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amelink66world · 4 years

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Love of my Life

Heyy guys!! So this is the next part. Make sure you read the previous parts before starting with the new ones. Anyway, enjoy!!! <3

Some Time??

Link went with Amelia to her place at Mer's after the puppy surprise. Link couldn't ask for a better partner. He was already thinking about building a future with her. She was perfect for him. He finally had a purpose here in Seattle. He was actually feeling like a lost puppy...no pun intended, he chuckled, after Meredith stood him up. Jo had pushed him in her direction and he had even liked her but he soon realised, it was not supposed to be him who took her to dates in the first place. Deluca, who had become a really close friend of his, was the one for her. He was gloomy for a while until Meredith apologised to him. Knowing Link, he obviously forgave her.

He was okay until Amelia came thundering in his life like a hurricane...again, no pun intended, he chuckled. He was the most at ease with her. There was just something about her that he couldn't pinpoint. She always made him feel desired with the way she looked at him. Some people questioned his calm and laid back exterior but she welcomed it with open arms. She actually kinda liked it. She did strange things to him, things couldn't actually explain. She had some sort of power over him. No one had ever made him feel like this.

Currently, Link woke up in an all too familiar room with blue sheets and walls with the woman of his dreams in his arms. He couldn't actually see clearly because his head was buried in her soft, brown hair. He inhaled the vanilla scent of her hair. She just loved the smell and feel of her hair. She ha the most amazing hair, well second to him as no one could compete with his hair. He was not smug, it was just a fact.

She was still sleeping with the most adorable pout on her face. Link raised his head slightly to look at her face better. She was facing away from him and he couldn't get a good look but he was ready for compromise until God answered his silent prayer and Amelia shifted in her sleep mumbling something. She always talks in her sleep. Link chuckled at how adorable he found this habit of hers to be. He noticed even the slightest things about her. She was like an open book. She wore her emotions on her sleeves. Sometimes it was difficult to read her too but Link was becoming an expert at doing so.

Amelia turned in his direction and wrapped her arms around his torso. Without disturbing her, Link raised his body gently and propped his head on an elbow to get a good look. I look like a stalker. But I can't help it. She is just so beautiful. Her face was completely relaxed. He noticed just now that her eyes were slightly almond shaped. He knew she had big, blue eyes but it was just then that he realised they were almond shaped. She had a tiny button nose. Link really loved her nose. It was just so cute and small. It was his favourite feature in her face apart from her eyes and lips and...Wait, what's left then? Forget it, her whole face is my favourite. He bent slightly to place a soft kiss on her nose. She seemed unfazed.

His eyes drifted lower to her lips. They were just so full and soft and pink. He loved her lips. The softest. He ran his hand along her hair and lovingly brushed some loose strands away which landed on her face because of the wind entering through the open window. His right hand lingered on her cheek. He placed it firmly now and decided, Enough with the staring now. It's time to wake up!

He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her lips. She stirred. He now kissed her with more intensity with the utmost intention of waking her up. She opened her blue eyes to his bluish- grey ones staring right back at hers. She smiled. She could wake up like this forever. "Good morning to you too, stalker, " she laughed at his faux hurt expression. " HEY! I'm not a stalker! ", he exclaimed blowing a tuft of his hair out of his face petulantly. She was laughing really hard, "Yeah right ."

Her laugh. Oh, how he loved her laugh. He could hear it all day long. It was like music to his ears. Too cheesy, bleh. Get a hold over yourself, Link. You're not some lovesick teenager. He tightened his arms around her and turned them over. " You just wait...", he attacked her neck with feather kisses making her sigh with pleasure. He pulled back and Amelia stared up at him quizzically. With a devilish smile on his face and a confused expression on hers, he dove right back in to prepare her for the ensuing onslaught. Amelia felt his fingers moving up her stomach and she squirmed beneath him.

Something totally unexpected happened then. She felt a soft pinch on her side. She yelled with surprise. " Ouch. What was that for? ", she asked with a mock angry face. He blinked at her innocently. " What do you think it was? " He then pushed his tshirt that she was wearing to expose her skin and proceeded to tickle her mercilessly. She was astonished for a second before squirming under him uncontrollably. She was laughing hysterically now. " Someone's very ticklish, I see. Hmmm"

He was having the time of his day teasing her like this. " Liiinkkk. Stop it." She was breathing heavily, "Pleasee, stop. I'm veryyy ticklish." She started laughing heartily on the new set of tickles on her exposed abdomen. He grinned down at her and moved lower to get level with her stomach. He held her stomach from both sides to prevent her from evading what he was about to do. He started blowing raspberries on her stomach. Amelia started guffawing and panted heavily. " Link, stooop. You'll wake up the kids. Stop, stop, stop " She held on to his arms for dear life and pleaded him. She started mock crying and he knew it was time for him to stop.

He moved back up to her and laid down close beside her. Both of them were grinning at each other with lovable gazes. Suddenly something in Amelia changed and she shifted. All of a sudden she straddled him and grabbed his hands to keep them at bay. Link stared at her slyly. Amelia whispered in his ear, " It's time for your punishment."

Her hot breath on his ear caused a shiver to travel down his spine. Link grinned at her and playfully said, " Are you punishing me or rewarding me? ", he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. She answered with a loud laugh. " That is for me to decide ," she dove in to kiss him hungrily.

Link got called in after they were done punishing each other. Amelia had a day off so she was left all alone to get bored. She blew a big puff of air from her mouth. Meh, what a boring day !! It was times like these that she wanted to pick into someone's brain. She hoped someone's aneurysm blew and she got called in. She was not a horrible person, believe me, she was just epically bored. Out of nowhere, her phone dinged and she received a text from Owen. He was requesting her to take Leo out of daycare and to his house as he had to rescue Schmitt and the golden blood donor. She quickly replied with a thumbs up emoji thanking God to grant her some work.

She hurried to the hospital and picked Leo up. She hoped to see Link on her way but couldn't find him. She was slightly disappointed but let it slide. At Owen's house, she was only there for a half hour when the doorbell rang to surprisingly reveal a heavily pregnant Teddy. She sarcastically commented about opening a time portal seeing Amelia with Leo. Amelia could not have agreed more with her. What an irony. Amelia chuckled. She was pulled out of her thoughts when Teddy started professing her love for Owen to her. Amelia was listening confusedly to her ramblings and didn't interrupt. She realised with a start that Teddy's water had broken.

