm no-”

“Just listen to him, Sy.” Lily cried, gulping and whimpering.

“Lily.” Sy shook his head at her, trying to keep a handle on himself, for her safety.

“Please, Austin.” She begged him, a wash of tears streaming down her face and neck. “Please, just go.”

“I'm not leaving you with this prick.” Sy barked, not believing the words coming out of her mouth.

“You are, so just leave.” Lily told him. “I love him.” She sniffled, reaching back to grab Jak's shirt.

“Lily.” He barked, shocked.

“Don't worry about him, Bunny.” Jak cooed into her ear, but was grinning victoriously at Sy. “We're leaving here.” He said, slowly backing them into the kitchen and out the door.

Sy stood in the entryway breathing heavily and rocking on his heels as rage and confusion coursed through his body, but his breathing quicken and his mind became laser focused, causing him to snap into action. Going into a drawer in the living room, he pulled out the safety case the gun was in, opened it, and ran out the back door after them. Sy made it out the back door in time to see Jak dragging Lily towards an abandoned field to the right side of her property.

Running in that direction, he hopped over the porch rail to cut down time on reach them.

Making it a couple yards behind them, Sy could see where Jak had been hiding out while he'd been tormenting Lily. There was an old barn in the field from a bygone farm on the property beside Lily's. So, he slowed down, watching as Jak dragged Lily towards the decapitated barn by the wrist, the kitchen knife was in his other hand. Biting his lip, Sy stopped and pulled back the slide on the Taurus, taking very careful aim, he took several deep breaths, calming and slowing his breathing and heart rate, before squeezing the trigger. A loud pop rang out in the air and the bullet clipped Jak in the thigh, causing him to let go of Lily and the knife and drop to the ground.

Surprised, Lily looked back and saw Sy standing there, dropping the arm he was holding the weapon with and motioned to her with the other. Without hesitation, Lily broke out into a run, sprinting straight towards Sy, all but colliding with him and knocking them both to the ground. Sy hugged her, pressing his lips to her forehead, then pushed her behind him, as Jak struggled on the ground, cursing and swearing.

“You son of a whore!” Jak spat, rolling over, and pressing a hand to the seeping red patch on his jeans. “I'll fucking kill both of you!”

Sy's body, tight as a piano wire, suddenly relaxed and he took a step forward, but Lily clutched at his shirt. He looked back at her, giving her a reassuring expression, before approaching Jak, who continued to writhe in pain.

“Listen carefully.” Sy growled at him.

“No!” Jak roared, pointing a bloody finger at Sy, his face pale and angry. “You fuckin' listen! I'm going to make your lives hell! I'm going to fucking—whoa!!” He shrieked as Sy let off another round into the dirt beside him, getting his full attention.

“As I was saying.” Sy barked, his body stiff again. “Listen carefully.” He hissed, teeth gritted together. “I have a lot of friends in very high places, that if I kill you, they will help me erase your weaselly little fucking existence off the face of this god damned planet.” He told him, heatedly.

“She's mine. My girl.” He said, pointing back at Lily.

“So, if you're don't to get your ass out of this town, out of this state, and if you ever look for her again, let alone think about her, I will hunt you down and finish you off.” Sy told him, towering above the other man, and lowering his head to keep his eyes on Jak's.

“Do we understand each other?”

Jak gulped, looking up at Sy, like a tiny mouse cornered by a Cougar, then glanced around him to Lily, who stood watching the two men, terrified and exhausted, unconsciously wiping her runny nose on the cuff of Sy's hoodie, but her eyes were on Sy. It was in that moment that Jak realized that as fearful as Lily was, it wouldn't override her knowledge that Sy would protect her with his life, making his use of it to manipulate her, null and void. His grip on her was gone, he was nothing but a ghost, fading and being replaced.

His eyes shifted back to Sy. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Sy snapped. “Now, I don't care if you have to crawl, hop or limp, but I want you gone.”

Struggling for a moment, Jak managed to pull himself up, carefully balancing on his feet for a moment, before turning on his good leg, then limping and shuffling away from them, towards the dilapidated barn, where his car was hidden. Sy didn't move from his spot or relax, even as the 2013 Honda left the structure, tires kicking up dirt and dust as he tore down the neglected drive, blowing out of the gateless driveway onto the road with a loud screech. It was only when the car and its sound disappeared that Sy relaxed, flicking on the gun's safety with his thumb and pushed it into the waistband of his jeans, then turned towards Lily. Taking two steps to close the gap between them and collecting her in his arms, Sy scooped Lily up and head back towards their house, only stopping once they were back inside the living room and dropped onto the couch, with her in his lap.

Lily let out a weak breath into his chest, tears dripping down her face and arms locked around his neck. Sy pressed his cheek to her hair, his own chest tight with emotions, and squeezed his eyes shut, tears dripping from his dark lashes.

“Aika.” Lily whimpered, pulling back, wiping away her and Sy's tears.

“Oh shit.” Sy panted back, glancing side to side, alarmed, letting Lily get up and stood. “Aika!” He called out.

Both of them paused, listening quietly, then looked at each other, hearing pitiful whines and whimpers coming from the entryway. Having heard a door slam after Jak had entered the house and not seeing Aika, but clearly hearing her whines, Lily knew there could only be one place for the German Shepherd to be and rushed to the coat closet in the hallway, yanking the door open.

“Oh, good lord.” She gasped, finding the dog inside the closet, front and back paws were taped together, as was her muzzle. “My poor baby.” She cooed, dropping to her hands and knees, gingerly peeling the tape from around Aika's mouth.

“That fuck.” Sy barked, standing behind Lily, and seeing what Jak had done to his beloved Aika, hating him even more for hurting his girls. “Here.” He said, kneeling down beside Lily, and removing a small, folding knife that was clipped to his belt, then carefully cut the tape wrapped around Aika's legs.

Lily removed the tape from around her paws the best she could without causing Aika anymore discomfort and pain. “Oh, I know, such a sweet girl.” Lily murmured, as Aika got up, licking at her and Sy's faces, her shaggy tail beating against the walls of the closet. “I'll give you the entire container of treats, promise.”

Sy chuckled softly, gently petting Aika, relieved that both Lily and the German Shepherd were safe and sound again, and for the most part, unharmed. “Let me see your neck.” He said, cupping her chin between his fingers and turning her head to look at the nick and line of dry blood on her neck. “It's nothing too bad, but I should clean it up.” He told her, standing, then helped her up to her feet.

Grabbing the bag that had been discarded and forgotten on the entryway floor, Sy went upstairs with Lily, Aika close behind them. Setting the bag down on the bed and taking her into the bathroom, he easily moved about the small space. Sy had become familiar with the master bathroom in the few weeks he had started sleeping with Lily in her room, as she helped him combat his nightmares. He grabbed a bottle of antiseptic from the medicine cabinet and squeezed some of it on a fluffy, white cotton ball, then turned his careful attention onto her. Gently lifting her chin and dabbing at the cut, making Lily hiss and bite her lip, he gave her a sweet and sympathetic look, cleaning away the dry and flaky blood.

“There, all better.” He smiled, tossing the bloody cotton ball into the bin.

“Thank you.” Lily smiled, before subsiding into a coughing fit.

Sy snapped back into the reality before Jak rocked their usually peaceful life, recalling why he had left the house in the first place, going to grab the bag off the bed and brought it back to her, taking out the bottle of cold and flu medicine. Tearing the safety seal off, Sy poured the nasty looking green syrup into the clear, plastic measuring cup and held it out to her. Lily's face twisted with disgusted, shivering, but she took it from him and quickly downed it.

“Ew, that is so nasty.” She laughed, nervously, setting the cup down.

“As long as it works.” Sy replied, closing the bottle.

“I thought you were going to kill him.” Lily whispered as she sat down on the bed.

Sy stopped in the doorway of the bathroom, biting his lip and pushing his jaw forward, slowly nodding his head as he thought about it. He thought he was going to end up killing Jak too. He had thought a lot about what he would do if, and when, he met Jak in person, ever since he answered his call and Lily told him about their history, over a week ago. He had pictured beating him to a pulp, killing him and just giving him a good talking too; making a point that Lily was no longer his.

But, even Sy knew, you don't know how you'll react to a situation until it happens.

“I thought I would kill him too.” He admitted out loud, moving to sit down on the edge of the bed, beside her. “Part of me wanted too.” He added with a soft sigh.

“But, then he would have taken you from me.”

Sy reached out and took her hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb over her wrist. “My life would be an equal trade for your safety, Lily.”

“But, not for my happiness.” She countered, lifting a brow at him.

Their eyes met and Sy smiled at her, leaning forward to gently kiss her.

“Rest.” He whispered against her lips. “It's all over now.”

Lily sighed softly, then chuckled, feeling Sy's heavy palm press down on her belly. “So vain.” She giggled, splaying her legs open and resting her ankles on his calves.

“Am I?” He chuckled back, feeling himself moving inside of her.

“You're always pressing your hand to my abdomen, when we have sex. Always enjoying the feel of that fat cock inside of me.” She told him, locking her dainty hand around his thick wrist as his hand stayed on her stomach. “I don't know who takes more pleasure in it, me or you.”

“Both of us.” Sy laughed, leaning over and gently kissed her.

Sy wiped his sweaty forehead on the sleeve of his painting coveralls and took a step back, lowering the long handled paint roller into the roller pan, that was filled with moth gray paint that he and Lily had picked out to paint the house with, accented by slate blue shutters, dark stained porch support posts and a white door.

“It's looking good, Bear.” Lily said, stepping out onto the porch, carrying a glass of iced tea.

“Thanks, Angel.” Sy smiled, carefully setting the roller down and took the glass from her. “Hopefully, I'll be done soon, and I'll start putting up the roofing.” He told her, between sips. “Do you want to see it?” He asked her, setting the cool glass on the porch rail.

“Sure.” Lily nodded, pressing her lips together and gulping down a sudden nauseous ump in her throat, before following Sy around the other side of the house and off the porch, towards the barn, where the roofing material was stored.

Sy pushed open the barn door, smiling as it glided on its rollers, he had replaced and greased the track, so when the roofing material was delivered it would be easier for him and the delivery men to get in and out of the structure with the heavy boxes. Entering the barn, Sy opened one of the cardboard flaps to the roofing materials and showed Lily what was inside.

“I thought the black would accent well with all the other colors we have going with the house.” He started to explain to her.

“Is it metal?” She asked, reaching out and touching it, finding it cool under her fingertips.

“They are.” Sy nodded, smiling at her. “They last longer than asphalt shingles, you know, the shingles that normally go on houses. But, they're lighter than tile or slate. I also know you love the sound of the rain and hail on the barn's roof, and it's metal, so, I thought you'd enjoy it in the house too.” He told her, proud of his methods. “I'll insulate the roofing a bit. so it won't be so loud, when we get a really bad storm.”

Lily smiled, incredibly touched by Sy's thoughtfulness, as she often was. “Thank you.” She replied, moving over to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight for a moment, until the strong smell of the paint on his coveralls hit her nose and went straight to her stomach. “Oh god.” She gasped, whining, and tore away from him.

Racing out the barn door and skidding around the corner, Lily doubled over and spilled her guts, puking and wrenching into the tall grass and weeds growing alongside the barn wall. Sy's hot hand pressed to the small of her back, concerned, as she continued to dry heave for several more moments.

“You all right?” He asked, rubbing her back and making sure her hair wasn't in her face.

“Yeah.” She nodded, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and stood up. “I just think all the paint fumes are getting to me.”

Nodding and letting out a slow breath, Sy walked back into the house with her and brought the portable fan into the living room, hoping to reduce the strength of the paint smell in the room for her, seeing how pale she was.

“Are you going to be okay?” He asked, bringing her a glass of water.

“Yeah, I'll be fine, Bear.” She replied, slowly sipping the water.

“Okay.” Sy nodded, chewing on the corner of his lip. “I'm going to try and finish this side of the house by the end of the day. If you need anything, just call. All right?”

Lily smiled up at him. “All right, Sy.”

Smiling back at her, Sy kissed her temple and went back out onto the porch. Lily sat on the couch for a little while longer, pressing her hands to her face, tired and her stomach still acting up, the smell of paint wasn't as strong with the windows open and the fan blowing, but it was still lingering. So, she went upstairs to the master bedroom, where the air was clear. She dropped on the bed and picked up her phone, figuring the hormonal change from her upcoming period was causing her to be nauseous, and opened a period tracking app she used.

“Oh, fuck.” She gasped, seeing the date on the tracker, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, foot tapping with nervous and antsy energy. “Fuck it.” She snapped, jumping to her feet and went back downstairs, swiping her keys off their hook.

“Where's the fire?” Sy asked, as Lily breezed out the front door.

“I'm just going into town.” She replied, biting her lip.

“All right.” Sy answered, turning back to the section he was painting. “Wait.” He froze, just processing what she said to him. “What?” He squeaked, turning back towards her.

Lily's mouth worked for a moment, flustered. “I'm...going into town.” She repeated, slowly.

Sy set down the paint roller. “Do you want me to go with you?” He asked, eyes scanning her, he could tell something had her distressed, but couldn't put his paint covered finger on it.

“No.” She shook her head, and took a deep breath. “I know you want to finish this, and I think I can do it.” She told him, feeling a slow confidence wrap around her anxiety of going into town by herself for the first time since she came to Celina, nearly five years before.

“As long as you're sure.” Sy replied, regarding her, a soft light of pride in her glowing in his blue eyes.

“I am.” Lily nodded, smiling at him, even more fortified by his pride. “I'm no longer afraid of what's out there, like I used to be.”

“I'm proud of you, Angel.” Sy cooed, beaming at her.

“Thanks, Bear.” Lily blushed, shyly brushing her hair behind her ears.

“Hey, since you're heading out that way, could you get me another roller?” He asked, looking down at the one he had been using.

“Sure, do you need a specific kind?”

“Yeah, a roller with a three-fourths nap.”

“Three-fourths nap, noted.” Lily replied, committing it to memory. “Anything else?”

“Nope.” He shook his head, giving her a quick kiss, before she stepped off the porch and got into her usually unused car.

Lily let out a deep breath as she pulled off her property, her heart thundered in her chest as she approached the small town, nervous about why she was going out there to start with and what the residences would say when they saw her out and about on her own, she knew they would whisper and talk, especially when they saw the items she bought. Lily contemplated going over to the next town of Prosper to get the items, not wanting the gossip to be running rampant around Celina by morning, but shrugged it off.

“Let them talk.” She said, pulling into the parking lot. “It won't change anything.”

Going into the hardware store first, Lily got the paint roller Sy had asked her to get and dropped it in the car, before going into the grocery store for what she had gone out for.

“Hey, Ms. Lily!”

“Hey, Travis.” Lily smiled at the teen.

“You're out and about!” He grinned at her, abandoning his spot at the end of a cash register, where he was supposed to be helping bag groceries, to walk with her.

“I am.” She chuckled at him, biting her lip and blushing.

“Are you trying to overcome your fear or something?” He inquired, tilting his head at her.

“Something like that.” She replied, offering him a sweet smile.

“I'm glad.” Travis smiled back at her, really looking proud of her. “You really deserve to live life to the fullest.” He told her, with a sweet earnest.

“Thank you, Travis.” Lily chuckled, gently touching his arm.

“Marlowe!” A voice barked, startling them both into looking behind them. “Bags.” A heavy set man in a creased pair of slacks and white polo shirt snapped, pointing at the checkout stand Travis had walked away from.

“Sorry, Mr. Gillis.” Travis replied, sheepishly. “I was just giving Ms. Lily aisle directions. The Tylenol is on aisle seven.” He said, looking back at Lily.

“Thanks, Travis. You're a lifesaver.” Lily replied, going along with it.

Travis winked at her and went back to his job and Lily went on her way, weaving around until she found the aisle she was looking for, finding three different types of the product she was looking for and was unsure which would be the best to use. So, she grabbed one of each and started for check out, but back tracked and grabbed a bottle of Tylenol, before going to pay for her items. Thankfully, Travis wasn't upfront, when she got up there, causing her heart to slow down, greatly, in her chest. Even though, the cashier gave her a knowing glance as she rang Lily up, but Lily pretended to not see it, staring at the headline of a magazine beside the register.

Returning home, Lily crammed the three boxes into her bag, before getting out of the car, and Sy was still working on the porch. He turned his attention to her, smiling as she stepped up onto the porch with him, holding out the new roller brush to him.

“Thanks.” He said, taking it from her. “How'd it go?” He asked.

“It went really well.” Lily smiled, her anxiety level starting to go down again, but was still anxious. “I ran into Travis.” She chuckled.

“Oh, how did that go?” Sy laughed back.

“He got in trouble with his boss, but he's a good kid.” She smiled, jiggling her bag of Tylenol.

“Is that what you went for?” Sy asked, lifting a brow at the bag.

“More or less.”

“Hm.” He hummed, pressing his lips together. “Well, I'm glad you did it, I knew you could.”

“Thanks, Bear.” Lily smiled, pushing up on her toes and kissed him on the lips. “I'll get dinner started soon.”

“Good, I'm starved.” He replied against her mouth.

“Always and forever.” Lily teased him, giggling, then went inside.

With Sy still distracted with the porch, Lily went upstairs and closed herself inside the master bathroom, dumping the three boxes onto the sink counter and letting out a shaky breath, glancing at herself in the mirror.

“Here goes nothing.” She sighed, tearing open the boxes and read their instructions. “Seems easy enough.” She talked to herself, trying to keep her nerves under control, pausing when she heard whining outside the bathroom door. “Come on, quick.” She whispered, opening the door for Aika, then closed it behind her.

“You wanna take this for me?” Lily quipped, holding up one of the test sticks. “I didn't think so.” She huffed, when Aika just stared up at her. “It was worth the ask.” She babbled, nervously, before working up the nerve to take two of them.

