#and i spent way too long making the gasoline pumps
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it occurred to me that i actually have to build stuff to make a save file
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𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐞 - 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫
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summary; while stuck at home, you find some christmas decorations in a storage closet
wc; 1935
warnings; kissing, tooth-rotting christmas themed fluff, that’s really it
authors note; merry christmas and happy holidays!!
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christmas had always been your favorite holiday growing up. you hadn’t spent much time celebrating since you started hunting. your parents were hunters but they sent you to your uncle bobby’s whenever they’d hunt. you didn’t know what was happening, just excited to see your uncle.
when you started hunting, looking for whoever, or whatever, killed your parents, you didn’t get to celebrate much anymore. the days mushed together half the time.
after you met sam and dean, and eventually joined them, you tried to bring as much of the holidays as you could, seeing as they didn’t get to much.
you find little plastic decorations at the shitty gas stations you’d stop at in different cities and states. hanging christmas scented air fresheners from the mirror in deans car, even when he’d get annoyed, he couldn't say anything because he knew how much you loved it. you’d always buy funny little headbands for sam and dean to wear too, just so you could snap pictures of them on your camera.
it was midday in december when the boys were leaning up against baby while you were inside the gas station. “geez, what’s takin’ her so friggin long?” dean asked while checking his watch. he’d finished pumping gasoline what felt like a half hour ago.
you walked out of the gas station with a slightly full grocery bag and a huge smile on your face. they knew that smile. that ‘i-just-got-something-you-won’t-like-smile’.
you walked up to the boys and before you could even say anything, dean interrupted, “what did you get this time?”
you fake acted offended, “how dare you, dean!” you then giggled and pulled out two silly christmas headbands. one was reindeer antlers one had to little santa hats on springs that moved around.
they both gave you a look. they didn’t want to wear them but they were anyways. you ripped the little bit of packaging tbh eh had and held them out, silently telling them to pick one.
sam grabbed the one with the reindeer antlers and set them on his head. you continued to hold out the santa hat one. dean rolled his eyes and put them on. “don’t give me that, dean, you love it.” you chuckled at the dancing santa hats on his head.
you reached down into the backseat through the window to grab your camera out of your bag. “smile!” you said turning on your camera. and they did, they smiled for you. you snapped the picture of your two boys looking adorable in their christmas headbands.
when the three of you found the bunker, there were rooms upon rooms upon rooms to discover.
during a hunt, you got badly injured. one of the vamps had harshly shoved you and you fell down some old stairs, leading you to breaking your foot.
now the boys stopped hunting for a little less than a month so they could tend to you, even against your wishes not to.
sam spent most of the time right next to you; he didn’t want you out of his sight. he acted as if you were sick and could hardly stand.
“i’m not terminally ill, sam,” you said with a giggle as he picked you up to move you from the kitchen to the couch in the living room.
“i know, my love, i’m just being cautious,” he said stopping and giving your forehead a kiss.
once the doctor released you of your crutches, leaving you with just a boot, the boys finally went back to hunting. sam, reluctantly, agreed, with the exception that he’d call you multiple times to make sure you’re okay.
one of the days the boys were away, you decided to go through some of the storage closets you three had yet to go through.
you limped down the halls making your way to one of many. the room was lined with various boxes and cabinets that had a thin coat of dust.
you opened the first box which had nothing but spare bedding. thankful it was the first box you opened; definitely setting that aside to take out and put them in a closer storage closet.
the next box had old clothes, along with the next few boxes.
the next box you picked up and dusted off made a noise; a jingle sort of noise. you took your box cutter and quickly opened the box.
to your surprise, it was christmas decorations. the men of letters must’ve loved christmas. you couldn't find a tree in sight, nor any ornaments. that was okay, there were plenty of other decorations to do the trick.
you looked over at the pile the box was in to see if there were any more. you only found one more box which was full of string lights. you carried the boxes, one at a time, to the living room to start setting up what decorations you had.
your phone was set out on a table with a speaker connected to it and you had christmas music blaring through the bunker. you wanted to start with the lights. so that’s what you did. you grabbed the step ladder from a closet, the bag of push pins, and many extension cords and went to work. you wrapped the main staircase railing and many door frames and miscellaneous pieces of furniture with the yellow christmas lights.
next up was this little christmas village you found. there was a perfect table in the library for this. you grabbed the empty light box and put all the different pieces into it and carried that to the library. you meticulously placed each little building and extra pieces just the way you wanted.
the last of the decorations went up and there was only one left. the mistletoe. where could i put it, you thought to yourself.
it had to be somewhere where everyone could see but not in a doorway where everyone stands often. you decided to put it on the doorway to the living room. it was a simple and easy place to put it.
you grabbed a thumb tack and hung it up there, careful not to fall off the ladder with your boot. if sam knew that you were climbing on a ladder with a boot on your foot, he’d throw a fit, demand you sit on the couch and he do all the work.
not long after you hung the mistletoe, you made yourself some hot chocolate and cozied on up on the couch with the book you were currently reading. the christmas music was still playing but it was soft now.
sam had texted you he’d be home soon about 15 minutes ago and now you were just anticipating their arrival. you were so excited to show the boys the new and improved, and festive, bunker.
your ears perked up as you heard the best bunker door begin to open. you all but threw your blanket off of you and placed your book open face down and rushed to the door.
“holy shit,” you heard dean say in the distance. you fretted the boys as they were walking down the stairs. their eyes lit up and they scanned the room and beyond of the decorations.
“what’s all this, sweetheart?” sam said leaning to give you a kiss, half still distracted at all the decor.
“i was going through some closets and found a whole bunch of christmas decorations!” you beamed.
dean set his duffel bag on the table in the war room and went to go look around in the library and further.
sam set his duffel done too but stayed with you. you were admiring the joy on his face; you could tell he needed some holiday joy, especially since he never really got to have this.
“this is,” sam paused, speechless. he didn’t know how to describe this. “amazing. i can't believe you did all of this.” he smile wide as he looked at you.
you smiled back, impossibly harder since your smile was already big. sam interrupted you before you could get a word out. “wait,” you brows furrowed slightly. “did you climb up on a ladder to hang this stuff?” he questioned.
you simply nodded. you knew he was gonna be upset, he won’t be too upset with you, just concerned. “y/n, you could’ve hurt yourself further.”
“sam, baby, i’m okay. i promise i was extra extra careful. just for you.” you grabbed his hands, rubbing the back of them with your thumb to reassure him.
he just looked at you with worry in his eyes. “i’m okay, baby. why don’t you go take a shower,” you lean up closer to his face. “then meet me under the mistletoe.” you gave him a sweet kiss before patting his butt, the two of you giggling.
a little while later, you sat in the living room waiting for the love of your life. christmas music still softly filled the living room while you sipped on the last of your hot chocolate.
sam walked in, his sweatpants hanging low and his navy blue v-neck hugged him perfectly. his hair still wet but not dripping. he looked beautiful. he stood under the mistletoe and leaned against the door frame.
you looked up at him and smiled with adoration. you made your way over to your beautiful boyfriend.
standing in front of his tall frame you look up at him, “can we dance?” you ask.
“of course, my love.” he says contently taking your right hand in his left. his right went around your waist. your left rested on his chest.
the two of you just gazed into each others eyes while you rocked back and forth. elvis’ ‘blue christmas’ played softly in the background. it was one of your and sams favorite christmas songs.
occasionally, sam would spin you just to hear those melodic, beautiful giggles.
your head now resting on his chest; hearing his heartbeat was so relaxing to you.
“hey,” you look up at him. “we’re still under the mistletoe, you know.” sam smiled.
you look up and the mistletoe you hung up earlier, “huh, i guess so.”
the two of you kept your gaze before sam slowly dipped his head down. the two of you fit perfectly like a puzzle piece.
his lips soft against your as they moved in sync with yours. sams hands found theirs way to your thighs, lifting you up while your hands made their way around his neck, tangling in his hair; his lips never left yours.
sam blindly made his way to the couch, sitting down with you straddling him. the kiss didn’t last much longer. you pulled away and laid back against his chest, cuddling into him.
sam was the first to speak up, “this place looks amazing, baby, i’m proud of you.”
“thank you, sam.” you gave him a kiss on the cheek, laying back down against him.
the cinnamon candle you lit earlier was still burning and the christmas music still played as the two of you fell asleep on the couch.
the next morning, dean made his way to the kitchen and brewed himself a fresh cup of coffee. the coffee finished breeding and he added whatever he did necessary for the perfect cup. he took that cup and walked to the living room, unsuspecting of the two of you sleeping there.
he approached the living room and saw the two of you, you were in almost the exact same position as when you fell asleep. dean chuckled to himself, “those kids.” he said before sipping his coffee and walking back to the kitchen.
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#spn#supernatural#sam winchester x reader#supernatural fanfiction#sam winchester fluff#sam winchester fic#sam winchester fanfiction#sam winchester#sam winchester fanfic#supernatural fluff#supernatural fic
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Lazy Fair
A president who doesn’t touch anything is the republic’s best hope. But self-control is not a typical characteristic of applicants. Americans who tire of being groped must rely on conditioning to dodge handsy executives. Harassment doesn’t become legal when a politician lingers on a hug too long.
As with babysitters not letting charges juggle drills, the absence of destruction is tough to notice but crucial to sense. A term would ideally be an actively passive process. Sadly, interviewers are not about to hire some CEO who trusts them to negotiate.
Nostalgia junkies who miss the ancient era of 2019 are really just longing for Donald Trump to again be useless. An all-time bluffer’s emblematic ineptitude despite rather brassy claims to the contrary constitute his version of effectiveness, which is to commandeer the bus wheel in order to drive it classier. It’s just like how success at winning an election differs from whether or not the person who receives the most electoral votes may not be smart or good or talented.
The insatiable urge to grab everything for the alleged benefit of the fondles is far from the only thing Trump shares in common with a Clinton. A horndog president too busy seducing a zaftig intern to do the same with the economy offered the best possible precedent in an era where nobody minds their own business.
Broke and busted Americans miss aspects the last president couldn’t manage to muck up. It wasn’t for lack of trying. But Trump’s inability to molest everything was a gift of an unanswered prayer to himself. Doing things never works out for him despite the most unearned assurances in civilization’s history. The person now ripping off perception prepared with a long career of pretending to be a corporate titan as he lost money spinning roulette wheels openly rigged in the house’s favor.
Business was better before taking on a president who thinks hassling everyone but shoplifters assists the economy. Credit something a different false savior claimed to manifest when mere existence got it done. The free market works fantastically when clumsy amateur mechanics don’t attempt needless repairs. Relative prosperity must’ve been spurred by their savior laying his very normal-sized hands upon it. Inspiring people to get rich by slapping names on trash is about as useful.
All thriving takes is enough restraint to stop printing money. I know it’s tempting to think you can get rich by having more. But even the Goonies realized they couldn’t get away with running the presses. The Treasury’s currency is a half-step above counterfeit. Handing it out makes it worthless, which is one of those mean things like ice cream being unhealthy.
Explaining to the incumbent that not everything wanted happens isn’t going to sink in now. After all, this is not just someone who’s spent a lifetime in politics but specifically Biden. The commander-in-chief has enough trouble understanding how neckties work. How can you get something that’s wider then one’s head around one’s neck? Whoever dresses him must explain what’s happening every morning.
Fuel expenses do something as remarkable as the commodity itself making cars go. All a president has to do is nothing for the cost to become reasonable. It’s not for lack of gasoline conglomerates trying to pump up prices, as they want to sell it at a the same price per volume as plutonium laced with meth. Meanwhile, those consuming it aspire to pay as much as they would for jugs of emergency water from Save-A-Lot. I wonder if there’s a way for them to meet in the middle.
A president can take credit for the affordability of traveling around, although the ambulatory don’t have to give it. Trusting adults like they’ve been given allowances for the first time is inscrutable notion in an era where whoever’s president defines not only the government but the nation. Those things are supposed to be separate, too, for the record.
Two awful idiots like getting their hands on others as respective manifestations of their grabby philosophies. Decent people wish it were only figurative. The prospective final two are different styles of perverts. The one who thinks you’ll be impressed by what an alpha stud he is if he beds enough peroxide donor recipients equipped with plastic chassis vies with the creep who molests wives other than his own and any children within his greasy reach. But you do get to pick.
An inept presidency takes different forms. Based on the rather pushy take on the presidency that’s been trendy this century, failing at grabbing is a triumph for the respect of those the leader hopes to help by intervening. Doofus ex machina offers a most unsatisfying conclusion.
Lickspittles who worship the previous president for what he does should be thankful for what he didn’t. After all, the only good parts came when he left things alone. Praising Trump for aspects that thrived because he failed to toy with them sums him up in a way cult enlistees can’t grasp. The best businessman of all time couldn’t figure out how to violate every aspect, and he naturally demands credit.
A mature nation needs a different kind of toddler president. This hasn’t been a place for grownups despite time advancing indifferently. Anyone with wisdom at any age avoids the current variety which throws tantrums around or past the age of 80. The ability to restrain shrieking is common amongst many humans in kindergarten who don’t go on to become president.
Thorough adults should seek a presidential option who treats the nation as a visit to a childless aunt’s house. Respect the wishes of someone who acquired fragile items. Refraining from smashing like a big boy is part of becoming head of state. The fact it’s not explains why the state heads the wrong way.
#Joe Biden#Donald Trump#president#presidency#economy#2024 presidential election#Constitution#checks and balances
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Togetherness (2)
Summary: Two years after the people returned from the blip you find yourself searching for your purpose in life.
Pairing: Nomad!Steve x Reader
Warnings: angst, isolation, touch starvation, comforting, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, cuddling & snuggling, lies, ‘only one bed’ trope, bed sharing
A/N: Not endgame compliant. Post End-Game
A/N2: Sequel to Solitude
Solitude masterlist
The first night you spend at Steve’s cabin or rather his house was excruciatingly awkward. There was only one bed - of course, there was only one bed while you had to share a house with Captain America himself.
Gentleman, he is Steve offered to sleep on the couch in his living room, but you refused to let a tall man like Steve sleep on the couch. You offered to sleep on the couch instead which Steve refused to let you do, explaining when the fire dies it might get too cold for you.
In the end, you decided to share the huge bed.
The first night you woke to his arm draped over your waist, followed by his arms wrapped tightly around your body and his chest pressed to your back.
Not that you would complain to feel Steve’s body pressed against yours, not at all, but when you wake in the middle of the night, wrapped in a tight embrace your first reaction is to scramble away.
Steve mumbled in his sleep, buried his nose into your hair and you gave up fighting his embrace when you felt his lips press against your neck.
You never mentioned he kissed your neck or that you could feel his erection. Hell, you were turned on when he mumbled your name.
This is how you ended up in Steve’s arms, pressed to his chest, his chin resting on top of your head. He cuddles you like a koala, not letting go of you until you wiggle to use the bathroom.
Now almost a month later you are used to getting dragged to Steve’s side on the bed to get cuddled as his life depends on it.
Tonight, he rolled you on top of him to hold you in his arms. It feels more intimate and you can’t help it. Your hand reaches out for his face to gently caress his cheek.
“You know, you’re a sexy lumberjack, Captain Rogers.” Giggling you crane your neck to peck his chin. “I wonder how your lips would feel on mine, Steve. Are those lips soft or rough?”
“I don’t know, just try…” Steve whispers and you shriek, startled as said man is wide awake, a boner in his sweatpants. “Take what you want.”
“What I want…” Straddling Steve’s lap you press your hands to his chest.
For a heartbeat or two, you hesitate. But then you meet Steve’s darkened eyes and the shirt your stole from him drops to the floor. Chilly air hits your breasts and your nipples stiffen, not only from the cool air but Steve’s gaze.
His tongue darts out when he reaches out to cup your tits. “You’re so beautiful, doll.” He is kneading your tender flesh with rough hands, pinching your nipples and you cry out when he sits up to wrap his lips around one tender bud.
“Steve…please…it’s been so long.” His hands find their way to your back, sliding down your body to fists your panties. He is looking up at you, waiting for your consent before the fabric ends up destroyed on the floor.
“Gonna make you feel so good, Y/N.” Cupping the back of your neck Steve brings you to his greedy mouth.
The first kiss is slow, deliberate but it turns into something hungry, more demanding when you slowly grind against his impressive erection.
“Please, Stevie…” Your fingers slide through his hair, fisting hard when Steve starts to guide you up and down his length. “I want you inside…please.”
“I got no condoms…” Purring the words against your lips Steve pants heavily, barely able to hold back the need to just flip you onto your back. “I am on birth control; got a shot before I started the adventure of getting lost…”
“Doll…” Voice lower Steve purrs the pet name before he flips you over.
In a split-second, his sweatpants end up on the floor and he settles between your legs. “Can I fill you up, mark you…?”
Shuddering at the way Steve moans your name and his lips traveling along your neck you nod eagerly. Your hands grasp for his biceps, nails biting deep into his flesh when you watch him hover over you.
“Steve…” Sliding your hands down his chest, looking up at him with wide eyes and parted lips you watch Steve line himself up. He does not hesitate. One forceful snap of his hips fills you completely.
Running your nails down his chest, mewling loudly you watch the usually charming ‘boy next door’ turn into a wild man, gripping your thighs to force your legs around his waist.
You never felt that full before, that stuffed and your toes curl only by feeling Steve slide back out. “Fuck, doll. You’re so tight.”
“It’s been…oh god…Steve!” He’s bracing himself on his forearms, pumping slowly into you. Steve is testing your limit, trying not to go too hard with the first thrusts. “…a while.”
“How long?” Nipping at your lips Steve finds a rhythm taking your voice from you. All he presses out of you are moans, screams, and meaningless words.
“I…oh—Steve. I lost my husband, so five years or more. When he came back, he was…please lets just…” Your hands paw at Steve’s back when he digs his knees into the mattress, forcing his cock faster into you.
“You’re mine…only mine now.” Possessively Steve grabs your wrists to pin you to the mattress. He’s pushing and pulling, pushing and pulling until your eyes roll back.
You never minded a bit dominance in the bedroom, even liked it and Steve Rogers screams, alpha.
“Steve, you’re so…ah—fuck me.” Toes curling you look up at Steve who watches your tits jerk with every harsh thrust. “I am gonna…”
“Cum for me, doll. I want to feel your pussy choke me.” Unlike the golden boy, Steve takes you apart like the man he became. “I feel it…” Body succumbing to Steve you press the soles of your feet into his lower back.
Pleasure fills your senses, your back arches, and the last thing you feel is Steve’s lips on yours and his cum filling you.
Sighing deeply you fall back onto the pillow, nervously glancing up at Steve who didn’t pull out or move.
He looks you all over. The bliss on your face let him smile and you chuckle when he buries his face into your neck, sighing as you did moments ago.
“It’s been a while for me too, Y/N.”
“If I recall right, it’s been almost six years. When he came back, my husband was different. He didn’t want to touch me and I let him be believing he’ll need more time.”
Running your fingers through Steve’s hair you push the tears away. “One day I came back from work only to find him in our bed with that woman he met at a meeting for ‘returners’.”
“I am sorry, doll.” Humming you close your eyes, just enjoying the afterglow. “You’re too precious for such a fool…”
Month two you spent mostly with christen the bed, or the couch, or any surface in Steve’s house. He’s a passionate lover, a caring man and, you have to admit, the best roommate you ever had.
“So…what did you do before I crashed into your life?” Curling onto Steve’s lap you rest your head onto his chest. “Anything exciting?”
“I liked to watch the sunset, tried to fish and sometimes I just ran through the woods to get as much fresh air as possible. I love the scent of the trees mixed with earth and wilderness.”
Humming you wrap your arms around Steve, wondering what will happen when the snow finally melts.
“Why did you do before you ended up here with me in the middle of nowhere?” Silence fills the room while you recall your life before Steve. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“I liked my job, you know. It was nothing special, but I helped people after the blip to find jobs, a place to be, or just someone to talk to. When everyone came back I believed I can do the same for the returners but oddly, no one wanted our help.
It was as if we switched places with the returned people. The ones who did not get dusted became unimportant and suddenly, I found myself without my husband, job, and hope.
I…I just rented a storage room, quit my apartment, and was ready to go on this trip through wilderness only to end up in Steve Roger's arms.” Giggling you look up at Steve.