What happened after that was a blur to both the ladies. It was just indescribable chaos. She had accidentally revealed Teddy's baby daddy's sexual romps with her OB and cursed her blabbering mouth. Inspite of that, as usual, Amelia's quick thinking saved the day. Teddy successfully delivered a beautiful baby girl, Allison. She was now standing outside her hospital room observing her happy family. Teddy surely deserved it. She felt bad for her teacher though. He loved her with his while being and would be devastated to know what Teddy was up to. Despite all of that, she was really happy for Owen. She had always wished hum happiness. He finally receive it. Teddy was perfect for him.

The view of the perfect family made Amelia's mind race. Amelia and Owen did not end up on a happy note. She always wanted them to be those Together Forever couples but that didn't happen. They were just not meant to be. Her mind then wandered off to Link. That perfect man waltzed into her life and turned it upside down. In such a short notice, Amelia was totally invested. This scared her to an unbeatable degree. What if her sisters were right? What if there was still some tumor left behind and she was crazy? What if Owen was right? Would she break Link? Would she lose Link too like she did all the other men in her life whom she loved? Was he just a rebound? She haulted her racing thoughts there. He most definitely was not a rebound.

He was what she had needed all along. But still she could not help but think if she jumped into him too soon. She knew he was not a rebound but she did not give herself much time to recover from her harsh breakup before running into Link's arms. He deserved better. She deserved some time to recover, to heal. Link did not deserve such treatment. He told her a few days back that this 'relationship' of theirs started feeling like something real to him. She was internally dancing with joy when he said that but then he asked her if she felt the same thing thing. She absolutely did. Surely did. But no words left her mouth. Her mind suddenly went blank and numb. She couldn't answer him. Instead she asked him for some time to answer his question. He looked disappointed but quickly guarded his expression. After all he was Link. He never displayed his hurt to others.

She was comprehending his words in her mind. This felt real to him. I'm hurricane Amelia!! I know I'll hurt him someday or the other. I can't do that to him. I'm reckless and unreasonable sometimes. Link surely doesn't need that. Does he? She silently hoped that he wanted her along with he negative qualities. She was highly doubting her actions of the past two months spent with him. It was too soon. She knew herself. She always got too attached too soon. Se completely jumped into a relationship right after one ended. She needed to clear her head. She needed some clarity. She did not want to break up with him, she just wanted some space. She wanted to get to know him better. She wanted to go on dates with him before her no filter mouth uttered those three words which she was aching to say after the wonderful time spent with THE GOD this morning. She had to talk to him and explain him that they needed to take it slow.

A hand on her shoulder pulled her out of her incessant thoughts. She knew that touch. She didn't even have to turn her head in his direction to know who it was. I hope what she is about to say doesn't hurt him. I won't be able to see that.

Link spoke gently, " I heard about what happened with the police officer. Quick thinking, Smartypants." She smiled at the nickname. " How are you doing? Are you okay? " He was quick to notice where her gaze lingered. He understood she must be hurt seeing her ex-husband with another woman and their child. He tried his best to be there for her. She has me now.

Here we go. " You are pretty incredible. And great. You are really good to me, Link." She stopped to gauge his reaction. He was intrigued and had an eyebrow raised. Amelia found it cute but then he frowned, putting two and two together.

She's praising me. Oh God. She's obviously 'breaking up' with me. All women start their talk like she did. Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt her? Did she suddenly realise she's still in love with OWEN?! Nah, that's not true. I've seen the way she looks and smiles at me. It must be something I did. I'm sooo stupid. He internally panicked. He didn't want her to leave!

" Uh, I hear a 'but' coming," he softly commented. His suspicions were rewarded with her affirmation. Link lost it. This was one relationship in his entire life that he wanted to cherish forever but he screwed up. Like always. He was beating himself up and was not listening to her properly.

" But I jumped into you too fast. I should not have done that."

Is she questioning what we had?

I hope he understands that I'm talking about the ill-fated timing.

" I was a rebound," Link commented dejectedly and nodded. He was too hurt to say anything else.

" You definitely were. I'm not sure if you still are."

I'm sure, no scratch that, I know you're not a rebound. I just don't have the nerve to say this. Please understand, Link. God, I can't look at his face. He's hurt.

What does she mean by that? I am or not? I don't understand. Of course, I'm not a rebound now. She's breaking up with me, that's why.

Link broke the silence. " So you're saying...? " He looked at her with confusion all over his face.

" Uh, I'm saying I'm open to possibilities. And that could include you if you don't need me to decide anything too permanent right now. I, uh....", Amelia looked away. Her eyes filled with tears at what she had done. " I need time." Her heart broke seeing Link's face. I'm not leaving you, please get this inside your head!!! " I need to figure out who I am outside of Owen. "

She needs time. I completely understand. I'll give her time. I don't want to stay away from her. Why is she doing this so suddenly? We had such a nice time in the morning!

Link didn't know what to say. He replied with a simple " Okay ".

Wait, that's it? He mentally chided and cursed himself for his curt reply. She's vulnerable right now. Don't treat her like that!

Amelia was speechless. She was waiting for the big blowup from his side. But nothing came. Is that it? He doesn't have anything to say? He won't blow a gasket? Huh. He's so understanding. Amelia mentally slapped herself. Don't go there again. You need time. Take your time. Stop dreaming about him again.

" Okay? ", she questioned softly with teary eyes.

He nodded solemnly and replied, " Okay."

They gazed at each other longingly for a whole minute until it was time for Amelia to leave. She didn't know what to do as she parted. Shall I hug him? No, that would be too intimate. Shall I hold his hand? No, that would be too formal. She finally settled on nodding his way and slowly turned on her heels to leave. She hurriedly left from there and crawled into an on-call room to bawl her eyes out. She finally got the man of her dreams and she screwed up again. No, she did it to stop herself from screwing it up with him in the future. This was necessary. She paged Maggie to the on-call room. Oh right, she's at that stupid camping trip. She then paged Meredith. She did not answer. So she settled for Alex. No answer again. Her final resort was Richard. He ignored her too. What is the matter with everybody? Why is everyone ignoring me? She started sobbing harder. Her very good day was turning out to be really, really bad.

Link's eyes lingered on her form long after she left. He was contemplating what just happened. He was trying to figure out why things took a turn for the worse out of nowhere so suddenly. He came up with nothing.