She nervously paced the bathroom, chewing on her lip or on her fingernails, trying to figure out a way to tell Sy if either of them came out positive. If they didn't, it was easy not to tell him, there wouldn't be a need to, it was just her own silly paranoia. Maybe her tracker was just off, she was bad at remembering to update the thing after her periods ended and things had been crazy around that time, dealing with Jak. But, what if her tracker was right, what if she was really a week late. Ever since their first time in the barn during the storm, Lily and Sy enjoyed having sex with each other every chance they got, for God's sake, they had sex up against the kitchen table the night before, while they were supposed to be making dinner, only to end up burning it and having to call out of pizza instead.

There were so many moments in the last month that could have ended up with Lily being at this point, that it was nearly impossible to say which one it was.

The five minute timer on Lily's phone started to ring and she tapped it off, but still didn't have the courage to look at the two sticks balanced on the sink's edge. Pressing a hand over her eyes and stepping up to the counter, Lily counted to five under her breath, then yanked her hand away from her eyes, quickly looking down before her spur of the moment courage failed her again and felt her stomach drop.

“Oh fucking shit.” She snapped, despite the grin on her face.

Staring at the tests for a moment longer, Lily opened the bathroom door and walked down the hall, to the main staircase, that was closest to the front door, but froze. A chill of fright filling her, what if Sy wasn't happy about the results, what if he freaked out and left or worse.

“No.” Lily shook her head, pushing that fear down. “Not my Bear.” She said, gulping. “Austin.” She called down the stairs to him.

There was a quiet moment, before the screen door opened and slammed shut again.

“Yeah?” Sy called back up the stairs to her.

“I need you to come up here.” Lily replied, biting her lip and taking a calming breath.

Sy's heavy footsteps came up the stairs, then he appeared before her, brows lifted in question. “What's up, Sugar butt?”

Lily motioned down the hall with her head, then moved back into the bedroom. Sy smirked, his step picking up a bit, figuring she was in a mood, and was more than happy to oblige her. But, he frowned at her, when she stopped beside the bathroom door and pointed inside of it, her eyes meeting his. Blinking once at her, Sy stepped into the bathroom, figuring now, that something had broken and she needed him to fix it, but what he found wasn't anything that was broken.

Far from it.

Sy's eyes instantly found the two used pregnancy tests on the bathroom counter, one of them showing two noticeable blue lines and the other one with the clear word, pregnant, in their indication windows. His mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide with surprise and shock, his brain going blank for a moment, unable to compute anything more than those two positive tests, before looking at Lily.

“You're sure?”

“I took two for a reason.” She replied, stared back at him, just as wide eyed. “I have a third, but I didn't think there would be a need for it, if the first two were the same result.” She explained, licking her lips.

Sy turned on his heels and strode over Lily, who spooked slightly, taking a step back from him, unsure how he was reacting, despite trying to reassure herself he wouldn't be angry about it. But, Sy caught her up in his arms and picked her up clean off her feet, nearly crushing her in his thick arms and against his chest, spinning her in a circle and burying his face into her neck, smiling and laughing, overjoyed, beyond belief.

“So, you're not angry?” Lily asked, holding onto him.

“Are you kidding me?” Sy laughed, pulling back and looking her in the face, beaming with tears in his eyes. “How could I ever be angry?” He asked her, like it was the most absurd thing in the world. “I love you, Lily, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He said, setting her back down on her feet and brushed his fingers through her hair, tenderly.

“I, sure as hell, want to have kids with you.” He told her, sincerely, cupping her face in his hands.

“I do too.” She whispered back, overcome with relief and joy, and grasped his wrists.

With the two pregnancy tests reading positive, Lily called the closest OBGYN in the area, which was twenty minutes away in the town of McKinney, and made an appointment with them for the earliest availability, which was three days later.

“I was thinking.” Sy said, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel as he drove them to the appointment.

“Oh?” Lily replied, looking up from the ultra-soft, dove colored, yarn in her lap.

“I want to give up my apartment in Austin, and permanently stay out here with you and the baby.” He told her, glancing at her for a moment, smiling at the baby blanket she had started to crochet the night before.

“I already thought you were here permanently?” Lily chuckled, eyes sparkling at him. “Place in Austin or not.” She said, eyes turning back to her needlework.

Sy reached across the center console and gently took her hand in his. “You have no idea, how much you have made that farm a home for me. How much you've become home to me.”

Lily gripped his hand tighter, feeling the deep emotion of the moment. “I feel the same, Austin.” She whispered back, tears filling her eyes and spilling over, dripping onto the yarn. “So much, the same.”

They made it to the building Lily's new doctor worked out of and signed in for their appointment, filling out paperwork, while they waited for their turn to go back. Both of them were nervous and excited about the appointment, to find out more about the baby and what life would be like from here on out. Sy wanted to know what the gender was, but knew that wouldn’t happen for several more weeks, while Lily just hoped she wouldn't have any major complications during the pregnancy, her nausea was already starting to get more frequent, having been woken up early that morning to rush into the bathroom to throw up.

“Ms. Moore?” A nurse called out.

Lily and Sy stood up and the nurse showed them into the back, pausing for a moment to hold out a small urine sample cup to Lily.

“There's a bathroom two doors down, on the left, fill it to the line, and when you're done, leave it on the little counter in there, then I'll show you both to the exam room.” She explained to Lily.

“Okay.”

Lily nodded, a slight shake in her hand as she took the cup from her and went down to the bathroom, doing as she was told. It took Lily a moment to get going, her excitement and nerves taking up so much of her attention. She squeezed her eyes shut, taking a shaky breath, her mind flashing back and forth between every conceivable scenario between her, Sy and the baby. Her belly growing rounder than a ripe watermelon in summer, Sy finished up the house and working on a nursery, while she crocheted the blanket. The patter of feet in the house, the sound of laughs and barks in the yard as the baby and Aika played together.

But, also the fear of Sy suddenly deciding he didn't want a life with her and going back to Austin, leaving her to raise the baby on her own, or the absolute worst, losing the baby all together.

“Not going to happen.” She chanted under her breath. “He loves me.”

Taking several deep breaths, Lily managed to fill the cup to the line, secured the lid on it and set it down on the small shelf screwed into the wall across from the toilet, before washing her hands and going back out into the hall to join Sy and the nurse.

The nurse smiled at her and showed her and Sy into a sweet little exam room, where Lily took a seat on the table, letting the nurse take her vitals.

“The doctor will be right with you, Ms. Moore.”

“Thanks.” Lily smiled at her, legs gently swinging and hands clasped in her lap.

Sy stood in front of Lily, untangling her hands and held them in his, squeezing them as he felt them shake. “It'll be all right, Angel.” He cooed at her, pressing their hands to his chest and stood between her legs. “You're doing so good, my sweet thang.” He chuckled, starting to tease her a little bit, knowing it would lighten her mood.

Sy tried to cover his own worry and fear, wanting to look and be strong for Lily, knowing she was just as terrified as he was. He had wanted a family, a kid, for a long time, but not just a kid to have a kid for the sake of it, to have someone to carry on the bloodline and legacy. He wanted to have a kid with someone he loved, to have a life. To be someone more than Captain Austin Syverson of the U.S Army. To be, Austin Syverson, Father, Dad and husband, maybe even grandpa one day.

That had been Austin's dream.

And here was Lily, his beautiful, sweet Angel, who had saved him. He loved Lily with his entire soul, he would live for her and he would die for her, and now, she was carrying his daughter or son, proving him wrong, when he thought he couldn't love her anymore. Giving Sy one more thing on his bucket list. She gave him a purpose, she gave him a place to belong, and she gave him unconditional love and support. Lily made Sy feel wanted and complete. He couldn't think of anything more he wanted, but he had a feeling that Lily might give him more than what he expected.

“Snookums.” He laughed aloud.

“Oh god.” Lily laughed back, shaking her head at him, starting to feel better. “Watch yourself, Pooh Bear.” She teased him back, pressing her palms to his chest.

Sy rolled his eyes at her, leaning slightly forward and gently rubbed noses with her, with a soft knock on the room door and it opened, a short lady with smooth caramel skin and a white doctor's coat stepped into the room, smiling sweetly at both Lily and Sy.

“Hello.” She greeted them, extending her hand. “I'm Dr. Evers.”

“Hi.” Lily greeted her back and shook her hand. “Lily.” She smiled.

“Sy.” He replied, shaking her hand next.

“So, you're expecting?” Dr. Evers beamed at Lily, genuinely happy for them.

“Yeah.” Lily grinned, excited and shy. “I've been nauseous, which usually happens on my period.” She began to explain. “So, I was checking when my period was due to start, on a tracker I have on my phone, only to realize, I was nearly a week late.” She said, glancing over at Sy.

“I took two pregnancy tests and they both came back positive.”

“Great.” Evers nodded. “The urine test you took came back positive as well, but I'll also want to take a UPT test as well, to be extra sure.” She explained to Lily, just as the door opened again and the nurse came back in, pushing a small metal cart with two plastic tubes with rubber caps and a needle inside a sterile package.

Lily's hand instantly shot out for Sy's hand, eyes wild, gulping and paling slightly. Sy let her squeeze his hand as hard she wanted, while rubbing her back with his free hand, leaning in and pressing his lips to her temple. Lily, reluctantly, held her arm out to the nurse, who gently sterilized the inside bend of her elbow and took out the needle, that had a thin tube and cap-like object attached to it, that she slotted one of the test tubes into, before skillfully inserting the needle into Lily's arm.

“See, not so bad.” Sy smiled at Lily's soft hiss, watching her rich blood fill up the tube, and gently pet her hair. “Proud of you.” He added, softly.

The nurse filled both tubes, removed the needle and covered the injection site, smiling sweetly at Lily, then left the room with the blood samples.

“So, the test results will take two-= to three days to come in.” Evers explained to them, once the door closed. “The office will give you a call with the results. Until then, I want you to rest and take it easy. I'll prescribe you a prenatal vitamin and something for your nausea. Once we get your results and they’re positive, we'll set up another appointment and go from there.”

“Sounds great, Doc.” Sy grinned, giddy as a school-boy about being a dad.

“That it does.” Lily agreed, ecstatic as well.

-- Part VI --

#Henry Cavill #HenryCavill #HenryCavill RPF #viking-raider fics #captain syverson #Syverson #Syverson/OFC #Syverson x OFC #Southern Generation #Southern Generation *fic*#Lily Ana Moore #Fluff #language #Smut #Angst #Syverson/Lily

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willsimpforanyone · 3 years

Text

Buzzfeed unsolved X Sanders sides

Virgil (nonbinary) is the sceptic that is a little too easily convinced

Logan is the real sceptic, easily figures out what makes the creepy sounds (trans man)

Patton (trans man) is a terrified believer that is just trying to keep it all together

Roman (genderfluid) is the enthusiastic believer who drags everyone on ghost hunts

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"Roman please, you're going to figuratively pull my arm out of it's socket if you tug any harder," Logan sighed at his enthusiastic friend who was holding very tightly to his hand. Roman, blue 'he/him' pronoun bracelet clearly display, was pulling him to the porch of the presumably haunted house, closely followed by Virgil with their camera and a very nervous Patton.

"You really don't need to clarify, we know I couldn't actually pull your arm out of its socket," Roman rolled his eyes, but eased his grip on Logan's hand, slowing his pace so they could walk side by side.

Virgil aimed a kick at Roman's feet. "So what are we actually doing here? Is it ghosts or demons this time?"

"Both, actually," Roman turned back to swipe at Virgil's head. "There are at least three ghosts, and a demon in the attic."

Patton squeaked. "Uh, hey, um, you didn't say anything about a demon, Ro..."

"Roman, I wish you would stop saying things like they are irrefutable facts. There has been no definitive proof that ghosts or demons exist." Logan rolled his eyes, but Roman was undeterred.

The group had been allowed one night in the supposedly haunted house, and Virgil had been commissioned to film the events that could take place. They were secretly grateful that they didn't have to be in the actual video footage at all if they didn't want to be, but outwardly complained that they would get tired of holding the camera, that this house was stupid anyway, they didn't even believe in this crap.

Roman hesitated at the door, and Virgil smirked. "What, getting scared?" They pointed the camera at their friend. "Big Bad Roman is scared of the front fucking door."

That was enough to get Roman to swing open the door and stroll on in like he was merely popping in to a coffee shop. Logan followed, unbothered. Patton clung to Virgil, and the pair entered together.

The bag Roman slung on the table made a loud thud, and when opened he produced an EMF reader, divining sticks, a ouija board and a few other things that he laid out neatly on the table. Logan raised an eyebrow.

"I'll admit, you do seem to be passionate about this, no matter how idiotic this quest may be." Logan picked up the EMF reader and scrutinised it. "I'm not sure if I can call your methods scientific, however. You do understand this entire night is going to yield results only supported by pseudoscience?"

Patton took the EMF reader from Logan's grasp. "Now now, be nice Lo-Lo, this is something Roman is excited about and we should be supportive. And, if we're- lucky? Or unlucky, I'm kinda hoping we don't find anything- we might hear or see something that is definitive proof of ghosts!" Patton smiled encouragingly at Roman, who grinned back.

Virgil was fiddling around with the camera. "Hey, who did I give the batteries to? This one is empty."

"But-" Roman stared, frozen. "That was a new battery, wasn't it?" He took out a new battery from the front pocket of the bag and handed it over. Virgil shrugged, and simply swapped the batteries over, unwilling to admit that it was indeed a new battery, and that they'd double-checked it just before they arrived at the house.

"W-well, we'd better get started, right?" Patton's voice was higher than normal and he'd detached himself from Virgil only to reattach himself to Logan, finding comfort in the unceasing scepticism.

Roman handed out torches to both Patton and Logan. "Indeed, let us at last embark on a quest to uncover the secrets this house holds, let us walk among the dead and speak to those belonging to days gone by!" He grabbed Virgil and started dragging them upstairs. "Come, my friends, adventure awaits!"

The enthusiasm held by Roman was the driving force for the rest of the group as they followed him all the way up to the attic. Patton gave a nervous laugh as Roman placed the ouija board down and gestured for them all to sit on the floor. "Are we sure about this, Ro? I mean aren't ouija boards supposed to be really... scary?"

Virgil smirked from under their fringe. "That's the point, Pat- they communicate with those beyond the grave." They wiggled the fingers of the hand that wasn't holding the camera at Patton and laughed lowly, darkly. "You never know, maybe the demon will possess one of us."

"Please cease from scaring him, Virgil, my arm is starting to hurt from where he is holding it," Logan glared at Virgil, and Patton guiltily let go, opting to sit next to Roman.

"You'll save me, right Ro?"

Roman put his arm around the slightly smaller man. "Indeed I will. Never fear, my dear friend, for it will take more than a mere demon to frighten me!"

Eventually, all four of them were situated round the board- Virgil was exempt from being involved as they were filming the scene, but the others all had two fingers on the plancette that was placed in the middle of the board.

"...do we introduce ourselves? It would be polite, right?"

"Patton, there is nothing to be polite to- demons do not exist."

"Oh hush, Specs-tre... you get it? Like spectre? Like a ghost?"

Virgil sighed, exasperated. "Can we get on with this, please? My arms are starting to hurt."

They decided on spelling out their names, with only minor mistakes, and waiting to see if there was any kind of response. Roman and Patton were eagerly leaning over the board, while Virgil and Logan exchanged glances.

Very slowly, the planchette began to move. Roman scowled at Logan. "If this is you trying to trick us, I don't appreciate it."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "I am not trying to trick you, I am merely sitting here like you two."

Roman turned his gaze to Virgil, who scowled back. "How can I have anything to do with it, dumbass? I'm not even touching the board."

The planchette had moved from the middle of the board where they had put it after spelling their names to the 'G', and was moving to what seemed to be the 'O'.

Inhaling shakily, Patton looked at the camera. "V, I think it might be saying 'go away'."

Virgil quickly wiped the look of worry off their face- they were supposed to be a sceptic, after all- and nodded. "Yes Patton, the demon is antisocial and wants us all to fuck off." They spun the camera around as if looking for a demon. "Understandable, have a nice day."

"Virgil, will you please deign to keep the camera on the board, I fear Roman is going to start yelling any minute otherwise." Logan's even voice brought all attention back to the board, where the planchette was just moving off the 'A'.

Roman looked like he was about to burst. He let out a breath he'd been holding. "Everyone shut up, this is the most evidence we've ever got!"

"This isn't exactly evidence. The planchette moving is due to what's called the 'ideomotor effect', simply meaning your body talks to itself. It's an example of involuntary, unconcious physical movement." Logan was now the focus of attention. "Patton has planted the idea that the so-called 'demon' is trying to spell 'go away', so it is likely the planchette will react to your unconcious movements to spell out those words."

Sulkily, Roman sat back, leaning on both his hands. "C'mon teach, you can't just... take the magic out of this like that."

Logan looked surprised. "I... I'm sorry Roman, I just thought it would be interesting to know the actual science behind the board, especially since we're filming it." He looked sincerely apologetic. "I apologise for taking the metaphorical 'magic' out of this activity."

Roman sighed, but smiled slightly. "Don't worry about it." He fiddled with the pronoun bracelet, and switched it to a green 'they\them' bracelet. "You know, I don't believe the ghosts are biting tonight. I suggest we leave and perhaps try again another day."

Patton nodded enthusiastically. "Yes please, can we please leave, I keep feeling like we should leave, let's leave-" He scooped up the ouija board, only pausing to move the planchette quickly to 'goodbye', and stuffed it in Roman's bag.

The procession downstairs was slightly less upbeat than the procession upstairs had been, but Roman was determined to not make Logan feel bad. "Besides," they said, arm slung around Logan. "I doubt demons would be very respectful of pronouns." Virgil stifled a laugh.

"Yeah, nobody wants to talk with disrespectful demons." The group reached the door and they turned to look at the house once last time. "Fuck off demon, we don't need your transphobia!"

Patton panicked for a second and clapped his hand over Virgil's mouth. "Virgil! It'll hear you!"

Roman laughed heartily. "Don't worry, Pat, I agree with Casper the Unfriendly Ghost here. Who cares if the transphobic demon hears, I refuse to bother myself with the opinions of demon who can't even talk back to us."

Walking back to the car, Logan was nudged gently by Roman. "Hey, teach, you can't say there's absolutely no way the planchette was moved by a demon or a ghost, can you?"