“Good thing I have two strong arms to keep you safe and pinned to the bed.” Smirking Steve dips his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss. “How about I get us more firewood before more snow comes? I heard there will be a blizzard.”
“Do we have enough food and water? What about electricity, Steve? I don’t want to sound like a scared kid, but I don’t like darkness and cold that much.” Steve wraps his arms around you, cradling you for a while.
“I got canned food for like a year, dried meat, enough water, and firewood. If electricity will fail, I got an emergency generator. I am prepared for anything, even an attack.” Nodding you snuggle into Steve’s chest, trusting the man you know for only two months with your life.
“I know, Captain.”
“Hmmm…now let me get firewood and look at the snow. Maybe there is any sign of your friend the wolf too.” Cockily grinning at you Steve huffs when you slap his chest. “Just saying, he seemed to be into you.”
“I already got a wolf in my bed. Last night he almost ate me alive.” Steve smirks at the memory of you completely worn out underneath him. “You even purred.”
“You turn me into a wild wolf, doll. Now stop distracting your Captain and let him take care of you, baby. I want to keep you save and happy.”
Steve is still splitting wood when you hear someone call his name. Steve seems to be surprised to see the man. Flatten against the wall you peak out of the window on the first floor.
Greeting the man, shaking his hand Steve smiles wildly. “How’s life out here? Do you need anything, Steven? I heard a blizzard is on its way.” The man says and you huff, Steve was right about the weather.
“Yeah, I got all I need. Food, water, enough gasoline, and firewood.” Steve answers. The man nods, smiling again. “I know you are always prepared. Anything else I can do for you than bringing the things from your list?”
List? When did Steve hand that man a list? “I bought everything from the list you hand me three weeks ago. Including ladies’ toiletries.” Now the man smirks, looking up at Steve. “Not that solitary anymore?”
“I got a friend here, I mean…she’s…you know.” Steve stammers and you would find his behavior adorable if not for the lies he told you. “I want her to stay here until the weather is better. The snow and ice are dangerous and…she’s special.”
“Got it, Steven. When you found someone special you want to keep her safe. Best circumstances to win a girl’s heart. Snow, a fireplace, smooth music.” The man laughs, walking with Steve toward his car.
Did Steve know the snow will not stop you from leaving his house? Did he lie to keep you at his house? Why should he do so? Your heart aches remembering the longing in his eyes and the way he touched you anytime he got the chance to.
Steve…he was lonely, touch-starved just like you the whole time. He saw you are the same and believed you could give each other shelter…
“That’s a lot firewood.” Looking at the wood you get up to help Steve to batch it. “Do we need that much?”
“The blizzard is coming, and I don’t know if I’ll make it outside if it’s as bad as I fear. I wanted to be sure we have got enough for two weeks. Maybe I should get more?” Glancing at you wearing only one of his shirts Steve turns to leave the house again.
“Steve, can I ask you something? You know…” Shuffling from one foot to the other your bite your lower lip. “What happens after the snow melted? Do you want me to leave?”
“Doll…I…” Steve drops the firewood to cup your face, shaking his head furiously.
“I thought about getting my things, you know clothes, memorabilia, and so on when the snow is gone. I just…can I…I mean…” The kiss silences your question and you melt against Steve’s lips.
“I want you to stay with me…here…forever, Y/N.” A bright smile plastered on his face he watches you nod silently. “You’ll stay?”
“I think I like togetherness with you, Captain.”
“I like it too, doll. Now, more firewood or not?” Shrugging you look at the firewood, not knowing if you’ll need more.
“Did he bring condoms too?” Steve turns pale, his lips quiver when you place your hand onto his heart. “I mean, my shot will not protect me for much longer, Captain. I hope you know we need condoms.”
“I-uh…kinda…have some.” Scratching his beard Steve looks down at you, smiling shyly. “I just like coming inside of you.”
“Well, if you get me pregnant, Captain, it’s your fault, and by the way…” Waltzing toward the wardrobe to get your boots and coat to help Steve to get more wood.
“I grew up where snow and ice ruled the winters. I know when you are snowed in or not…”
>> Part 3
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#Togetherness#Nomad!Steve x Reader#Sequel to Solitude#smut#angst#isolation#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers#steve rogers x you#steve rogers smut#captain america#captain america fanfic#captain america x reader#captain america oneshot#marvel#marvel fanfiction#marvel one shot#marvel tag
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road trip ficlet
Kara hopped out of her car, stretching her arms out behind her head as soon as her feet hit the pavement. Of all the days she could’ve picked to pack up and throw her life into the metaphorical wind, this had to be the worst. Tuesdays were just never good for life changing events, especially when they ended up like this.
Sun beaded down, forming droplets of sweat that lined Kara’s forehead, and caused her hair to frizz up from the humidity. Normally, she didn’t mind the heat, but Kara was starting to think the weather, and the lost road map, and the fact that her car radio had broken down about ten miles back were all signs that maybe she should’ve stayed home. Maybe she should’ve tried to ride it out at work, to fix things with her boyfriend, and every other fuck up she’d spent months trying to handle. Maybe she just wasn’t the adventure type. Some people were built for boring, day by day lives with partners they don’t love and jobs they secretly hate.
Perhaps that was the world Kara was made for.
With a sigh, Kara ran her hands through her sweaty hair and pulled it back into a low bun at the base of her neck. Once she could finally feel the air hitting her skin again, she allowed herself to lean back against the side of her Jeep and do a quick scan of the gas station.
It was pretty empty. There was a pick up truck and a man in his mid forties standing by one of the gas pumps, a mini mart with a lit up sign at the other end of the lot. Half the letters had gone dark and Kara was unable to make out any shoppers through the windows. Instead, all she could see was the cashier.
Finally, her eyes landed on a young brunette woman. She sat on the pavement, leaning back against the store with one of her legs outstretched onto the road, the other crossed over at the knee. A cigarette sat perched between her index and middle finger, emitting a long line of smoke that clouded up around her face. Sunglasses had been pushed back into her hair like a headband and a navy blue jean jacket was tied around her waist. She didn’t seem to mind the smoke nor the heat. Kara couldn’t help but wonder how long she’d been sitting there, for her to become so unfazed to all of that.
With one last pop of her back, Kara began the walk across the near empty lot, grimacing at the smell of exhaust and gasoline creeping up through her nostrils. She did her best to shake it off, turning her head in the other direction in hopes that it would somehow vanish, but the effort was quickly deemed useless. Instead, she just looked towards the woman and, in turn, made her observance even more obvious.
But it wasn’t until Kara had already made her way into the mini mart and was hit with a wall of crisp air conditioned air that she allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief. No bad smells, no humidity. Just a cashier and aisles upon aisles of snacks.
Just what she needed.
Kara was so caught up in the satisfaction of one thing finally going her way that she didn’t even notice the footsteps behind her, or the cashier grumbling an oddly cheerful hello to whoever had come in after her. It took her all the way until she was standing between the chips and candy aisle that Kara heard somebody clear their throat and tap her shoulder.
“Hey.”
Instantly, she whipped her head around, brow furrowing when Kara saw the same woman from outside standing a few feet away from her. She had her hands planted on her hips, chin raised, with the slightest smile on her lips. The cigarette was gone and so were the clouds of smoke, revealing the rest of her face to the world.
She had green eyes, Kara noted. They were narrowed ever so slightly, but Kara could still make out the color, the way the fluorescent lights seemed to bounce off the little pools of honey surrounding her pupils.
“Hey…” Kara said, slowly setting her bag of chips back down on the shelf. Was she in some sort of trouble? Because it felt like she was about to face the adult version of getting called to the principal's office.
“I could see you staring at me,” the woman stated. “Outside, I mean.”
“Oh… yeah, sorry about that,” Kara said with a nervous chuckle. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I’m just-- I quit my job yesterday and I’m kinda in the middle of the biggest mistake of my entire life, and you were just sitting there and I got caught up in my head and I, well, when I get stuck, I stare. It’s a nervous habit, I have this problem where either I don’t make eye contact at all or I just get super aggressive with it and act all robotic. So I stared at you-- but you know that part. But it wasn’t because I wanted to be weird. Or robotic. I just think I’m in the middle of like a quarter-life crisis or something, and you know, when I get nervous--”
“You stare?” The woman finished, raising an eyebrow.
Kara nodded. She clamped her mouth shut to make sure she wouldn’t get another word out because holy fuck what was she saying.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “I stare.”
The brunette smiled, dimples appearing at the edges of her lips. It was a very nice smile, Kara couldn’t help but think to herself. It felt warm like her eyes.
“So…” the woman began, rocking back and forth on her heels. “I know that you quit your job and now you’re on some sort of self fulfilling journey to go find a new life. You’re kind of in the middle of a breakdown, but you aren’t really sure yet, because you haven’t gotten to the ‘drink yourself into oblivion’ or ‘shave all your hair off stage.’ And now you’re in a gas station because I’m guessing in the midst of your panic, you forgot to pack and now you’re realizing just how big of a mistake everything you’ve done in the past twenty-four hours was. Oh, and how could I forget? You stare when you’re nervous and that’s why we’re here now.”
Kara just stared again, completely dumbfounded. They’d been talking for all of thirty seconds and this woman was psycho analyzing her as if they’d known each other for years, and for some reason, was getting everything all of it right. The whole thing was so stunning, all she could do was nod and mumble a quiet “yeah, that all sounds right.”
“Now that we’ve got your life story out of the way, mind telling me your name?”
“Kara?”
“Nice to meet you, Kara, I’m Lena.”
Kara smiled. “Lena, that’s pretty.”
“Thank you.”
“So, now that you know every crushingly embarrassing detail about what I’m doing here, what about you? Are you some kind of serial killer who stalks people outside gas stations, comes inside and befriends them Ted Bundy style, only to brutally murder them and stuff the bodies in the trunk of their car once they’re done?”
Lena paused and raised an eyebrow, unsure of how to respond to that. The change in expression was so painful to watch that Kara was starting to consider crawling into one of the ice cream freezers and hiding under frozen Snickers bars and Drum Sticks for the rest of eternity.
“Oh-- you weren’t joking,” Lena said after a moment. She chuckled nervously and pursed her lips, slipping her hands into her front pockets.“No, I’m not a murderer. If I were though, I probably wouldn’t tell you.”
“Yeah… probably,” Kara said quietly. She could feel her cheeks filling with heat, tomato red was nowhere near strong enough to put a label on the mortification she felt. Give it another minute and she was sure steam was gonna start shooting up out of her ears too.
“But no, I wanted to get away from reality for a bit so I tried to backpack through the country. But all my stuff got stolen about two shady motels ago and the next bus isn’t gonna come by for another day, so I’m waiting it out here,” Lena explained. “I’m not really sure where I’m gonna go, though. It’s kinda hard to figure stuff out when you’ve got no phone.”
Kara nodded. For a second, she looked back across the store, trying to see her old, beat up car through the front window.
She did have extra room-- a lot of it considering she hadn’t packed anything at all. And having someone to talk to might’ve been a nice change of pace seeing as now that the radio was blown out she didn’t have any other way of filling the silence.
No, Kara! You can’t take a stranger on a road trip with you– she could literally be a serial killer! You just had this conversation, what the fuck is wrong with you?
But clearly, Kara’s mouth worked faster than her brain because the next thing she knew, she was asking Lena if she wanted to come with her.
“You could ride with me for a bit,” she’d offered. “I mean, I don’t really have any plans so I’m just kinda driving aimlessly, but if you’re okay with that, you could tag along.”
Lena hesitated. She pulled at the tips of her fingers as she tilted her head to the side, unable to tell if Kara was bluffing or not.
“Are you serious? I mean, I could be dangerous. Very, very dangerous,” Lena taunted. Her voice was low and husky, the slightest rasp attaching itself to her words. It had to be the cigarettes shredding up her lungs. Kara knew it was a bad thing, it had to be a bad thing, but god, it was so sexy.
“Yeah… I mean, as long as you don’t get car sick, I-- I could squeeze you in,” she stammered, grimacing at the way she was sounding.
“Great,” Lena grinned, though, she still looked a bit confused. “You’ll meet me outside?”
“Sure, right. I’ll meet you outside.”
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Stark Spangled Banner
Ch42: Maybe Baby
Part 2- Between The Toaster And The Fridge
Intro: Steve comes home to a very, special welcome…
Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut! (NSFW) No under 18s. Teeth rotting fluff…
Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark
Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.
A/N- More thanks to @angrybirdcr
Chapter 42 Part 1
Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist
The recruits around Steve were laughing, and he had to smile himself. He’d just told them the story about how he had managed to get a flag down from the top of a pole once when he was training, right before he go the serum. He’d taken the pins out of the bottom of the pole causing it to crash to the floor where as everyone else had tried to climb it, including Gilmore Hodge. God, what a prick he had been.
“So, the moral of the story is just because it’s the path of least resistance, it doesn’t mean it’s the wrong path.” Steve looked around at the assembled team, smiling to himself as he repeated the words Natasha had once said to him, words he hadn’t agreed with in that circumstance but here, well, they fit. “Consider each task on its own merit. Decide what your end goal is and then look for the simplest, safest and least strenuous way to achieve it. Conserve your energy for when there’s no other option open to you because that’s the time that you’ll truly need it.”
With that he nodded to Rhodey and moved to the side of the room, folding his arms across his broad chest as he looked at the assembled trainees. They seemed like a good bunch this lot, receptive to his advice and teaching which was an improvement on the lot he’d had a month or so back in Colorado. They’d been a nightmare and when they were awkward it made being away from his girls so much more of a chore. At least when they were like this, it made him feel like it was worthwhile. He took a few more questions, gave a bit more advice before they called it for the day and he headed back to his room to make sure he was packed, ready to head home the next afternoon. It had been three weeks this time, and whilst he’d spoken to Katie and Emmy every night it still didn’t make him feel any better at being away from them, even though he knew it was part and parcel of his job.
It also wasn’t helping their baby-making plans either.
His phone was vibrating in his pocket and he smiled when he saw who it was. Flopping down on the bed he beamed at Katie.
“Hey sweetheart.”
“Hey handsome.” she smiled, yawning slightly
“What you been up to?”
“Been busy with this Half Way Home proposal.
“How’s it going?”
“Good, Pepper’s giving it the once over before we send it into the Senate. I don’t think they’ll have an issue, I mean we’re not asking for funding but with them behind us it means the sale should go through easier.”
“Sounds like you have it all planned.” He smiled “Bet Natasha is pleased.”
“Hmmm” Katie frowned. “She’s flown off again this evening.”
He groaned “Johannesburg?”
“Yeah.” she shrugged “She won’t give up. Says she owes it to Clint to try.”
“She’s on a hiding to nothing.” Steve sighed “I don’t know what she thinks she can do.”
“Who knows, but if it makes her feel better who are we to argue. We’d do the same in her position.”
And Steve had nothing else he could say on the matter, as he knew she was right. He had done the same, pretty much.
“Can’t want to get home tomorrow.” he changed the subject, smiling. “Three weeks apart isn’t exactly helpful on the whole trying-not-trying front is it?”
“Not really no.” Katie gave a soft laugh
Steve grinned cheekily “Every time I’ve jacked off in the shower I’ve had this horrible, guilty feeling that I could be washing a little me down the-“
“Oh my God!” Katie snorted as Steve laughed loudly, his right hand flying to his chest “You’re disgusting!”
“You love it!” he smirked, and she sighed and looked at him.
“I love you.” she said simply, and he could do nothing but grin stupidly back at the screen.
“Hi Jen!” Katie greeted as she walked up to the coffee counter, Emmy walking behind it like she owned the place, casually heading into the back to find Brooke.
“Hi!” Jen turned to her, “Usual?”
“Erm, to be honest with you coffee isn’t what I’m after today.” she said “Had a disgusting hangover yesterday that I’m still recovering from so can I get a tea and one of those Danishes please?”
Jenifer chortled, “Take a seat I’ll bring it over and join you for a bit.”
Katie smiled, paid for her drink and food and headed over to the comfy sofas by the window. Sinking into the well-worn leather she pulled out her phone and flicked through a few emails, pleased to see Pepper had proof read their proposal and made a few minor tweaks. She had just fired it off to her secretary to make the changes and forward on when Jennifer sat opposite her, pushing her food and drink over the table. Katie was that hungry she wolfed the pastry down in about four bits, before leaning back, wiping her fingers with a napkin.
“I think sugar and carbs maybe the way forward today” she laughed “I feel better already.”
“Why is it the older you get, the longer hangovers last?” the woman asked and Katie shrugged.
“Gone are the days I could sink shot after shot and still make it out unscathed.” she rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her tea appreciatively “Being an adult sucks.”
She spent a few hours at the coffee shop, leaving Emmy there after Jennifer had assured her it was ok for her to stay, before heading into the city to find Steve a gift. This year, four, was either fruit, flowers, linen or silk. Which was a random combination when you thought about it. But she found a really nice grey linen blazer that would suit Steve, and smirking to herself, bought a silk slip that she could wear to bed. Always nice to keep him on his toes as she had said last year.
She picked Emmy up and then stopped on the way home to fuel up the Camero, As she leaned against the side of the car, watching the numbers tick over on the pump, the smell of gasoline filled her nostrils, almost choking her and she was overcome with a wave of nausea and vomited straight onto the floor.
“Fucks sake.” she groaned, as she managed to compose herself, waiting for the feeling to subside. Thankfully Emmy was too engrossed in something on her phone to notice. Eventually, her stomach stopped flipping and she finished, paid and headed back to the Compound, wondering if she was coming down with a bug. But then, as she walked down the corridor with her bags the strong stench of bleach from one of the labs made her once again feel the need to hurl.
Something clicked in her mind and she paused, suddenly feeling very hot.
“Hey.” Bruce looked at her as he appeared from the lab. “You alright? You look a bit pale.”
“Yeah, fine.” she nodded, swallowing “Just remembered, I forgot to grab something. Emmy, can you take these up to the apartment and go straight to Nat? Bruce do you mind just…”
“No, course not.” He smiled, “In fact, I have something to show you Em. Remember that research I was doing into the…”
Katie didn’t stay to hear the rest, Emmy wandered off after Bruce chatting away, whilst she turned back the way she had come and hurried back to the car.
*****
Steve walked back into the apartment and was greeted by a whirl of sandy fur before Katie appeared hurriedly crossing the hallway to throw herself into his arms.
“Missed you.” He smiled, as he bent to give her a kiss.
“I missed you too.” she pouted, her hands fisting into his light blue button down “Three weeks is far too long, I don’t like it.”
“I know, sorry baby.” he smiled “Where’s Emmy?”
“Nat’s” Katie said as she turned and headed back to the kitchen “I know it isn’t our anniversary until tomorrow but I wanted get you all to myself right away.”
“Yeah? Got something in mind?” He grinned, wrapping his arms around her from behind, nipping at her neck before he rest his chin on her shoulder.
“Yeah, feeding you.” she chuckled as his stomach gave a loud rumble “Hungry?”
“I’m always hungry.” he pouted, his arms still wrapped tightly round her “Doesn’t help that whatever you’ve been baking smells so good.”
“Saffron buns.” She smiled and Steve let out a groan off delight as his stomach rumbled again “And seeing as you’re so keen to get your hands on one, can you get them out of the oven?” she nodded towards it and twisted away from his hold “I’m almost done with the rest of the food.”
Grumbling slightly at the loss of her warmth against his chest, he straightened up and pulled the metal and glass door open before he frowned. A single bun sat on the tray in the middle of the large oven. What was that about?
“Honey, what…” He turned to look at Katie who was stood behind him, biting her lip. He frowned, before he turned back to the bun in the…
Oh. Oh!
Steve spun round that fast he nearly fell over. Katie smiled at him, her eyes shining at the look of surprise on his handsome face.
“You’re - um. You - you’re…?” Steve couldn’t quite form his words. Katie smiled, as he swallowed hard “Katie…”
“Yeah. Although I think the correct term might be ‘we.’”
“Sweetheart you…” he looked at his wife, not quite able to believe what she was saying “We’re, really having a baby?”
“Yeah.” She nodded, sniffing slightly as she reached for him then with both hands, cupping his face in her fingers. “We are. You’re gonna be a daddy, Steve.”