He sharply left from the nurse's station and headed to find Jo. He needed a drinking buddy today. He needed his best friend right now.

Author's Note:

Hey guys!! So here it is. I asked y'all to not hit me. Please don't after reading this chapter. It was getting really sad towards the end so I made the beginning really fluffy. Can't hurt the feelings of my readers now, can I ?! 😉

Anyways, enjoy. Next chapter will be up soon. Until then.

#amelia shepherd #atticus lincoln #amelink #amelia shepherd fanfic #amelia and link #love #fluff #romance #greys anatomy

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spaceskam · 5 years

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Inspired by @caitlesshea 's cute little snippet

"You should probably marry me."

Alex slowly turned to face the asshole that was laying on his couch who was literally in the middle of blowing his nose. His eyes were bloodshot and he sounded so fucking congested that it was disgusting. Honestly, a sick Michael was nothing short of purely disgusting.

"I'm sorry, was that an attempt at a proposal?" Alex asked. Michael shrugged, groaning as he tried to breathe through his nose again.

"Kinda. Yeah, why not? You're not grossed out by me being sick, so I guess we're basically married, might as well," he decided. Alex stared at him in shock, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he tried to process the sheer idiocracy coming from the man.

"No," he responded. Michael had the audacity to look shocked. "No, that was not your proposal. I reject it. That was the worst."

"Hey! I'm trying!" Michael whined. Alex laughed, tossing a pillow his way.

"No, you aren't, it just came to your head and you asked," Alex pointed out.

"I don't even like marriage, you should be honored," Michael grumbled. He turned on his side and grossly blew a harsh breath out of his nose, easily getting snot on the pillow he was cuddling as well as all over his mouth. Alex made a face, but instinctively got up to clean him up.

The things you do for love.

"Isobel told me to propose so she could pay for our wedding, wanna do it?"

"Oh my god, no!"

"Alex!"

Alex glared at the man in the drivers seat of the truck. He was half asleep from the long party at Isobel's in celebration of Noah's life insurance finally going through. She planned to blow on anything she could think of and apparently she had their wedding in mind.

"You know, for a man who expected pyrotechnics for our breakup, you are actually shit at proposing, Jesus Christ," he grumbled, laying his head against the window. He hated how picky he sounded over this proposing thing, but he wanted at least something nice. He hated how Michael always seemed to ask out obligation.

"I don't know what you want from me," Michael sighed.

"I want you to want to, I don't want you to do it because Isobel said so."

Michael didn't respond to that and it had Alex wondering if she had suggested it the first time as well. That actually made him feel a little sick.

"Fine."

"It was supposed to be romantic!"

"Oh yeah, murder is apart of romance now?"

Michael watched as Kyle checked over Alex again. He didn't think he'd ever felt so bad in his life, it was physically hurting him. He should've known better. He knew Alex ate fast, growing up with three brothers and then going into the fucking military would do that to you, and he still put the ring in his food. He should've known he would choke on it.

"It's okay, Guerin. My fault," Alex said, but his voice was so hoarse that Michael couldn't help the pitiful whine that produced in the back of his throat.

He crumpled more, his head falling into his hands as Kyle asked if he could taste blood. He didn't want to risk there being a cut in his throat and it getting infected. That made him feel even worse.

"Don't beat yourself up over this," Alex said later that night as they climbed into bed. Well, as Alex climbed into bed. Michael was already in a ball, trying to will away the horrible feeling that he'd almost killed Alex in such a stupid attempt at showing him that he actually wanted to get married. "I appreciate the intent."

"Stop trying to make me feel better. I should go sleep on the couch," Michael whispered into the pillow. Alex sighed, the bed tilting as he came up behind him and wrapped his arms around him.

"I'm not going to stop trying to make you feel better and I'm sure as hell not going to let you sleep on the couch. I love you and I know it was an accident," Alex promised, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. Michael would be lying if he said he didn't have tears in his eyes.

"I hurt you because I'm stupid," he said, his voice betraying how torn up he really was. Alex hugged him tighter, nuzzling his face into the crook of Michael's neck.

"Hey, stop that. You didn't do anything wrong. Seriously, this was your best attempt yet," Alex mused in a soft little voice, peppering him in kisses he really didn't feel like he deserved.

"I choked you, Alex, that's not good!"

"But you put thought and effort into it."

"Clearly I didn't because I know you, I should've known." Alex sighed again, his hot breath cascading over Michael's back and giving him chills.

"I'm fine, Michael. It wasn't on purpose and I don't blame you, so I'm going to hold you all night even if you feel like you don't deserve it."

Michael didn't argue that.

"Have you put on weight?"

"Ouch, calling me fat after sex? That hurts."

They were both laughing despite their words, laying nose to nose in the comfort of their bed. Michael was feeling light and happy as he stared at his stupidly beautiful boyfriend.

"No, I meant like you feel more muscle-y. Like your thighs are thick as hell, teenage you would be judging hard," he teased, smiling wider as Alex shoved at his shoulder.

"I work out with Kyle four times a week and have been for three months, you're just noticing my thighs?"

"In my defense, you haven't wrapped your legs around my head in awhile."

Alex rolled his eyes, but moved in just close enough to press an open mouthed kiss to his lips. Michael easily tugged him closer. Their legs tangled together like they were meant for it, slowly morphing into one figure all over again.

"I love you," Michael whispered against his lips. Alex smiled and kissed him again.

"I love you too."

"And I want to marry you," Michael stated matter-of-factly, letting Alex pull back just enough to stare at him, "I want people to be able to hit on you and you always say, 'sorry, married'. I wanna introduce you to people as my husband. I want to be like those shitty sitcom dads and tell people that I can't go out for dinner because it's 'the husband's orders'. I want kids to see us when we're old and wrinkly and be like, 'okay, yeah, if they made it, then I shouldn't be scared'. I wanna punch people in the face for looking at us weird when we hold hands walking down the street. Alex, I want to hold hands when we walk down the street forever. Can I have that with you?"

Alex was smiling so bright it could've outshined the sun. "You want to subscribe to a lame ideology where the government is a third party in our relationship just so we can punch people in the face on the street and get arrested as Mr. and Mr. Guerin?"

"I mean, yeah."

Alex laughed, moving in closer for another kiss. This time Michael felt like he got it right. None of the other time ended in blissful little kisses. Four times the charm, right?