About to retort that yes, he could say that, Logan looked at Roman's face, their eyes showing just a little bit of hope. "...no, I can't say for certain that the planchette wasn't moved by a supernatural force."

Perhaps it was foolish, but seeing Roman's face light up was worth it.

---------------------

i love the sanders sides and i love buzzfeed unsolved so here ya go, have this brain child, hope you enjoy- you're welcome to ask for more!

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #roman #logan #patton #gay sanders sides #trans!logan #trans!patton #nonbinary!virgil #genderfluid!roman #creativity #morality #logic #anxiety #buzzfeed unsolved #bfu au #sanders sides au

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local80smotel · 4 years

Text

Tears and kisses

pairing; V x reader

summary; V & the reader's friendship started on him being injured and their relationship would start with that too.

requested by; @peachesandbb

rating; T

warnings; mention of blood (but never described)

word count; 2,663

A/N; I'm so sorry this took so long but I had a lot of fun with this! Thank you for requesting!

Y/N's lungs burned as they ran deeper into the alleyways of London, holding their heels in their hands. How were they supposed to know the creep they punched was a member of the Fingermen? Maybe wearing heels tonight was a bad idea but hey, no one thinks that they're going to be chased by madmen who were drunk with power at 8:30 pm. 'Shit' they thought, glancing at the street clocks '30 minutes untile curfew'. If they didn't get home soon that would just be another nail in the coffin for this English citizen.

The fleeing criminal didn't look back until they heard a loud, panic-filled scream followed with a thud. When they did, they were shocked by the scene in front– well behind them. There, taking out the Fingermen with such ease, was a pure black figure wearing a mask and an outdated hat. The hat or the mask wasn't the thing that confused Y/N, it was the fact this street vigilante was flinging these six-foot men like they were rag dolls. As embarrassing as it sounds, Y/N just stood there, stuck in some kind of awestruck daze until the ringing of a gun blast drew them out of it.

All they could cry out was a "No!" As they were still glued to the alley street. The masked figure only let out a pained grunt before taking out the shooter with one of his many knives. He stood there for a moment, their back only facing Y/N. They could tell even in the dark that this vigilante was seeing if the bullet was an exit wound or not.

“Hello?” they stepped closer to the caped hero “Are you hurt badly?”

Y/N's hero turned to them, obviously flustered as they tripped on their words as they tried to answer back.

“Uh-” He tried to bow but only winced in pain which stopped him from doing so “I would say so, but," he chuckled softly under his breath “as you can barely tell, I'm bleeding.”

Y/N rushed over to them ignoring common sense which yelled for them not to go to the man who had just taken out four men all by himself.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” they asked as they searched for the wound and see if there was an exit wound as well

“I know I haven't introduced you as I have to others, but could you be as kind as to let me into your home?” It was easy to tell the awkwardness and anxiousness in his voice. He shook his head before trying to continue his sentence, probably to backtrack and apologize but Y/N stopped them as they nodded before looking back at the street clock.

“We have sixteen minutes till curfew, we have to hurry. Can you run?”

The man nodded as he placed a hand on his wound before saying "Lead the way".

Luckily, it seemed that the secret police had vanished as they made way back to their apartment. They couldn't help but feel responsible for this poor civilian's injury. 'I could have outrun them. He didn't need to intervene like that.' They thought as they looked over at him. Now that they were closer to the street they should see where the wound truly was, his left shoulder. Y/N couldn't help but sigh in relief which rewarded them a confused head tilt from their guest. Hopefully, it hadn't hit any important nerves, muscle, or bone and they'd feel safe putting their hero on the street once a more.

Things between them things were quiet until they got to their apartment building's door. There, right on the porch of the brick establishment, he muttered a word as he was noticeably starting to get lightheaded due to blood loss.

“V...”

“V? Is that the name of the street you liv-”

“Name. That's my name.

All they could say was "oh" as they opened the door and started up the stairs. It was easy to tell he was getting grumpy as well. Who knew that was also a symptom of blood loss. When they both were greeted with their apartment door Y/N wasted no time opening said door and pulling this masked hero into it, making sure not to pull the injured side, and made a b-line to the bathroom. There, like most normal people they kept their medical supplies stored.

V stepped into the room first and before the host could follow he closed the door.

“Hey!” they yelled as they lightly slammed their hand into the bathroom door “What gives?”

“I- uh, please forgive me but I can take it from here!”

Y/N huffed as he spoke, feeling slightly insulted that they couldn't go into the bathroom they paid for. They were taken away from their irritated thoughts when V spoke again around three minutes later.

“Could you stay? Sit by the door I mean.”

“Why?” they shot back as they somewhat snapped. V waited for a moment before answering.

“Just... Nervous that's all.” His soothing British accent made the hair on Y/N's neck stand up “I can understand if you say no– I did lock you out of your own bathroom.”

“No! No, no it's okay.” They began to slide down the wall so they could sit. The quietness sneaked in as Y/N brought their knees to their chin. Small sounds like him hissing at the pain from rubbing alcohol and him rummaging for more supplies were the only things that broke said silence until he mumbled out four words;

“Would you help me...?”

The apartment's owner sighed as they got up, jittering the doorknob “Sure if you can unlock it.”

Again, it took him a few moments before a small click happened but they weren't annoyed or upset at the wait as they knew he was probably in more pain. When they opened the door they were greeted to V who now was shirtless with their back facing them. The wound wasn't the thing that caught Y/N's eye, but instead, it was the fact his body was so heavily burned. It made sense why he wanted to patch himself up now! They couldn't help but place their fingertips gently on his back which caused him the tense up.

“Need help wrapping the bandages?”

He nodded, still not looking at them which made it easier to tell that he was truly embarrassed.

Y/N looked closely at the wound, sighing in relief as it seemed that the bullet hadn't lodged itself inside any of the muscle and started wrapping the medical bandages, trying to make sure that it wasn't too tight. In an attempt to relax V they tried to make conversation about his burns. He was quick to say that he "didn't remember" how he got them which Y/N couldn't believe but dropped the subject and onto a new one; why he saved them.

“I watched you– just to make sure you got him safe– and I saw them. Harass you I mean.” he looked back at the bandage work, seemingly pleased with their work before talking once more “You threw a good punch though.”

Y/N couldn't help but blush at the compliment as they stood up “Thank you, V. Come back if you ever need help.”

When V left they couldn't help but feel that their apartment was, well, empty. That night as they laid in bed they secretly hoped he'd come back again and oh boy, would he do exactly that.

Almost three months into their budding friendship they were woken up in the middle of the night to pounding at their door. Fear washed over them like a wave as they opened the door, scared the police had come to take them away for some petty thing.

“Oh! V!” they smiled in relief along with joy as they got to see their good friend after waiting for almost one and a half months to see him again. “Come in!” they moved out of the doorframe, still smiling like a goof until they looked at the floor. Blood. Once again their dear friend had gotten himself hurt. Their heart sank as they looked back at him who was already in the bathroom except for this time he didn't lock the door like he did the first time he came here.

“Really V? This is the third time in a year,” they said with concern in their voice as they walked in the bathroom, undressing him to see the wound which turned out to be a stab wound in his upper abdomen. Luckily it didn't hit anything vital.

“Maybe you just get yourself hurt to see me..” they mumbled as they pressed a cold washcloth on him. Sure they said it was a joke but somewhere, deep down inside them, they wished it was true. V grunted as a response once rubbing alcohol was introduced to the stab injury, turning their head away from them before actually speaking.

“Come with me. Back to my place.”

Y/N turned red when they finally processed his words. Why? How? Where does he even live? Truly they wanted to say "yes" right then and there but they just couldn't.

What about their apartment? Their plants and mail? Sure, they didn't have anything important in their home like a pet but still, moving (especially when they've never seen the place) is both scary and draining.

“Why? V you know you're always welcomed in my home.”

He took Y/N hand's and placed it on his face so his "cheek" was cupped before answering their question

“One day Y/N they'll follow me back here and because you're helping me, ” he coughed “they'll take you away too. I want to make sure you're completely safe. You're important to me.”

Y/N's ears felt hot once V was done talking. They thought for a moment as they inspected the wound to see if it needed stitches. Maybe he was right and living with him would be a good idea. Hell even it wasn't like he only came to their place for safety as well as they couldn't count how many times they opened their door just to see items like water bottles or bags of fresh bread (with a V drawn on them of course) and due to that, it was clear that he did care for them.

Y/N sighed as they locked eyes with V “Ill go with you, V. Let me pack up first.”

They could tell he was happy as he rubbed his face a bit deeper into their hand.

A few hours later at one AM the two of them hurried out of the building, carrying a few duffle bags as they did so. Y/N as they walked couldn't help but glance down at the man's hands as he carried both bags.

“I can carry them V...”

“Nonsense! I'm just doing what a gentleman would do.”

They couldn't help but roll their eyes at this. For being an absolute tank he still tried to act all soft, guess that was another reason they liked them.

As they walked they teased one another, trying not to laugh so they wouldn't alert the police as they were very much out against curfew. That night Y/N learned that V loved stars which just added on to the cuteness factor of him.

“What is this?” they asked in confusion once they stopped in front of Victorian Station “V this place has been abandoned for years.”

“Exactly my comrade!” He smiled as he placed the bags on the sidewalk and opened the doors to Y/N's surprise “A secret treasure I like to call it, now come along you're probably exhausted.”

The two descended into the dark depths which V seemed to be used to. Y/N finally got to carry a bag but it was only so V could use his free hand to guide them in the dark as he had a hand on their shoulder.

As the door opened they were shocked to see the inside completely decorated. It was easy to see V was a big art nerd as classic paintings hung from the ceiling and loved literature once they saw their new room as books were piled all the way to the ceiling.

“I'm sorry if it isn't to your liking.” He said as he placed down the bag in his hand

“No no, it's amazing. Thank you, V.”

Before he left the room Y/N placed a kiss on the metal mask's cheek. V didn't stop to ask why but merely turned his head to look at Y/N who was busy unpacking their clothes now.

For the next two years, V came home with no injuries to Y/N's happiness. It was easy when it came to them bonded as V showed them his favorite movies and how to cook. Their relationship also deepened when the talk of politics came up. Sure, it was slightly concerning for them how V loved the idea of anarchy. But one thing was for certain; they both hated Sutler with a burning passion. Nothing outright romantic happened between them, BUT the night that marked their two years of friendship while having a movie marathon, Y/N laid their head somewhat near his shoulder as they began to fall asleep. V, even though he felt slightly awkward due to this situation, played with the tips of their friend's hair until the movie ended. He didn't move them back to their room, instead, to make sure V didn't wake Y/N, laid their head on a pillow and gave them a blanket before leaving the gallery. Like two years ago Y/N was startled wake around four AM to V slamming the door shut while grunting and mumbling to himself.

“V?” their voice was almost a whisper as they got up slowly and followed him

“Ah Y/N, I'm sorry for waking you.” he turned to them as he held his left side. It was easy to tell that he was nervous. When they finally got to see what was wrong their blood felt like it was being boiled. He had gotten himself hurt again! There was no blood but it was easy to tell he had broken something. He was always being reckless, didn't he know they cared for him? It just wasn't fair!

“Do I not matter to you?!” they snapped as tears threatened to fail as they grabbed the home's first aid.

“You haven't done this in so long V! Why now? Have I done something wrong? V–”

Before the could finish their rant V slammed his "lips" unto Y/N's whose eyes widen. They felt frozen for a few seconds until they wrapped their arms around them, running their fingers through his hair as they closed their eyes. To Y/N's sadness, they couldn't deepen the kiss due to his mask so holding him close was all they could do but it made them just as happy. When the two broke the kiss Y/N laid their head in the crook of his neck as they stayed silent for a few moments before they broke the silence.

“Can I say something?”

“Of course love.”

“I love you...” They held V's hand as they spoke in a whisper “I have for a while.”

V moved their head out of his crook and lifted their chin to look them in his eye before kissing them on the forehead

“And so have I.”

#imagine #imagine requests #v for vendetta #v for vendetta imagine #v for vendetta x reader

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tloujm · 4 years

Text

Part VII: I’m Right Here

Author’s Notes: WARNING! Rated V for violence and gore. Timeline wise, this takes place roughly a month after the last part, so it is still Winter.

Genre: Angst followed by fluff

Summary: Tommy plays matchmaker and convinces you and Joel to go out scavenging together. The two of you run into danger that leaves you traumatized. It also leaves you questioning life and how Joel fits in it.

Ship: Joel x Reader

Despite having had your big girl chat with Joel, the two of you had yet to set a day to begin guitar lessons. One day, the two of you run into each other at The Watering Hole. Before he visited you that night, you would have slipped back out the front door, but this time you let him approach you.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Have you, um, gotten around to changing the strings?” He asked. You found the topic random.

“On the guitar?” You asked.

“No, the ukulele. The guitar should be good until next year.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to.” You said obliviously.

“Yeah...you, um...I’ll get you some new ones one day.” Joel said. It was at this point, Tommy had spotted you two talking in the corner. He walked up to you guys.

“Big brother. (Y/N)” He nodded to the both of you. This was the first time that he’d seen you two talking in a year. Joel had confided in Tommy about the talk you two had on the porch. He wanted to see for himself how things were going between you two. He strongly believed that you were good for him and he wanted to see the two of you together again. “So, what are we talking about?”

“Apparently, I have to change the strings on my instruments every so often.” You shrugged.

“Oh yeah. Maintenance and all that. Joel can show you how to do that.” Awkward glances were exchanged. “Hey, there’s this music store, Riley and ‘em found it last week, on one of the northeast routes. It probably has supplies you’re interested in. There should be strings and...other guitar stuff.” Tommy lightly hit Joel’s shoulder to pull him into the conversation. “What’s some other guitar stuff she might need?”

Joel glared at Tommy before scratching the back of his head. “Um, you may want a clip or maybe a strap. They might have a case for your ukulele.”

“That sounds nice.” You commented flatly. You knew what Tommy was trying to do.

It fell silent, so Tommy had to pick up the conversation again. “That area is long overdue for a sweep anyway.” He bounced a pointed glare between the two of you.

Joel looked up at you. “What do you say, (Y/N)? It’d be like old times.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not.” Tommy plastered a huge smile on his face.

“Tommy! You’re next.” The barman yelled.

“And that’s my cue. Nice talkin’ to y’all.” Tommy tipped the imaginary hat on his head before walking off. You watched as Tommy set up to sing karaoke at the front of the room.

*******

The ride to the area was mostly done in silence. Joel didn’t know what to say in fear of saying the wrong thing. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to even say anything at all. The two of you found a fairly large sinkhole in the ground in front of the music store, so Joel suggested cutting through a hotel across the street from it. As you approached it, you noticed that one of entrances was barricaded by debris from the outside. The two of you stood there to assess the damage. Joel walked up to a pile of fallen roofing and lifted it up as far as he could. You took it as your cue to crawl through. It was a tight squeeze, causing you to practically slither in on your belly.

You quickly scanned the room to make sure there were no infected before dusting yourself off. You found yourself in what used to be the dining area. The wood furniture was rotted and everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. You shouted out to Joel, letting him know that you’d made it through ok. He replied by saying that he would meet you at the main entrance. By the time you made it to the double grand doors, he was already waiting outside. This time, the entrance was barricaded from the inside. You hopped up several times to unlatch the locks at the top of the doors. Finally, they were released from the metal bolts and you opened them to find Joel leaning his arm up against the frame of the door. His ankles were crossed. His whole posture suggested that he was trying to be cool and relaxed, contrary to how he usually was outside of Jackson’s safe walls. You expected to find him standing there, body tense and face rigid, something you grew familiar with when he was in survival mode.

“Well, hello there.” You greeted. Joel recognized a trace of flirtation in your voice. You heard it too. It just came out like that, so you decided to roll with it. You opened the door wider and welcomed him into the hotel as if it wasn’t a dilapidated mess.

“Howdy.” He replied simply. As if he was the coolest man in the world, he strode. right past you with a half smile donning his face.

You breathed a chuckle. “You’re welcome.”

The two of you walked on for a while. Despite never having been in the hotel before, Joel knowing of its existence was enough for you to let him lead the way. While he was navigating, you were taking your time. Old buildings always interested you. Your flashlight shined on framed pictures and flyers posted on the wall.

“I think I see a way through,” Joel began. You turned to find him all the way down the hall. “But there’s spores.” You jogged to catch up. He was standing in front of a large hole in the wall blocked by a filing cabinet. He put on his mask, then waited for you to do the same. “Put your mask on, (Y/N).

“It’s just us, Joel.”

“What if we run into someone.” He stated firmly. The irony of living through the bite of an infected is that it can prove life threatening if a human found out.

“Fine.” He watched as you slid the mask in place over your head.

“You haven’t told anybody new, have you? You’re friends?” He asked.

“No, of course not.” You answered.

Joel was protective of your secret but he couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous as well. He knew that his relationship with you would be less special if others knew as much as he did. He discreetly cherished being the only one who knew certain things about you. You were kind of offended when he asked, though. You agreed a long time ago that it should be kept a secret, so why would he think that you would slip up like that?

The two of you made it through a room of Clickers, slaying them with ease as a team. Joel walked ahead of you into the next section of the hotel. You followed as he squeezed through a narrow space between the walls. Suddenly, you heard a deep roar before Joel completely disappeared. You screamed out his name. It happened so fast. You flashed your light through the newly made hole in the wall. Through it, you saw that Joel was snatched by a Bloater. For a moment, you were frozen. It was the first time you’d seen a Bloater up close. You’d heard stories about them and you’d even seen one roaming around with the scope that Tommy gifted you. It was the most disgusting thing you’d ever seen.