“Shit!” He exclaimed with a laugh “I’m gonna be a daddy!” with that he pulled her into his arms and swung her up in the air, the same way he had done when she’d agreed to marry him, causing her to laugh before he gently brought her down again, her arms sliding around his neck as he set her on her feet, pressing another kiss to her lips.
“How far gone, do you know?” He asked, pulling back an inch.
“Not sure. It can’t be that far but I have an appointment with the ob-gyn tomorrow morning. I wanted to make sure everything was okay after, you know…”
Steve glanced down at her stomach and moved his hand towards it, pausing.
“You don’t have to ask.” Katie smiled softly, taking his hand in hers and guiding it onto her stomach. Steve took a deep breath as his fingers splayed out gently across her belly under her palm, his face shining with pure unadulterated emotion as his eyes stayed focused on his hand.
He had never felt so happy or so alive in his life.
*****
A tiny blip. Nothing more than what looked like static brought tears to both their eyes as Dr Kellet pointed to the image.
“Well, Mrs Rogers” she smiled “from this I estimate you’re roughly eight weeks pregnant.”
“Eight weeks?” Steve asked, as he did the maths in his head. Eight weeks took them back to the fourth of July, his birthday…
Katie grinned to herself as she felt Steve’s arms slide around her waist and his lips gently brushing on her neck, his stubble scratching at her skin.
“I’m trying to cook you lunch here.” she sighed as his hand worked beneath the waistband of her denim shorts. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers skated into her underwear.
“Want me to stop?” he asked as her head fell back against his shoulder and she bit her lip.
“Didn’t say that.” she muttered as his fingers slipped further into her folds, finding her spot. His other hand slipped up her vest top and splayed on her stomach, pulling her back into him further and she let out a soft squeak as he slipped one finger into her. He continued to work her, she was putty in his hands and eventually when he knew she was close he moved and spun her round, pulling her to him, his arousal pressing into her as he kissed her, hard, his hands cupping her cheeks as he backed her into the wall. Her hands strayed down to the buckle of his belt and she quickly undid it, wasting no time as she slipped her hand into his boxers, grasping him hard. He bucked at the touch and let out a hiss.
“Easy soldier.” she grinned into his mouth as he let out a groan, his hands dropping to her shorts. In a flash she was out of them and her underwear and he lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist, back pressed against the kitchen wall.
“Shut up.” he mumbled, kissing her hard and she laughed into his mouth, a laugh that turned into a gasp as he pushed into her with no warning at all.
“Gonna fuck a baby into you doll.” He growled and her head rolled back, banging slightly on the light yellow painted wall.
“Say that again.” she moaned.
He punctuated each word with a hard thrust “I’m…gonna…fuck…a…baby…into…you…” he purred, one hand resting by her head on the wall, the other snaking under her top and pulling down the cups of her bra. He rolled each nipple in turn between his thumb and forefinger leaving her grinding down against him for more friction as she kissed him again, hard, her gasps coming thick and fast as he rutted up, his hips snapping back and forth in a fast and deep rhythm. Steve let out a groan, his tongue sliding against hers sending the familiar red hot pokers of desire straight to his belly. His wife still managed to turn him on as much as the first time they’d ever been intimate together, despite there being what felt like a life time of ups and downs since then. If anything he was convinced that’s what made it better. He knew her body as well as he knew his own, every curve, every dip, every scar, blemish freckle and she knew his, each and every single inch of his skin, his limbs. Her hands grasped at his back, sliding up his t-shirt, nails raking down his skin, the stinging sensation causing him to grunt again as his rhythm picked up slightly, gaining momentum as he could feel himself going.
“Come on, baby.” He muttered, his forehead pressed against hers “Wanna see you let go.”
“Stevie.” Her voice was a whisper, as her eyes fluttered closed for a second and he felt her thighs tighten around him, her mouth falling slack for a moment as her head tilted back. He moved the hand that was against the wall to her neck, holding her head in place and when her eyes opened again, those beautiful green orbs locked onto his she gave a low, sultry moan and he felt her walls tighten around him.
“Fuck, you feel so good.” He mumbled as the strands in his stomach began to tighten “I love you, so much.” and with a final few snaps of his hips he came with a loud moan, his head falling to her shoulder, lips latching onto her neck as he thrust through his orgasm, before he stilled, both of them catching their breath.
Their baby had been conceived between the toaster and the fridge.
“So from that you’re estimated due date is the ninth April…” Dr Kellet smiled, tapping at something on her computer and then turning to gently wipe off the gel she had placed on Katie’s stomach. “So, do you have any questions?”
Of course Steve did. He spent a full thirty minutes drilling the woman about all the types of things Katie could and couldn’t do. Dr Kellet smiled, before she answered all of them, and some he hadn’t asked, in particular one about how sex was fine up until the birth if Katie was comfortable, warning him in fact that many pregnant women felt a spike in their libido in their second trimester. This caused Steve to flush and Katie to silently snigger.
“And lastly, I do hate to warn you about this as well but the term morning sickness, its bullshit. Should be called All Day Sickness”
“Tell me about it” Katie rolled her eyes. “Smells are the worst trigger.”
“Yeah, that’s very common.” the Dr Smiled “The good news is it should die down, if not go completely by about twenty weeks, but just keep yourself hydrated and rest up to avoid fatigue.”
“Thanks.” Katie smiled at her, “I’ll bear it in mind.”
As they walked back to the car, Steve’s arm curled round Katie’s shoulder and he pulled her closer, dropping a kiss onto her head. She smiled to herself, leaning into his touch as he gripped the scan photo they had been given with his other hand.
“I still can’t quite believe it.” He shook his head, reaching into his pocket for the car keys.
“I know.” Katie’s voice was little more than a whisper.
Steve turned to face her, his hands linking at the bottom of her spine “I can’t wait to tell everyone.”
“We’re not telling everyone until twelve weeks is up.” she said, shaking her head “Bar Tony, Natasha, and Emmy.”
“Now?” He grinned, and Katie laughed as she snaked her arms round his neck.
“So impatient, Captain Badass.” She grinned as she leaned up to kiss him. “But yeah, let’s pay Tony a visit!”
Steve spent the entire forty-five minute journey grinning like an idiot, chatting about plans for nurseries and all sorts of stuff, he was incandescently excited. Katie simply let him go on, his happiness was infectious although she did at one point have to get him to pull over so she could vomit out of the passenger door.
Steve was out of the car like a shot and round to the other side, crouching down, his hand gently stroking Katie’s flushed cheek.
“You okay?” He asked, his face concerned as she reached for the bottle of water that was in the cup holder.
“Get used to this.” She groaned, laying her head back against the head rest.
As they walked up the driveway to the porch, Pepper spotted them immediately from where she was sat on a chair on the grass, Morgan happily led on her tummy on the tartan blanket. She greeted them as they approached and Morgan let out a loud shriek at the sound of their voices.
“Moo, you’ve gotten so big!” Steve smiled as he swept her up and she beamed back at him.
“Well you haven’t seen her in a few weeks.” Pepper chuckled, as Steve gently pulled faces at the infant, causing her to give him a huge smile. “They grow fast.”
“You’re not kidding.” Steve mused and Katie smiled, unable to stop her heart blooming at the thought that he would be doing that soon enough with their own baby.
“Hey guys.” Tony smiled, walking out of the house and dropping onto a seat next to Pepper. “Not that it’s not nice to see you but we weren’t expecting you.”
“Yeah, well, we err, have some news that we kinda wanted to tell you in person.” Katie glanced up at Steve as he gently placed Morgan back on the blanket and Katie sat on the wicker couch opposite her brother and Pepper, Steve perching on the arm next to her.
Pepper twigged immediately, smiling at Katie who grinned back.
“What’s the matter?” Tony frowned, “Are you sick? Is something wrong with the business?”
“Oh come on Tony, isn’t it obvious?” Pepper looked at him
“Errr no.” he frowned. “What-” he looked at his sister “-what’s supposed to be obvious?”
Katie glanced at Steve who gave her a grin before he turned and looked at his brother-in-law.
“You’re gonna be an uncle, Tony!” he smiled, dropping an arm round Katie’s shoulders.
Tony stared for a minute and then slapped his knees triumphantly, a huge grin breaking across his face. “You’re kidding me! Really? Really?” He leaned forward, intently scrutinizing Katie’s midsection until she tossed a throw pillow at his head. He dodged it, looked at her for a moment before he jumped up and swept her into an enormous hug. She stood up to greet him, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Kiddo, that’s, wow, it’s awesome!” He spluttered.
“Thanks Tony.” She sniffed, stepping back as her brother reached up and cupped her face in his hands, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
“Guys, congratulations.” Pepper gave Steve a hug and then turned to Katie when Tony had finally released her, giving the younger woman a squeeze.
“Wow, Baby America - you gonna dress him in star spangled diapers?” Tony paused, faltering, as he was shaking Steve’s hand. “Or her, or maybe one of each?”
“One of each?” Steve frowned.
“It isn’t twins.” Katie rolled her eyes
“You gonna find out what it is?” Pepper asked.
“I dunno we haven’t discussed it.”
“Wait, they can find out?” Steve frowned “They can find out what it is before it’s born?”
Tony looked at Steve “Remind me how long you’ve been defrosted?”
“Tony.” Pepper warned him before she turned to Steve “Yes, Steve they can.”
“But you guys didn’t?” He frowned.
“We didn’t want to know.” Tony shrugged, dropping a kiss onto the side of Pepper’s head before he clapped his hands together. “This causes for a celebration, only not you young lady.” He pointed at Katie and she rolled her eyes “Yes, beers.” he continued chunnering away to himself, heading back to the house.
“You two okay to watch Morgan?” Pepper asked gesturing to where Morgan lay on her back, legs wriggling furiously “Just keep an eye on her, anything she can get hold of she’s sticking in her mouth…”
The two of them nodded and sank back into the chairs and Steve dropped a kiss to Katie’s head, his arm curling round her shoulders as she snuggled into him, kicking off her shoes so she could swing her feet up onto the cushion besides her.
“Happy?” He asked.
“Ridiculously” she responded, giving him a soft kiss.
*****
Later that night they broke their happy news to Emmy, only she didn’t react the way they had expected.
“So,” she looked down at her hands as her fingers twisted around one another, the way they always did when she was worried, “does this mean I need to pack my bags?”
“What?” Katie frowned, “Why would us having a baby mean you need to pack your bags?”
“Coz, well, you’ll have your own kid now.” she shrugged “Not like you’ll want me around.”
Steve and Katie shared a look and Steve shook his head, dropping to his knees in front of the girl as Katie sat on the arm of the chair she was in.
“Of course we want you around.” Steve looked at the girl “Emmy, you’re part of our family now, and all this means is that our family is getting a bit bigger.”
Emmy looked up at Steve, her eyes shining with tears, before she looked at Katie, and melted into her arms as the woman gave her a hug.
“You have a home with us for as long as you want.” Katie pulled back, smiling “And besides,” she winked, “you’ll be our chief babysitter.”
Later that night, when she was getting changed for bed, Steve couldn’t help but just watch Katie as she moved around the bedroom in her sleep shorts and bra. The fact she was growing his baby just made her all the more beautiful to him, and when he couldn’t stand not touching her anymore, he threw his legs off the bed and moved to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder into the mirror as she finished cleaning her teeth. One hand came to rest on her hip, while his other hand slipped down, palm spread protectively over her bare abdomen as he pressed tender kisses to her cheek and throat.
"I love you,” he whispered softly against her ear.
She leaned back against him, looking at the two - no, three of them in the mirror, her husband’s head bowed against hers, their child beneath his hand.
For once he fell asleep before Katie, and as she lay there, gently stroking the back of his neck she couldn’t help the immense happiness that overwhelmed her. Things were about to change, again, for them. But this time, it was a change they both welcomed.
****
Chapter 43
**Original Posting**
#stark spangled banner#steve rogers#Katie Stark#steve rogers x ofc#steve rogers x original female character#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers fic#mcu#mcu fanfic#chris evans#chris evans characters
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Fallen From Grace
A/N: Hi this is my first time writing anything like a/b/o dynamic stuff, so be kind, I’ve been reading a lot lately and I’m quite liking it. I’m hoping to make this a series, just gonna test the waters and see how this goes.
Series Summary: Before the incident she was one of the most powerful Alphas on the Avengers team; admired, idolised and possibly feared, nothing could stand in her way. However, after a mission goes terribly wrong, and she is brutally attacked, the injuries she sustains take all of her Alpha strength, reducing her status to a weakened Omega. By the way of nature, the team can’t help but treat her in a completely new way. Especially her two closets friends, who now see her in a whole new light.
Pairing: Steve Rogers X Bucky Barnes X Reader
Series Warning: a/b/o dynamics (and the fun stuff that comes with that!), strong language, sexual content (smut is coming much later, and there will be added warnings on those chapters), fluff, angst, manipulation, corporal punishment (18+ only readers)
Part One// Part Two //
Part Three: No One’s Meant to be Alone
Chapter Warnings: Strong Language, Angst, Voluntary Starvation ( I don't really know what to call it just you don't want to eat), Gory Description, Self Harm, The Reader has some Dark Thoughts (18+ Readers only)
Word Count: 2.4K
Remaining in the Med-Wing, 5 days had passed, and you hadn't slept, eaten, or spoken in the last 120 hours. Dr Cho and Bruce would come to check on you, and try to get you to eat; Dr Cho even threatened you with a Nasal Gastric Tube if you still refused to eat, but you just ignored her, remaining in the same position. You had your back to the door, knees as close to your chest as you could get without irritating the large gash, that was slowly repairing itself. One afternoon, a nurse had come to change your dressing, and that was when you finally got to see the horror that lay underneath.
You sucked in a sharp breath when your eyes fell upon the wound, that still remained largely open. The sides of the skin were still pulled apart and separated; crusted, with both dried blood and fluid; and dead skin. The edges had a slight ting of black, it appeared that the wound was healing slowly, one layer of skin at a time. The smell was vile, and you now understood why the nurse was wearing a face mask. It smelt of rotting flesh, that had been left out in the sun to putrefy. Dr Cho had explained that they were unable to stitch it, as it would cause damage to the fragile skin around it, therefore; you would have to leave it to slowly heal on its own. Your arms were still littered with IV’s that were pumping copious amounts of antibiotics into your new Omega bloodstream.
You had banned any visitors, and asked for any well wishing cards or flowers to be removed and destroyed and the blinds on the windows that faced into the Med-Wing be drawn. You spent your days, with your eyes fixed on the same spot on the wall. Steve and Bucky had tried to come and visit you but Dr Cho, had explained your requests, and because they weren't your mates, then they had no legal obligation to break that rule. You had heard them shouting through your door, and their raised voices had made you tremble.
Your new Omega instincts were beginning to kick in, the need and want to be cared for, and to submit, was starting to overwhelm you. You had been resisting the temptations, and had asked Bruce and Dr Cho for some suppressants, but they refused you, claiming that they would suppress your healing abilities, and that was the main priority at the moment.
This was one of the reasons why you had been unable to sleep for the last 5 days. Your resistants would cause your body to go into shock, sending you into spasm, or cause you to quake with such ferocity, that you would often pull on the IV’s within your arm. Several of which had to be replaced.
It was now the fifth evening, you could tell because the Wing would turn down the lights as it got closer to nine. It would cause the room to have a slightly yellowish glow, that if it weren't a hospital room, could have made you feel cosy. However, you remained wide awake fixed in the same position as always, when you heard voices outside your door. You strained your ear to focus on what the voices were saying.
“She hasn't eaten in five days.” You recognised that voice, it was Dr Cho.
“Five days, that’s insane! How could you not get her to eat for five days?” This voiced caused shivers to run down your spine, and your lips begin to wobble, the new Omega in you needing to be close to the source of this melodic tone. You mentally slapped yourself, shaking your head free of those submissive thoughts. But then came another voice that continued to be music to your pathetic Omega ears.
“I thought you were supposed to be taking care of her? How could you allow her to go that long?” Although the voice was angry, the yearning for an Alpha to take care of you, bypassed the anger, and was lulled by the voices’ vocal concern for your wellbeing. You curled your finger nails into your palms, digging your sharpened nails into your hands. A way of punishing yourself to become this weak, from voices alone. You began to draw blood as the voices continued, as well as, your own personal torment.
“We tried to get her to eat, but she refuses, we’ve even threatened her with an eating tube, by she just lays there and says nothing.”
“Let us see her.”
“We can’t let yo-”
“Let us see her. Now.” The anger in the unmated Alpha’s voice was enough to make your body begin to quiver. You wanted to submit, you wanted to submit so badly, but your old Alpha instincts clung desperately. A small trickle of blood, slid from the small impressions you had left on your palms.
You curled your arms into yourself when you heard the door creak open, your body was still shuddering, as you tried your best to suppress your new natural instincts. You sensed movement behind you, but you squeezed your eyes shut hoping to wish them away.
“Hey sweetheart, how are you doing?” It was the sweet voice of Bucky, the urge to turn over and face him, to fling yourself into his arms overwhelmed you, but you bit your lip, keeping your eyes firmly shut.
“Dr Cho said you’ve not been eating, is that right, doll?” That was the voice of Steve, and it danced its way into your eardrums, allowing your heart to jump with joy, but still you kept your back to them.
You felt the bed dip behind you, whilst you heard footsteps making their way around the bed. Then you felt a presence, in front of you, as if someone was kneeling, you could feel the slight breeze from a gentle sigh, that lightly brushed some of your baby hairs, that rested on your forehead.
Then came the overpowering scent that leapt up your nose, as an arm came across you and a hand gently settled on your wrist. This caused the two scents to come clashing together in a perfect symphony. One smelt of Rosewood, mixed with campfire, while the other; smelt almost citrusy with a hint of cinnamon. Either way it was as if they complimented each other perfectly, it caused your senses to go into overdrive; you pushed your face further into pillow, and pulled your arms as tightly as possible around yourself. This was a challenge with the soft yet, firm hand that lay on your wrist, and mass of IVs.
“You have to eat something, doll.” The voice confirmed the two Alpha’s positions, as the voice that came from in front of you, originated from Steve, which by way of deduction meant that Bucky was the one that had laid his arm over you.
Your response to the voice, was to simply burry your head further into your pillow. Before sparks began to fire out of every neurone, when Steve laid a hand on the back of your head, gently stroking your head, in an attempt to get your attention. If only he knew, what he was doing to you, what they were both doing to you.
“Sweetheart, do you know what will happen if you don’t eat something soon?” It was Bucky’s turn to try and elicit some kind of verbal response from you, but you just tried to ignore them. “If you don't eat then, Dr Cho will have to give you an eating tube, and you don't want that, surely?”
No, not really. Your sarky Alpha voice chimed in. Great that was the last thing you need right now. A little sarcastic devil perched in your head, whispering things that weren't gonna help the situation right now.
You thought it be best to remain quiet, and continue your silent treatment.
“Come on, beautiful, where's our fiery little, Y/N.”
Uh oh. The use of the word ‘little’ could not have been used at a worser time. It was like pouring gasoline on a bonfire. You shot up, taking them both by surprise, as Bucky retracts his arm, along with the hand that Steve had resting on your head.
“What do you mean, our little, Y/N? I’m not your little anything.” You barked, eyes darkening, as all the pent up rage engulfs you like verbal flames.
“And also before that stupid mission, I was one of the greatest Alpha’s on this fucking team, and now I’ve been reduced to nothing more than a pathetic, mewling Omega, like Bruce, and Peter. Do you have any idea, what the fuck that is like? No? Didn't think so. So sorry I’m not little miss ball of fun right now, and choosing not to eat, but when I eat and sleep, seems to be the only function I have any control over at this current moment, in my fucked up life.” You huff the last words out, as you finally break in your rampage of abuse, that just came spilling out of you. Your breathing laboured, now that you can take normal breaths once again. Once you start to calm down, and remember where you are, and not only that but who your with, a large sense of regret, shame and fear begins to travel through your body.
You now take this opportunity to look at the large Alpha’s that stand before you. Both of them have their fists clenched tightly by their sides, and their chests rise and fall heavily, as they too are taking in large breaths. Two sets of angered eyes, stare down at you, and you can't help but let a small whimper escape your lips as your eyes fall to your lap.
You waited expecting, to be scolded brutally by the two very dominant Alpha’s, however; shockingly, a calm hand was placed on your wrist. You were completely dumbfounded, until the hand began to rotate your wrist, and fear struck you again, as you tried to snatch your hand back, but the grip only tightened, securing your hand in its hold, as it turned it, so that your palm was face up and the small half-mooned scabs were now visible.