"So, whaddya say? Will you marry me this time?" Michael asked quietly against his lips. Finally, finally, Alex nodded.

"Yes."

#malex #malex fic #idk how long this is im sorry theres no read more #i wrote this on my phone #malex ficlet #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #rnm #roswell new mexico fic #rnm fic #michael guerin fic #alex manes fic

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carryonmywaywardwriters · 5 years

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Shots of Whiskey - Dean x Reader (One Shot)

A/N: Yeah...so, I edited this and never reposted. Well, until now. Porn makes up for the day of fucking around, right? I’m going to be starting the timezone reblogs, again, too. Just to get everything out there a little more for those who might be interested but miss it. Getting back into old habits, slowly. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. This piece especially. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Warnings: PWP. Body shots. Oral (Female receiving). Fingering. Kinda public sex. Kinda dirty talk. Kinda dom!Dean? Unprotected sex (Wrap it before you tap it, folks). Cream Pie. I believe that is all!

Word Count: Roughly 2,700

“If you wanna get drunk, shots are the way to go,” Your voice made Dean raise his worried gaze from the amber filled glass he'd been staring a hole through. “Nursing it gets you nowhere.”

“You talkin' from experience?” The question was meant to be sarcastic. He'd seen you pound down your problems at a bar. If it wasn't shots, it was chugging through a straw on an empty stomach. Whatever it took to reach that level of numb every hunter yearned for.

A coy grin lined your face as you reached for the tumbler, “Always.” With that, the contents were emptied in one blow. Heat filled your veins as you set the empty container down with a low clink. Instead of leaving, you leaned your ass and hands against the table. Getting comfortable. “What's up?”

“If I wanted to talk about it, don't ya think I would?” You pondered over the question for a moment as he tugged the glass his way by the rim; using only his index finger to slide it home. As your lips opened to respond, he cut you off. Knowing you were going to call him out on his tendency to bury his problems down until it all blew up in his face. “Never mind, don't answer that.” The lift of your brow had him looking back over you. Something deeper, maybe even a little dark, rested inside those radiant emerald eyes. “Shots, huh?”

His body leaned your way more as you spoke, “Yeah...shots. Got any other glasses?”

“Just these ones.” He didn't turn to them. Instead, keeping his gaze locked on you. Before you could suggest chugging from them, a glisten formed inside the impossible green. “And you.”

“Me?” The answer should have been enough to send you running. The Winchesters were trouble to get tangled up with. Everyone knew it. You'd seen it firsthand. Instead of bolting, you let your head tilt a bit as he eased to his feet. Never once allowing the hot stare to leave your body in the process.

“Body shots.” With each word, he took a step forward. Keeping you pinned between him and the table. So tall. Shoulders back to make him seem taller. Bigger. More threatening. “You like to party...ya can't tell me you've never done it before.” A shrug was all you offered him. Neither confirming or denying the implications. “The way the alcohol mixes with the taste of skin...better than anything that comes from a glass.” His touch was soft as he let his hand drift over your jean clad thigh. Blatantly offering something far deeper than a single shot.

“Sounds like you need a fix,” You didn't let yourself stop and think of the implications of two hunters hooking up. Of what it would mean in the span of you living in the bunker. You simply rolled up the black t-shirt you were wearing until it was just under your breasts. Never taking your eyes off his face. Watching the way his tongue pressed against the backs of his teeth. “Have at it, big guy.”

“Lean back,” The thick, rumbling voice Dean carried settled deep into your bones. You couldn't even think about resisting. When your forearms left you in the air, he tsked, “All the way, sweetheart.”

“So bossy...” But, you listened. Watching the way his tongue came out to glide over his plush lips at the sight of exposed skin. Your arm came up to give your head some support as Dean grabbed the bottle he'd been pouring from.

He didn't have to say a word. His hand reached for the bared skin to help hold you steady before the room temperature liquid was poured into your navel. Your breath sucked in; forcing the drink to spill onto your stomach and down. The action only made his mouth kick up as he met your eyes. Thrilled at the change of pace you'd enacted for the night- even unintentionally.

Then, he was leaning in. You felt his warm breath first. It was enough to cause your flesh to prickle as it teased over the liquid. And when he sealed his lips over you? A small gasp escaped. His touch so much hotter than you'd anticipated.

Dean pulled the liquid into his mouth, easily. Giving away his experience as he held you down. But, that wasn't the end of it. Not even close.

His tongue slipped out. Seeking to take every drop that remained. Following the trail that had slid down your flesh with a light groan. Slipping just under the edge of your jeans. The scrape of his stubble left a tingle behind every place it touched. Each place he'd licked cooled once it was exposed to the air. Adding further to the sensory overload he was creating.

“Ya taste good,” He murmured before scraping his teeth against you gently. Causing you to jump a bit. His hands squeezed into your hips for a moment before sliding up.

You could've stopped him. He expected you to, even. But, you didn't.

Instead, you found yourself arching up into the calloused touch. Dean wasn't the only one who wanted to numb it all away. You had your own shit that you wanted to escape from. He was giving you the perfect opportunity.

“You're supposed to be taking shots, Dean...remember?” The breathy little note had him lifting his head. The deep, forest green eyes seemed to darken when they met yours. Lust shining through. You sat up on your forearms again. Forcing him to back up as you reached for the bottle. “So...here ya go.”

Without missing a beat, you tilted the Jack Daniels so that it filled your mouth. The Winchester understood after a moment of dumbstruck. He lunged forward, taking what you offered.

Most of the whiskey had been swallowed, but that hadn't mattered in the end. It was only an excuse. His tongue brushed against yours into a deep kiss right off the bat. Tasting the remnants the smooth drink had left inside your mouth as he stroked inside.

Your hands wrapped into the light brown hair, musing the spikes as he sucked and nipped at your lower lip. Dean's hand pushed up under your shirt and bra in one smooth motion. Too eager to feel to go slow. His grip was rough and warm all at once as he massaged the soft flesh he'd discovered.

“You like that?” He asked when you whimpered into his kiss, bowing into the touch.

“Yes,” The answer was more of a moan than anything. But, he thrived off it. Enjoyed how readily you'd turned yourself over to him. Someone so strong simply yielding to his actions. It was more intoxicating than anything that could have come from a bottle.