With a rush of adrenaline through your veins, you pulled out your gun. All the shots did was distract it from Joel. It was faster and stronger than you thought. The confidence that you usually had from being immune quickly faded. You soon realized how small the enclosed room was as you were running away from the thing. Joel did the same and shot at the 7 foot fungal mass as it began to throw spore bombs at you. They did nothing but blind you for a moment. It soon stopped attacking you and switched back it's attention to Joel. He was too slow and the Bloater grabbed a hold of his neck. It looked like it wanted to tear his head off of his body. You screamed his name again before unsheathing your katana. You got a running head start and tried to slice the monstrosity down. You tried your best to imitate the master swordsmen you’d seen in samurai movies, but the flesh was too thick. You glanced toward Joel as he struggled. Veins were popping up around his neck and temples. He was trying his hardest to loosen the Bloater’s grip, but nothing he did helped. You threw the graceful swings to the wind and started hacking at the Bloater like a butcher. It wasn’t the best knife to do so with, but it was better than the dagger on your right hip. The arm holding Joel’s neck fell to the ground after your blade sliced through it. The Bloater began to falter which exposed it's other arm for you to chop off. Joel was finally released from it's grasp. He fell to his knees as you maintained focus on the monster. You continued to frantically slice and chop at any angle you could get at until it fell down on its back. You took the handle of your katana in both hands and drove it straight down into the heart of the beast. Blood and spores splattered all around you. It exuded a low roar. Still, you continued.

Joel had finally regained his strength and cautiously approached you. At this point, you had moved on to it's head and tried to cut through it's thick neck. Joel placed a hand on your shoulder as if to tell you to stop, but you carried on. He called out your name in a raspy voice. Finally, you stopped and dropped your arm to your side. You let out a shaky breath as he turned you around to face him. Through his mask, Joel glanced you up and down to make sure you were alright. Your eyes were crazed and blood was painted across your whole body like a Jackson Pollock painting.

“C’mon.” Was all he said. The two of you walked out of the room and didn’t stop until you made it to a room where the spores were clear. You pushed Joel down onto a couch and ripped his mask off to look him over. “I’m fine, darlin’.”

You disregarded his comment and continued to look for signs of injury. “Joel, you almost died.” You made sure he was looking into your eyes when you said that. Your crouched down in front of him and held steady onto his knees. “I could have lost you.” You thought back to the lyrics of that song he sang that night in your living room.

You thought about how living in the comfort of a fortified settlement led you to take the time you had with him for granted. You knew that life was still dangerous. Joel risked his life everyday to go out and patrol. What if he was alone or with someone less experienced in melee combat. He could have died before you had a chance to forgive him. He could have died and you would have never been able to express all of the feelings that were lingering in the back of your mind while you were avoiding him. He could have gone out to patrol and never come back. Then where would that have left you? A sense of dread washed through your body as you imagined a life without him. It was a pain you had never sensed before and it was too much to bear. Hot tears began to fall down your face, one after another.

He reached out a calloused hand and rested it gently against your cheek. “I’m here, (Y/N), I’m right here”. You leaned into his hand, a mix of blood and tears rubbing off onto it. “Ain’t nothing a solid night of sleep won’t fix.” He tried to convince you. “How about we call it a day and go get them supplies another time?” You could only nod in response.

The ride back home felt extra long. The two of you rode up to the stable and left the horses. Joel watched with tired eyes as you walked off in another direction. For a moment, he forgot that the two of you weren’t living together. All he wanted to do was relax and comfort you.

The house was dark when you entered. You didn’t bother turning on any lights as you made your way to the bathroom. You let the hot water steam up the room before getting into the shower. You watched as the blood and dirt slid down your body and circled the drain. You lifted your face and placed it directly under the shower head, wondering if Joel was doing the same.

Later that night, you fell asleep. A white glow was cast in your room from the moon. Tears began to stream down your face as little whimpers escaped your lips. The memories of earlier that day played in your head but this time you weren’t there to save him. It was frustrating. You could see him getting attacked but something was keeping you from moving. The Bloater clawed at Joel’s face, trying to rip it apart. First, it got past the mask and Joel had no choice but to breathe in spores. You could see the struggle and fear in his face as clear as day. His eyes were bloodshot and veins traveled from his arms, past his neck and up to his forehead. You could feel yourself screaming his name, but the sound did not come out. He couldn’t hear you begging him to fight back. The Bloater got its hands in Joel’s mouth and pulled. You didn’t want to watch, but you couldn’t shut your eyes. The tearing of flesh and cracking of bones mingled with the Bloater’s roar. The disgusting sounds filled your ears as Joel’s head was torn from his body. The monstrous thing carelessly flung it to the side but held on tight to his body with it's other hand. It, then, let out this deep bellow that sent shivers across your body. You felt those shivers as you shot up from your bed. You were beginning to break out in a cold sweat. It was hard for you to breathe. There was this lump in your throat that you couldn’t get past. You threw your legs over the edge of the bed so the cool air could touch your skin. You rocked back and forth while gripping the corner of your mattress. The roar was real. You could still feel the vibrations that it caused in the room. Dread once again washed over you like a veil and your heart ached like never before. The tears spilled out of you as you cried. You wanted to let it all out because it hurt to keep it all in, but crying caused your hyperventilation to worsen. You were stuck and didn’t know what to do about it. The tears kept coming regardless. The only thought that crossed your mind was that you couldn’t save him. The whole thing felt so real that you found yourself confused. Was riding home with Joel the dream? Was the nightmare true? You threw on your shoes and a sweater before leaving your house. It proved not enough as flurries of snow began to fall from the sky. You wrapped the sweater closer to your body and walked down the street.

Joel never fell asleep. His body was tired, but his mind was wide awake. He drank a couple glasses of cheap whiskey that he traded for a while back in hopes that the buzz would make him dreary. All it did was make his head pound. He preferred coffee to that bottle of whiskey, but the caffeine wouldn’t have helped. He glanced out the window and saw the snow falling down from the night sky. He left the kitchen and decided to light a fire. After letting the wood burn for a moment, Joel made his way to the couch and sank into the cushions. Just as he elevated his feet on the coffee table, he heard a knock on his front door. He let out a weary sigh. He expected it to be Tommy, as he was the only one who would visit so late. He contemplated whether he should feign sleep and ignore it. It can wait ‘til the mornin’, he thought to himself.

You stood on the other side of his door, waiting for an answer. The shades were drawn, so you couldn’t tell if anyone was in. Waiting out on his dark, cold porch did not help ease your suspicions. You looked at the wooden rocking chair that Joel sat in the night he told you that he would have done it all over again. You remembered that look on his face when he told you. After another moment passed, you brought your hand up to knock again. Just as you did, the door opened. You were face to face with Joel. It was a welcome surprise for the both of you. Without words, Joel moved to the side, allowing you space to come in. You walked all the way in and he followed until you stopped in front of the fireplace. He gazed down at you, waiting for you to say something, do something. You played with your sleeves as you slowly took in his body. It was real. The ride back was real. He was real.

He could tell that you’d been crying. He was about to ask if you were ok when you closed the space between you two and hugged him. Your arms wrapped tightly around his middle. You laid your ear against his chest to feel his heartbeat. Joel returned the embrace. “I’m here,” He said. Many moments passed before you lifted your head to finally look at his face. He looked directly into your eyes and it was as if he bore into your soul. You gently took his face in your hands before kissing him. At first, it was chaste; a quick and cautious touch. With Joel’s hands still on your waist, he pulled you closer. You took that as an invitation to go deeper. You thrived in the way his lips responded to yours as each successive kiss grew longer.

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bitway-arts · 5 years

Text

title: Haunted House fandom: Yugioh Arc-V characters: Yugo, Yuri pairings: pawn shipping summary: He plans to scare Yuri. Did he really think he would?

Yugo swears this was the most brilliant thing he had ever thought of. It was an idea so amazing that he would finally be able to get his sweet revenge on that plant obsessed asshole. He was sure of it.

He had led the other boy towards a house that was well decorated for the holiday. Carved pumpkins lit the path to the entrance, spiderwebs and skulls were littered on the porch, bodies and gravestones were placed out on the lawn- some of them moving in an attempt to frighten oncoming guests, haunting music played from an unknown source, and the residents were in costume, welcoming those who dared to survive the fights beyond their door.

"We're going…into a haunted house?" Yuri asks, deathly unamused.

The comment had gotten under his skin as he was expecting a more…frightened response, but Yugo came to the conclusion that he was scared. He was only using his calm and cool facade to hide the fact that he was cowering before spooks of the night. There had to be something that Yuri was afraid of and that something should be inside. Hopefully, it would make him jump and scream and make him wish he'd never made a fool out of the mechanic before.

While Yugo's thoughts were running rampant, he hadn't given Yuri an answer. He was left to see that idiotic smirk on his face, one he knew too well. He let out a sigh.

"You know, when you called me out late I was expecting something…well, not this. I suppose I should say it serves me right for getting my hopes up. Then again, you're not exactly the greatest when it comes to planning things, are you?"

"I- hey!" Yugo glares at him, wanting to bark back as usual. It's difficult too hold back words that were just hanging from his tongue. Somehow, not even he's sure how, he keeps quiet. Soon, he'd be the victor of their little bickering. As long as he managed to get a good scare out of Yuri, he'd make sure that he would never hear the end of it.

"You said you've never been to one, right? So, now's your chance. It only happens once a year."

Yuri rolls his eyes. No matter how displeased and disinterested he looked, it wouldn't get him out of this. There was a silly determination in the idiot's eyes, one that was impossible to escape from. And he was already dragged out here, so he might as well indulge in his poor fantasy while he's here.

"Very well. You still owe me for bringing me out so late to do…this."

It was a 'yes' that passed through Yugo's ears. It made him grin, now eager to go through this haunting adventure with him. He took a step towards the other, grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards the owners of the house, who simply waved them on through.

He had heard from Yuya that it was one of the best haunted houses in the city. They were praised for their use of decor, their props, even the screams that would come from the guests passing through. That was all he needed to hear, thinking that even this walking terror beside him would let out a scream.

But, maybe he should have checked the house out before bringing Yuri along. As soon as they had gone through the front door, it had slammed shut. They were left in silence, darkness. The proud look that Yugo wore began to fall.

It was dark. Too dark. And the air around them seemed to grow cold, as if a spirit was passing through the entrance with them. He has to resist the urge to tighten his grip on Yuri, but unfortunately for him, his hand does so regardless. Then he hears a giggle that's more frightening than any ghost in this house.

"Oh, is the big bad cyclist scared? Hm?"

Yugo is all too grateful he can't see that sneer on his face but he can sure as hell hear it.

"Scared? Me?" He tries to sound cool. His voice cracks. A nervous laugh escapes to cover that up. "Hahaha…I'm not scared. Definitely not. No wa-AAAA!"

He let out a shriek when he felt something touch his shoulder. It was a hand that lacked flesh and seemed to grip onto him. Yuri could only guess it was something to get the poor souls moving if they hung around the entrance for too long. It was a shame he couldn't see how it worked, but it wasn't anything surprising for him. It was for Yugo.

Yuri holds back a sigh. Normally, it was fun to prod at this boy, to make him whimper and fall prey to whatever thought crossed his mind. But, it was much less fun when he couldn't see his reactions and it wasn't his doing. Nor would he enjoy it with all the constant screaming that was to come if this simply trick startled him.

This was going to be a very long walk through the haunted house.

Yugo tries to recover from that scare, tries to put on a brave face that no one could see. He tells himself that it wasn't a real ghost over and over. He's not rightened at all. Yuri is. Not him. Definitely.

Yuri is the one who begins to move. Standing around would do nothing for either of them. Their eyes begin to adjust to the darkness, now able to see where they should be heading through this indoor maze. Yugo never lets go of Yuri, not even for a second.

That is, not until something manages to frighten the poor boy. At one turn, there had been an unmoving dolls seated in the hallway. One had fallen off it's seat, causing a yelp from the mechanic. And when he turned, the doll was getting to its feet, steps taken towards its next two victims.

While he had freed Yuri's wrist, he then proceeded to cling onto him, letting out a panicked yell into his ear, pointing at the 'living' doll inching closer and closer. Yugo feels himself moving, more like being dragged by the other boy with him.

"For someone not scared, you're really latched onto me," he mutters.

"I'm not!" He shouts. "You're the scared one, okay!"

It's stupid to shout out his inner thoughts, but fear had taken over. Thinking before speaking wasn't his strong suite, and it fell lower in this situation.

Throughout the house, they come across more hauntings, each making Yugo squeeze the life out of Yuri. He wasn't sure if the skeleton freeing himself from it's coffin or the headless ghost had made him scream more. All he knew was that by the end of this walk, he'd be deaf in one ear.

After the final ghost, one simply popping out of a well that still managed to make Yugo scream, Yuri is finally released from his grasp. They had ended up outside, presumably the backyard. A path led to the open part of the fence, a bowl of candy was placed near it as a treat for surviving the terrors.

Yuri leaves Yugo at the exit, making his way to the bowl to eye the candy. There wasn't anything to his liking, but he'd take one. Or two. It was one less for the next participants. Meanwhile, Yugo was catching his breath, a hand on his chest and his heart was still racing from all the scares. Yuya had been right. This place was definitely scary. He could see why it was recommended to him. And yet, he was still disappointed.

When he looked over to Yuri, he could see no fright on his face. Just that condescending look while he searched the bowl of candy. That look would soon be aimed towards him, he knew.

"How come you didn't get scared?" Yugo pouts as he makes his way to his side. Eyes dart to the bowl, grabbing a small piece of chocolate.

"Because, I'm well aware this all just theatrics. None of it is real."

"So, if it was real then yo-"

"No," he deadpans.

Yugo huffs at his response, deciding now was the perfect time to eat his chocolate of victory. He tried to think of what could scare him if nothing in there had. He was entertained with the thought of fire for a while, but he figured it would only piss him off instead- especially if it got close to his plants.

"There has to be something you're scared of."

Yuri entertains him but putting a hand to his lip, acting as if he had to think about this. He wasn't scared of much. Even at a young age he couldn't recall being afraid of things that others were. The dark wasn't so bad once you go used to it, snakes and spiders had their charm, and he didn't believe in ghosts. If there was something that did scare him, it wasn't anything physical. Nothing deemed 'normal' by others. But, that was something he couldn't- wouldn't say to Yugo.

"Your driving."

"Huh?"

"You heard me. I fear for my life every time I'm forced on that death bike with you."

At least that was partially true. While he did come to learn to trust in the mechanic's driving skills at some point there were times when he'd rather take a chance walking through heavy traffic instead.

"My driving isn't that bad!" Yugo defends. "Besides, you weren't screaming on he way here!"

"Oh no, you caught me." Yuri sighs in defeat, one with no emotion behind it. "Anyway, let's leave before you end up killing me in your frightened grip."

Yugo fumbles with a response back. There was nothing else he could really say. He let out a sigh and mumbled an 'alright' as they began to leave. At least this night wasn't so bad, even if his plan had ended up in failure. There was something fun about being scared. Maybe he'd find another one to go to before the month ended. And he'd be sure to drag Yuri along with him.

#fantext;#fictober 2019 #yugioh arc v #pawnshipping #yugo #yuri #day 12 #im glad...i got this out on halloween.....

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feel199x · 5 years

Text

♛┈⛧┈┈•༶to protect our district ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

I II III IV V VI VII

ceo!hwang hyunjin, mafia!au, fem!reader

masterlist

a/n: hey there! hhh this isn’t too fluff heavy but it’s there if you squint! thanks for reading! hope you enjoy! (title subject to change bc i couldn’t think of anything)

warnings: angst, alluding to death and assassination, branding

words: 2362

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

It was said that the Hwang family was always successful, and came from a line of royals. Now, they ran a mega-corporation, known internationally. Your family, however, came from a long line of right-hand men and servants, and apprentices. All your life, you were being prepared to follow the CEO of that company, the heir of the throne you could say- Hwang Hyunjin. It should’ve felt major, something you were indebted to do, and you were. But Hyunjin never made you feel that way. You weren’t supposed to interact with the Hwangs unless they asked something of you. But here he was, sneaking off from an important family banquet and talking to you.

“Aren’t you scared?” you whispered, looking up at him. “Won’t it be hard to handle a huge corporation like your dad?” It was something you always probed him when you had the chance, even though you knew you’d get a vague answer. He scoffed. “A mega-corporation is the least I’m afraid of.” You raised an eyebrow at him. “I should get going,” he added, “They’ll get suspicious.” You grabbed his hand and looked up at the stars. “Just stay for a minute longer,” you asked, “admire the stars.” You both leaned against the railing of the porch? “If anything,” he muttured, “You should be afraid.” The stars were exceptionally bright tonight, it felt like they burned through the atmosphere just to shine.

“Of what?”

“Everything.”

And when you turned around to tell him off for being weird and vague, he was already gone.

You hadn’t seen Hyunjin since that night. You had assumed that he was busy preparing his coronation of sorts. But you were busy too, preparing for the same things he was. But the truth was, you weren’t exactly sure what the preparation was for. “But how am I supposed to help Hyunjin if I can’t speak directly to him?” Your mother smacked the back of your head. “Refer to him as Mr. Hwang!” Your arms flailed up and over. “He’s only two years older!” you said, “And he’s not even here!” This earned you another smack. “It doesn’t matter,” she scolded, “We work for them, not the other way around.” For eighteen years, you had asked the same questions, and received the same answers- if one could even call it that. But tonight, the night of the ceremony, was the night of answers, and more questions. Your mother zipped up your evening gown, a color that complimented your skin tone well. It was good fabric, silk, and wrapped around your body tightly. “You look great,” your mother whispered in your ear, “All grown up.” You shuddered at the thought of growing old.

“Where’s dad?”

Your mother paused before brushing your hair back. “He’ll be back before you and Mr. Hwang Hyunjin sign the contract,” she responded, “He just had to take care of something for his father.” You held out your pinky, looking at your mom from the mirror. “Pinky promise?” She put your pinky down. “I can’t promise you anything.” You brought your hands together, and you didn’t push. “You should go,” she said, “You don’t want to be late.” Your mother cupped your face as you turned to leave. “I love you,” she said, “And I’m sorry for putting you through this.” You shrugged. “Nothing to fear but fear itself.” Your mother smacked your head again. “I don’t know if you’re brave, or just utterly clueless.”

The fact was, even if you didn’t want to admit it, was that you were. You were utterly clueless.