You swallowed quickly, but took this opportunity to quickly hide your other hand under the bed, grimacing as you jostled one of the IV’s when you caught it on the hospital blanket.
Both the men, sat on your bed, securing your blanketed legs between their warm bodies. Steve had been the one to take your hand, but they were both staring, sadly, at your self inflicted injuries.
The shame of what you had done, began to surge in your heart, as your head hung low, and your eyes began to burn with tears. You begin to whimper, and the two Alpha’s look to you sorrowfully.
“Did you do this, doll?” Steve asked you, as he began lightly examine the wounds. You nod not trusting your voice.
“Show us your other hand, beautiful” You squirm at the name, how could you be beautiful? The laceration across your stomach was sure to leave a nasty scar, but it wouldn't look out of place compared to the rest of your war weathered body. The cuts on your hands, the lesion on your abdomen, and the wound on your back, that you were yet to see; would only be joining a whole host of defects and disfigurements. One of the reasons you feared succumbing to your Omegaisims, would mean having to find a mate, your instincts being too primal and too powerful to try and survive on your own. The want to submit and to be owned, would be impossible to ignore. But who would want you, you’re broken; beyond repair.
Your broken from your dark thoughts by Bucky’s voice asking again to see your hand. You shake your head, and let the tears slip down your cheeks, staining the light blue blanket, a deep navy. You do nothing to stop him pulling the blankets down. He was more mindful of the tubes, and lifted your hand tenderly out from under the blanket. He repeated Steve’s action, turning your hand so it was facing upwards, revealing identical marks. He gently ran his thumb across them, you flinched expecting to feel pain, instead it was like when he touched your arms, when you had a panic attack. Instead of pain, you felt relief, and you noticed the same feeling when Steve, began repeating the movement.
“Why did you do this, sweetheart?” Steve broke the silence, looking up towards you, but not halting his soothing movement. He placed his other hand on your covered knee, causing you to visibly relax in his touch, as you pushed your knee into his hand.
“It helps.” you replied bluntly.
“Helps with what, darling? How can hurting yourself help, Y/N?” Bucky looks at you confused. You swallow thickly, thinking hard about your reply.
“It helps to stop the pain.” you sniffed.
“What hurts Y/N? Tell us where it hurts, we can make it better.” Bucky tries to comfort you, placing his hand on the opposite knee.
“You can't stop it, it’s never gonna go away.” you choke on a sob, and Steve moves so he’s now sat by your side on the bed, he carefully wraps an arm round your shoulder pulling you close. His scent alone gives reassurance, and you lean in to his embrace. “What is it sweetheart? We don't know if we can't help you, if we don't know what it is?”
You take a deep breath, “its the Omega stuff, it keeps wanting to take over, but I’m afraid.”
“Afraid of what, darling? You don't need to be afraid, we are right here.” Bucky says, giving your knee a reassuring squeeze.
“I’m afraid to lose control. All my life I’ve been the one driving the ship, and now there’s a new voice in my head, telling me I need to let go. But I don't want to lose that control.” The two Alpha’s share a pitying glance at one another, it was breaking their hearts watching you go through this, all they wanted was for you to feel safe, and secure. They knew that they could provide that for you, it was just trying to convince you.
“You don't need to feel alone, sweetheart. No one deserves to feel like they’re alone. We can look after you, you won't feel like you’re losing control.”
“But what if I don't want to give you control? What if I want to stay in charge?”
“We will go at your pace, beautiful,” the pet name, makes you wince again, but you stay quiet, too absorbed in the two mens scents, as you absentmindedly play with Bucky’s fingers.
“You decide where we go from here.”
Part Four//
A/N: Hey guys hope your enjoying this littler series so far, and I hope you love reading it, as much as I’m enjoying writing it.
#alpha!steve#alpha!bucky#avengers a/b/o#a/b/o dynamics#stucky x reader#stucky#bucky barnes#steve rogers#bucky x reader#steve x reader#bucky fic#steve fic
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Not Again.
The day had been a long one. The drive back from New Orleans wasn’t difficult, but Georgia felt drained from a day spent in meetings. It was a good kind of drained, though; the kind that came from feeling like you accomplished something. She was fully content just to change into something cozy and relax for a while. Her heels clicked on the wooden stairs as she went, echoing against the bare, white walls of the foyer. In a matter of minutes, Georgia was stretched out on her bed, wearing yoga pants and her favorite cream, cashmere sweater; with a book in her hands and her wireless headphones in. Her feet were bare, and she glanced over the top of the book for a moment, wondering if she should switch from her signature dark red nails to something else, but she never did. With a small sigh, she went back to trying to read her book, for what was going to be the third night in a row. It was some trashy romance novel, and she’d picked it up telling herself it was somewhere between a pleasure read and work research. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d skimmed a trashy paperback for a good scene idea for the studio. The main heartthrob of the novel was a thief, and try as she might, Georgia couldn’t help thinking about Mal. Putting the book down beside her she stared at her hand, her eyes lingering on his initial tattooed on her finger.
She remembered getting it- Wandering into a tattoo parlor on the strip, a little tipsy but so sure that even if she got angry enough to throw the ring in his face, or into the desert, that she wanted to be his wife. Jewelry or no jewelry. Mal was the family she had chosen. Standing up now, she walks across the room to her vanity, opening her jewelry box and pulling out her wedding ring. Georgia sank onto the small, vanity stool and stared at the small circle of metal in her hand. She’d taken it off after Rosie’s memorial service, not seeing the point in wearing it. The promises behind it felt hollow, the memories tarnished by the fire and their little girl’s death. Still, Georgia knew, in her heart, that Mal would sooner have stood in that house and burned to death willingly, if he thought it would have saved their daughter. She gently slipped the ring onto her finger and closed her eyes tightly. The memories all felt jumbled inside of her now. In her mind she could still remember first laying eyes on Mal, the way her stomach had flipped and her pulse had raced. Tangled with all of her memories of the good, were the bad. Sometimes she felt like she was still there on the front lawn, confused and struggling to breathe, coming to the realization that there was a fire roaring around her and her husband was screaming, begging for her to be alive. She could smell gasoline-
She could smell gasoline.
Her eyes snapped open. This wasn’t some night terror that she needed pills and wine to get through. Georgia could smell fumes, faint, but definitely there. She pulled her headphones out and gently laid them down, straining to hear anything at all. Anything that was out of place. She heard footsteps, and the slosh of liquid in what was supposed to be her empty house. Hadn’t she locked the front door? She always locked it. Had someone been here when she walked in? Had someone been waiting for her to get home? Adrenaline began to pump steadily into her body, her jaw tightening as she tried to quickly pull herself together. Fuck her phone. Who could she call, the cops? Seth? The auto shop? Even if she did call for help, there was no way of telling if they’d get here before whoever was downstairs either finished what they were doing or came for her. No, she was going to have to handle this. Georgia slipped the phone into her pocket. There was no way she was going to let this happen, not again. Quietly as she could, she moved to her bedside table where she had dropped her purse, pulling out her gun, momentarily grateful for the paranoia that had made her keep it on her at all times.
She stood there for a moment, frozen in her bedroom with her heart racing, wondering with every impossibly long second if she was going to hear the roar of a lit fire again. She hadn’t experienced this the last time. Rosie had been up for three nights with a cough and a low fever and Georgia had been staying up with her, too pissed off at Mal to let him help much. She had been so grateful when the little girl had fallen asleep without too much fuss, snuggled in her crib wearing pale yellow pajamas with tiny white elephants on them. Georgia had stayed there over her crib, humming and rubbing the top of Rosie’s head gently until her little chest rose and fell in a regular rhythm. When Georgia finally dragged herself to her own bedroom down the hall, she hadn’t even gotten under the covers. She’d simply laid down and shut her eyes before falling asleep. When she’d woken up, she had barely been able to breathe, her chest tight from smoke and soot. Mal had been screaming, maybe crying, it was a blur. Her mind had tried to process too much too quickly. The house on fire, her and Mal on the front lawn, the sound of sirens approaching. No Rosie. Georgia walked to her closet and reached her free hand onto one of the top shelves and quietly pulled down the small, sealed box with a rose embossed on the lid. If this place goes up in flames, there’s no way in hell she’s leaving what’s left of her daughter inside. Not again. Not now that she had a choice.
With one arm hugging the box of ashes close to her chest, she began to move. The hand with the gun was pointed straight out as Georgia made her way down the hallway, moving slowly and her eyes wide, like it might help her spot the barest hint of movement and give her an edge of some kind. When she heard the sound of glass breaking she very nearly screamed. Instead she froze at the top of the stairs, listening as whoever was in her house began breaking what she could only guess was her bottles of liquor and wine. There was no way for her to know how many people were in here. Taking the stairs quietly, she kept listening. There was no talking, or laughter that she could hear, but the sound of movement was becoming clearer. One set of footsteps crunching through broken glass was her best guess, and she hoped she was right. Very gently, she put down Rosie’s ashes on the table by the front door. With both hands now wrapped around the gun, she moved carefully. The smell of gasoline was making her nauseous and the floor was wet under her feet. If she slipped and fell she was fucked. Just as she made her way towards the living room, she saw the back of his head, dark hair shaved close on the sides with a mop of it on top. He was wearing a cut she didn’t recognize and that’s when she realized what was going on. The Rogues were making another move.
“Turn around or I’ll shoot.” Georgia snapped, relieved her voice wasn’t shaking even though her throat was tight with fear. The man raised his arms and turned slowly, looking more annoyed than frightened which pissed her off. His eyes were a pretty blue, but too bright like he was on something or just really enjoying himself, and he had freckles across pale skin. There was some kind of ink on his neck, and it looked like a pitchfork with flames but that didn’t mean anything to her. He looked young and that made her more nervous than anything else. In her experience, young meant reckless. “The fuck are you doin’ in my house?” she asked, her accent more pronounced as her focus was set on what was directly in front of her. She could see what he was doing, the question was why her house. Did he know about her? Was he sent here to just burn the house to send a message or to kill her? She couldn’t risk assuming that he hadn’t known she was upstairs.
“Put the gun down, sweetheart. You’re not gonna shoot me.” he said, taking a step forward. This wasn’t a fucking game. This wasn’t a joke, or a scare or something that he could charm his way out of. What happened if he rushed her? The floor was covered in broken glass, gasoline and spilled liquor and she wouldn’t be able to fight him off. Georgia squeezed the trigger and the bullet hit the sliding glass door over his shoulder, the glass shattering onto the floor. The man jumped and his eyes widened and Georgia wanted to smile, glad that he realized she wasn’t fucking around, but she was still too frightened.
“I’m not your fuckin’ sweetheart, and you wouldn’t be the first prick I’ve shot.” she said, and she meant to shout but her voice just came out rough and angry, too constricted to give her any real volume. The man looked at her and then glanced over his shoulder, towards the now broken door that led to her patio and yard. “Don’t even think-” she began, but he did. The man bolted for the doors and Georgia fired again. It must have grazed him because blood hit the floor, but he kept moving. The would-be arsonist jumped through the empty door frame and began running. Georgia moved quick, adrenaline pumping so hard she was only distantly aware of the glass underfoot. He was running across the patio and then down to the open gate. She got to the patio and fired the gun one, two three more times as he ran. There was a grunt and he stumbled a bit, but he didn’t stop running. Georgia turned, trying to get to the front door, to see where he had gone. She couldn’t just let him get away. If he was alive that meant he could come back, possibly with more people. Too much was going through her mind and her body was demanding she defend herself. Kill or be killed. There was too much glass, blood and gasoline on the floor beneath her, and as she reached the front foyer she slipped, falling hard on her hip. There was a crack as she landed on her phone and the gun went off again as her elbow hit the ground, a bullet lodging in the hall closet door. Pulling herself up, wincing, she flung open the front door just in time to hear a distant revving of a bike coming to life. “I will fucking kill you!” she shouted after him, though her lip was trembling and her voice shook with emotion and adrenaline. “You come back here and I will fucking BURY YOU, motherfucker!” she shouted, tears biting at her eyes.
Georgia stood there for a moment, staring and looking around, wondering if more were going to show up or if that asshole was going to come back. The adrenaline began to wear off and she lowered herself onto her front steps, wincing as she took pressure off her feet, bloody and embedded with bits of glass. Her cream sweater had blood and gasoline all over it and her hip was throbbing. As her body began to come down from it’s fight or flight, her body began to shake and she had put the gun down carefully beside her before pulling out her phone, the screen cracked but luckily still usable. She scrolled and punched a button to dial, raising the phone to her ear with one hand while the other began to pick glass out of her feet. The blood that dripped onto her white wooden steps matched her nail polish. The usually cool brunette sniffed a bit and tried to calm herself before speaking as the person on the other end finally picked up.
“Hey, it’s Georgia.” she said, trying to sound more together than she felt. “Something’s happened. I need some help.”
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If The World Was Ending 4/?
If The World Was Ending
Chapter Four: Los Angeles, I’m Yours
Read on AO3.
- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~
“There is a city by the sea
A gentle company
I don't suppose you want to?
And as it tells its sorry tale
In harrowing detail
Its hollowness will haunt you
Its streets and boulevards
Orphans and oligarchs
A plaintive melody
Truncated symphony.
An ocean's garbled vomit on the shore
Los Angeles, I'm yours...”
~ Los Angeles, I'm Yours - The Decemberists
- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~
‘Hey, Buck, it’s me. I just want you to tell Christopher I’ll be a little late picking him up, got our hands full here. It’s a good thing you’re missing it. Hope you guys are having fun.’
Buck was exhausted and lightheaded, but constantly looking for the boy with curls and a smile bright enough to light up a room. “Hey! There’s a kid under here!” a woman yelled.
“Christopher?” he exclaims, desperately clinging to any hope that it’s the little boy he’s looking for. “Hey! Hey, guys!” He hurries over, water sloshing around his legs and the Chris’s glasses hanging around his neck. “Hey, hey, big guy! Me and you, come on!” A man that’s almost four inches taller than him (which is impressive since he’s 6’2, hurries to help him. “All right, three, two, one. Go!”
They lift the heavy sign off the child, and as the others cheer and help them stand up, his hope is crushed when he sees it’s a twelve year old girl, not Christopher. The woman consoles the crying girl and Buck sighs in deep seeded exhaustion.
When someone says they might have seen Christopher at a Cupcakery on Strand, he forgets his fatigue and is moving again. He’s so wrapped up in wanting to find Chris and already numb, that he doesn’t notice that the edge of the sign has cut his arm pretty deeply.
- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~
Tony landed at a gas station, the water having receded, but the debris has done damage to the pumps and some were leaking. After pushing the emergency shut off button, he called it in and put up caution tape he’d snagged from a Home Depot store blocking off the driveway. Hopefully people would stay away, since there was a lot of spilled gas.
“Iron Man, there’s a fire at a Shell Gas Station on West Century Blvd,” he heard a woman’s voice from dispatch. He had just gotten back in the air as the call came in, heading toward the areas still heavily flooded with water. He was about to go put that fire out but saw a little boy in a yellow t-shirt sitting on top a car. “J, put out that fire out, I have eyes on a child in need of rescuing.”
He swooped down as the boy lifted his eyes to the sky, his small face covered in mud but looking relatively unharmed. Tony landed next to the car, making sure not to land too hard and risk upsetting the water and possibly knocking him over. “Hey, buddy,” he said, the faceplate lifting up.
“You’re Iron Man,” he said with a bright smile that made Tony smile as well.
“I sure am, what’s your name?”
“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” he told him, making Tony grin again. He had an adorable lisp, and it made his heart melt. Despite what they said about him, he liked kids. It’s just that he feared turning out like Howard and messing up the life of an innocent child that made him never want to become a dad.
“That’s true and your mom and dad are smart for having taught you that.” He could tell he was having a hard time keeping his head up, and he didn’t think it was from fatigue. Maybe a disability.
“My mom... she’s gone,” he told Tony with a sad, quiet voice.
“Well, my mom is gone too, and my dad.” He sat on the front of the car, and besides shifting a bit, it didn’t move too much under the weight of the armor. “It’s okay to be sad, you know?” The kid nodded, squinting at his face. “How about this, my name is Tony. Now you know my name, besides being Iron Man. Is it okay to give me your name now? Or your dad‘s name?”
“I’m Chris,” he finally said.
“Alright, well, let’s get you to the nearest hospital, Chris. The nice people there will make sure you’re not hurt and get you home, okay?” He reached out and gently picked him up, the kid gripping his shoulders a bit clumsily.
When Tony took to the air, he made sure not to go too fast. If he did, he might hurt Chris and that’s the last thing he wanted. That meant it was slow going, but it also allowed him to hear Chris as he cried out joyfully at flying.
Tony smiled at his resilience, and was sure Chris was going to be alright.
The man took him to the field hospital they’d set up at the decommissioned VA hospital on Sawtelle, handing him over to a nurse, who was in charge of the kids; getting their names and the names of their family to reunite them later. “Stay strong, kid,” he told him. “I’m sure your dad will find you soon.”
“Bye, Tony,” Chris said as he waved at him as he was carried away.
“Cute kid,” he hummed, before blasting back into the air despite his tiredness to continue helping more people.
That’s how he spent the rest of the day, putting out fires and rescuing anyone that was trapped or stranded, and unfortunately finding a lot of corpses in the water. He hated to move on after tagging them, but there were other, living people that needed him. Tony nearly lost it when he found a drowned infant and he couldn’t just leave her, cradling the tiny body in his arms and carrying her to the nearest hospital.
He had to take a break then before he fell apart completely, stepping out of the suit for the first time in several hours. There were several relief workers also taking a break and he sat with them as they welcomed him and tried to hand him some rations. “I uh...” he hesitated, fighting back a full body shudder that went through him as memories of being poisoned as a child filled his head. He’d taught himself never to take anything that was handed to him ever again. “I don’t... like to be handed things,” he finally managed to say.
The woman, a few years older than him, smiled and nodded, setting the rations down on the seat next to him. Tony was grateful, since he usually got derisive looks or sneers from people that thought Tony was just a stuck up rich person. The woman’s eyes were kind, and maybe she saw that it was from a trauma, or maybe she didn’t. He was just grateful when she made no comment.
After a moment, he grabbed the rations and the bottle of lukewarm water. It wasn’t the worst thing he’d eaten, so he scarfed down the dry protein bar and chugged the bottle of water. The sun was starting to sink as they shot the breeze, Tony making a note to set up a relief fund for not only the people affected by the tsunami, but also the ones working tirelessly to help those in need.
It was almost half an hour after sunset that he stood and bade them farewell, stepping into his suit and going off to help once again. He was sore and exhausted, but there were so many people still out there that needed someone. If he had to, he’d be that someone. Although, he figured after an hour or two he’d take a longer break, and maybe drop by Evan’s house to finally reassure himself of his safety.
As he was flying over Oceanside, he heard Captain Nash calling for medical transportation for 17 people, recognizing his voice almost immediately. He wouldn’t be able to carry that many, but maybe he could help. As he touched down, he scanned the area and immediately saw the downed light post, sparks flying from it, and even more alarming is when JARVIS indicated the leaking gasoline truck. Bobby immediately hurried over to him as soon as he landed. “Tony, we could really use your help,” the man says.
He wasn’t sure what he could do to help, but he could see the strain on his face, both from worry and fatigue from a long day working, so Tony would do what he could. “If it’s within my capabilities, then I’ll do what I can, Cap,” he told him. The man usually liked to work on his own if he wasn’t with Rhodey, the Avengers having been a one hit wonder that hadn’t panned anything. After all, no one had come to help him when the Mandarin had destroyed his house and he’d been presumed dead. However, it was different with Nash and his people. They all looked dirty and tired, having been working all day. The crew of the 118, and a lot more other rescue personnel had been working tirelessly to save people, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to help them when they asked for his help. He motioned toward the light post. “I imagine it has to do with that Sword of Damocles over there? And the truck leaking gasoline?”
Bobby was momentarily surprised, but shook it off before he nodded. “Yes... you know, one of my men called it just that.”
Tony smirked. “I‘ll have to meet him when we aren’t sitting on a potential explosion that could kill everyone here.”