His fingers rolled your nipple through them, “Good. You'll like this better.” Deftly, your shirt and bra were removed and tossed aside. “Lay back down.”

“Or what?” Challenging a Winchester wasn't something many lived to tell about. Yet, you needed to try it, even halfheartedly. Needed to understand what the dynamics would be that first time between you and him in this new level of intimacy.

Dean's hand wrapping around your throat loosely was more than enough to remind you who you were dealing with. Of what he wanted from you. Slowly, you let him guide you until your bare back was pressed against the smooth table top. Giving up any semblance of control for a time.

“Good girl,” The praise went straight to down to soak your panties. “Now, stay real still for me.”

Once again, cool liquid ran over your body. Lightly spilled so that it trailed across your breasts to settle in the valley between. Your teeth sank into your lower lip when Dean dropped his head to lap up the pool, first. Helping you remain quiet. Ensuring no one in the bunker walked in on what was happening.

The tip of his nose brushed over your skin, just above his lips. Tickling opposed to the way his abrasive chin scraped when he changed his angle. Every so often, he'd look up to meet your eyes. Just a glance through his long lashes as he cleaned off the mess he'd made. With every admiring search your body grew weaker.

When his tongue finally began to slide up the slope of your breast, you nearly jumped off the table. His hand ran down your side soothingly. Silently urging you to relax. As if such a thing were possible with the sinful touch tracing around your areola. Your blood pumped hard enough, it echoed in your ears.

He took his time toying with your tits. Not giving a damn about who could walk in. Your fingers traced over what you could reach. Feeling the warm flannel stretch over the muscles it hid. Admiring the soft skin at the back of his neck, and the thick, exposed forearms. Then, you dipped them under the undershirt to touch more. Earning a low rumble that vibrated around his mouth right into you.

Dean pulled away to throw the flannel to the side. To give you a little more. Watching as you flicked open the snap of your jeans so you could slide them down your legs. As you rested there in your underwear, the Winchester swore. Forgetting about his stripping. “You're so fucking hot. Spread out for me...”

And then he was back on you. His hands jerked your body down, closer to his. Letting the hard swell of his dick beneath his jeans grind against your core. Sucking against your pulse point harshly.

Your nails scraped along his bared skin. Feeling every scar he carried above the waist, and each shift of his muscles as he moved over you. The moment your hips bucked into his for more of that friction? He started tasting his way back down your body until everything but his head was out of reach. Taking advantage of what was exposed to him.

Every woman you'd ever encountered took one look at Dean, and thought about what those lips could do. The anticipation alone left you trembling. As your feet braced on the edge of the table, he lifted up the forgotten bottle of whiskey. “One more shot?”

“One more...” The smirk on his face only aided in the following words settling deep inside of you, “For tonight.” He nudged your legs open wider. “Open up, Y/N.”

It was hardly a shot. Nothing more than a few drops that spilled over you. But, that didn't matter when he dropped down to level with you. The only thing that did was the way he let his tongue come out to capture what he'd let brush over your heated folds.

Your hips bucked up, only to be stilled by his arm a moment later. Nothing you'd imagined could compare to the way he traced over every piece of you. How he thrust his tongue inside of you before sliding it back up to flick against your clit. Fucking you so thoroughly that you felt as though you'd combust.

Dean groaned deep between your thighs, making you whine at the vibration. He was a master at making your nails scrape across the wood beneath you. Incoherent words of encouragement left your mouth quietly as your muscles tried to tighten around him. And when he pressed just to the left of your clit as he curled two fingers deep inside of you? You came. Hard.

Dean eased you through it. Letting your body clench around his digits as he pumped gently inside of you. Not stopping until your writhing and breathing started slowing down. A small kiss to the inside of your thigh was your reward before he got to his feet.

“Holy shit,” Your eyes widened further when the erection rolled free from Dean's jeans. He knocked them down to his knees. Not an ounce in shame to be found. His glistening lips kicked up before he trailed his teeth over the lower. Yet, it didn't distract from the thick, veined length of him. Especially when he lined it up. Slipping the flared tip inside of your wet heat, he dug his blunt nails into the meat of your hips. “Dean...fuck!” You bit the back of your hand as he let out a choked out moan.

He pushed in slowly before retreating. Only to settle in a little deeper with every agonizing thrust. Ensuring that every inch stretching you was a little better than the last. Your flesh gave way to his fingers as his grip tightened. Grounding himself a bit to draw it out. Anything to keep his mind blank.

The table creaked with his deep, slow pumps. Your breathing was ragged, matching his own as you let him use you. The slick way your body sucked at his dick echoed across the room. His thighs slapped heavily against yours. Sweat glinted across both of your bodies as time went on.

Low, filthy words of praise left his lips as your hand blocked your own whimpers of pleasure. Neither of you were quite willing to speed things up. Basking in the empty minds that moment created. Not caring that someone could walk in at any moment.

When Dean grew close, he reached down. Strong, rapid circles rubbed over your clit. His hips shifted. Pushing him deeper. Letting him slide against the sweet spot more firmly. Seeking further friction, you grasped at your own breast and slid your hand against the table; causing a squealing sound to join the rest of the auditory mix that filled the air. Dropping the hold over your lips. His other hand reached up, covering your mouth when you tried to cry out.

Each thrust lasted a little longer. Tapped a little harder against the g-spot. And, then he was cumming. Hot ropes filled as you as he choked back a shout of release. The feeling and pornographic sound was enough to send you off into your own orgasm. Your legs shook as your walls tightened, milking every last drop Dean had to offer.

He could've pulled away immediately. Probably should have. Instead, Dean looked down where he was still buried to the hilt in amazement as you leaned back up on your elbows. “Fuck...Y/N-”

“You're not gonna cry, are you?” With that, he pulled away. Finding a piece of strength in his legs after that performance. Only to get distracted by the thick white trail that followed behind. Your legs closed as you sat up, hiding the view.

“No,” He huffed out once he could; straightening his shoulders before bending down to lift his jeans. “But, I am thinkin' that needs to happen, again.”

“Yeah? Maybe.” You tugged on the panties and jeans before Dean passed over your bra. “Next time, though? If there's a next time? I'm taking the shots.” The hooks were done up before you grabbed your shirt and walked away. The Winchester watched as you slid the material over your body without missing a step.