You stood at the entrance you were sent to. Playing with the skirt of your dress absentmindedly, you heard someone approach. “Jinnie,” you called out, “I thought you wouldn’t have made it.” He scoffed, leaning against the doorframe. “I couldn’t miss this if I tried.” You smiled. You smiled at him. “Always one with words,” you teased, “I bet you’re unbelievably popular with the ladies.” You made a dramatic gesture, your hand on your forehead. “I’m going to have you guillointed.” “Oh Jinnie,” you called out after him, “You’re sweeping me off my feet.”

“Shut up!”

Your laughing came to a cease when the door opened, a young man around the same age as Hyunjin, motioned for you to come in. “It’s time.” You nodded, making your way throught the narrow and long corridor- dimly lit and ominous. “You must be nervous,” he commented, “I am too.” “Oh yeah?” you asked, “What’s your position?” His step slowed down for a moment before picking up again. “His right hand man,” he continued, “Han Jisung, to live and to serve. And you?” You pondered for a moment. “I guess I’m not too sure,” you said, “Probably his assistant or something. They never really told me.” He opened his mouth to say something, but hushed as the light peeked into the hallway. You both stepped into the banquet hall, upon the right side of the band’s stage. The light shined in your eyes, making you cover your them as you walked to the center. You quickly pulled your hand down once you realized there was a grand number of people in the room- all of their eyes on you. You spotted Hyunjin on the opposite side of the stage, in a formal black suit. His hair was parted to the side, as usual, but something about this lighting made him look soft and almost angelic. Hyunjin caught you staring and winked, then resumed to wave to people familiar to him. It took all of you to maintain a poker face and not stick your tongue out at him, you reminded yourself that this was a serious event.

Even if you weren’t too sure what exactly it was for.

It wasn’t until Hyunjin’s father walked upon the stage, that you stopped zoning out and fix your posture. “It is a pleasure to welcome you all into my home, and present you to the next generation of our organization,” he recited, “Let me introduce you to my son, your next leader, Hwang Hyunjin.” Hyunjin walked and stood next to his dad, you wish you could say he looked nervous, but he was completely composed. Except for the nearly imperceptible tapping of his fingers on his thigh, he looked like the next ceo. “We have Han Jisung and Seo Changbin, taking over as Hyunjin’s right hand men,” he announced, “Their predecessors have worked will within their area. We expect and promise that these young men will do the same.” You leaned a bit to see another boy stand by the side of Hyunjin. His face was long, and he had the best poker face you had seen. Both boys bowed at either side of Hyunjin and stood behind him, formally. “And ___,” you looked up to see Hyunjin’s father look at you expectantly. You fixed your posture and walked as professionally as you could to the father’s side. You looked for your father within the crowd, but found your mother instead. She looked down and shook her head. “When ____ was born, we expected a male to take her father’s place. But we do not discriminate,” he paused as the crowd laughed knowingly. And you took this time to give a questioning look at Hyunjin, who ignored your gaze. “Here to take care of whatever must be taken care of.” A group of older men, including Hyunjin father took a paper within their hands, as their children stood before them. Your father stepped on stage, limping, but on the stage nonetheless. He smiled brightly at you, holding the contract tightly in his hands. “This group of young men,” he paused again, “and woman, hold our future in their hands. Signing this contract, you agree, in front of the entire organization, to take the role you were assigned at birth. Within life and death.” All of the fathers extended the contracts, and the pen that sat within the pocket of their expensive suits. One by one, you signed. You hesitated for a moment, not too sure what the future held in store for you. But you signed nonetheless, mostly because you had no choice.

You eagerly waited to get off stage, when Hyunjin’s father spoke once more. “I know you’re all waiting to go home,” he spoke into the microphone, “But there’s one more thing we must have you do to prove your loyalty.” There were murmurs and smiles amongst the crowd. You looked worriedly at Hyunjin, and he nodded without looking at you. A hot piece of metal was brought to the almost former leader on a velvet cushion. He turned to the group.

“Who’s first?”

The boys looked nervously at one another, but before you could stop yourself, you stepped forward. “Me,” you tried to say it firmly, but your voice wavered at first, “I’ll go first.” Hyunjin’s father looked at Hyunjin and gave him the cushion. He held it in his hand for a moment before reaching for the metal bar. “I’m sorry,” he whispered in your ear before brushing your hair away from the nape of your neck. He pressed the bar’s logo onto your nape and your eyes welled with tears as you bit your lip. A small, curved nine forever imprinted on the back of your neck.

“Welcome to District Nine!” the crowd shouted, their drinks raised in the air. And one by one, you all had the same curved nine on the nape of your necks.

You stepped of the stage, as the actual band came up and played lively jazz music. Jisung poked the back of his neck and winced. “I don’t think it’ll hurt less if you keep touching it.” He whined in response. “Give me a break! I didn’t think it’d hurt this bad.” Changbin slapped his back. “I think the brand is officially the least of our problems.” The conversation muted as Hyunjin joined the rest of you. “It’s just me,” he scolded the group, “I’m not high and mighty like my dad.” “Oh Mr. Hwang,” you teased, “Don’t be so modest.” He clicked his tongue and frowned at you. “Actually can I talk to you,” he added, “Alone.” The boys took this as their cue to leave silently, Jisung’s cheeks puffing out as he quickly took some food from a nearby waiter’s platter.

“Are you scared now?” Hyunjin asked. You sat at the creek’s edge, admiring the surrounding garden. “I guess I should be,” you commented, your fingers skimming across the water’s edge. “But now I know that you don’t work for a huge company now.” He sat by you. “No,” he corrected, “I do. But I do more than that.” You looked at him, his side profile illuminated by the moonlight. “Like what?”

“Trick people. Make money.”

You laughed, but he still didn’t look at you. “Jinnie,” you said, “You would never. You’re too nice.” He shook his head. “People change under pressure, under difficult situations.”

“Do you even know what your job is?” he inquired, “What you’ll have to do?” His voice cracked and your concern grew. “Well,” you paused, thinking about it, “Your dad said-”

“Not what my dad said,” Hyunjin cut you off, “But what he meant.” He shook his head before you get a word out. “You don’t understand. You’re not ready.” You both stared out at the garden. Looking at the greenery and organized rainbow of flowery upon you. You loved flowers, and if you could, you would be a botanist. Your voice grew steady and clear. “I’m not stupid you know,” you said, “Whatever bad thing I’m about to do, I was made to do. That’s the only reason I was born.” Tears grew welled up in your eyes, as you stared up at the sky. “We could run away,” he whispered. “No,” you said sadly, “They’d find us.” You looked back at him to see him crying, tears falling like raindrops down his face. You wiped them away. “You’re even handsome when you cry,” you said bitterly, “That’s so annoying.”

You picked a rose nearby, cutting the tip of your finger on it’s thorn. You dropped it on his lap. “Jinnie,” you nudged his arm, finally earning an annoyed look from him, “Every rose has it’s thorns.” You laughed as his eyebrows furrowed. “You’ll change too,” he said as he pushed hair out of your eyes and tucked it behind your ear, “And you’re just a kid.” You both leaned in, but he pulled away nervously. He picked up the rose where there were no thorns, and walked away before you could say anything. “You should get back before anyone starts asking questions,” he yelled, “Technically only the Hwangs are allowed up here.”

“Oh you little-” you got up and ran after him, holding up the skirt of your dress with one hand and heels in the other. “If that’s how you woo girls then I take it back,” you yelled, “You’re awful!”

You both made your way back into the banquet hall, out of breath and barely holding yourselves together. As his Hyujin’s father approached the both of you. “I’ll deal with you two later,” he scolded and looked at Hyunjin, an added, “We’re having a meeting with your team.”

His father lead the both of you into a room where Jisung and Changbin stpod, and another boy you didn’t recognize. They all bowed at the sight of Hyunjin, and you moved to join the others. “Your first assignment,” Mr. Hwang handed a stack of files to Hyunjin, “I trust that you’ll brief them as necessary.” Mr. Hwang left the room, and Hyunjin passed out the files. “Each of you have a role,” Hyunjin started, “Changbin is our informant. Jisung is my second in command. Chan is the organizer. And ___, our executor. In order to work as a team, we must all recognize our roles and respect one another.” Hyunjin opened his file, and flipped through it until he reached a group of pictures. “These are our rivals,” he slid the file across the table, “We meet them tomorrow to negotiate..” He paused, taking a glance to look at you.

“Or take them out.”

#hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin imagines #skz imagines #skz fic #hwang hyunjin fic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stayracha

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olicitysecretsanta · 5 years

Text

True Loves Gifts: AN 2018 SECRET SANTA GIFT

@christinabeggs: May you Holiday be bright and full of Olicity dessert. I hope you enjoy this fic. It gave me the gift OF writing again and finding the joy of creating something new.

TRUE LOVES GIFTS:

After months of long nights in the office, smoldering looks over the computer screen Felicity has a date with one of the most eligible bachelors in Starling City. A handsome billionaire her mother would be proud to call son. They share a concern for making their relationship public considering he is technically her boss. A few whispered conversations and an upcoming Winter Gala made Felicity his date.

Ray was everything she’d dreamed of as a potential husband. He was brilliant, charismatic, funny, he valued her mind as much as her body.

Felicity has a little over a week to find the perfect dress, make a hair appointment to touch up her roots. Her work schedule left her with only one day to get everything done.

She throws her hair up in a messy bun, her comfortable shopping outfit leggings and oversize sweater. Felicity grabs her purse, texting Renee about her hair emergency. Felicity is looking down unaware of the person standing in her hallway until she slams into the hard body.

Felicity lets out a yelp before falling backwards on her butt. Her glasses fall off her nose turning the world into blurry shades of green and brown.

“Hey!?” Felicity snaps. “Anyone get the name of the tree I ran into? Ouch, sorry I didn’t see you.”

She looks up at the man standing in front of her, he’s wearing head to toe camouflage. Half his face is covered with a full beard. His hair is shaggy under the green ball cap he wore. The rest of his face hidden behind dark sunglasses. On his shoulder is a stuffed duffle bag.

“I didn’t know camouflage works in urban hallways,” Felicity tilts her head to the side. She sees his lips twitch, at least she thinks they did. It was hard to tell with the dead animal on his face.

“Are you okay?” the tree of a man has a deep rich amused voice.

Something about him seems familiar. He reaches down helping her get to her feet. He smells of sand and a faint hint of spice.

“Oliver in 2B?!” Felicity says with a snap of her fingers.

He was a ARMY something or other and had been deployed for over eighteen months. She had a bit of a crush on him before he’d left but never had the courage to tell him. They had been friendly neighbors, he’d help her with projects around the apartment. She’d save his computer from him. On rare occasions he’d cook her dinner.

The first few months after he left she’d send him care packages full of cookies made by the bakery down the block and a few pictures of her Sunday adventures. She stopped writing when he never wrote her back.

“Felicity 2A, good to see you.” Oliver’s says softly.

Felicity looks down at her rumpled clothes, drags a hand over her hair.

“Welcome home,” her phone dings in her pocket. “I have to run, glad you made it back.”

Felicity rushes past him, she can feel his eyes watching her, she refuses to give him the satisfaction of turning back. Oliver had been a short term crush from some long ago dream. Ray Palmer was a viable future. She has a date to get ready for and no time to waste thinking about Oliver 2B.

….

Renee does an amazing job on her hair color. He practices a few different updos depending on style of dress. His vote is something short to show off her legs. She promises him pictures before running off for dress shopping.

She hits the major stores trying on different styles, colors, lengths, fabrics nothing feels right. Felicity finds a small boutique she’d only read about in a magazine. The dresses are stunning. The price tags shocking.

A skin tight beaded red dress catches her eye.

Standing in front of the mirror Felicity wonders what Oliver would say if he saw her in this dress. Would his eyes follow the deep V of the neck line or would he be drawn to the mid thigh length.

She shakes her head of Oliver thoughts. This dress isn’t for him, it’s for Ray.

It’s for her future.

Felicity runs her hand over the beads, her finger drawing along the intricate designs. She’d need a new bra, a little something intimate to match. A new pair of shoes that’d kill her feet and make her legs appear longer. It would be cold, Felicity is going to need a wrap to keep her warm. Is Ray the kind of guy to offer her his coat?

A few hours later, Felicity stumbles into her apartment. She spent way more than she should have. Probably will live off top ramen for a few weeks. It’s worth it. She puts away her purchases then collapses on the couch.

Pulling out her cell phone she considers calling Ray. Felicity puts her phone down when she remembers Ray turns his phone off on Sunday’s, she’d see him tomorrow. They have an early meeting with a new client.

A loud buzzing from her intercom startles her. Felicity press the button, the image of a teenager holding a bag filled the small monitor.

“Yes?” she asks in confusion.

“Delivery for 2A.”

“I didn’t order anything?” It has been a long day but she would have remembered ordering food.

The kid sighs, “well someone did and I’m supposed to deliver it. So do you want it or not?”

“What is it?” Felicity recognizes the logo on the bag. It’s the best kosher deli in the city.

“Latkes,” the teenager taps his toe.

She has only had Solomon’s Latkes a few times and they were amazing. “I’ll be right down. Oh, how much?” Felicity reaches for her purse.

“Paid for including the tip.”

“You sure they are for 2A?” Felicity is highly suspicious, also hungry.

“Come on lady I have two more deliveries, if you don’t want them I’ll leave.” The kid pulls out his phone.

“No way am I turning down Latkes, two minutes.”

Felicity runs out the door in her socks. Her feet slide on the hardwood floor, her arms pinwheel and she starts to fall back. A strong arm wraps around her waist and pulls her back into a warm chest. She inhales the smell of warm spices. The tip of her ear brushes against coarse hair.

“We got to stop meeting like this 2B.” Felicity’s voice is low. She licks her lips.

“Just trying to help 2A.” Oliver’s says in her ear.

His hands slide up her sides onto her shoulders and he gently places her steady on her feet. She misses his warmth instantly. He stays a few inches behind her, the heat radiating between them. Felicity fears if she turns around she will do something crazy and throw herself back in his arms.

“Very kind of you 2B. Well, I have latkes waiting.” Felicity steps away from him for the second time today. Each step harder than the first.

“Merry Christmas 2A,” Oliver calls out to her.

Felicity stops, she turns around. She sees him standing tall, his back straight, shoulder tight taking up the entire space of the hall with his size. He is out of the uniform, a black tee shirt cling to his chest. His arms were bigger, she wants to drag her hand over the lines of his chest. His jeans hug his hips. He is bigger, broader more gladiator than a simple soldier. His beard still covers his face. Unlike last time she could see his piercing blue eyes. When she meets his eyes something in his body eases.

“Thanks, but I’m Jewish.” Felicity corrects. She swore they’d talked about this before. Maybe she wrote it in a letter. Oliver didn’t remember, why should she care.

“Oh then, Happy Hanukkah 2A.” Oliver steps back, walks into his apartment and closes the door. .

“Lateks, I have Lateks.”

She hesitates another moment. She used to linger in the hall until he’d open his door and ask about her day. They would talk from their doorways until she’d slip out of her shoes. He’d tease her about being tiny and tell her to have a nice night before disappearing behind his door. The time he was gone the hallway felt empty and cold. She’d walk by his door and know he wasn’t home. The hallway became colder, everything a little more empty. It felt as if even the building held its breath.

Felicity smiles knowing he is behind the door, Oliver was home safe. It would take her time to get used to him being home. Maybe they would even get back to the way they use to be. Her letters never revealed how she’d felt, she has no reason to be mad at him.

She slowly turns away from the door and down the stairs. The teen gave up waiting, leaving her strange delivery on the front porch. Felicity brings the bag inside, locks her door and sets her alarm. She opens the bag, inside with the receipt, there is a note.

On the first night of Hanukkah my True love gave to me a platter of latkes.

She looks at her calendar and realizes that she’d almost forgotten in all her rushing. The card wasn’t signed. The only logical person has to be Ray. She’d told him about the deli and her love of the food. Felicity couldn’t believe he’d done this for her. It was thoughtful and sweet.

Facility hated surprises but she is sure this years Hanukkah was going to be special.

…

Each day following she receives a small gift arriving near sunset with a short message.

On the second day of Hanukkah my True Love gave to me a dreidel made of wood.

She was sure it was handmade.

On the third day of Hanukkah my True Love gave to me an ugly Jewnicorn sweater.

The blue sweater makes her laugh out loud when she pulls it from the box. A white unicorn surrounded by Stars of David and a blue and gold rainbow. It is terrible and she loves it.

On the fourth day of Hanukkah my True Love gave to me a box of menorah cookies.

She eats half the box before lunch.

On the fifth day of Hanukkah my True Love gave to me a Blue Nail polish.

Felicity changes her color that night, sure that it would be a sign to Ray she was enjoying his gifts.

Through the days she tries to talk to Ray, to thank him but he is constantly on the move. She can never catch him alone. He tells her to order a limo for Saturday night. He touches her elbow, his palms are damp and soft.

Felicity thinks about Oliver, wonders what he’s doing back home. She hasn’t talked to him since Sunday. She has seen him a few times through her window. She’s watch him running home in the early morning after his run. His clothes drenched in sweat. Before coming inside he scrapes ice off the Diggles car, they have two kids and always seem to be rushing. A few times Felicity would leave for work and her windshield would be clean.

She wonders how is he is adjusting to being home. How long will he be home? What if he leaves before she can fix their friendship. Did she want to fix it or advance it?

Felicity stares out the window, lost in thought. The voice around her sound far away and hollow.

“Earth to Felicity,” Ray’s voice cuts off her Oliver spiral. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you this week, but I need you to wake up and do your job.”

Ray storms off leaving a flabbergasted Felicity. He’d been wrong during their last meeting and when she tried to correct him he sent her out for coffee. Her ears turn red and she almost snaps her pencil in half. It’s only the sight of the blue nails that calm her down. Ray is having a rough week but still doing things that made her feel special. She brushes off his bad behavior and gets back to work.

On the sixth day of Hanukkah my True Love gave to me a Blue Police Box from Doctor Who filled with treats.

Felicity opens the lid of cookie jar police box and the familiar sound of the Tardis fills her kitchen. Inside are gold foil wrapped chocolate coins. She loved these as a kid.

She grabs a handful before leaving her apartment. She stands in front of Oliver’s door, lifts her hand. Before she knocks, the door opens and she lets out a squeal.