The Captain nodded. “Well, I’ve sent two of my firefighters to acquire some vehicles, but I would feel so much better if the gasoline could possibly be neutralized.”
His mind was going a mile of minute, wondering if it would be better to douse the gasoline with kitty litter, or try and move the lamp post up and out of the way. Tony must have been talking out loud without realizing it, meaning he was more tired than he thought.
“Wait, are you sure you won’t get electrocuted?” Bobby knew the man was a superhero, and had faced many dangers, which included terrorists and even aliens. However, he wasn’t invincible, and he was just as human as Bobby was underneath his high-tech suit.
“Not to worry, Cap my suit once took a hit from Thor’s lighting and I’m still here. I’ve had 36 suit upgrades since then,” he said with a smile. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“Famous last words,” the man said with a strained smile.
“Bobby, are you making a joke about my possible potential death?” he asked with mock shock, then gave him a wink as the face plate snapped closed before the man could respond. He flew toward the lamp post, grunting as he felt the shock of the electricity surge through the suit. It wasn’t as bad as when Thor had blasted him, but it was constant until he lifted the lamp post and away a bit.
‘Power at four hundred percent capacity,’ JARVIS intoned like deja vu.
Tony chuckled as he moved away from the light post, the thrusters in his boots keeping him in the air and not touching the gasoline that had already spread this far. He gave the thrusters more power as he went higher into the air. “J, give me the location of the nearest pet shop.” Tony figured that the best thing to do was bury it in non-flammable kitty litter and hope for the best.
“Alright, Cap, I’ve bought you some time, but try and hurry your men,” he told him over the frequency. He hadn’t seen Diaz among them, so perhaps he was one of the ones that had gone to get some form of transportation.
He flew there as fast as he could, knowing the others were on borrowed time. The window of the PetSmart he arrived at had it’s glass doors still intact. “Remind me to pay for these doors, J,” he said as he crashed through them in a rain of glass shards and metal. He went to the cat’s section, and the lights were out but he had flood lights on his suit, and night vision on his HUD. Tony yanked a shopping cart along and started to pile inside several bags of kitty litter, as much as would fit inside the cart. He rolled it outside and then hurried over next door to the hardware store,. “I hope they don’t try to arrest me for looting.” He grabbed two tubes of sealant that he put in a bag and dumped it into the shopping cart, making another note to pay for everything he was taking. “Next time I’m going to aim for a Sam’s or a Costco,” he sighed, lifting the cart.
It was harder to fly back at high speeds without losing the kitty liter, but he managed without dropping a single bag. He cursed when he saw that the lamp post had fallen despite his best efforts, the sparks making the gasoline catch fire, and he dropped the cart. Tony didn’t want to move the post again, so he grabbed one of the ten pounds bags and tore it open before he upended it over the flames. This particular brand was made from bentonite clay, which meant it wasn’t flammable. He managed to douse the flames with a second and third bag, but to make sure it didn’t catch fire anytime soon, he used every single bag to spread it over most of the area around the lamp post. He also got the sealant and after managing to lift the truck at an angle where the gas wasn’t spilling, used both tubes of the white plaster like sealant so make sure no more would spill. When that was done and he carefully set it back down, waited a moment to make sure it wasn’t still spilling, and then used the caution tape someone had left behind to wrap around the whole area. Just to be sure.
He saw the firefighters of the 118 loading the patients into what appeared to be mail trucks and was amused. “Alright, Cap, threat neutralized for now, but I suggest you double time it out of here,” he told him. He knew that neither he or Bobby were military, but he remembered that the guy with the nametag Diaz had a military bearing to his movements. If he hadn’t served, then he’d eat his own helmet.
“Thank you for your help, Iron Man,” he radioed back.
“Neither rain, nor snow, nor tsunami, Captain Nash,” he joked.
He heard a groan on the other end. “I hope you and Chimney never meet and become friends,” a woman’s voice said over the radio.
Tony chuckled to himself as he continued on. As he went over the city where no lights were on except the occasional fire, he felt his eyesight go dark. If it wasn’t for JARVIS taking over, he’d have crashed, and as it was, he was disoriented as he came back around, and realized that he’d fallen asleep mid-flight.
Well, he guessed it was time for that break he promised himself, and changed course toward Evan’s house. Tony didn’t have many actual friends, since people always wanted him for either money, fame, or in the case of Sunset, to steal SI prototypes. So, wanted to make sure one of the few friends he had was fine, since he wouldn’t deny that he’d been thinking about him ever since this morning.
So, he was looking forward to seeing his friend face to face after all these years.-
#Evan Buckley#Tony Stark#Eddie Diaz#Bobby Nash#Chimney Han#Hen Wilson#9-1-1#9-1-1 Fox#regret writes#regret fanfiction#myfanfiction#fanfiction#Crossover fanfiction#Buddie#Buddie (eventually)#maybe#Evan Buckley/Tony Stark#Evan Buckley x Tony Stark#Evan Buckley x Eddie Diaz#Past Evan Buckley x Abby Clark#Past Tony Stark x Pepper Potts#Past Tony Stark x Evan Buckley#Iron Man#Marvel Cinematic Universe#The Avengers#Marvel#Fox TV Shows#If The World Was Ending#Crossing The Divide series
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epilogue 12
All Lady did was make phone calls.
In Auntie’s day, it hadn’t been like this. Lady couldn’t imagine Constantine content with the boring day to day of leadership - which, even on the road, was an onslaught of phone calls and memos. Yes, some poor courier sent by Lady’s Chief of Intelligence had managed to intercept her and Mac on the road with a memo. Mac had nearly shot him, and all for a brief note requesting that all Hemisphere personnel planning to attend the annual gala RSVP before such and such date. Lady felt that she needed a new Chief of Intelligence, if hers was doing party planning.
Mac waved from his own bike, a few feet ahead, for Lady to pull over on the side of the highway. Lady did, though she didn’t take her helmet off. They’d stopped in front of a gas station. Mac was already off his bike, walking over.
“Might have a phone,” Mac said.
There was a chance, in any case. The little store looked well taken care of, even if the pumps had rusted beyond use. A hand-lettered sign over the door declared the store open.
Lady heaved a long-suffering sigh, and nodded.
Traveling through this part of the States was... interesting. Hemisphere’s grasp on Appalachia had never exactly been absolute, and this particular highway in Tennessee hadn’t passed through Hemisphere territory in a good long while. On paper, it all belonged to Hemisphere, but holding any actual authority over the outskirts depended on the manpower to assert that right. At present, Lady’s manpower was her and Mac. There had been no commandeering accommodations - or phone lines - for a while.
Mac strode off toward the store. He remembered to take his helmet off only when he paused to notice his reflection in the glass door. A little bell chimed when he went inside, seeming too loud on the quiet highway. They were well and truly in the middle of nowhere. It was as if even the birds and squirrels had found someplace better to be.
Lady stood up and stretched. She took off her helmet as well. She should probably have told Mac to buy some gasoline while he was at it, but there would be time for that. Lady stopped mid-stretch, her arms extended over her head, as something caught her eye. She dropped her arms and walked over to the side of the store. A closer look would only confirm what she already knew, but if she was going to be mad, at least she’d be good and certain of the reason.
The tin drum against the outside wall of the store, fitted with a tap, had TEXAS WATERS stamped in big white letters across the side. Lady stood and stared at it.
“There you are,” Mac said, coming up behind her. “Said we could use the phone if we bought something first.”
Lady struggled to pull her gaze away from the tin drum. She only succeeded when something cool touched the knuckles of one hand, and she jerked away in surprise. Mac was holding a glass bottle of cola out to her. He held two of them in one hand, the stems of the bottles pinched awkwardly between his fingers. His other hand was occupied with a container of gasoline.
“What is this?” Lady snapped, taking the bottle from him. She had a hunch, though, and she didn’t like the answer. “Never mind,” she sighed. She twisted the cap off. The bottle was unlabeled, because Atlanta at least had the sense not to stock the proof they were operating outside their territory on the shelf of a backwater Tennessee gas station. But the taste confirmed exactly what it was.
Marc didn’t appear to mind. He put down the gas can to twist the lid off his own bottle. Lady tapped a fingernail against the glass. Without looking at a map, Lady would guess this little gas station was a hundred miles from the Georgia state line - and even farther from the Old World demarcation of Georgia’s northern border, which was some forty miles further south. A hundred miles. That was how out of line the Atlanta crew was. And still, a hundred miles was nothing next to what Marc was doing here, with his drum of water. The man worked the Mexico border, for Christ’s sake.
“No kidding, is that…?” Mac began. He gestured with his bottle of cola to the tin drum.
“Yep,” Lady spat.
She’d approved a Texas Waters deal with Everglades City, letting the two gangs do business across the Gulf, but now she regretted it. You give an inch, they take a mile. Or a few hundred.
“I’m going to make those calls,” Lady muttered, after a few seconds of silence had ticked by. She turned her back on the tin drum, handing the bottle of cola back to Mac as she passed him.
Constantine had been a conqueror. That was the problem. Auntie had conquered it all, had spent the manpower to create an unassailable infrastructure, and had retired after a job well done. As a result, Lady’s inheritance had been a network of telephone lines. Telephone lines were the thread that stitched Hemisphere together - that, and a quickly fading memory of Constantine and war. No wonder the Dead-Eyes didn’t think twice about burning though every state between Oregon and the Mississippi, and Marc, from his bubble bath, thought he might as well start selling water wherever he pleased.
Lady wasn’t set up to go to war if the States started turning against her. She didn’t have a posse of roving gunslingers instilling terror in her wake. She had a secretary. One who was currently holding her Coke for her.
The bell chimed above the door as Lady entered.
“You’ll have to make a purchase if you want to use the phone, young lady,” the man behind the counter said. He licked his fingers and flipped to the next page in his catalog.
Lady set her teeth. She hadn’t mentioned the phone.
“My friend made a purchase,” she said. “Two colas and five gallons of gas.”
“That may be,” the man replied. He didn’t look up as he licked the tip of a pen and marked a red circle around one of the items in the catalog. “But you’ll have to make a purchase, Miss.”
The phone was hanging on the wall behind the counter. Lady stared at the man. He was bald, middle-aged, with an impressive salt-and-pepper mustache. Lady stepped around the counter. She pulled the receiver from the wall and started to dial the number for Central Headquarters.
She paused. Her impulse was to get her Chief of Intelligence on the phone and lay into her for a good forty-five minutes over how she could have possibly overlooked huge breaches by both Georgia and Texas. However, her Chief of Intelligence was Deaf, and whatever Lady had to say to her was necessarily defanged when relayed via interpreter. Maybe it was better this way. Lady could make that conversation a lot more intimidating if she had it in person. It was all in the eyes.
“Miss, I told you, the phone is for paying customers only. You can buy something, but otherwise, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Lady hung up the phone. The man had his hands on his hips, showing off his holster. Lady stared at him, calculating.
“Miss, I don’t intend to say it again.”
“I’ll just be a minute,” Lady said, crinkling her nose and smiling. She picked the phone back up. She tucked the receiver in the crook of her neck before dialing, not looking at the man anymore. She could hear the operator speaking into her shoulder, and dialed the appropriate code rudely over the operator’s voice. Her other hand went to her shoulder holster.
The man hadn’t even drawn his weapon, she noted, after she’d fired a round. Lady had thought as much. There was a reliable correlation between people who called her ‘Miss’ and people who weren’t willing to shoot her.
Lady picked up the receiver properly, only to hear some bullshit.
“...Um, I’m sorry, but that code refers to the Good Guys, and they…” the operator trailed off. Lady waited for her to finish her thought. “They, according to our file here...Hold on, my supervisor is coming over.” Lady heard her add, “It’s Lady, Ken,” before the voice on the other end became, presumably, Ken’s.
“Hi, Lady. This is Ken Laurens, shift manager. So, what we have here is…” Lady’s attention strayed from the phone call to the man she had shot. He was spitting and swearing at her, bent double over the counter. He was getting blood on his catalog. She’d gotten the shoulder of his shooting arm, but Lady still lazily trained the gun on him. Just in case.
“...didn’t pay their dues last term. Our records are incomplete, being as we’re quite literally just the messenger,” Ken laughed awkwardly. “So...so there’s no further explanation, but that’s why their code is no longer operational.”
“Ken, I’m going to have to ask you to reinstate that code,” Lady said.
“O..oh, okay,” Ken said. “So, reinstating a code is done in Technical Services, and that only with the go-ahead from some folks well above my pay-grade…”
“Ken,” Lady said sweetly. “Am I not well above your pay grade?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Ken said. “I’ll see if I can’t find a work-around from our end.”
“That would be wonderful, Ken,” Lady said.
An annoying little jingle chimed through the receiver, and Lady held it a little way from her head. Mac appeared in the doorway.
“Finished gassing up the bikes,” he said. The bell chimed again as the door closed behind him. “Hey, now,” he added, when he noticed the store owner bent double over the counter.
“He wouldn’t let me use the phone,” Lady said.
“I told him you were with me,” Mac replied. He leaned back against the door. “Unbelievable. Some people, huh?”
Lady rolled her eyes in agreement. Ken was back on the line.
“So, okay, you still there, Lady?” Ken said. “So, this is unorthodox for sure, but we have the, well, the number for the phone the Good Guys have called in from in the past, and we can place an unsecure call to…”
“Sure, fine,” Lady said.
The phone rang, without another word from Ken. It continued to ring, until it rang out with no answer. Lady slammed the phone down and re-dialed Hemisphere Central. When the chirpy operator picked up, Lady snapped “Ken,” at her.
The phone rang out again on the second try. On the third, someone picked up.
“Yeah?” they said, voice garbled and crackling, as if there was something wrong with the phone line.
“This is Lady,” Lady said. “Put the King on the line.”
“If this is about those dues, I just don’t know what happened,” the voice drawled. “I think your courier might have taken them for himself. You should investigate that. Or not.”
“The King,” Lady repeated.
Lady listened to static and what sounded like the occasional drip of water on the other end of the phone. She watched the store owner slide down to the floor, huffing and puffing, looking up at her with hatred.
“We’ll just be another minute,” Lady mouthed at him.
Lady would not have chosen the Good Guys for this. But as luck would have it, the Good Guys were the only Hemisphere operation along the scheduled route of the Madsen and Graves Circus with enough time to intercept before the circus reached D.C.
“King speaking,” said a subtle voice through the phone.
“This is Lady,” Lady said. “You’re going to do something for me.”
12.14 || 13.1
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Fire Meet Gasoline
It was about two weeks after the Mandalorian, an ex-shock trooper, and a rag-tag group of villagers worked together to bring down a Klatooinian raider gang and one hell of a nasty AT-ST that Dyn found himself sitting on a porch watching the sun set. He still couldn’t believe they’d pulled it off; a bunch of inexperienced Omegas and Betas with sharpened sticks? A small part of him had thought they were all doomed for sure. But Omera had surprised the hell out of him with her blaster handling skills and he knew they’d at least have a chance.
As Dyn watched, the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, splashing the clearing and surrounding trees in a purple-hued gloaming. He welcomed the oncoming night, hoping it would bring a little relief from the day’s unseasonably balmy temperatures. Enfolded by a stillness he’d had never known, it struck him how this was the longest he’d spent in one place since he’d been a child, well before his differentiation into an Omega and his first heat. He’d always moved from place to place, job to job, with hardly a break in between. This was The Way. But this interlude here in Omera’s village, as unexpected and long as it had been, seemed destined to be.
A dawning realization hit him then, along with a sudden unwelcome warmth low in his belly, and he lurched upright in his chair.
“Shit.”
When was the last time he’d taken his heat suppressant? He hadn’t planned on this job taking more than a week so he’d left most of his essentials on the Crest back in town and those essentials included his twice monthly pills. He had been so preoccupied with trying to keep the villagers (and the kid and Winta and Omera) alive he hadn’t even spent a fucking thought on his suppressants. He cursed himself for being so careless.
With his ship more than a day’s journey away, there was no way he’d make it back before the overwhelming clutch of the first heat he’d had in years raked him over the coals. Dyn licked his lips, hidden under the cover of his helm, and fisted his suddenly trembling hands on his knees. He looked from side to side, feeling vulnerable and exposed. He had to get out of here.
Just then Omera walked around the corner of the hut beside his, lit in a beautiful wash of campfire and moonlight. She was heading straight toward him, a question already forming on her lips.
“Would you like to join us toni-”
Dyn stood abruptly, his wooden chair flying back against the hut with the force of the movement, and quickly retreated into the abode, slamming the thin door behind him. He despised being so rude, but he was quickly becoming desperate to be alone. And without an Alpha anywhere in sight to help him through this oncoming heat he came close to panic. He wrapped his arms around his middle and paced about the small living space, his breath coming out through the voice modulator in harsh pants. wondering how in the hell he was going to get through this. If there was a small mercy in any of this it was that the kid was with the other children at a sleepover tonight.
Being an Omega was something Dyn had slowly come to terms with in his adult life, but he never considered it a defining characteristic. He had always seen himself as strong, willful, even with that tractable title of Omega. Never one to beg or plead, he only ever relied on himself, stubbornly denying the submissive nature of the dynamic. He was so much more than the weak and vulnerable nature that society dictated of an Omega, and he’d worked harder than most to shirk those labels. The Mandalorians willingly accepted any type into their clan and had accepted Dyn just the same, but he felt like he had had to fight and claw his way to the position he was in now; it had not been an easy road but this was The Way.
He had tried and mostly succeeded in hiding his dynamic, taking his suppressants religiously and probably too often, if he was being honest. He just wanted to do everything in his power to avoid being reduced to the needy, wanting, shameless mess he became when he was in heat. But now he had no choice.
Heavy arousal hit him low in his stomach and he sank to his knees with a moan. His cock, suddenly and painfully erect, strained against his cargos and he pressed the heel of his hand to it, but felt no relief. Heat seared across his skin, making his clothes feel far too confining. His body ached for the thick knot of an Alpha and he had no way to quench the scorching wildfire growing more out of control with every passing second.
Omera’s voice filtered in through the door and Dyn had to bite back a strangled groan. “Is everything all right?” she asked softly.
“Please,” he rasped. He meant to finish with leave me alone but the words wouldn’t come. He knew in this village of Omegas and Betas, with Cara grouped in the latter, there would be no one to help him through this. Tears welled in his eyes as another wave of heat swept through him, tightening his guts, making it hard to think clearly, and he crawled across the room to the bed.
Omera was so quiet at the door Dyn thought she had left. But then she spoke again. “I can help,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”
“Goddamnit.” He didn’t need her help, he needed to be left alone. But that wasn’t quite right though, was it? He didn’t need to be alone. He needed an Alpha who could bend him over and fuck this cursed heat out of him until he couldn’t see straight. The sudden mental image of a strong, capable Alpha taking control, opening him up, filling him beyond capacity caused a sudden rush of moisture to slick down his inner thigh.
Shaking, Dyn somehow managed to pull himself up onto the bed. He slumped down onto his side, trying to coordinate his fingers enough pull off his gloves and undo the vambraces on his forearms, but they wouldn’t comply.
Omera was suddenly back with a polite but firm knock on the door before walking into the hut. He rolled away from her, not wanting her to see him like this. Perspiration slicked his skin beneath his clothes and helmet, stifling and far too constricting, and he curled in on himself helplessly.
“Omera, please go,” he rasped.
He heard her step up beside the bed with her hands full of something. “You’re in heat,” she said matter-of-factly and Dyn barked out a humorless laugh. How did she guess?
She ignored his sarcasm and continued on. “You don’t think a whole village of Omegas without an Alpha in sight would not be prepared to help one another through it when the time comes?”
Dyn stilled except for his labored breathing and he slowly turned his head to look back at her. She wore a patient and understanding smile and held a large muslin sack in her hands. A corked water jug rested on top. His mouth thirsted for a drink.
Omera set the items on the floor and helped him up to a sitting position. Kneeling down, she settled a hand on his knee and looked up at him. The touch, as light as it was, sent a shock-wave through him that went straight to his cock. Arousal was clouding his brain, making it hard to think. Dyn swallowed against a dry throat.
She patted his leg then began unpacking the bag after setting the water jug beside him on the bed. His fingers found the glass neck and he grasped it in one hand almost hard enough to crack it. His other hand was pressed firmly to the bulge at his crotch, trying to relieve the ever building pressure to no avail as he watched Omera pull items from the sack.