He turned back to the whiskey as his undershirt was yanked back to a decent position, “And they say alcoholism is bad...” A low tsk left him at that. Thanking Chuck for his lack of sobriety.

His flannel was fisted as he grabbed the bottle. Strolling back to his room, bowlegged swagger in full form. A good portion of tension had been released between your thighs. The twisted grin on his lips only grew more wry. Knowing he'd never be able to look at his good friend Jack Daniels without getting a boner, again...

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger

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bakugouscentedcaramel · 5 years

Text

Southern Sweetheart

Here's 2.5k words of Southern S/O X Bakugou, enjoy the feast my darlins.

The smell of freshly tilled dirt just made you even more eager to see your family. The way the wheat fields moved like waves in the ocean eased your nerves and just proved you were finally back home. You finally convinced your boyfriend to tag along with you for the weekend, but he might've underestimated the extent of what was to come. This here land was your Homeland and he was in a strange alien world.

"Tch, I still don't know why we gotta come all the way out in the middle of nowhere to meet your fuckin family." Katsuki grumbled as he sank deeper into the passenger seat of your Wrangler.

"Cuz Hot Stuff, you've only met em once and it were only for bout 20 minutes. Besides they love ya as far as they can throw ya." You shifted gears to accommodate the transition from road to backroads, causing him to grip his seat a bit tighter.

"You good babe? I'm only goin' 50. Do you want me to slow down ya city slicker?"

OH BOY CAN YOU

"Fuck you, I'm just not used to these fuckin pothOLES" he reached for every handle your car had to offer and braced himself as he felt the wheels slam inside a crater.

You purposely hit a monster pothole head on to shut him up. Evoking a glare from your normally badass lover.

"Oh yer fine Katsu, if Ole Bessie here can handle a ragin' cow in heat she can handle a little pothole. Just try to relax and think of it like a rollercoaster." You slapped the side of your car door and gave him a wicked smirk.

"Only thing ya gotta worry bout is the rogue buck, so keep an eye out. It is deer o' clock after all."

"Tch I thought 'Ole Bessie' could handle a 'ragin' cow', you're telling me she can't handle a deer?"

"Not at 67 miles per hour, Katsu."

"WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING SO DAMN FAST"

"It's an unspoken rule to fly down these roads." You shifted gears and smirked as he sunk deeper into the seat due to the force of Ole Bessie claiming the road.

"Goddammit Y/n stop trying to fuckin scare me."

"Ah so it's workin then? Admit it Katsu!" You shifted again causing the speedometer to jump to 86.

"GODDAMIT YES OK IM FUCKIN SCARED OF YOU GOING THIS DAMN FAST ON A DIRT FUCKIN ROAD OK??" His were hands uncontrollably creating small Sparks out of sheer panic at this point.

"Fine, I'll slow it down a smidge. Jussa smidge though. How's 76?"

"GODDAMMIT Y/N!!!"

----

You smirk knowing what was coming up ahead. You knew Katsuki has probably never smelled farmland or even seen a real actual cow in flesh n blood and you couldn't help but giggle.

"THE HELL IS THAT?" He covered his nose and fanned the air staring at you accusingly.

"Well, roll up the windahs darlin', you're bout to smell some good ole dairy cows."

"What the fuck do you mean."

You point to his window and he looks out it to see a whole herd of dairys just grazing and swatting flies. You couldn't help but love his expression. You were right, he's never personally seen cattle before.

"Why are there so fuckin many."

"How do you think we fill up entire tankers full o' milk Katsu. We gotta have a bunch of em. You're lookin at this year's yearlin's. They ain't even fully grown yet and they're already built like tanks."

He pretended not to be interested but you could see him sneaking looks out of the corner of your eye.

Oh if only he knew what you had in store for him.

----

The sunset peaked over the crest of a corn field, you both were in the car for about 4 hours now and you still had a small bit to go still. You glanced over at him and he was sound asleep. His right hand propped his face against the doors' armrest and he was manspreading. His face was relaxed and showing you a softer side of him only you knew about. His gentle breaths putting you at ease. You couldn't help but keep stealing glances at him wondering how you could snag this piece of man.

You turned down the radio for him and you reached out to his left hand and rubbed the back of it gently. You were so blessed to have him by your side, especially since his family loved him to death even if they knew him so little. You truly were-

"FUCKIN CHRIST-" you slammed on the brakes causing you both to nearly fly into the dashboard.

Katsuki instinctively went into fight or flight and almost blew your windshield up before-

"MOVE OUT THE FUCKIN ROAD YOU GOTDAMN FUTURE VENISON BURGER" You slammed on your horn and the deer bounded back into the woods.

"WHAT THE FUCK JUS-"

"It's just a goddamn deer, fucker came outta nowhere I swear to Christ. Sorry to wake you up darlin'."

"Get out, I'm driving."

"The fUCk you are?! We're almost there anyway Katsu. Fucker probably came from out gotdamn land anyways." You pressed on the gas and continued your journey.

He huffed as you kept going, pretty much just blowing off his offer. At least he could collect his heart from the floor and relax a bit before finally getting to your place.

"Katsu, fair warnin, my family is well, out there."

"Really? I couldn't tell based off of you 'Darlin'"

"Heh, you gonna learn today then."

You whipped into the driveway causing Katsuki to glare at you for throwing him around. He looked to see what was your house, a seemingly picture perfect two storied ranch house fitted with an extended porch and a white picket fence. He would've made a comment about it being cliche before you rolled down the windows and nearly put your whole torso out of the window before-

"SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOEY"

Katuski flinched at your loud outburst seemingly at random before realizing what that meant.

Out came your parents who replied with their own pig call and rushed down the steps. Your brother stood at the porch and just waved at you two.

"What in the fuck is going on."

----

After introductions and a night's rest Katsuki woke up to a rooster.

His eyes shot open and he flinched before he realized where he was. You were in the same bed and were snuggling into his bicep, he brushed some hair behind your ear and smirked before holding you closer to him. He was about to kiss your forehead before that damned rooster crowed again. You shifted in your half awake daze.

"Babe, there's an uncooked chicken nugget that's about to be deep fried, get up."

You mumbled incoherently.

He shook you awake gently, "babe I'm gonna roast that fuckin bird if you don't get up."

"mmm -Jerry alone…"

"What was that my lasso?"

"Leave Jerry alone.. he's a jackass but hnn…" you groaned reluctantly. "Wait… YOUR LASSO?? IS THAT A NEW NICKNAME KATSU??"