“Damit 2B, are you trying to kill me.” Felicity smacks his arm.

Olive chuckles, “I don’t think so 2A. I just seem to have a strange effect on you.”

“Ha, you have no idea what you’re doing to me.” Felicity mumbles. Her heart is racing, her knees weak.

Oliver crosses his arms and a single eyebrow lifts. He leans against his doorframe.

“I mean not doing to me. Not that you’re doing anything to me or even talking to me. Why aren’t you talking to me? I want to hear about what you’ve been up too.”

Oliver stiffens, he pulls back from her. A wall comes down over his eyes. “You don’t want to hear about that. I’m back and that’s all that matters now.”

“I do want to hear about it,” she tries again. “I want to know about the pet you got on your face.”

“Listen 2A, I have plans. Did you need something?”

Felicity steps back, her eyes burning. She shakes her head. “I… Um wanted to give you some Gelt.”

She holds out her hand filled with coins. He reaches out his hand, his fingers drag down her palm. Felicity curls her hand prolonging the warm sensation burning up her arm and down her spine. Oliver stares down at their hands, Felicity watches emotion cross his face. His wall comes down for an instant.

“Oliver,” Felicity breaths out his name. She takes a small step closer. His head lifts up, his eyes meet hers. She longs to touch his cheek, to pull him in.

Her phone rings in her pocket and the moment is broken. Oliver steps back, his wall back in place, standing between them. She licks her lips and pulls out her phone, Ray. Of all the times for him to call.

“Hey Ray,” Felicity answers.

“Felicity, I’ve been thinking about you all night. How about I come over and we can go over my briefs.” Ray chuckles and hiccups into the phone.

“Have you been drinking?” Felicity couldn’t remember a time he’d ever called her drunk.

“Maybe! Want to join me? We could have a real good time. I want to have a really good time with you baby.”

Felicity looks over at Oliver, he is scowling. Can he hear Ray? Did she want him to be jealous? Could he get jealous? Why would he, they are long ago friends.

“It does not sound like you are up for any time beside bed time.”

“Mmm bed time, I like that sound of that. Will you be beside me?”

Felicity turns away from Oliver.

“We have plans tomorrow night remember. Get some rest Ray.”

“Don’t play hard to get with me Miss Smoak. I know you want it.”

A noise behind her makes her turn around. Oliver is cracking his knuckles. His eyes blaze. She inhales sharply. The phone forgotten in her hand. He moves fast standing in front of her, she steps back, he follows.

“O-Oliver?” her voice quivers. It’s not fear the making her body shake, it’s hormones. He is looking at her with unrestrained lust.

“No one talks to you like that. No one.” Oliver’s voice is a low dangerous rumble.

Felicity can feel his body press against her. He grabs the phone from her hand and ends the call. Gold gelt are on the floor around their feet. He leans in closer. The smell of spices surrounds her sense. Her head falls back surrendering to the moment. Oliver’s hand grazes over her cheek, down her neck. His thumb traces her lips.

“Felicity.” Her name on his lips is a sonnet, a poem she never knew she needed.

“If you kiss me, will you stay?” Felicity’s words slip out. She thought them a thousand nights.

“It’s not a good idea.” The wall slams down between them. Felicity is light headed, she is drunk on his scent. He steps away, she stumbles but refuses to fall.

“Which, kissing me or staying around?” Felicity demands.

“Both,” Oliver shakes his head. His eyes sad.

“Yeah, okay, you are right, this is a mistake. I wish you had stayed gone. Everything was fine before you came back. I knew what I wanted, I knew where I was going. But you come back and mess everything up. You spin me around and flip everything upside down.”

Oliver’s shoulders sag, he takes another step away from her.

“Just keep running 2B, it’s what you do best.” Felicity spins around and storms into her apartment slamming the door.

For an instant she let herself believe. Felicity grabs her cookie jar and the chocolate coins. Ray loves her. Yes, he was a little off during the phone call - it was in front of Oliver. Everything feels different around Oliver so it only made sense.

…

On the seventh day of Hanukkah my True Love gave to me a candle to light up the dark when we are apart.

A three wick large candle arrives the next day smelling of homemade cookies and cinnamon. How long does Ray think they will be apart, Felicity wonders. She has a rough night tossing and turning. In a few hours the limo will be here to pick her up and she barely has enough energy to shower. Oliver would not ruin another night for her. She puts on her favorite playlist to let the music ease her out of her bad mood.

She removes the blue polish and puts on a dark ruby red. She shaves and lotions her legs. Slides on the dark red lace underwear and matching strapless bra. Tonight if everything goes right she will be showing these off. She curls her hair and leaves it down. Her makeup is dark, her blue eyes startling. Her lips are a long-wear red.

Felicity steps into her shoes and inspects her reflection. Hands on her bare hips, she thinks Oliver would swallow his tongue if he saw her now. Nothing but red pumps and lacy underwear. For a moment she considers knocking on his door and showing him what he is missing.

The thought of Ray being the one to see her tonight seems a little wrong.

Resigning to her choice she pulls on her dress. Grabs her purse and wrap. Before opening the door she hears voices in the hall. Using the peephole she looks out. She sees John Diggle standing in the hall. He is talking to a man in a suit with short hair standing with his back to her door.

“If you’re sure about this then I support you, I’ve been there I understand.” John says to the man.

The other man puts his hand on John’s shoulder.

“Thanks John.”

It’s Oliver in a suit and he got a haircut. She wonders if he’s shaved. Does he look different? Should she open the door show off her dress. Show him she doesn’t care. Before she could decide Oliver is walking away down the stairs and into the night. Felicity wonders what would happen if she chases after him.

Gripping the handle she pulls the door open, and rushes down the stairs. The crisp night is shocking. She tightens her wrap around her. Looking around she doesn’t see Oliver’s truck. Felicity’s chest feels hollow. She is too late.

“You must be really excited about tonight.” Ray Palmer is standing beside a limo. He’s wearing a sharp expensive tuxedo.

Felicity watches as he checks his reflection in the limo window.

“You look great Ray.” Felicity takes heavy steps toward him.

“Thanks, are you ready? Or do you need to fix your hair?” Ray’s eyes skim over her. Taking a deep breath she opens the door of the limo. Ray pops his head in.“Alright, if you’re sure. Scoot over, I’d hate to get my pants dirty.”

Shaking her head, she slides over. Felicity sees a flash of the driver from the rearview mirror. She sees a hint of a clean shaven face before he turns away.

“Driver, we’re ready. What should we do until we get there?” Ray purrs. “I know what you can get me for Christmas.”

He is breathing hot hair on her neck. She leans away, creating space between them. He moves in closer, leaning in for a kiss. The limo breaks hard, Ray slides down off the seat landing on the floor of the car. Felicity resists the urge to laugh. She catches a spark of blue from the driver.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Ray snaps.

“There was a dog in the road,” Felicity explains before the driver can answer. She grabs the champaign. “How about a drink?”

Ray talks, asks about her plans for the Holidays. Asks if her mom is coming for Christmas. It didn’t take long for Felicity to realise there was no way that Ray was her Hanukkah True Love. The more time she spends with him, the more she knows she has no reason to stay.

“We shouldn’t walk in together, don’t want to give people the wrong idea.” Ray fixes his jacket. “Have the driver take you around the corner and I’ll meet you inside.”

“Yeah, make sure you hold your breath.” She shuts the door on his smug face. “Can you take me home? I don’t belong here.”

“Are you sure? It looks like a beautiful party,” his voice is a little muffled through the half raised partition.

“I’d rather go to Big Belly and get a milkshake.” Felicity sinks into the warm leather seat.

“It would be a waste of an amazing dress.”

“I wore it for the wrong guy.” Felicity looks out the window. She rubs her arms lost in thought.

“Who’s the right guy?” The driver pulls away from the curb.

“Someone I was scared to take a chance on. Someone I should have told years ago how I feel when I’m around him.”

“How do you feel about this someone?”

Felicity drops the wrap. She uncrosses her legs. “How do I feel about him? I feel like ripping his clothes off. I want to know how he tastes, explore his body with my tongue. Most of all, I want him to pull over and join me in the back of this limo.”

Felicity rubs her legs together, her hands drag up and down her thighs. It was the timber of his voice and the shape of his ear. The sense of comfort in his presence. Her heart would know Oliver anywhere.

The limo stops on a vista overlooking the coast. He is out of the car and joining her in the back. They reach for each other and he pulls her into his lap. His large hand cups the back of her neck. Felicity places her hand on his cheek he leans into her warmth.

“I thought I screwed up.” Oliver whispers.

“So did I.” Felicity close the space between them.

He wraps her up into his arms. He holds her close, his hands in her hair. He explores her mouth with his tongue, sucks on her lips. Kissing him takes her breath away, fills her up with molten lava.

They lose track of time in each others arms.

…

Felicity wakes up in Oliver’s bed, alone. The smell of fresh coffee draws her out of bed. She puts on a discarded flannel shirt. She finds him in the kitchen. He is sprinkling powdered sugar on a jelly donut.

“Hey, I was going to surprise you.” Oliver smiles. He leans over the counter to kiss her cheek.

“You made these?” Felicity takes a bite of the warm donut. Her eyes close in pleasure.

“You make that same sound when I kiss you behind the ear.”

“Prove it.” Felicity challenges.

“In a minute, I have something for you.” Oliver walks around her, disappears into his room. He comes back holding a blue box with a silver bow. He sets the box on the counter.

“What’s this?” Felicity laces her fingers through the bow.

“Open it and find out.”

She lifts the lid off the box. Inside is bundle of letters in a ribbon. On top of the buddle there is a note.

On the eighth day of Hanukkah my True Love gave to me his heart.

Felicity looks up at him. Oliver pulls out the bundle and places them in her hands.

“For five hundred forty-seven days I wrote you. Sometimes it was a multiple page letter. Others it was a short message about thinking of you. You were always on my mind. You were the only thing that kept me going. Kept me alive. I held on to every letter you wrote, every silly selfie you sent. I wanted to hand these to you. See your face, when I tell you that you are the love of my life. I love you Felicity.”

Felicity hugs the letters to her chest. Wipes the tears from her eyes.

“I should have known it was you. I sent letters full of my ramblings about my favorites places and things. You are the only person to ever truly see me. You are my true and only love. I love you 2B.”

“I love you 2A.”

#arrow #olicity #olicity fic #olicity secret santa 2018 #submission

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behld · 4 years

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tags 01.

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imagine-always-and-forever · 6 years

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In Plain Sight -- Part 3

A Klaus Mikaelson Imagine

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Word length: 2,054

Warnings: typical violence and stuff you’d see in the show

Request: Hello! I just found your blog and I’m living it! Can you do a Klaus story where the reader has twins with him but he didn’t know (maybe one of his siblings helped them hid or something?) But that they are older then Hope by like a year so when their Aunt comes for a firstborn and funds Hope is not it she goes after the reader who Klaus was in fact in love with? If not its cool no pressure :) (requested by @poemfreak306 )

Summary: Klaus and Elijah show up at your door

Asked to be tagged: @luiza-4-ever, @cuddlyklaus , @kathrynisadogperson , @julias-wickers, @youngestxhearts , @angelsfallingdown , @itskindofafairything (if you want to be tagged in the next parts, let me know!)

Author’s note: AGAIN thank you SO MUCH for the support and kind words! This is an emotional chapter but stay tuned because boy is it going to get wild. Also, I feel like I need to give a shoutout of an apology to Klaus for having to use so many gifs of him crying. I promise it gets better. Or does it??? *intense dramatic mystery music ensues*

“E-Elijah?” you asked in shock. He smiled at you and picked the gun up from the floor and handed it back to you. You took it without really thinking, too shocked as you tried to process what you were seeing.

“May I come in?” Elijah asked, looking around behind you in the hall.

Staring at him, you suddenly remembered why he had to ask. He was here. He was really here. After all these years. After you never thought you’d see him again. You flung your arms around him. He grunted with the impact, but his arms came around you quickly. He laughed and squeezed you tightly.

“You’re here,” you whispered into the collar of his shirt. “You’re really here.” You could feel the tears welling in your eyes and you knew you needed to let go and start asking questions but you couldn’t. You couldn’t let go because then he could leave. He couldn’t leave. Not now. You sucked in a wet breath, and Elijah sighed, hugging you harder.

“Y/N,” he said. “I am really here, but you’ll have to let go or at least put the gun away or people will start to stare,” he told you and you realised there was a lot of people walking by. A few stopped and looked at you and the house as if it was the first time they had ever noticed it. Which it was, thanks to that spell.

“Sorry,” you said in a sheepish laugh as you let go and stepped back. You wiped at your eyes and let out a little disbelieving laugh at the sight of Elijah Mikaelson standing on your front step. Standing on your front step. Oh! You should invite him-

You couldn’t. The twins. You put the gun away quickly. Swallowing nervously and hoping Elijah hadn’t noticed your erratic heartbeat, you stepped outside onto the small porch as well. Elijah glanced at the door as you pulled it to.

“Am I not welcome?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s just the house is a bit messy at the moment,” you lied. Sort of. Two almost one-year-olds did make the house less than perfectly clean but it wasn’t actually a disaster. But Elijah didn’t need to know that. If he walked in that house he was bound to hear or sense the twins.

“I see,” Elijah replied. You wish he did. You wish he could. Every single day you wish they all could.

“How is –“ you swallowed and crossed your arms over your chest. It hurt. You tried so hard to make it not and to forget but you couldn’t. The hardest part of it all was deciding you couldn’t bare Elijah from compelling you to forget him. He was the best thing that happened to you and you never wanted to forget that. No matter how painful it was. You wanted the memory of loving someone that much and to be able to make sure the twins knew about him. You cleared your throat. “How is he?” you managed to ask. You could feel the tears begin to stream, hot and burning.

Elijah hesitated for a moment and your breath caught in fear. He was fine. He had to be fine. He had to be. You searched Elijah’s eyes, feeling yourself on the verge of breaking down. Your knees buckled as the thought came into your head: why would Elijah come now if not to tell you this. As your hand went to cover your mouth and you gasped in a breath, a panic attack and grief slamming into you so hard you felt like you might shut down, Elijah grabbed hold of your shoulders to steady you.

“Niklaus is-“

“Right here” Klaus’s voice sounded from behind Elijah.

Your head snapped up and your eyes went wide. Standing at the edge of your property stood Klaus Mikaelson. He wore a pair of dark jeans, a grey Henley with the top buttons open making an open v, a black leather biker jacket, and dress shoes. A classic look of his. It almost made it that much harder because it looked so normal.

You gasped in another breath at the sight of him.

For what felt like hours, you both stood there and stared at each other. You were so caught up in him that every other thought about the moment was lost. Your eyes hungrily took in the sight of him, memorizing him newly as you scanned every inch of him. You were aware of a heart-breaking pang, a feeling that you had become so used to it had numbed itself out. It was a feeling that came from loving him so much and wanting him so much but not being able to have him. Your body was beginning you to hold him. All you wanted to do was cling to him and cry. You wanted to tell him you were sorry and that you never wanted to leave. You wanted him. Plain and simple.

Klaus watched you with shock. His eyes roamed your body as his mind tried to process that he was really seeing you. You were here. Right in front of him. You were alive. There was no anger or hurt. There only relief. His heart felt like it hadn’t in years and there was a lump in his throat. He hadn’t cared about anything for so long and when he lost you he thought he never would again. Not this way. He wanted to touch you. He wanted to feel that you were real. He wanted to feel the warmth of your skin. He wanted to hear your heartbeat. He wanted to hold you and wash away the grief he has been drowning in. He wanted to so badly but he could barely breathe let alone move.

And, for the first time in a very long time, he was unsure of himself. He had never been unsure of you. He had never been unsure of his welcome with you. But that was before and this is now.

“Y/N,” Klaus said, his heart thudding at the ability to say it to you. That you were alive and well and right in front of him. He said it trying to hide all the pain, hurt, anger, and more. He said it trying to act like he wasn’t about to break into a million pieces like some kind of cliché romance novel. He said it like it was the most natural thing to come out of his mouth. He said it like it was sacred and he’d never thought he’d get to say it like that again. He said it like all those things because it was true.

Hearing Klaus say your name was the breaking point. For two years you have dreamed of him. For two years you have agonized about your decision to leave. You have hurt and cried over having to hurt him. You have been mourning losing the only person you’ve ever truly loved, ever wanted to or want to love. For two years you have been desperate, so desperate, to hear his voice. And now here he was. You could see him. You could hear him. And he said your name like he still loved you.

You fell to your knees, a sob pulled from your body as you dropped your head in your hand and tried to breathe. Elijah immediately scooped you up and supported you to stand. You were a mess. Inconsolable. People were staring. You could feel it. Nosy neighbours that never knew you existed were calling out to find out if you were okay. You didn’t care. You couldn’t care. You were a mess.

Elijah let go and walked to the end of the path. He responded to them, assuring them all you were okay. Without his support, you crumbled once more. You didn’t care if you weren’t helping things. You were barely keeping yourself breathing.

You felt him crouch down next to you. An arm came to rest across your body, holding you gently and pushing a firm chest against your side. It was a welcome and warm weight. It was a familiar weight paired with a familiar smell and a familiar feeling. It was Klaus. You squeezed your eyes shut as you kept trying to force your hyperventilating to stop and your mind to calm down.

“Love,” Klaus said softly in your ear.

He wasn’t helping calm you down. Not when it was his very being here that was making you feel like this. His comforting made the hurt and desperation for him so much worse. So much worse. His hand rubbed calming circles on your back as he whispered soothing words in your ear. His hot breath hit your skin. He was leaning in close to your ear, his lips brushing against your ear and creating an intimate and safe place. It was what he used to do two years ago. Shutting the world outside out and reminding you that he was right there. That he wasn’t going anywhere. That you were safe. That he would never let anything hurt you.

It made it so much harder now.

“Perhaps now would be the time to go inside,” Elijah suggested as he walked back up to you and Klaus.

“We’ll move when she is ready to,” Klaus stated in a clipped tone to his brother.

You were still trying to calm down when the sounds of crying drifted outside from the house. The twins. Your head snapped up, startling Klaus. Immediately, you were calm and you wiped your eyes as your motherly instincts kicked in. The twins needed you. Your emotions could wait.