First came a blanket and a few washcloths then a rather large, complex-looking dildo, and finally a vial with a screw top lid. Dyn looked at the array of items in a guarded wonder; it seemed this village was prepared after all.
Sitting back on her haunches, Omera opened the vial and all at once the cloying scent of Alpha pheromones assaulted Dyn’s senses. He dipped his head down in instinctive submission and doubled forward with a weak cry, almost toppling off the bed. His breath came in rapid, ragged puffs and more moisture soaked his pants. The scent was undeniably heady and perfect and held the promise of being well bred and sated.
Omera turned back toward him, concern drawing her brows together. “Why haven’t you undressed yet? We need to get these clothes off of you. You will burn up.“
Dyn shook his head. "I - I can’t.” Not even in midst of this scorching heat would he dishonor the Mandalorian creed by taking off his helmet in front of her.
Omera sighed but nodded her understanding. She quickly stood and looked about the small room - for what he did not know. The Alpha pheromones were damn near driving him out of his mind. He squeezed his thighs together and shifted his ass down into the bed but nothing helped, and nothing would - except an Alpha’s knot.
Omera quickly came back to him with a long, narrow strip of red cloth draped over her palms. “If I can’t see your face, you would be able to remove the gear, yes? I know you won’t be able to breathe with that thing on when we get in the thick of it and you’ll need to drink plenty of water to stay hydrated.”
“All valid points,” he conceded, coming to the very end of his control. “Put it on.”
He watched her tie the cloth over her eyes and knot it at the back of her head. The sight of her like that made his heart pump double time. There was no denying Omera was gorgeous, but the fact that she was willing to do this for him, to him, turned him on all the more.
She held out a hand and Dyn took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet on shaky legs. Closing the space between them, she reached up blindly until her hands were on either side of his helmet, her head tilting up and her lips parting. She began lifting, and in a replay of that moment just a few days earlier, Dyn instinctively grasped her wrists. She paused, seemingly awaiting his consent. When his hands fell to his sides in surrender, she slowly lifted it up and off.
That strong Alpha scent was even more intoxicating without the barrier of the helm and Dyn’s knees buckled. Omera helped to steady him then they both worked quickly to undo his armor and shed his boots and clothes. He stood before her laid utterly bare - the first time he’d been in such a state in many, many years - even though she couldn’t see him. The cool night air kissed his sweat slick skin and he began to shiver even as the warmth of his heat still simmered just under the surface.
Omera’s hands suddenly found his body and she trailed hungry touches over every angle and curve, seeing him with her senses, not her eyes. Her fingers caught lightly over old scars, his nipples, his chest hair. Dyn bit his bottom lip to stop a gasp from tumbling from his mouth.
She tilted her head to the side and Dyn could see the rapid flutter of her pulse at her neck. “The pheromones,” she whispered. “They’re starting to affect me too."
Alpha heat-response pheromones were notorious for pulling in immediate bystanders whether they were in heat or not, though the effect wasn’t near as strong as it was for an Omega on their cycle.
Her fingers continued their journey down his stomach to his cock, rubbing up the achingly hard shaft then down to fondle his balls. "Omera.” He shuddered under her touch. A warning? A plea for mercy? Both all at once? Dyn did not know.
Without waiting another second, he wrapped a hand around her waist and pulled her clothed body against his own nakedness. Dipping his head down, he bumped their foreheads together in a gentle Mandalorian Keldabe kiss, then captured her mouth with a tentative press of his lips. Which, after an unexpected but wholy welcome sweep of her tongue, Omera turned into a searing crush of need-driven desire.
When they were both properly breathless, Dyn pulled back with a palm cupping her jaw. He drug the pad of his thumb across her kiss-bruised bottom lip and she drew just the tip in for a quick taste of his skin. He was so hard it was painful.
“I- I need,” he choked out the words, swallowed, tried again, “you. I need you to break me of this heat."
Omera released his thumb and nodded. "I will.”
He undressed her then with a few fumbling flicks of his wrists and led her to the edge of the bed. He could not wait another moment. As he watched, Omera stooped down, her hands blindly feeling for the muslin sack she’d brought with her. She found the dildo and pheromone vial and straightened again. A shiver of anticipation flushed through Dyn that was quickly burned up by another heavy wave of heat. A thick trail of moisture tracked down his inner thigh and he grabbed up the corked jug beside him for a couple greedy chugs of water.
“On all fours, Mando.” Omera’s voice wasn’t quite the commanding tone of an Alpha, but it was just assertive enough to bring out the submissive nature he usually tried hiding, but in this moment he could no longer deny. He immediately complied, resting his head down on his forearms and presenting his ass for the taking.
“It’s Dyn,” he murmured into the sheets beneath him.
“Dyn,” she said reverently, like the offering of his name was a sacred gift.
He felt the bed dip as she crawled onto the mattress behind him and his cock throbbed. Scorching arousal tightened his stomach almost unbearably and he spread his legs a little wider, urging her to please just end his suffering already.
Omera’s hand was suddenly on his hip, her skin blessedly cool against his, and he moaned. The vial of Alpha scent was opened again and this time she splashed a couple of drops onto the dildo. She rubbed the phallus up and down his crack, damn near driving him out of his mind.
“I haven’t done this blindfolded before,” she admitted. She teased his hole with just the tip.
“But you have done this before, right?” he panted. He trusted her more than anyone, but he had to know he wasn’t in inexperienced hands.
“Oh, yes.” Without another moment’s hesitation she began pushing the tool inside.
Dyn’s immediately twisted his fingers into the bedding. “Kriff,” he swore, stars exploding behind his tightly closed eyes. It was the perfect amount of pressure and girth, stretching him open with an exquisite burn. The heat inside him swelled to overwhelming crescendo and he pushed his hips back eagerly, taking the full length at once.
Omera squeezed his hip. “You take it so well, Dyn,” she praised as she maneuvered herself flush behind him.
The plaudit stroked his Omega’s heart exactly how he needed it and he let out a low whine of pleasure. His thighs began trembling as his body screamed for Omera to keep going. “Please, don’t stop.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
With one hand grasped at the base of the dildo, she leaned forward over his back and latched on to his shoulder for leverage. Then she began moving. Swift, strong thrusts pounded his ass, pushing the cock in as deep as it would go with every snap of her hips, filling him in a way he’d never experienced before. He tried keeping up, pushing back on every shove forward, but the Alpha pheromones mixing with the scent of his arousal and hers, and the way her breasts grazed his skin, and the way she stretched him open, made it fucking impossible to even think straight. All he could do was moan weakly against the onslaught.
Her hand moved from his shoulder to his hair, tangling her fingers into the thick, dark strands. She tugged and he brought his head up rapidly, willing her to use him however she saw fit, his body howling for her knot. Changing the angle of her thrusts minutely while continuing her brutal onslaught, Omera’s cock hit Dyn directly on that swollen bundle of nerves deep inside him. He cried out, tears welling in his eyes from the staggering amount of pleasure crashing against him, battering him like a ship lost in the stormy waters on Kamino. Precome leaked from his achingly hard erection down onto the bed.
“You sound like you’re nearly there, Dyn.” She released his hair and he sunk his head back down to the bed. He tried and failed to control his breathing. Grasping his hip again, she pushed in harder, faster. “Are you ready for this knot?”
“Yes, oh, please, please, yes.” The words fell from his lips in a hoarse, shameless tumble.
Omera pushed in one last time with a groan, nailing his prostate full force, and he came with a broken shout, spurting gleaming ropes of his spend all over the sheets. Just as he climaxed, the cock emptied some sort of synthetic release that was just as hot and perfect as the real thing deep inside him then began expanding in his ass, trapping the thick liquid, knotting him, thankfully breaking his heat for the time being. He knew he would only have a short time to rest before it was back, scorching him from the inside out, but for now it was abating.
His body shook with the force of the aftershocks of one of the hardest orgasms he’d ever had and Omera gently helped to lay him down on his side. She spooned behind him, skin to skin, rubbing a soothing hand up and down his side, pressing soft kisses to his shoulder. The cock remained embedded inside him, still working to keep the second round of heat at bay momentarily.
“Thank you for,” he began, grasping her hand and pulling it around to his chest.
“Shh,” she quieted him. She absently traced circles through his chest hair, sending mini tremors through to his core at the intimacy of it. “No need to thank me.”
“And yet I do. I could not get through this without you.”
“Then we are even,” she countered, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “You saved me and now I have saved you.”
He chuckled and brought her hand up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to her palm. Finding this planet seemed like some sort of cosmic kismet. Finding Omera here was his destiny. His heart swelled and he blinked back a curious sting of tears at the back of his eyes. He’d never felt such a strong pull before.
Arousal bloomed slow and warm in his belly and he pushed his ass back against her. She gasped behind him and he smiled. “Again already, Dyn?”
“Appears so.” He tugged her hand down to his hardening cock so she could feel for herself.
Grasping his length, Omera nibbled playfully at his shoulder. “So it does.”
#the mandalorian#dyn is in heat and omera lends a helping hand#omegaverse#the boy is a bottom y'all#in heat#mandomera#fanfic
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Just a quick note to say I LOVE YOUR WRITING! Your epicness from A03 brought me to your Tumblr. Thank you for the AMAZING V and Dante porn, I mean, stories you have gifted us ❤❤
Oof, thank you! Writing smut was nerve wracking at first so I’m glad you enjoy it! Just for you, have a scene from ages ago that never fit anywhere featuring inappropriate use of a cane...
____________
You were a moth to V’s flame from the first moment you laid eyes on him. Every aspect of his persona, from the curve of his smirking lips to the way his fingers wrapped around the handle of his cane, made you wonder who he really was. What was his real name? Where did he come from? And how the fuck did his every syllable make you ache with need?
It was obvious he had no idea the effect he was having on you, too. His focus was only ever on the mission, and his lovely eyes slid by you with barely a pause to acknowledge your presence. It drove you nuts, and you weren’t going to just lie back and take it.
You started slow, with an occasional bite of your lip or a sly wink when the others weren’t paying attention. His reaction was so subtle you almost missed it; the barest twitch of his lips and widening of his pupils, a millimeter of change if you were lucky. Not enough, you needed to do something more drastic.
It became a game to you. How every time he left you electrified, you made it a mission to return the favor. A lingering hand on his arm, an extra sway of your hips as you walked by, an exaggerated moan when you stretched your arms… You were shameless, you wanted to see him completely lose his composure and you wouldn’t stop until it happened.
As the days rolled on, his reactions grew more noticeable. It gave you a surge of self-satisfaction the first time you saw his grip on his cane tighten, a pulse of pride when you made him blush. You almost laughed when you heard his breath hitch. Oh, payback was sweet.
Until the day he returned the favor.
Nico and Nero were elsewhere, testing some new idea of hers against a small horde of Empusa. You were alone with the poet for the first time in weeks, and you weren’t pulling any punches. He was reading, as always. Quietly sitting on the couch and minding his own business. Unacceptable.
You went to sit beside him, chewing your lip as you looked through your lashes at the page. He didn’t react, so you rested your head on his shoulder, the ends of your hair tickling his tattooed skin as you hummed. He sighed but still didn’t move.
“Read to me?” you asked.
He stared at you and the moment was too perfect to resist. You licked your lips.
V moved faster than you could think. The book clattered as he dropped it, his shoulder gone from under your cheek. He caught you before you fell, lean arms supporting your weight and gripping you securely.
“This game has gone on far too long,” he rumbled, and then he kissed you.
He was rougher than you would’ve expected, insistent and hungry. It set you on fire and you responded in kind, wrapping your arms around him as your tongue darted forth to meet his. His flavor and scent enveloped you in peppermint and leather as his hands rested on your hips, thumbs rubbing small circles in the tender flesh.
It was too much; you moaned against his mouth, surrendering to his will. His lips twisted into a victorious smirk, but you were too far gone to care. As long as he kept kissing you, kept touching you, you were too happy to admit defeat.
His grip on your hips shifted and you fell back onto the couch with a surprised gasp. V’s eyes gleamed as he picked up his cane and used the curve of the handle to hook onto the belt loop of your jeans, pulling the fabric down bit by bit. You lifted your hips to help and within moments your legs were bare.
“Hmmm… however shall I amuse myself?” he mused, deftly flipping his cane so the handle was in his palm. He traced the blunted tip up your calf, leaving goosebumps behind. He smirked and continued, crossing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh to rest on your mound and pressing down gently.
It felt so good, you were helpless to resist the urge to press against the hard metal with more force, wiggling just enough to get a bit of friction. Your hands flew to the armrest to clench the cushion, using it as an anchor. A wicked idea popped into your mind. You still hadn’t seen him lose composure, not to your satisfaction. Time to play dirty.
“Put it in me,” you moaned, rolling your hips against his cane suggestively.
V’s lips popped open and his brows shot up in surprise and you felt a surge of victory as the metal resting against your core trembled. You watched with glee as his Adam’s apple bobbed and he struggled to mask his reaction. Yet still, you wanted more.
“Please, V… fuck me with your cane,” you begged.
He dropped it.
You smirked as he cleared his throat and reached down to pick up the silver again, his breathing a dead giveaway of his excitement. His every reaction spurred you to push him farther, only adding gasoline to the fire of your desire. It might not be wise, but you didn’t care.
“Please, please, please… fuck me with your cane, then fuck me with your cock.”
He was still for a long beat, processing your new attitude. Slowly, his lips spread into a grin. “At your pleasure.”
The silver tip moved, tracing the fabric of your panties and nudging them aside to find your aching heat. V used only the slightest amount of pressure, allowing the first inch inside your sodden folds. You wanted to scream in frustration; he was torturing you.
“Truly a lovely picture,” the poet crooned, his eyes glued to where your flesh met his tool.
“More, I need more…”
He hummed and pushed another portion of the metal inside to scrape at your walls, biting his lower lip at the vision before him. It was a strange sensation, to have the expanse of metal probing your depths, but the sheer forbiddeness of it was intoxicating.
“Tell me how much you like it,” he purred.
You moaned your enthusiasm and he started thrusting, the metal making an obscene wet sound as it slid through you. The cold length quickly warmed inside your all-encompassing heat. V’s free hand went to his obvious erection, stroking in time with his ministrations. His already heavy breathing deepened until he was outright panting and the knowledge of his enjoyment set you on fire.
You rocked your hips, trying to get the metal to hit you just right. It sank deeper until it could go no further and with every motion of his arm the flames grew hotter.
“I’m so close,” you whined.
He moved his hand from himself to dip under your panties, his thumb finding your swollen bud easily and rubbing circles around it. The combination sent you hurtling over the edge into bliss, every muscle tightening as you cried out your release. Wave after wave of pleasure flooded your nerves, leaving them tingling in its wake as you slowly came back down.
V leaned forward to kiss your hip, carefully withdrawing his cane with a squelch. You could barely breathe as he tossed his cane aside, his hair tickling your thigh as your elbows fell away. His beautiful hands went to work at his pants and within moments the dark fabric lied on the floor.
“Lie on your side,” he commanded you as his cock met open air. It was significantly wider than his cane and your core twinged in excitement at the thought of him stretching you.
With half-lidded eyes, you shifted your weight and bent your legs, leaving room for him to climb onto the couch with you. The tiny piece of furniture barely fit you both, but V managed well enough. He turned your shoulders so your spine was flat and lifted one leg over his shoulder, opening you up for his length. His eyes shone as he rolled his hips forward and slid home with a muttered curse.
“Fuck, you look divine wrapped around me.”
You hummed your pleasure as he pulled back, sending flames racing across your limbs. He braced his weight on one arm, tangling the other in your hair as he established a smooth rhythm that let you feel every inch of him. The slow pace had you mewling, your hands tugging at his hips in a desperate bid for more speed, but he was merciless.
“V, please…”
He tightened his grip on your locks, lightly tugging to the side to expose your neck. Your elevated leg ached as he pressed against it to kiss your throat, his voice a low whisper.
“Please what? I’m afraid you’ll need to be more specific.”
He punctuated the last word with a single, violent thrust that would’ve cracked your skull against the armrest if his hand hadn’t cushioned the blow. You panted as shockwaves of euphoria cascaded through every inch of your skin, the small hairs on your forearms standing on end from the delightful impact.
“Please, fuck me!” you gasped out.
V hummed his approval and shifted, resting one foot on the floor as you lifted your hips off the couch to get a better angle. With his hand still cushioning you, he grunted and threw his head back as he slammed into you, his motions so powerful they sent the van rattling.
“Fuck yes!”
He bottomed out and you gasped, hips trembling as he touched the deepest part of you. You moved his hand to your throat, using your own palm to guard against impacts as his fingers tightened around your neck. With your other hand you feverishly rubbed your clit, and just as your vision started to flicker you exploded.
V’s shuddering groan marked his own peak as you milked him into ecstasy, and he hastily pulled out to spill his hot seed on your stomach. He released your neck to pump himself, shooting long white tendrils across your body as you rose to meet it. Spent, he sat back and pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes.
After a moment of quiet panting, he started chuckling.
“What’s so funny?” you asked, eyes still closed as you basked in the afterglow.
“I’ll never see my cane the same way, knowing it was once inside you,” he replied.
A wicked grin spread across your lips and you opened one eye to watch his reaction. “Would it help to see it again? Maybe on a regular basis?”
He smirked and trailed a finger down your leg, eyes flashing as he watched his pale hand move across your flesh. “I doubt it, but there’s only one way to know.”
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an excerpt from a chatfic i'm writing
Twitter
Hammer and Dickle {√}
@USSR
@Japan 3 am, 7/11 parking lot, boring, oregon, usa, bring your battle axe and a box of matches, be fully prepared to meet god face-to-face.
Viewing Comments:
neeneepapa @oksweaty
@USSR the owner of this account: *brandon rogers voice* Donovan! Meet me on my island at 5 O'clock. Pack my battleaxe and my poetry and be prepared to abandon your religion.
ugh @lordie
@USSR okay but why tf did they pick boring oregon of all places.
sit on my face @lickmybaugette
@USSR vibe check
Furry @Japan
@USSR why do i need matches. also if ur not actually there and i just spent money on a plane ticket i stg im gonna break your teeth
[Image: A crisp picture of the clouds and deep twilight sky outside of a plane window.]
│
│ Hammer and Dickle @USSR
│@Japan you need matches because we're going to set our weapons on fire like civilized people. im bringing the gasoline. meri is gonna spectate. also.
[Image: A slightly blurry image- The photographer was clearly laughing- of a man in a heavy winter coat squatting underneath a "Welcome to Boring, Oregon" sign. His skin is bright red, and an eyepatch with a hammer and sickle is over his right eye. His hand is below his waist, making an "Okay" sign.]
│
│ Furry @Japan
│@USSR I don't trust him to spectate. he'll probably be biased towards you, smh.
│
│ Homosexual Homosapien @America
│@Japan girl no. beat his ass please and thank u.
Furry {√}
@Japan
they didn't let me bring my battleaxe on the plane smh. anyone know of any... like... battle axe stores in oregon,,, or,,,,
Viewing Comments
errebody @rockyobody
@Japan i gotchu fam. there's a store in kelso (near boring) that sells antique weapons and junk. im sure there's a battle axe in there somewhere
│
│ Furry @Japan
│@rockyobody there better be. im coming for you if there isnt
│
│ errebody @rockyobody
│@Japan gay fear
Someone Please Snipe Me {√}
@Germany
In honor of my friend @Japan going to fight one of my least favorite people in the world, I have opted to pressure her into live-streaming her Totally Radical Super Cool™ Fight on Twitch. Uhhhh here's a link I guess: Link
Viewing Comments
Furry @Japan
@Germany "pressure" is right. little rat said he'd send his boyfriend after me if i didn't do what i wanted. i would like to keep my ankles, so i complied.
│
│ Kurwa @Poland
│@Japan I hate you too boo xoxo
Furry {√}
@Japan
insert funny text here
[Images: The first image is of the "Welcome to Boring, Oregon" sign. The second image is off a pair of black sneakers kicking a pair of footprints in the dirt underneath the sign. The third image is of a woman in a full black outfit -Black shoes, black jeans, black hoodie, and black beanie- sitting on the ground in the same spot where the man from earlier was. Both middle fingers are straight up, though there is a wide grin on her face.]