"Fuckin hell that's what got you up?"

----

After you two got dressed and made your way downstairs for a deliciously cooked southern breakfast of ham, bacon, eggs, and some buttermilk toast, you got your boots on.

"Where are we going now babe, I thought we were going to spend time with your family."

"We are. But if we're gonna stay here, we're gonna help round the farm. Besides I gotta force ya to meet some other family members."

He huffed and started putting on his sneakers before you stopped him.

"Uh uh, darlin' you need workin boots, not those. Good thing I already bought ya a pair." You shove him some cowboy boots and he nearly laughs.

"You're fuckin joking me right?"

You stare at him with a dead serious glare, "We both need em if we're gonna be doin the work that needs ta get done babe."

"What the fuck are we doing that needs these fuckin things?" He shakes the boots in the air

"Oh you'll see, sugar. Now c'mon, Curly's waitin."

-----

You lead your frustrated boyfriend out to the pasture and honestly you could barely keep your eyes off of him. The steel toe boots you got him, some blue jeans, and Lord have mercy on that plaid shirt he had on. He was the spittin image of a country boy, but-

"Where the fuck are we going. Who the hell is Curly?"

His question was soon answered when he was toppled over by a horned goat.

"THERES MAH BOY" you patted the goat and it bleated happily to finally see you.

"A FUCKING GOAT?"

Curly took this as a challenge and attempted to ram into Katsuki again only to have a palm stop his head.

"Yeah Katsu, Curly's a boer goat. He was supposed ta be a meat goat but we all kinda got attached. He's got a fiery attitude just like ya too." You shove Katsuki teasingly and Curly saw an opening, he rammed at the back of Katsuki's knees causing him to fall over.

"You really gonna let a lil goat push you round like that?" Your boyfriend growled in response.

You pull him back on his feet as you coddle him "Now c'mon, you're gonna learn how to ride a horse Katsu."

----

"I take it you've never ridden a horse before?" You leaned against the fence watching him scan the pasture

"Show me the nearest horse in the city and I'll be more than happy to ride the fucker." He glared at your stupid question before going back to panning the meadow.

"Don't be like that Katsu, our horses are two sweethearts, I think you'll like em."

"Well I don't see them so I guess we're not riding today babe"

You grab him by his hand as you lead him to the barn to pick up a square of alfalfa.

"Now when they come barrelin down to get this don't be scared of em. They can sense fear and your fear will make them scared. Horses are very emotion sensitive animals, so that means no yellin neither." You break the square in half and give him one before walking back over to the metal gates.

He climbs up on the first rung of the fence and just looks at you smugly, "I don't think they, want to see us today Y/n, can't we just-"

You bang your heel on the gate causing the lock chains to jingle loudly.

You've rang the dinner bell.

You smirk at Katsuki's face when he hears the thundering of hooves. Sure he thought he knew you had horses but not monsters.

Two horses came sprinting to the gate, one Belgian Draft and one Clydesdale.

Bakugou was so entranced by their sheer power of them just running that he didn't even realize they were coming in hot.

The Belgian nearly charged at Katsuki causing him to flinch and nearly fly off the fence.

"HO, Waffle that's 'nough now you damn dummy, you both best be kind to poor Katuski here. Ya damn near scared 'im to death with yer eagerness. Katuski, mere."

Katuski dusted himself off and picked up his dropped alfalfa, "damn fuckin overgrown donkey."

"Katsu I need you to stick your hand out and let ole Waffle smell ya first, don't face directly at em neither, they're a pretty animal so ya gotta not act like a predator." You patted the Clydesdale's neck as it ate the alfalfa out of your hand.

"Tch, you're practically attacking that one's neck and you're telling me not to act like a predator?" He huffed.

Waffle huffed and took a step towards him as an attempt to scare off your boyfriend.

"Waffle Ho, stop bein spunky. Katuski don't let him walk over you like that, side step to him and extend your arm out, but keep it at a downward angle."

He groans and does what you tell him. The horse smells him and he can't help but feel a rush of excitement when he feels the horses powerful exhale on his skin.

"Heh, you big bastard." Katsuki slowly holds out the alfalfa half and offers it to the horse.

Waffle takes the bit gently from his hand and trots off with it to eat it in the grass.

Katuski has a smile on his face and an idea crosses your mind.

"Wanna ride him Katsu?"

----

You saddle up both horses on your own despite Katsuki offering to carry the saddles for you. He could really appreciate their size when the seemingly tiny saddle complimented their sheer amount of muscle.

"So, you'll ride Waffle, and I'll ride Hades. Do you need help gettin on em?" You tug a bit on Hades' saddle girth.

"Are you sure you aren't the one who needs help?" He smirks and starts to make his way over before you fling your foot in one of the stirrups with seemingly unknown flexibility.

You fling yourself over on top of the saddle seat with ease and gently plop down, shifting a bit before flashing him a grin.

You watch him struggle for a bit before pointing out the mounting block and he cusses at you a bit before finally getting on.

"Now, these boys are work horses so they listen to direction pretty well. If you need any help just let me know darlin." You click your tongue and Hades starts walking, his hoof fall echoing in the barn before stepping outside.

You turn him around to face the barn to look at a very confused yet impressed Katsuki.

"M-move." He gently nudges Waffle with his stirrups to no avail.

"Katsuki these are workin horses, they got iron sides. Just click your tongue twice and he'll move."

He clicks his tongue and nearly falls out of the saddle when Waffle takes his first step. Then his second. And third.

You can see the excitement on your city slicker boyfriend's face as he realizes the meaning behind the best seat in the world is in a saddle.

He takes some getting used to the commands like Ho and Woa, but he's a surprisingly quick learner.

----

You start your car to head back home. Katsuki fully enjoyed himself and you couldn't have asked for a more supportive boyfriend.

Before your car lurches forward your brother runs to the passenger side and slaps a cowboy hat on Bakugou. He acts like he hates it but he doesn't take it off.

You two take off to head back home before you see him roll up his sleeves up to his elbows and fix his hat.

"You embracin the cowboy life now Katsu?"

"Never, but I can see the charm in it." He smiles genuinely at you for a split second before, "you do act a lot like Curly, are you sure you ain't related to him?"

"Oh ha ha Kat- DIDJA JUST SAY 'AINT'"

"No I fuckin didn't."