You rushed inside and burst through the door to the living room. The twins were sitting in the middle of their playpen, crying and looking at you with outstretched arms. They had started to think you’d left them. Guilt washed over you as you rushed over to them.

“No, no,” you said as you stepped into the playpen. They crawled over to you and you sat. You pulled them both onto your lap, a baby on each thigh. They leant against you, crying into your shirt as you hugged them to you and hushed them reassuringly. “Mommy’s here,” you promised them. “It’s okay. Mommy’s right here,” you said bouncing them slightly as you placed kisses all over their faces.

Their crying continued for a few minutes as you rocked and cuddled them. Their little arms were tangled in your hair and your shirt. Their chubby little legs were pushing them closer to you. You kissed them and whispered calming words filled of promises and reassurance. Finally, they calmed down.

“All better?” you asked as their sniffling came to an end as well.

You looked into their blue eyes and gave them one final kiss on the head each. Your daughter reached out her hand to her brother and he took it, offering each other comfort in the wake of the most traumatic thing they’d faced in the past three weeks other than when their teddy bears had to be taken away to go in the wash after getting baby food all over them.

“Y/N?” Elijah called.

You froze. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. Never did you think this day would come. You picked the twins up together, a feat made easier by them feeling more clingy at the moment. They held onto you in curiosity, looking around with an interested expression as you lifted them from their playpen. They knew their schedule and this was diverting from it. It was interesting. New. They liked it. All signs of upset from minutes ago vanished as you moved to the couch and had them sit on your lap there.

You watched as they reached their little hands out and touched the soft fabric of the couch. They smiled at each other and started hitting it. You couldn’t help but laugh a little. They kicked their little legs out, testing the new position on your legs. Your son craned his neck and leaned forward to look at the ground below. He looked over the playpen with a spark of wonder in his eyes. You kissed the top of his head.

“Y/N?” Elijah called again.

You cleared your throat. It was time.

#niklaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #the originals #the originals imagine #niklaus imagine #niklaus mikaelson imagine #klaus imagine #klaus mikealson imagine #niklaus x reader #niklaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus x reader #in plain sight -- part 3

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eyes-of-a-disney-princess · 7 years

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It’s About Damn Time

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean and Reader are working a vampire case. When Dean decides to go in alone, things go a little differently than planned.

Word Count: 5204

Warnings: Swearing. Because I’m a fucking lady. Vampire gore and killing. Being tied up. Smut. Again, lady. Fingering. P in V sex.

A/N: This is for @luci-in-trenchcoats 2k Follower Challange. My prompt was “Wanna try that again like you mean it?”, which is bolded in the fic. Beta’d by the ever lovely @wheresthekillswitch. Thanks for helping me make what I had even better! Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated.

Tags at the bottom. If you want added/removed, let me know!

“Dammit, Dean, answer your phone.” You’re starting to get worried now.

This is the fourth time you’ve called him, and when his voice comes over the line telling you to leave a message, it’s the fourth time you’ve had to swallow down the fear so it doesn’t come through in your voice. “You were supposed to just watch him, Winchester. If you’ve gotten yourself into trouble again, so help me God, you’re going to pay.”

You end the call, tapping your phone against your palm as you try to think. You suck a breath in through your nose, hold it for 5 seconds, then release it. You need to clear your head, figure out your next step. He’s got the Impala, of course, so if you plan on finding the him you’re going to have to borrow a car for a bit. You grab your leather jacket off the chair back, swinging it over your shoulders, shoving your hands through the sleeves as you grab your room key and head for the door. You check your phone one more time before sliding it into your pocket, shutting the door behind you as you scan the parking lot of the motel, eyes squinted to the bright mid-day sun.

There aren’t many cars parked in the poorly paved lot, and the ones that are there aren’t ones you want to trouble yourself with. You jog over to the diner across the street, eyes hopping from one car to the next until you spot a nondescript compact sitting in the back row. Yahtzee.

It’s old enough you shouldn’t have to worry about a security system but still looks like it should get you where you’re going without worrying that it’s going to break down. You walk to the car with purpose, looking for all the world like you own it. You slow as you near, hand automatically reaching out to try the handle. It always amazes you how many people just leave their vehicles unlocked in these small towns. You curl your fingers under the handle and give a tug, and sure enough, the door opens right up. With a smirk, you slide in to hotwire it and get your ass moving.

****

You pull up behind the Impala and throw your newly acquired wheels in park. You feel a little better having found the car but you can see that Dean’s not sitting in her watching the abandoned house down the street like he said he was going to be. You spit out a few choice words as you get out of the car, already planning the verbal lashing you’re going to give Dean. You walk over to Baby, pulling your lock picking kit from your pocket. You’d left your machete in the trunk since you and Dean were going to figure out a plan of attack and go in together after he completed his tail on the vamp errand boy. You swear some more as you set to work, you feel the lock release and the trunk pops open. You grab your machete and go to close the trunk, then think better of it. If Dean’s not answering his phone, he’s either in heated battle or he’s not able to answer for other reasons, which means an extra weapon may not be a bad idea. You snag another machete, attaching the sheath to your belt and tying the bottom strap snug around your thigh. You pick your own weapon back up and ease the trunk closed.

You glance around the deserted street, checking for any other signs of life, then head off towards the house at a quick clip. You reach the rundown two-story, your eyes taking in the boarded up front door, the windows all covered with planks pulled from what looks like old pallets. According to your digging, there were only supposed to be 5 or 6 vampires in the nest and you hope your research was accurate, for Dean’s sake. You don’t doubt he could clear the place on his own, especially during the day, but sometimes shit happens and good hunters lose their upper hand.

The only thing keeping you from panicking to the point of throwing up is the fact that Dean is the best goddamn hunter you know, aside from Sam and yourself. And yes, you’d absolutely worry this much if it was Sam that had gone incommunicado during a hunt. Your crush on Dean does not make you worry more. It doesn’t. It can’t. Not right now. Because that’s one of those shit things that could make you lose your own upper hand.

You walk around the house, steps light, eyes tracking over every inch of everything, ears tuned for the sounds of a hunter in distress. You reach the back of the house, the porch all rotted wood and missing boards, which explains where they got the material to barricade the front door, and when you glance up, you see the back door received the same treatment. How the hell did Dean get in the house? You creep around to the other side of the house and see a rickety old metal staircase leading up to the second story. You back up until you see that that door is, in fact, not boarded up like the others. Just your fucking luck.

You heave a sigh as you walk towards the staircase with dread in your belly; you hate heights, with a fucking passion. You wrap your hand around the steel rail as your start your way up, knowing full well it’ll do nothing other than give you a false sense of security, and just not caring. You pull your hand back with a hiss when you slide it up the rail with your ascent and feel metal embed itself in your palm. Fantastic, looks like you’ll be needing yet another tetanus booster. You yank your hand back, blood pooling in your palm around the gash. You squint your eyes as you inspect the rail; your fresh blood is painted on a sharp chunk of rail that’s sticking out and trickling down with gravity. Beneath your blood you see the metallic glint of blood that’s just recently dried. Well, shit. If Dean did the same thing you just did, that means he walked into a vamp nest smelling like freshly prepared dinner.

You yank your bandana out of your jacket pocket, stored there just for this purpose because it happens way too fucking often in this line of work. You wrap it around your hand a couple times, using your teeth to pull the knot on the back of your hand tight. You say a quick prayer of thanks to whoever may be listening that it was your left hand that you harpooned on rusty metal and not your machete-yielding-vamp-killing hand. But now you too get to walk into this smelling like someone’s favorite meal. That’s just fan-fucking-tastic.

You continue to climb the stairs, biting your bottom lip so as to not squeal in horror when the whole thing dips and sways with your weight. You have to work to even your breathing, rolling your shoulders to work out the tensed muscles as you go. You decide to not hesitate at the landing too long, you don’t want to risk the whole damn thing giving out under your feet. As your hurt hand awkwardly turns the doorknob, you tighten your good hand around your machete, readying yourself to come in swinging. The door is surprisingly heavy, good solid wood, and you have to put your shoulder to it and push. You cringe as it opens on rusty hinges, the loud noise seeming to reverberate in the small room it enters into.

You don’t even bother closing the door behind you, no need to repeat the welcoming alert to whoever didn’t hear it the first time. You sneak through the small room, tiptoeing to the door to peek around the corner down the hallway. There’s a decapitated body lying on the floor, a puddle of tacky looking blood under the neck telling you it’s been there for at least two hours, which means Dean did very little watching and a whole lot of being a gung-ho jackass who can’t wait like previously discussed and agreed upon.

You head towards the stairs, fighting back the laugh in your throat when you see another decapitated body lying halfway down them with the severed head staked on the bottom spindle. Dean and his damn dramatics. Probably had some lame ass joke he was dying to have someone else around to laugh at, too. As you descend the stairs, back to the wall, you can see as you get closer to the the head that it is, or rather was, the errand boy the vampires were using to attract their victims. You wish you’d been there to see it, maybe even throw in a few hits yourself before the final blow. That dick helped this vamp nest kill more innocent people than ever should’ve happened. At least that’s one less thing to worry about.

You make your way from room to room, finding a couple more bodies scattered throughout the darkened first floor. You count 5 bodies, including the errand-douche-boy. Which means there should only be a couple vamps left. Hopefully. And you hope beyond all hope that they haven’t made a snack out of the admittedly delicious looking older Winchester. You stop for a second, listening for any creaks or groans in the old house to guide you where to go next. There’s got to be a basement, right? Which are typically a lot darker than the upper levels, so you think it’s a safe bet that there’d be a vamp or two hidden down there.

You search out doors, opening them slowly, gently, cringing when they too squeak on their hinges. Freakin’ old houses and their rusty ass doors. It never fucking fails. You’re seriously contemplating the need to start carrying some WD-40 with you. You open up a door to the fourth closet you’ve found and turn away, throwing your hands up in frustration. Who knew there’d be so many damn closets in this place? You decide to search out the kitchen, peeking through doorways while you make your way down the hall. You find the kitchen in the back corner of the house; sink torn out, cupboards falling off the walls, an old table littered with beer bottles and blood bags, a real feng shui feel.

You spot another door on the far wall. It’s a 50/50 shot on whether it’s another closet or stairs to the basement so you stride over and ease it open. Shit, yeah! You finally found the stairs. You’d do a celebratory dance but you can hear the rumble of voices echoing up the stairwell. You can’t make out what they’re saying, it’s just the ebb and flow of a conversation bouncing off the walls but one has defiance laced through the low timbre and you sigh a breath of relief. Dean. You’d know the depth and tone of that voice anywhere.

You inch down the stairs, one tread at a time, alert to any changes or lulls in the voices. As you near the bottom, you’re able to clearly hear Dean talking to whoever is down there with him. You’re not sure how long he’s been in the basement or what the situation is that he’s dealing with but he sounds fed up with it all.

“You guys gonna stall all damn day or just man the fuck up and drain me?” Shit. That doesn’t sound promising. You edge closer to the wall that ends at the last stair. “Come on, I hear I’m delicious”

“Sorry, Deano, you’re not my type. Besides, I already told ya, we’re waiting for that hot-ass hunter friend of your’s. Got a real good time planned for her.” You hear a male voice answer. Vamp Target #1 acquired.

You peer around the wall just in time to see the vamp closest to Dean, Vamp Target #2, giggle to that, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she leans closer to Dean. Dean’s at the far wall, hands above his head, wrists tied and rope looped up over a pipe. He looks mildly inconvenienced by this whole thing but he’s alive, so you don’t waste precious time checking him out. Not the time. Your eyes land on Vamp Target #1, the guy that’s standing closer to the stairs, back turned to you as he converses with his remaining partner in crime and his hostage. You judge the number of steps you’re going to need to get to him and tuck yourself back behind the wall.

Dean’s voice is cocky and sounds warmer somehow, “I hate to ruin your plans but that hot-ass hunter friend of mine is going to be making your heads spin for different, not so fun reasons.”

“You say that,” Vamp Target #2 says, “But I bet you I have her begging me to change her in an hour flat.”

You don’t waste your chance, taking advantage of them being distracted by Dean. You step out from behind the wall, striding up behind Vamp Target #1. He hears you just as you reach him but it’s too late, your machete is already slicing through his neck with a sickening squelch before he can even turn his head. The momentum of your swing sends his body tipping to the left, landing with a dull thud. Vamp Target #2 stands there, stunned, as his head goes rolling across the dirt packed basement floor.

“Ain’t gonna happen, bitch. Who knows where that mouth has been?” You taunt her as she turns to face you. You smirk at her, twirling your blade in your hand, planting your feet and preparing for her to attack.

She rushes you, no finesse whatsoever. Guess emotions fuck with everyone that way. You sidestep to the right as she closes in on you, arm up and machete cutting through the air as you spin. You feel your motion slow as she practically walks right into your blade, the sharp edge parting her head from her body, blood spurting from the severed veins. You finish your spin, facing Dean once again as her body topples to the floor.

You smirk at Dean. “How the hell did you let these two asshats get the jump on ya, Winnie?”

“Shut it, Shorty.” Dean throws back at you. “‘Bout damn time you showed up, I was starting to worry you’d left me for dead.”

“Wouldn’t have had to worry about me saving your ass if you’d stuck to the plan.” You cock your head, pointing at him with your machete.

Damn. He sure looks fucking fantastic tied up like that. He’s tall enough that even tied up he’s able to stand with his feet flat on the ground. Your eyes travel up his adorably sexy bowed legs and settle on his muscular thighs. Those damn thighs. They always make you think of how perfectly capable they’d be holding you up during a session of sweaty wall sex. And now with all of his damn layers up and out of the way, you’re able to get a nice view of his hips. They’re surprisingly narrow, not as narrow as Sam’s, but given how big and burly Dean is, it’s just fucking perfect. You notice a little sliver of belly showing above the waistband of his jeans and can’t help but lick your lips as you imagine running your tongue over his skin. And his shoulders, Jesus, they look ridiculously broad with the way his arms are stretched straight up over his head.

Your eyes make it up to his face and you’re startled to see that he’s patiently watching you look your fill, a smug smile on his face. Dean pulls you out of your reverie, his voice low and teasing. “Well, sure, but then I don’t get to watch my hot-ass hunter friend kick ass.”

You feel your cheeks heat as you pull your eyes away from him. You look around the room, searching for a chair, a bucket, something you can stand on to reach the rope and cut him loose. But the room’s bare, save for the man standing before you. You look back to Dean, your head tilting in thought as an idea comes to mind. You size Dean up again, playing through the mechanics of it. He’s a lot taller than you but, with a resigned lift of a shoulder and a fluttering in your belly that you desperately ignore, you decide there’s really no other option.

“This might get a little awkward,” You warn Dean as you toss your machete to the side and walk up to him, “So I’ll apologize for that now.”

Dean stares down at you, eyebrows drawn “Why? What are ya gonna…”

He doesn’t get to finish his question before you place your hands on his chest and hop up, legs wrapping around his waist. Dean’s breath rushes out, quick and low like he was punched in the gut, as he widens his stance a bit to steady himself. You find yourself staring into the greenest of eyes, wanting to know the reason behind that noise. You do your best to ignore the fact that his face is so close to yours, and closer yet when you have to reach around him, pulling your knife out of the sheath in your boot.

“Try not to enjoy this too much, Winnie.” You work your way up his body, inch by gloriously muscled inch, until your stretched out against him, arms up and now within easy hacking distance of the rope. Which is great. The fact that your breasts are now pressed firmly against is face is the awkward part. Awkward but enticing. Which makes it more awkward because you should not be enjoying this.

“Jesus Christ, woman,” Dean’s muffled voice comes from between your cleavage, “you just saved my ass, could you maybe not smother me to death with your tits?”

You huff as you continue sawing at the rope, “Wanna try that again like you mean it?”

Dean turns his head the slightest bit and nips at the side of your left breast, the sting lessened by the padding of your bra. Though that certainly doesn’t lessen the arousal that instantly threads through you.

“Shit! Seriously, Dean? I’m tryin’ta save your ass here, man.” You say breathlessly, hoping he credits it to the fact that you’re furiously trying to cut him free. The vamps may all be headless corpses littering the floor but there’s still danger here for you. And goddamn if you aren’t going to hurry the hell up so you can unwrap yourself and get away from his constant flirting and teasing.

“‘Spose I should be sorry for that,” Dean’s warm breath is fluttering against your thin tank top, soaking through the fabric and heating up your skin. “But can’t say as I am.”

Your hands slow at his words, fingers tightening around your knife so hard it hurts. But your movement stills completely as he…ohhhhh shit, he’s fucking nuzzling my boob! Sure his face has no where else to go but he sure as hell doesn’t need to be rubbing his cheek against your breasts like a goddamn cat. You pull in a stuttering breath, hoping to God he can’t feel how your heartbeat’s ramped up.

“Dean, dude, you can buy me a beer as thanks later but uh, you’re kinda distracting me, which, ya know, is prolly not great seein’ as how I’m holding a knife and shit.”

“Come on, sweetheart. I could’ve died. Hell, I lost all this blood. You make it through somethin’ like that, you just wanna enjoy the, uh, not so little things in life.” Dean’s not nuzzling now so much as just using his chin to try and pull the neck of your tank top down further, exposing more of your breasts to him.

“Wait. Blood?” You panic now. You didn’t notice any blood on him when you came in. At least you don’t think. Maybe none that wasn’t obviously from hacking heads off. Shit. You may have been slightly distracted by the sight of Dean all tied up but you would’ve noticed if he was bleeding. You ease yourself back down his torso, legs once again resting around his waist. You run your hand over his neck, searching for any blood, any bite marks. “Why didn’t you tell me you were bitten?”

Dean stares at you, his green eyes a fascinating shade darker than normal, a smile tugging at the corner of his sinful lips. “Well, maybe ‘lost’ is the wrong term. More like it just…relocated.”

“Relocated? What the fuck does that even mean?” You snap at him.

Then Dean shimmies his hips and you feel yourself start to slide down his waist a bit. You tighten your legs around him to stop yourself from sliding further and that’s when ‘relocated’ becomes clearly defined…and that definition is rock hard and now pressed against your core.