~~~~~~~~~
[A Twitch stream comes to life. On the screen, a pair of black-sneaker-covered feet is quickly striding down a paved road. "Kon'nichiwa," A high-pitched voice begins, "And welcome to... Hell." The camera flicks upwards sharply, showing a neon-lit 7/11 gas station, sharply outlined against the pitch-black night sky. There are only two cars in the parking lot. One is a dirty red convertible Jeep in the employee's area; The other is a nondescript black car with the headlights still on and the engine still running.
The camera flips views. We're now met with a worm's-eye view of a snowy white face with a single red circle in the center. Bright yellow eyes sparkle with mirth as the woman fights back a grin. "So, for anyone who isn't aware, here's a summary of what's about to go down. My name is Japan, I'm an anthropomorphic country, and I'm about to absolutely destroy one of my fellow nations. Well, he's not a nation anymore, but still. He called me a name in the group chat, so I called him Old Man, so he took the obvious route and challenged me to a duel in a 7/11 parking lot. Ya'know, like you do."
Japan shakes her head and giggles. "Also, thank you oh so very much, Twitter user "rockyobody", for informing me of the antique weaponry shop in Kelso. They did indeed carry battle-axes." To punctuate her statement, Japan reaches over her shoulder and lifts the weapon attached to her back out of its holder by a few inches. "I have dubbed my newfound traveling companion Jerry, and he will take many a life in his time on this Earth."
A new voice cuts through the autumn air, strong and deep. "Did you bring the matches, девочка?" They demand. Japan changes the camera once again. Leaning against the black car are two men- One is short and chunky, with round cheeks and long, fluffy hair. 7 red stripes and 6 white, broken only by a square of blue dotted with stars, are emblazed on his face. A white hoodie with the words Designated Peacekeeper is quickly thrown onto him when he sees Japan approach. He flashes her a smile and raises one hand in a wave.
The other man is incredibly tall, almost unnaturally so. A long, military green winter coat hangs loosely from his body- It obviously used to fit him a lot better, maybe when he was wider, or more muscular. His face is scarred and weather-beaten, a leather eyepatch over his right eye. A hammer and sickle, golden and gleaming, sits neatly in the center of the leather. A fluffy brown ushanka is slightly lopsided on his head.
"Well?" He questions. He was the one who spoke before; A harsh accent cuts through his words.
Japan responds by raising a small box of matches in front of the camera. "I gotch'yo damn matches, 老人." She snarks back. The taller man raises a single eyebrow and pushes himself off of the car. "'Meri, pop the trunk," He demands. 'Meri', looking taken aback, steps away from the car and crosses his arm. "Do it'cha self, ya lazy bastard."
Despite the insults, his companion gives him a warm smile and slips around the back of the car. Japan joins them in the parking lot before he comes back around. "So, Ame, he really managed to rope you into moderating this?" She gestures to his hoodie. He chuckles light-heartedly and nods. "Yeah. You wouldn't believe the things he told me when I originally declined."
Japan snorts. "I can believe a lot of things, America."
"At first it was the regular bouts of loving insults, but then it dissolved into really weird nicknames."
"Like?"
"Like 'My little biscuit and gravy'."
"...What?"
America just laughs and waves away the question. "What's taking you so long, sugah?" He drawls, twisting at an odd angle to lean back and glance at the trunk of the car. There's a moment of silence before the man he's addressing mutters, "My... weapon... maybe a bit stuck."
Japan and America both giggle to each other for a few heartbeats before America cooes, "Does this mean we're going home, dear?" The slightly angry response is immediate. "Absolutely not, дорогой," The man spits, appearing at Japan's shoulder. "'Proper edicit', as you so often say, dictates that, as the man who called for the duel, I am not allowed to back out, even if my sword is stuck in the trunk."
"You made me bring a whole fuckin' axe when you get a sword? Sov, my good man, you are an ass."
'Sov' chortles and pats Japan on the head. "Such is life, девочка. You would have an unfair advantage if I let you bring what you wanted. You have no experience with a battle-axe; I have no experience with a sword. It is therefore a fair fight." He ruffles her hair a bit before turning back to America. "In all seriousness, the sword is probably tearing up the fabric on the inside of your trunk." He announces. America swears in a few different languages as he sprints to the other end of his car.
There's a small chime as the door to the 7/11 opens. A pimple-faced teenager peeks his head out. "Hey, uhm- I have no idea what's happening right now, but, uh... I don't think you guys are allowed to have weapons on the property." He nods towards America, who's struggling to rip the sword of out the spot where it's lodged itself in his trunk.
Japan quirks a brow and crosses her arms. Her phone goes a bit lopsided as she does so. "Oh?" Is all she says. She could possibly look intimidating, but the effect, evidently, isn't very strong, as the teen gives her an unamused look. "Yeah. I could possibly over-look that fact if you guys were to, like... scare away any customers who try to approach for a little bit, though..." He trails off and slips back inside the store. Japan scoffs. "Rude."
There's a loud yell of "Fuck!" from the next to where America should be- He's currently on the ground, a sword in his lap. "You're paying for the repairs to my poor car," He snaps, gesturing to the bits of fabric stuck to the sword's blade. Sov's face softens a bit. "I was planning on doing just that," He remarks, moving to help America to his feet. The Westerner blows a bit of hair out of his face once he's on his feet. "This had better be worth it."
"Oh, it will be," Sov says, the steely look returning to him. He picks up the blade clumsily and holds it with clear inexperience. America sighs softly and squeezes his eyes shut for just a moment. "God, this is gonna be hard to watch. You can't even hold the sword right."
Sov looks confused. "There's a wrong way to hold a sword?"
"There's a wrong way to do everything, hon."
Japan grins with a sickly-sweetness and sets her phone onto a newspaper box, positioning it to take in the whole parking lot. She steps onto the far right, Sov standing opposite her on the other side. America scurries over to in-between the gas pumps, a chunk of fabric tied to a stick clutched in his hand. "Alright, I want to see a fuckin' dirty fight," He begins, looking first at Japan, then at Sov. "Frickin' bite each other if you have to. I want to see some blood. Japan, you marked your stream as mature, right?"
"Uh..."
"Dumbass, go do that."
Japan reluctantly complies, marching over to her phone. "Alright, I'm gonna stop the stream and start up a new one marked mature. If you want to watch the actual fight, you'll need to go to that one. See you in a few seconds, lads."
The stream ends]
[A new stream opens up on the parking lot again. Japan is back in her original spot, standing rather cockily, her arms crossed behind her back, her spine straight, slightly tip-toed. America clears his throat. "Alright, like I said earlier- Dirty fight. Nothing is illegal, aside from injuring anyone or anything that isn't your opponent. That includes me, the 7/11 worker, an animal that passes by, a gas pump, a tire on a car, anything."
"Fighters, get ready."
Japan suddenly smirks and slips the battle-axe into her hands with ease. "It was bold of you to assume I had no experience with a battle-axe before, Sov." She comments, getting into an offensive stance. Sov goes slack for a moment before resuming his own way of standing with renewed vigor. "...This is fine," He mutters distractedly. Japan's grin only widens.
"And... Go!"
America flicks his flag down, and the fight begins. Japan shoots forward first, swinging in a downward slope towards Sov's legs. Sov jumps backward and jolts his arms into action, barely managing to block Japan's next move. He starts to loudly swear to himself as he continued to struggle to go on the defensive, cursing himself, the ground, the sky, Japan, and even America. "Сукин сын!" He yelps as Japan spins on her heel, around him, and cuts through the fabric of his coat, through to his thigh. The green starts to turn red as the wound begins to bleed.
Sov just shrugs off the coat and tosses it aside. Underneath, he's wearing a black turtleneck and dark grey jeans, as well as black leather boots that stop just below his knees. America lets out a low whistle.
Japan laughs a bit and starts to jog backwards, towards her original spot. "Bad move, 老人," She snarks. Sov growls a bit and bolts after her. She slips past each of his swings like sand through someone's fingers, leading him in a circle before booking it back towards America's car. The Westerner yelps in fear for his vehicle, but Japan emerges from behind it not a moment later, a jug of gasoline in her hands. She runs away from the parking lot and out into the darkness.
"Мошенника!" Sov yells, coming to a stop. He stands there for a moment, panting, before a bright flash from the opposite end of the parking lot has him spinning and raising his sword in defense. Japan appears in the black, her weapon now (quite literally) dripping with flames as she spits on a match and puts it out. "Let's get this party started," She hisses, hefting her axe. The flaming gasoline seems to not affect her as she grips the blazing handle and charges at Sov.
Her opponent stumbles in an attempt to get away, cursing in an odd mix of English, Russian, and, occasionally, Chinese, almost dropping his weapon with how quickly he's attempting to block her attacks.
"Y'know," Japan chokes out, beads of sweat running down her skin, causing her hair to stick to the back of her neck, "I'm glad I put my phone on silent beforehand. If- If it was on vibrate, I can imagine it would have vibrated off of the stand by now."She finishes her sentence with a grunt and her axe makes contact with Sov's arm, causing the man to let out a small noise of pain. Japan wretches herself back, tripping over her own feet from the weight of the weapon. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," Sov mutters, clutching at his arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Japan smirks. "Had enough?"
"You wish, Potter," America chuckles to himself.
"What is this, a porno?" Sov spits.
Japan starts to giggle as she momentarily drops her axe. "God, this is tiring, I haven't fought anyone in a while."
Sov makes an attempt to lift his sword, but gasps as his wounded arm seizes up. "Shit, Japan- Okay. We're both tired. I'm bleeding out of my ass and my arm. Are- Will you hold it against me if I... Surrender, I suppose? I'm far too old and sick for this."
Japan stands in silence for a few seconds before sighing heavily and nodding. She plops down onto the ground rather suddenly, squeezing her eyes shut. "I won't hold it against you."
"Good," Sov grunts, sitting down as well. America pauses before letting out a long, dramatic groan and waving his flag. "Fight's over, I suppose," He whines, marching over to Sov. "That was anti-climactic as balls," He mutters as soon as he's close enough to his friend. Sov nods distractedly. "Indeed it was. Be glad she didn't kill me- Then you'd have to explain a dead body to the poor boy in the store."
"Oh yeah. I forgot about him."
"Hah, same."
The rest of the stream passes in relative silence as Japan sits on the pavement to rest. America is bandaging Sov's arm, muttering insults as well as cutesy nicknames as he does so. After around ten or so minutes of mostly nothing, Japan slides her gaze over to her phone, makes a small noise of surprise, hauls herself to her feet, strides over, and ends the stream.]
#countryhumans#countryhuman#countryhumans america#countryhumans japan#countryhumans ussr#countryhumans germany#(but only briefly)#countryhuman america#countryhuman japan#countryhuman ussr#writing#my writing#my stuff#the whole chatfic is on both wattpad and a03 (i have the sam username on both)
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Black Eyes & Bloodlust - Chapter 12
My Masterlist
Black Eyes & Bloodlust Masterlist
Summary: Dean has never met his Omega, never even thought there could be one waiting for him–but she’s out there, and they’re connected in ways they could never have imagined.
Characters: DeanxReader, Sam, Cas, a few OC’s
Warnings: SMUT so typical A/B/O warnings, Slow burn (and I mean it. SLOW BURN GUYS.) Language, depictions of mental illness, Gore and Violence. (Warnings will apply to all chapters just to cover all the bases.)
Word Count: ~3500
A/N: First official fresh-chapter post on this blog, woo!
Beta’d by @justcallmeasmodeus
AS ALWAYS,
ENJOY!
__~*~__
The smell of gasoline was overwhelming as you filled up the tank of your car for the third time. Since Rowena had sent you on your way with a knowing smile and a pat on the cheek, every sense seemed heightened, kicked up another notch and helping push you headlong into what was starting to feel less like a dream-state and more like an entirely different dimension.
The roads you traveled now were familiar, a path you’d driven a hundred times, and yet everything felt new. Different. The piney smells you’d always found soothing were pungent instead, the bright greens of the surrounding forests too sharp and the crunch of pine needles under your shoes too loud. It felt like you were treading muddy water, desperately trying to stay upright while the tide of darkness tried sweeping your feet from under you.
At the same time, you could feel the dispassion. A calm that even the strongest current couldn’t shake. You were on a mission. A shark who’d scented blood and was on the hunt.
The only coherent thought was getting home.
Getting to Dean.
Rowena hadn’t been lying about that much at least. You could feel his energy inside you, pulling you to him as surely as something had pulled you to Rowena, crawling over and under your skin like an angry colony of ants.
There was a sense of freedom on the road as you traveled, enhancing the strange calm, but every time you stopped it fell away, leaving only the roar of your impending collapse.
Despite the eddies of emotion, you wished you’d always lived like this. Even flying down the highway your eyes seemed to notice every beautiful detail you’d been deprived of while wrapped in a cocoon of normal, and it made you furious. It felt like you’d missed out on some great big party and only now was the door cracking open so you could catch a peek of the festivities. Being stuck in one place, trapped in a nine-to-five job and feeling like some school girl dreaming about your perfect Alpha was a hell you never wanted to go back to.
The job was gone, and your dreaming days were over. Your eyes were open, and nothing from before mattered. Once you had Dean, the shattered pieces of your life would fall back into place.
Wind coming in the open window whipped against your face, cooling your skin and keeping the urge to vomit at bay. So much medicine had been through your system lately your body was in shock, stuck between heat and fully shutting down, but something kept you going.
Your arm throbbed almost in response to the thought.
Absently, you wondered if Rowena had been right about the magic she’d made sure to mention without providing any real answers.
The woman was a mystery, but like everything else, she didn’t matter. Every tire rotation brought you closer to your goal, and your foot pressed harder into the gas pedal. Your fingers toyed with the small, burlap, bag she’d given you for protection. Twisting it around your fingers sent tingles up your spine, making you wonder if it was for your protection at all. There was a palpable field of energy surrounding it that didn’t feel friendly.
At the next rest stop, you chucked it into the trash can. You were only a few hours from home and feeling stronger than you’d ever felt in your life, you didn’t need protecting.
__~*~__
Dean had gotten his own motel room after visiting Y/N’s apartment, unable to stomach looking at his brother and friend. He spent the night tossing and turning, the sleep he desperately needed refusing to stick around for long. During the short spurts of unconsciousness he was tortured with visions. He kept seeing himself as the one poking bloody holes and slicing up innocent Omegas, his hands were the ones smoothing their hair almost affectionately, his voice was cooing soft words so contradictory to the pain he was inflicting, his fingers delicately pulling open the sticky pages of an old family bible to store the bloody souvenirs.
Saving them, velvet shadows crusted in blood whispered from the back of his mind, you’re saving them. You’re opening their eyes. Letting them see the truth.
Every time he jerked awake the Mark flared and the visions lingered. In those fleeting moments he forgot it was not him committing these crimes, it was his Omega. Fueled by the Mark and twisted into a shell of her former self. When coherence returned he did remember. He remembered that it was still his fault.
Her mysterious connection to him was the cause, and she’d been thrust into the world of the supernatural, unaware and beyond unprepared to deal with the shared darkness raging inside them.
The guilt was a living creature as Dean left the bed and paced the room, alternating between reading pages of her file as he walked and sitting to take long pulls from the bottle of Whiskey sitting on the table. He stared at the pictures of her as he drank. He’d left them splayed out and scattered around the table, just like the two of them. When he was finally drunk enough to lay back down, he pulled Y/N’s balled up shirt from underneath the covers and tucked it close.
Dean woke again after a few hours, his body a raging storm of hormones. The sun was barely seeping through the curtains and the room was cool, but a thick layer of sweat coated his mostly naked skin, and cold chills rolled violently from head to toe. Her shirt was draped across his face from where he’d fallen asleep desperately inhaling her scent.
Dean cursed inwardly. He should have known better.
Through the fog, he moved her shirt and stripped off his boxers before stuffing his hand under the pillow. Dean’s fingers sought out the soft fabric of her panties bundled beside his gun and pulled them out. The silk was cool and refreshing against his heated skin. Dean inhaled her clean scent as one hand brought the sheen fabric to his nose while the other trailed down his chest and abdomen to seek out his painfully hard cock. His thumb traced the mushroomed head, swollen, purple, and leaking with his need for her.
His cock jumped at the soft touch and he groaned, unable to stop his hips from flexing.
After rearranging himself against the pillows, Dean wrapped the silk around his cock and held it in place at the base. His fingers dug in through the silk, teasing the sensitive juncture just below his swelling knot. The fabric desensitized him enough to wrap his palm around the thick shaft and give it a languid pump. He did it again and again until his head fell back heavily into the wall, his eyes closing as he got lost in the sweet sensation of his tightening grip.
Taking her clothes had been questionable at the time, but now Dean was thankful he had them. Y/N’s scent may have sent him into an early rut, but they were hard proof that he wasn’t far from her.
He was picturing her smile as his hand worked, imagining how pretty her mouth would look wrapped around his cock, how soft her skin would be under his fingers and how sweet her voice would sound begging for his knot.
The silk was better than any lube as he sped his fist up, bucking up into it as his fingers twisted circles that tugged his balls up and ground against his knot.
__~*~__
The urge to pee had overtaken the hunger for snacks on your way into the convenience store, so you were in the bathroom when it hit.
The cramp came from nowhere and doubled you over, dropping you quickly to your knees. A thick gasp echoed around the stone room as a tingle stole over your clit and sank deep into your abdomen. Your hand shoved it’s way into the pajama pants you were still wearing, seeking relief of any kind. Two fingers sank knuckle deep into the slick that had gathered, and immediately you were pumping them against the trembling walls of your pussy, searching out your g-spot. Your palm smeared slick over your aching clit as another cramp rattled your teeth, the pressure blooming quickly into splintered pleasure. Hips bucking, you pressed and moaned until your walls finally fluttered and clamped down around your fingers.
You rode your own hand as aftershocks zipped through every nerve. When it was over finally you collapsed to the filthy floor, exhausted and confused.
__~*~__
Dean’s breathing was staccato as he pumped his fist to a furious crescendo, his body flushed and sweating, legs squirming and feet digging into the sheets until his knot popped and he came with a loud cry. Trapped between the silk and his pulsing cock his cum flooded out, squelching through the fabric as he kept moving his hand until he couldn’t take it any longer.
__~*~__
“You said we couldn’t trust them, then turned around and gave them Y/N’s file without a warrant!”
Doctor Mara rolled her eyes as Doctor Cameron shoved a cup of coffee at her before stomping over to the bar of their two-bedroom hotel suite. This was the same argument they’d had multiple times since she’d handed the file over to the youngest Winchester, and she was just about done with the entire charade. Months of planning had come and gone and she was anxious to see the rest of her plan through.
“Yes. I did. They’re FBI, Cameron. We didn’t have a choice.”
“Like hell we didn’t! And what if they find her before we do? Hmm? What then? Everything will be ruined. All our data lost! Tainted!” He slammed two mini-shot bottles and clenched his fist. “They’ll take her to some government facility and drug her up and all of our work will have been for nothing!”
“Cameron!” The cold eyed woman snapped, finally tired of his jabbering. “They will not find her. What’s happening to Y/N will lead her right back to us, just in time for the next phase.”
The hypnotist glared at her incredulously, unable to fathom her reasoning, or how she was sitting so calmly in that hotel robe while the FBI stole their patient, and with her, every viable option for future research.
“How can you possibly know that? She’s missing! What if the cops are right? What if she’s already dead? Then where’s my rare case and my fucking book?” Doctor Mara rounded the bar where Doctor Cameron was pounding more shots. Her delicate hand came to rest on his own, her thin fingers wrapping his wrist like a creeping vine. His eyes searched hers as her grip tightened with a strength that surprised him.
Her voice was a growl as she spoke, spooking Cameron into silence. “I don’t care about your god-damned book. She is not dead, because her body would have been found already you moron! She will come because the connection to her Alpha demands it. That’s why.”
“Her Alpha? What the hell are you--” Long nails slashed into Doctor Cameron’s wrist, and he tried to wrench away from the suddenly terrifying woman to no avail.
“The Winchesters are not FBI you little shit, and I’m tired of hearing your whiny voice. Fuck the research. Fuck your book. Shut up, before I make you.” When her eyes flashed black, Doctor Cameron screamed, renewing his efforts to escape Doctor Mara’s grasp. Annoyed with the squirming man, Doctor Mara shoved him away. His head hit the wall with a thunderous crack, and he collapsed to the floor.
She didn’t need to check for a pulse, the perks of being a demon meant she could hear his weak heartbeat and feel the pulse of his tainted soul. The demon didn’t need him any longer… not with Y/N on her way to Dean.
The Winchester had stolen darkness not meant for him and murdered the Queen of Hell with it. The demon would see his queen murdered in return. Y/N’s soul was already corrupted, damned to hell alongside Dean Winchester the instant Doctor Mara had fully unlocked their connection through Cameron’s hypnosis.
She sipped the lukewarm coffee with a grin, feeling smug. The intended transformation was almost complete. Poor little Y/N, ripped apart on the inside by things she would never comprehend, and soon, ripped apart on the outside as well. Hopefully by her own mate.
What a show.
__~*~__
The sun was going down when you finally pulled into your apartment complex.
Your sweaty hands were searching out the prescription bottles the minute you threw the car in park, and you started to shake when you realized they were empty.
Fuck. Were there more inside?
You cautiously peered around the parking lot. Nothing seemed amiss, but there was a foreboding feeling stealing away the dispassion and replacing it with panic.
Then you noticed Lane’s car parked next to your spot.
Double fuck.
You debated leaving. Just turning around and driving until you couldn’t see straight, but an image flashed into your mind and wouldn’t leave.
Dean and Lane, standing together in your apartment.
Dean. Your Alpha.
Lane the perfect wife.
Lane, the perfect mother...a better Omega than you could ever be.
Lane, the traitorous bitch, offering Dean everything you couldn’t.
How dare she.
Everything was red as you fled the car, deliriously stomping your way up the stairs with murder in your heart. Halfway up a cramp brought you down, your involuntary scream echoing through the hallways. You could see your door as your fingers clutched into the ratty carpet fighting to crawl the remaining few steps to the landing.
The door flung open, and out stepped a disheveled Lane. Her hair was a mess, her face red and swollen.
In the back of your mind you knew it was probably from crying or worry, but the rash on your arm was pulsing wildly, drowning out the logical thoughts struggling to the surface. Black streaks undulated from the center of the Mark, driving the darkness deeper into your heart.
Dean is in there with her, it whispered vehemently. She’s fucking your Alpha. Traitor. Whore. Weak willed woman in desperate need of a strong man. She should die.
Lane cried your name over and over as tears of relief and happiness started to flow, completely missing the violent growl directed at her. Before you could react, her arms were under yours, helping you stand and maneuvering you into your apartment.
His scent was everywhere, mingling unpleasantly with hers. You shoved her away to rush into the living room.You couldn’t smell yourself anymore, and the smell of death was only faint now, barely a whisper among the other unfamiliar scents. Your mind registered these things but did not latch onto them. Only one thing had your focus.
Dean.
Every heartbeat was the pulse of his name in your veins, the smell of him different than in your dreams and diluted by time yet unmistakable. Your drive to find him had you staggering to the couch before you realized his scent wasn’t there.
He was here. He had to be. You changed directions and headed down the small hallway. Discovering your empty room brought forth a scream of rage just as Lane stepped in behind you.
“Y/N…” Her voice was soft, but echoed in the emptiness of your heart as you whipped around to face her.
Lane gasped when your eyes connected with hers. Your pupils had stolen all the space within, making her reel back. She thought you’d gone feral, and her heart clenched with anguish. “Oh shit...Y/N, it’s me...It’s Lane, your sister.”
“I know who you are, whore.” You spat, snarling as you took a step closer. The anger was pulsing deeper with every inhale of your Alpha’s scent; your temperature rising every moment he wasn’t touching you.
You were fighting two urges at once, unsure of which to address. There was the urge to find Dean, and the urge to see your forearm drenched in Lane’s blood. You wanted to shove your hand so deep into her chest you brought her heart out the other side and then rip it back through to show it to her before she died. You wanted to toss her broken body down the stairs and resume the hunt for Dean.
You did neither as your heat finally consumed you, full blown and aching for something that was too far away. The cramps were constant now, sweat rolling from every pore as you collapsed under the weight of the Mark and your heat.
Lane watched in horror as you reached for her, the rash on your arm a twisted rainbow of infection and your eyes blazing with emotions she hadn’t seen before. You fell unconscious after snarling at her one final time.
__~*~__
Dean was in the shower when Sam started pounding on the door. Sam could smell Dean’s rut, and was frantic in his knocking.
“Dean!”
Dean growled as he yanked the knob to turn off the water, breaking it on the way down.
“Fuck off Sam!”
The knocking increased. “Dean! It’s Y/N! She’s home! Lane just called and…” Sam stopped speaking when the door flew open. His nose rankled at the scent of his brother’s activities but he kept quiet. Dean was soaked but flinging his clothes on faster than Sam had ever seen, and suddenly the car keys were flying at his face.
“What are you waiting for? Let’s go!” Dean shouted, spurring Sam into action.
Within moments, Dean was hopping into the passenger seat, his eyes wide and the Mark burning.
Sam floored the gas, speeding through the nighttime traffic, ignoring street signs and stop lights. He knew Dean wouldn’t stand for any delay in his condition. Sam skidded into a spot as close to Y/N’s apartment as he could get, but before the car completely stopped Dean was racing up the steps.
“Dean!” Sam called, but Dean was ignorant to anything but getting to Y/N.
Instead of his Omega, he found Lane crying at the top of the stairs.
“Where is she?” Lane flinched at the belligerent tone but recognized it for what it was.
Panic.
She wondered briefly why an FBI agent would be reacting so strongly to her sister, but weakly pointed at the door. Dean rushed inside, following the scent of Y/N’s heat and abandoning Lane to her grief.
__
Sam trotted up the steps and stopped when he reached Lane. She didn’t flinch when he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, but neither did she stop crying. “What happened to her?” A sob racked her chest as Sam pulled her in, wrapping her tightly in his arms.
“I don’t know,” he lied smoothly, “but we’re gonna find out. We’re gonna help her, okay?” He waited for her nod into his chest before pulling her gently away and looking into her watery eyes. “I know it’s hard...but I need you to tell me what happened here.”
“Where is she?” Came Dean’s roar, interrupting the conversation before it began and sending Lane back into Sam’s arms in terror.
“Dean what’re you--”
“She’s gone! I can smell her but she’s gone!”
Lane whimpered, “She was just here I…”
“Why would she leave? Don’t lie to me!” Dean howled, snatching Lane up and shaking her until Sam pulled him off.
“Dean! You know what’s happening to her because it’s happening to you. Where do you think she is?”
Dean’s chest was heaving as he glared around Sam at Lane. He had an unexplained and sudden hatred for her that made him want to kill her as surely as if she were a monster. She wasn’t, however, he forced himself to remember. She was human. His mind swirled with the violence the Mark was craving, thoughts tinged in red and black as he fought to stay level headed. Her song taunted him, the soft notes floating across his senses alongside her fresh scent.
He snatched the keys and flung himself away from Sam, heading back down the stairs at a run.
“I’ll take you back to your hotel.” Sam whispered.
“She’s my sister...”
“I’m sorry for all this, but you need to be out of the way for this part, okay?”
Lane nodded dumbly as Sam led her to her own car, the roar of the Impala fading into the night.
__~*~__
Your feet ached as you stalked down the sidewalks in the dark. You’d left your car in front of a random grocery store after jumping out of your second floor window. Consciously, you knew something was wrong. A jump like that should have at least slowed you down, but it it hadn’t. You’d been in your car and gone gone before Lane had stepped onto the landing to give you your space. Disappearing into the night was a glaring symptom of exactly how wrong everything was, but something had been wrong for going on a year now, and no one had been able to help you.
You thought you were hunting Dean when you’d first set out, your heat addled brain leading the way towards relief. Instead, as the scent of him faded something else replaced it. Something dark. The same something that had been writhing in your mind and body, forcing it’s way upwards while forcing you down. The same something that was on your arm. You knew that now. The darkness was speaking to you directly, as if it had a mind of its own, but it was using your voice.
Weak. They’re all weak. You were weak. Not anymore. Save them. You know how. You’ve always known.
You passed the park, multiple stores and not a few suburbs before finding your way to the woods. It was a small patch, surrounded on all sides by the downtown strips. Your worn shoes crunched angrily through the debris until you reached the spot you were looking for.
__~*~__
Dean didn’t need anyone to tell him where she’d gone. The Mark was raging, his rut acting as a compass now that he had the scent so fresh in his nose.
He sped through the empty streets as Sam had, ignoring all safety and stop lights on his way downtown.
__~*~__
The Omega in you was howling for release, but the darkness in you howled for something else altogether.
As you watched, a young Omega left The Club across from you, alone. She tossed her hair, revealing her clean neck, and a malicious grin split your ragged features. She was so much like the first one.
She was perfect.
__~*~__
Questions? Comments? Incoherent screaming?
Bring it on!
🖤
__~*~__
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#Black Eyes & Bloodlust#Series#Ch 12#ABO#a/b/o#supernatural a/b/o#supernatural fanfiction#dean x reader#Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader#alpha!deanxomega!reader#spn fanfiction#MOC!Dean#reader insert#deanxreader#dean winchester#dark!fic
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An Incomplete List Of Dumb Shit I've Done In No Particular Order
uhh trigger warning for injuries and blood bc dumb shit also means being a reckless idiot sometimes
nearly took my own hand off with a metal grinder temping at a machine shop
didn’t tell anyone about it, calmly walked to the bathroom, notified my mother, dug the first aid kit out from under the sink, and stitched it up myself
attempted to go back to work but was busted by my supervisor and sent home
i routinely go walking around the farm at night. in my sleep wear.
went walking out to check on the cows during the blizzard we had a couple weeks ago because my fathers an asshole who refused to check on them himself.
was forced to help move heavy metal shelving despite me telling them i had messed up my shoulder that week and dislocated my left shoulder holding this heavy ass sheet of metal but when everyone around me started screaming I just calmly said, "I told you all this would happen. It's too late now. Let's just finish this." and then relocated my shoulder 20 minutes later and left
accidentally fell off the jungle gym, landed like spider man, then stood back up and did it 3 more times.
went mountain trail riding and broke my throttle thumb half way up the hardest trail there but instead of signalling and stepping off my stupid ass just floored it till I got to the top
kicked a good sized dent into my wall during a flurry of panic because I'd suddenly remembered that I hadn't wished my girlfriend goodnight
accidentally pissed off the bull and was chased up a tree by 2,400 pounds of Anger With Horns, where i spent the next 2 hours waiting for that fucker to leave
accidentally pissed off the bull a SECOND TIME while riding a honda mini trail 50 that i was too big for.
i panicked and floored it, hit a sand patch, crashed through the barbed wire fence, ran a stick of re-bar into my ribs (right under my left boob)
i then picked myself back up, straightened the bike, walked back up to the house and scared 20 years off my fathers life when he saw me covered in a gross mix of sand, gasoline, and blood, parking the bike back in the shop like it wasn't no big thing
broke my right wrist when a dump truck bed at Bass Pro unexpectedly flipped while I was monkeying around on it
(back at school with my broken dominate wrist) taught myself to write with my left hand because the kid who was supposed to be writing my assignments out had terrible handwriting and took too long
intentionally took as long as possible to do any kind of student council assignment because I hated math class and if i took long enough i could miss 90% of the math lesson
got into a screaming match with a dude named Bret, yelled so hard it triggered my gag reflex so i threw up right between our feet, and then went right back to screaming. Bret was so startled he couldnt come up with an argument back and i have not spoken to him one on one again.
rearranged the entire living room while home alone because I got bored
left my glasses in the refrigerator
left my phone in the refrigerator
left my glasses in the freezer, then wanted to microwave them to clear the frost on the lenses because it was 4am and i wasnt all the way awake yet
left my glasses under my father's bed who sleeps an entire floor above my room. took me 2 hours to find them and i just sat their stupefied for a while
randomly thought of this ask and fell halfway down the stairs laughing, then just sat there, wedged on the stairs for a while
I ran outside the other day forgetting the patio was iced over and slid right from the front door all way off the end of patio and landed ass first into a snowbank a whole foot taller then i am
my mother was there to watch the entire thing and she still hasnt let me live it down
repeatedly climbed onto the roof to fix the satellite dish because it may be snowing but i am not going to be without internet
learned Russian because i was too lazy to google translate those Russian cat memes but somehow motivated enough to learn an entirely new language for CAT MEMES
was practicing Russian verbs at my local library and this angry white lady who thought i was summoning Satan started screaming at me while i continued to chant verbs till someone a couple stacks over just said "lady shut the fuck up" and i had to stop bc i was laughing too hard
my nervous 15 year old ass looked right into the eyes of a well off white lady as she let me into her giant house bc i was 20 minutes late to a Halloween party and said “this house is too big. the ceiling arches are too tall for proper acoustics. it’s hard to scream up the stairs for your kids isn’t it?”
i just looked her in dead in the face with a blank expression and she never actually answered my question
she just vaguely gestured towards the kitchen and i just Fled and then she stood in the foyer for a solid 10 minutes before following me to the kitchen to ask me my name
we never talked about and i still keep in contact with her daughter and she's never mentioned it either
every time i see this woman in a public place if we make eye contact she stares at me for a long time and i Know she's Remembering
needed to ask a gas station employee about the gas pumps. found one kneeling by the sandwich cooler and crouched next to him so i wasn't looming while i talked, waved a little bit and said "hey uh-" and must have startled him bc he whipped around to face me. slapping me across the face with the sandwich in his hand in the process. I didn't comment on it. just asked my question and left to laugh my ass off alone in my car.
laughed at a pun my mom sent me i fell off my stool at the school library, still howling, and the librarian came over to check on me saying "are you ok? you're laughing so im assuming you're ok? please let me know if you need help" and then she left while i continued to wheeze on the floor for the next 15 minutes
those are all the ones i can think of off the top of my head but I’ll ask my friends what other dumb shit they’ve seen me do and add to this list as I remember stuff
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Act 2 - ‘Gas’ Station
[PoV: Bladesong]
Back before I was a cyborg, I used to be able to walk for a little while before needing to rest. Sure everyone can walk quite a distance, but eventually your feet will start aching to the point where you really need to sit down.
Now a few miles? I admit that my feet weren’t really tough enough for something that far, especially since it takes about an hour to walk that. Now that I’m a cyborg though, walking that is laughable since I can travel several miles at a full sprint and not feel an ounce of exhaustion - the travel time being far less than an hour I might also add.
Chimera’s the same way in this regard, due to his Deoxys genes he experiences exhaustion on a level different from us. So trekking several miles is simple to us two. Velvett however? Not quite as simple. We had to make a brief stop for her to rest her feet, but it didn’t take very long since she was ready to continue after around ten minutes.
For the walk itself? It wasn’t until we were getting close to our destination I began to see traces of Progrian life - the most noticeable being the roads.
I’ve seen asphalt roads before, since some cities and places in Evolutia have cars. But these roads? They’re different. It’s white with glistening yellow lines on it, the road being so smooth that it only seems like metal. Lining it are countless metal lamps, their similarly white bodies strangely not reflecting any sunlight.
Not a single car though.
“The station is over there~” Velvett says, pointing towards a small building in the distance. “Once we get into my car, I’ll take us straight to my place in New Falkhom City.”
“Sounds good.” Chimera responds neutrally.
His mood still hasn’t improved much since the name fiasco, sadly.
The rest of the walk was in relative silence, although not quite as uncomfortable - from what I can tell at least. I spent a lot of my time observing the road mostly, the whole shininess of it making it incredibly tempting to just walk up and touch it. I didn’t do this though, since Chimera gave me several rundowns on Progrian laws involving traffic and what-not.
‘Unless during an emergency or if there’s no assigned walkways, pedestrians aren’t allowed to walk on the roads where vehicles drive.’
Well, honestly that sounds less like an actual law and more of a personal rule of his. I didn’t argue though, and I won’t do that now - especially since there’s a sidewalk beside the road for us.
Once we arrive at this gas station, I notice that the place really is...rather tiny. It’s just a small convenience mart, and it only has enough fuel dispensers to house up to two cars.
Sheesh, I guess this area doesn’t get much traffic.
As I’m checking the place out, the second thing I notice is that the fuel dispensers look...very different. Back in Evolutia I’m used to seeing the standard gasoline pumps - with the nozzle and all, but these? They look akin to that of generators, and their ‘nozzles’ share a strong resemblance to plugs.
Then I saw the sign.
"Zach’s Charge Shack?” I say aloud, reading the prices for how much it costs to charge vehicles. “Wasn’t this supposed to be a gas station?”
Velvett shrugs. “That’s what the people in Progria still call them, although they’ve long since switched from gasoline to electricity for their cars.” She taps her lip with a finger. “They’ve massively increased the efficiency of electrical cars from what I remember. That and combining the fact that they’ve found far superior methods of producing power? Fossil fuels are practically nonexistent in Progria now.”
Chimera nods his head. “Various corporations realized how profitable it was to sell electrical power instead of gasoline, so the switch was relatively fast.” He crosses his arms, his expression becoming thoughtful. “This was also due to the fact that vast amounts of technology being made also depended on electricity, and with nuclear fusion now being a staple for power plants? It’s-”
“Wait wait wait wait!” I interrupt him. “Nuclear fusion?! They’ve succeeded in creating fusion reactors?!”
He looks at me with confusion. The look didn’t last though since he realized that I’m not well-versed in Progria - besides the essential stuff he told me. “I don’t remember the exact date, but I do know that it was around twenty years ago that fusion reactors were being produced wide-spread for commercial use within Progria.” He cups his chin with a hand. “I often forget that us Progrians tend to guard our knowledge on technology, not only from Pokemon of Evolutia but also from the rest of the outside world.”
“Us Progrians?” Velvett repeats, stopping and turning to him with her own confused look. “Are you saying that you’re a Progrian?”
Both Chimera and I blink.
Hold on, she doesn’t know that he was originally a Human? I kinda thought that the GoT might’ve informed her about this, since...well...that’s kinda important since we’re right in the middle of a country consisting ENTIRELY of Humans.
Chimera looks at her for a long while before shaking his head. “Forget it.” He mutters. “We need to keep going, we’ve hung around long enough.”
Velvett didn’t look very happy with this response, but she wisely chose not to press the issue. Instead she turns and walks towards one of the corners of the lot in the ‘gas’ station, in which I see a black car.
Now, I’ve seen a few cars when I’ve went to the more advanced towns and cities of Evolutia. They looked pretty cool and all, ranging from ‘SUVs’ to ‘trucks’.
But this car? Damn.
It has a very smooth and sleek design, reminding me that of the rare Sports Car in Evolutia. However this thing looks much bigger than those - since said Sports Cars tend to be rather cramped for size. But besides that, I have a strong feeling that this car would easily beat any regular Sports Car in a race tenfold.
Velvett reaches behind her back and pulls a set of keys seemingly out of thin-air. The only explanation I could give would be that they were hidden in her extremely long hair - which is currently disguised to be very short from her illusion. With the keys in hand she presses a button on it, and the car immediately lights up with several flashes from its headlights.
“Alright, time to load up!” She says, pressing another button that causes the trunk to open.
The trunk was surprisingly spacious, being big enough for us to fit the numerous stuff we brought with us. Once everything was packed away we all climbed into the car - carefully in my case due to my extremely heavy weight. Much to my surprise though the car didn’t even budge when I got in - nor is it even slightly leaning towards the side I’m sitting in. All this can tell me is that this thing is built to carry heavy loads - whether this is a specialized trait though I’m not sure.
Also...damn... The inside looks just as nice as the outside too.
The seats are very soft and comfortable, being made of a black fabric that I don’t recognize. There’s lots of buttons and knobs around the place as well, allowing the people inside to adjust the interior to make themselves more comfortable.
Currently I’m sitting in the right-rear side of the vehicle while the suit-case holding Trojan is on the left, Chimera is currently in the passenger seat while Velvett is obviously in the driver’s.
“Buckle your seatbelts!” She says, tapping the keys against a glowing blue light on the side of her steering wheel. Upon contact the car starts up, unlike the normally loud rumbles that a gasoline engine makes, the sound coming from this car is instead soft hum.
It took me a little bit to figure out how to put on a seat belt - to my embarrassment, but I managed to wrestle the thing into the slot.
With all of us secured in our seats, Velvett shifts the vehicle in drive...
...and then we were off.
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