“For fuck’s sake, Dean,” You gasp. “Can you stop thinking with your dick for one goddamn minute?”

You need to finish cutting that rope. Now. So you can get the fuck out of here. You crawl yourself back up Dean’s body, not even caring that that puts your breasts right back in his face.

Dean doesn’t seem to care either as he nuzzles right back in. “You started it, Sweetheart.”

“Right, ‘cause I’m the dumbass that got caught and tied up.” You growl at him as you start hacking at the rope again.

You’ve almost got it now. You saw harder, your breasts jiggling with the intensity of your motions. You feel, more than hear, Dean groan against you but you don’t stop. You’re so close to the finish that you can almost taste the victory. This whole rescue mission has been a goddamn embarrassment so why worry about adding to it?

The blade of your knife clinks against the pipe as it cuts through the last bit of rope. Dean’s hands fall, coming to rest on your ass as you lower yourself back down his waist, holding you against him before you can jump down. You drop your knife, your own hands clinging to his shoulders as his fingers flex into you. You keep your eyes down, focused on your fingers digging into his jacket. Here comes that added embarrassment you should’ve been worrying about.

“You have no idea what you to do me, do you?” Dean asks. The quiet surprise in his voice draws your eyes to his. “How crazy you make me?”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the way Dean’s looking at you. His eyes are flicking over your face, like this is the first time he’s ever really looked at you and he’s trying to memorize everything. When Dean’s eyes drop to your lips, you decide to throw caution to the wind, go for broke, say fuck it all, and take a chance on what you really want. You tighten your legs around his waist and raise yourself up to brush your lips over his.

You don’t even have the span of a heartbeat to worry that you ruined everything before Dean’s pressing back, sighing against your lips like he’s finally found everything he’s ever searched for. Which is unbelievably accurate. Because never have you felt more at home than you do now, wrapped around him with your lips on his.

Dean brings a hand up to cup your face, fingers caught in your hair as he tips your head back to deepen the kiss. You open for him before he even makes a move to ask, needing so badly to finally have the taste of him on your tongue. He licks over your bottom lip, tongue sliding like the sweetest poison into your mouth, tangling with yours in a surge of passion. You wind your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer, wanting to feel his heartbeat inside your own chest.

Turning, Dean takes the few steps to the wall, pinning you to the cold brick with his body. His hips pulse into you, the hard length of him pressing the seam of your jeans against your clit. With a gasp, you drop your head back, rocking yourself back against him, chasing the friction. Dean takes the offering of your bared throat, his lips laying wet, open mouthed kisses down your neck. He nips and sucks, following where your moans and sighs take him. Finding the spots that drive you wild and using them to push you to the edge. You cry out when he latches onto the sensitive skin right below your ear and sucks, marking you as you come against him, still fully clothed.

You slowly come back down to Dean running his hands up under your shirt, fingers tickling along your ribs, breath feathering over your throat as he whispers praise to you. Hearing his husky voice telling you how beautiful you are, how perfect you feel, how amazing it is to finally feel you against him has need racing through your blood again.

Fisting a hand in his hair, you yank his head up, dropping your lips back to his as he groans. You feast on one another, tongues dancing, as urgent hands start tearing at clothing. Both of your jackets hit the ground almost simultaneously but your plaid shirt and tank top get hung up when you lean back to balance yourself on the wall as you rip his shirts over his head. Dean sets you on your feet, pulling your own shirts up and off and tossing them somewhere behind him.

Dean leans down, trailing his tongue over the swell of your breast as he reaches around and flicks your bra clasp open. He uses his chin to push the cup down and latches his mouth onto your nipple. You gasp as he swirls his tongue over the hardening bud, the warmth of his mouth a stark contrast to the cold the other nipple is greeted to when he pulls your bra down your arms.

Your stomach flutters, full of butterflies and horniness, when Dean’s fingers deftly undo the button of your jeans. When he pulls the zipper down, you swear you’ve never heard anything more erotic in your life. But then his warm hand grazes across your naked mound and he whines from deep in his chest and you realize that that is the most erotic thing you’ve ever heard.

Dean hits his knees, yanking your jeans down your hips, using sheer willpower and force to tear them over your boots. He stands back up so quickly you almost get whiplash from following the movement.

“Sweetheart, I promise you I will spend hours eating you out later, but right now I need to be inside you.”

Fuck. Who are you to complain about that? On either front? “God, yes.”

You fumble with his belt, fingers slow and clumsy with desire as Dean digs in his back pocket to pull out his wallet. You manage to get the button on his jeans undone as your peripheral vision is distracted with the thigh trembling sight of Dean thumbing a condom free of the leather. He closes his wallet and drops it to the side, the silver of the packet flashing in the dim light bringing you back around to the task at hand. You open the fly of his jeans and snake your hands under the elastic of his boxer briefs to work them down and over his hips.

Dean puts the corner of the condom packet between his teeth and uses both hands to help get his jeans and underwear down his thighs. You gasp when his cock bounces free of the elastic and smacks against his lower belly. Sweet Jesus. It’s beautiful. Which is a weird thing to say about a dick, because, well, they’re weird looking. But Dean…He’s big. Not just long but thick. And veiny. You reach out, running a fingertip up along the vein, swiping over the tip and the pre-come gathered there. Dean groans at the light contact, then growls when you bring your finger up to you mouth, licking it clean while watching him.

You wind one arm around his neck, the other hand gently tugging the condom from between his teeth as you pull his mouth back down to yours. Dean gets his hands under your thighs and lifts you with such easy strength that it sends a flood of arousal through your system. You wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your aching pussy against his cock. You can feel Dean’s grunt rumble through him as he presses you back against the wall. You hardly even notice the cold brick rough at your back as Dean devours your mouth.

Dean glides the fingertips of one hand over your wet folds and you whimper against his lips. Your try to buck your hips into his light touch but he has you pinned so you can’t move, so you have no choice but to take what he gives you. He teases you; sliding with more pressure at your dripping entrance, running up to feather over your clit. Back and forth. Firm then soft. Press and slide up, feather soft then back down. You try to relax into the rhythm he’s set, try to focus on the pleasure it’s slowly building, try to breathe your way through the madness. Then he switches it up and you want to throw your head back and scream.

“Dean.” You whine. “For the love of fuck, please.”

You cry out when he thrusts a finger into you, immediately begging for more. He doesn’t tease you this time, just gives you what you ask for. Two fingers, thrusting smoothly, slowly. In and out. Out and in. Dean starts scissoring his fingers, working you open. Quickly pushing you back to the edge. And you want to come. God help you, you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything. But you want to come with him deep inside you. You need him deep inside you.

Dean watches you, humor mixing with the lust in his eyes as you try to focus. As you carefully rip open the condom packet. As you throw your head back with a moan when he crooks his fingers and rubs that sweet spot inside you. As you try to fuck yourself on his fingers and you tilt your hips up just enough to grind your clit against his cock.

“Come for me, Sweetheart. Just one more. Then I promise I’ll fuck you.” Dean urges, rubbing against your g-spot with more pressure.

You have no other option but then to give him what he’s asking for. Your body couldn’t deny him if it tried. So with a strangled moan, you come, coating his fingers and the base of his cock with your juices. Dean works you through your orgasm, slowing his fingers, easing his hips back so he’s not pressing you so firmly into the wall.

Dean waits. Watching your eyelids flutter, watching your breathing work to even out. Watching your hips continue to roll, searching out more pleasure, searching for him. He takes the condom from your fingers and rolls it on.

You heave out a breath, opening your eyes to smile lazily at Dean. Dean smiles back, affection and heat, as he brushes the hair back from your face. You part your lips when he leans in to kiss you, eager to have the taste of him on your tongue once more. Dean kisses you as he tilts his hips, pressing his cockhead against your entrance and you moan into his mouth as he eases into you. He goes slow, letting you adjust to the stretch.

By the time he’s buried to the hilt, he’s resting his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed shut against the unbearable pleasure of having you wrapped around him in every way that matters. You can feel him tremble as he uses all of his self control to just be still, to give you time.

“You feel so fucking perfect, Y/N.” Dean manages to say between gritted teeth.

You press a soft kiss to his lips, whispering, “So do you, Dean, but don’t forget you promised me.”

Dean’s eyes pop open at that. When he sees you smiling at him, he doesn’t hold back anymore. He adjusts his grip, sliding his arms under your legs so your knees are resting in the crooks of his arms. He places his hands flat against the wall behind you, opening your thighs wide. He pulls out until just the tip of his cock is resting in your welcoming heat before driving his hips back into you. He sets a steady pace, slow but forceful. Pulling out and slamming back in. The sound of skin slapping against skin almost drowning out the deliciously dirty noises he’s making as he fucks you hard into the wall.

You gasp with each hard thrust in, the air rushing from your lungs from the sheer force. Dean adjusts his hold again, tilting his hips so that the head of his cock is rubbing against your g-spot and his pelvis meets yours with each drive home.

“Oh, God.” You whimper, “Just like that, baby.”

Dean takes you at your word and doesn’t falter from what he’s doing. How he manages to keep such a steady fucking pace…No time to laugh at that now…is beyond you but you’re not going to question the man while he’s so expertly building you back up.

You hang on to him, nails digging into the muscles of his back, desperate to keep your head above water as the storm of passion tries dragging you under again. But the primal urge of your body, the need to just let go, rules you and you have no choice but to give in. You come, his name a prayer shouted to the Heavens. Dean groans and shudders when he feels you clench around him. His hips stutter, rhythm breaking. He thrusts hard, frantic…three…four more times before he, too, gives in and follows you into the depths of pure pleasure, moaning your name into your neck in answering adoration.

You cling to each other as you try to catch your breaths, as you wait for your heartbeats to return to some semblance of normal. Dean presses sweet, featherlight kisses against your throat, lips warm against the tacky surface of your cooling skin. He trails them up your neck, over your jaw, until he reaches your mouth. He kisses you, all school-boy-crush and first-time-hunger, as if he didn’t just fuck you silly.

“Jesus, Dean.” You sigh against his lips, reluctant to pull away from the soft press and pull, the sweet brush and glide. “That was…”

Dean just chuckles as you trail off with a sigh, “You ain’t kiddin’, Sweetheart.”

You just smile, content and pleased as fucking punch that you finally found your courage to grab hold of what you wanted, that you finally got Dean Winchester in your arms. And that you finally found out just how capable those thighs of his are when it comes to wall sex.

“Hey, Dean. About that other promise you made me…”

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culturelifeuniverse-blog · 6 years

Text

Chapter 3: The Tooth Fairy & The Mermaid

He laid there on his stomach, palm resting on the right side of his face, pushing his chin up so that his teeth were crunched together - his face giving an irritable and uncomfortable frown.

His K9 tooth was so flimsy now that even when he ate Jello it hurt.

“Aaron! Come and get your sandwich sweetie!”

She called for her grandson, but he still laid there frowning; attempting to listen to the giant golden bird talk on the television screen.

“Hi, I’m Big Bird, and I’m supposed to show you how to brush your teeth! Only problem is…I’m a bird, and birds don’t have teeth! See -“

“Aaron Keith.”

His grandmother walked into the den and patted him on his back as he continued to watch Big Bird on the television - whimpering softly as he moved his elbow - his palm shifting his jaw and his tooth shooting a sharp pain down the right of his face.

“Sweetie is your tooth still hurting you?”

He nodded his head in confirmation, but also fear because he knew he was going to have to get it taken out now.

“Let’s go into the kitchen and let me see if we can get this tooth outta there.”

She helped him off the floor and walked over to the TV to turn it off.

“Come on, let’s go,” she said as she shepherd him into the kitchen; her hand on his shoulder pushing him along as his feet dragged in apprehension.

“Have a seat.”

She picked him up under his arms and placed him in the steel chair next to the stove; the bright light shining through the kitchen window directly on him.

“Ok, Open Up!” she said as his eyes started to water.

“There’s no point in crying yet; I haven’t even touched it sweetheart.”

He opened his mouth and she began to wiggle his tooth with her index and thumb; her grandson flinching with every move.

“Oh Aaron, I don’t think I can take it out with my hand-“

She gave a strong push back and Aaron yelped in pain

“OW!”

His eyes began to water, tears immediately started to stream down his face.

“Ok, well this tooth is going to have to come out! Hush now, grammie is gonna be right back”

She wiped his tears with her blouse and kissed him on the head as she left the kitchen to the back porch.

He sat in pain, not knowing what was going to come next; Hallie rentering the kitchen doorway with a long piece of string in her hand.

“Aaron, come here sweetie; we’re gonna pull this tooth out.”

He slid off the chair confused with why his grandmother had a piece of string, and grew a strong sense of anxiety as she began to place the string around his tooth.

Hallie tied a small knot around Aaron’s tooth and with her hand on her grandson’s shoulder, began to guide him toward the hallway closet door.

“Stand right here.”

Aaron stood in front of the closet door puzzled, and then in shock as he saw his grandmother tie the string to the door knob, twist it, and open the door slightly ajar.

“Ok sweetie, after this, you can have some ice cream; ok? This is going to go real fast, and then you’ll be able to give your tooth to the Tooth Fairy.”

“The Wooth Dairee?” he mumbled with spit pooling in the bottom of his mouth as he starred at his grandmother’s hand on the door knob.

“Yes sweetie the-“

There was a quick swish in the air, and then a loud -

BANG!

Hallie had slammed the door shut; her grandson being thrusted forward, but catching his balance quickly in surprise as he stared at his tooth swaying left and right just a few inches from the old wooden floor.

He was so shocked that he couldn’t even cry. The adrenaline rush had washed away the pain; and after a few seconds a smile began to spread across the little boy’s face, as he knew what it was time for -

“Ice cream, can we get some?”

She turned back at him and smiled as she dragged him through the slushy streets of Chelsea toward the nearest place that served her favorite ice cream -

“God, I could go for some chocolate right now;” she said, her cheeks, rosy and beautifully freckled, glowing red now in the brisk crisp December Manhattan air as she starred at him biting her bottom lip.

He saw this; which meant that they were going down the right path - well at least the path he was hoping would end up with both of them getting what they wanted.

“Oh so chocolate ice cream huh?,” he chuckled.

They had been going at it all afternoon and even though it had been snowing, their core’s were hot from the lust that they shared in even the smallest of conversations.

Adele spotted a gelato shop and pulled Aaron across the street in a hurry; he picked up his pace to keep up with her as the two began to shuffle their way across the intersection.

The medium height, brunette Marseillais had on black tights with a black skirt to match, a 1970’s style peacoat in a hip earth tone sequenced fashion; smooth black leather boots with a small heel, and a light amber crocheted scarf that snuggled up underneath her chin.

He wore a sea blue crocheted beanie, his black Gap peacoat that he bought the first winter quarter of his Freshman year of college, a salt and peppered scarf tied in neck-tie fashion, dark blue jeans, and his favorite pair of kicks he had recently gotten from a thrift store in the Mission District of San Francisco: White Adidas Sambas.

The two approached the gelato shop door; but it was closed.

Thank God, he thought; Aaron’s tooth had cracked on a chip just two nights before in Brooklyn at his friend’s apartment when he was getting a midnight snack. The crack had been an addition to another cracked molar that Aaron has suffered just a few month’s early.

He hated to go to the dentist.

Adele, who Aaron had only known for a few days, and never seemed to be phased by any inconveniences, sucked her teeth and gave out a shy.

“Oh well!”

She quickly pulled him toward her and on her tip toes seductively pressed her slips onto his.

He closed his eyes to enjoy the moment; then opened them to make sure he was still actually living the moment he was experiencing; then closed them again, only this time fantasying about what he was going to be able to do next with this gorgeous french woman.

“Coffee?” he said after slowly pulling away his lips from hers and kissing her on the forehead.

“We already had coffee earlier, how about wine?”

She smiled as she pecked him on the lips one more time; then pulling his arm, leading them up to the street corner to hail a taxi.

One glass turned to three. Chocolate cake was on and off their plates. Strawberries were raised and feed to each other with grace. Then the two were glued together in the booth; their hands on each other, caressing every which way.

“Do you care -“ she tried to stop him from kissing up and down her neck, “if people see us-“

“I don’t know them-“ he said quickly between inhaling another breath and then nibbling down slowly on her neck again, “maybe - it’s time - for us - to get - outta here.”

He pulled her closer and at this point there was no denying where this was going.

The elevator crawled up to the seventh floor and the couple, hands in each other’s back pockets approached the hotel room door. They began to kiss again, both of their hands fiddling on the same key trying to open the door.

The door slid open and the queen size bed seemed to welcome both of them comfortably as they flopped down and continued to massage each other kissing passionately as the door slid close.

After some minutes, and once clothes started to begin to become optional; she grabbed his hands, and pushed them back onto the bed, holding them there firmly and sucking on his bottom lip.

“You stay here sailor; I’m going to go get ready.”

Aaron sat back in the bed and began to take off his jacket and shirt as she glided over to the bathroom and closed the door.

By the time she opened the bathroom door he was already naked sitting back in the bed waiting for her. She proceeded to approach slowly and plopped on the bed next to him and began to run her hands down his chest, stomach, and then eventually legs.

He stared at the freckles that shimmered all over her body, and as she caught his eyes, she rolled over, rubbing her breasts with her finger tips of her left hand and his legs with her right.

“These are my scales, do you like them?” she asked a grin spreading left to right across her face.

“They’re irresistible” he murmured.

“Mhmmm” she hummed as she leaned over and placed her head on his chest and began to kiss him; still massaging up and down his legs slowly.

“I’m a mermaid” she said softly as she took a small bit out of his chest and then looking up at him, “and I’ve found my sailor to make love to again.”

Aaron licked his lips slowly; the back of his tongue rubbing against his cracked tooth, but the adrenaline rush from the entire evening with Adele eliminating the pain completely, he smiled as he knew what it was time for -

Bon Voyage.

Track to be played after reading:

“Poupée de cire, poupée de son“ by France Gall

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7cv9NIzGmSI

#Joints Sandwiches Iced-Tea #Memoir #CreativeWriting #LIfe #Story #Autobiographical

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