"KATSUKI 'YEE HAW PUT EM UP' BAKUGOU HAH"

This was going to be long trip back home for him.

#bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #mha imagines #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #mha x reader #mha bakugou

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katedoesfics · 4 years

Text

Lacuna | Chapter 10

“I guess I should have asked the Civil Corps to check out the cave first.” Mayor Gale frowned.

Kahli’s gaze narrowed on him. “I want hazard pay.”

Gale grinned. “Yes, of course, I suppose it’s the least we can do. Gotta hand it to ya, though, you really took care of things down there. I’m glad to see you’re alright.”

It was late, nearing midnight, and Kahli had just gotten Dr. Xu’s approval to return home, but not without answering all of Gale’s questions, first. She thanked Dr. Xu, then let herself out of the clinic. The night air was warm and humid, and to her surprise, the town was relatively quiet. No loud laughter came from the Round Table, and everyone seemed to be in their homes for the night. She was more or less alone. But not for long.

“How ya feeling?”

Kahli looked up, surprised to see Arlo watching her. She wasn’t sure how long he had been there, but she was too tired to care. She kept walking down toward the plaza, and Arlo fell in step beside her.

“Like I was slammed against a damn wall,” Kahli muttered. “Do you think blood stains are easy enough to remove from clothes?” She held an arm up, the sleeve covered in dried blood.

“I may know a few secrets for that,” Arlo said.

Kahli sighed and blew her hair out of her face.

“I can’t believe you did that.”

“Hm?”

“Took on a hoard of bandirats.”

Kahli glanced at him and smirked. “Impressed?”

“A little bit. But you should know.” He paused. “You did say you were going to try to kick my ass tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Her lips pursed. “I’m kinda thinking of taking the day off. You know, to rest and recuperate from my battle with the rat king.”

“Phew,” Arlo said. “I was worried.”

“Oh, keep worrying,” Kahli said. “Your ass kicking is coming. Just not tomorrow.”

Arlo smiled. “Well. I’ll sleep with one eye opened, then.”

“That would be wise,” Kahli said with a nod. “Never know when I might strike.”

“If you ever get tired of being a builder, you’d make a good Civil Corps officer, I think.”

Kahli glanced at him. “I bet the Flying Pigs will be begging me to join them.”

“You keeping that sword?”

They paused in the plaza. Kahli held the blade out before her, then swung it around her. She tried to spin it, but failed miserably, and it dropped. She reached out to try to catch it, but instead, tripped on her own two feet. Arlo caught her before she could fall on top of the sword, pulling her into him. They froze for a moment, then Kahli quickly pulled away. She cleared her throat, scratched her head, and turned away to hide her blushing cheeks. She picked up the sword and turned it over, as if inspecting it.

“Maybe you shouldn’t play with deadly weapons,” Arlo said.

“Maybe you shouldn’t play with deadly weapons,” Kahli mocked.

Arlo crossed his arms. “That’s mature.”

“That’s mature.”

“Are you done?”

“Are you done?” When he didn’t respond, she glanced at him, then smiled sheepishly. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m a child.”

“Clearly.”

She let the sword rest against her shoulder and marched away from him. “I guess someone’ll just have to teach me how to use it,” she said.

Arlo watched as she disappeared around the corner. When he turned, he was met by Emily and Sonia, grinning ear to ear.

“Arlo,” Sonia said in greeting. “Whatcha doing? Saving damsels?”

“No,” he muttered, then turned away abruptly.

They giggled, and Emily hurried to catch up with Kahli.

“So,” she started. “What did you do all day?”

“Got my ass handed to me by a bunch of rats,” Kahli muttered.

“Word on the street is you’re the one that did some ass kicking,” Emily said. “But you know that’s not what I want to know.”

“My brain has been jostled around,” Kahli sighed. “No guessing games, please.”

“Are you just going to pretend that didn’t happen?”

“What didn’t happen?”

“C’mon, Kahli, Sonia and I saw it all.”

“So I embarrassed myself with a sword.” She rolled her eyes.

“If there weren’t clothes between you both -”

“Oh my god,” Kahli muttered. “Shut up.”

“He likes you,” Emily sang.

“Why the hell would you think that?”

“Because that was the most tragically awkward thing I have ever witnessed.”

“It could have happened to anyone.”

“So why were you both so blushy and weird?”

They stopped in front of her house. Kahli turned to her. “He was blushy and weird?”

“What do you care?” Emily grinned.

“I don’t!” Kahli snapped.

Emily laughed. “That’s the most action you’ve gotten in years.”

“Shut up!”

“I can’t wait until the day where I can say I told you so.”

“You’ll die waiting.”

Emily started walking backwards, smirking. “I don’t think so.”

*****

Kahli debated leaving her house the next morning, fearing that she may run into Arlo. She wasn’t sure if what Emily said was true, or how awkward things may be between them. Maybe she was way overthinking it all. Maybe he didn’t think twice about what had happened. That was the more likely scenario; he was just a guy stopping a stupid, idiot girl from killing herself with her own sword. There was nothing more to it than that.

But she couldn’t hide away in her house, either. Without a distraction, she would surely go crazy trying to analyze every moment between them. So she decided the best thing to do was busy herself in her workshop. A quick trip to the commerce guild may provide the distraction she needed; she just needed to get in and out of town before seeing anyone she didn’t want to see.

She made it to the commerce building with no issues, and Presley greeted her enthusiastically.

“The mayor has secured the funding to make five dee-dee transports,” he said. “This will be a big task; are you up for working on one?”

Transportation seemed a daunting project. Building bridges and fences, while challenging, at least didn’t require anything more than wood and tools. Vehicles, however, were an entirely different story. They required engines, and wiring, and gas and oil to make everything run. She knew her father had some detailed notes about these things in his notebooks, but still, she hesitated.

“Give it a try,” Presley said, sensing her hesitation. “It’ll be good to learn something new, hm? I’m sure the gals at the research center could help ya out.” And with that, he left Kahli alone.

“Psst.”

Kahli glanced over at Antoine, who was grinning just as Emily and Sonia were the night before, and she sighed. She approached him slowly, and Antoine leaned against the desk.

“How was your night last night?” he said.

“I spent it alone,” Kahli hissed at him.

“If Dr. Xu ever held me like that -”

“There was no holding!” Kahli barked.

Presley looked up from his desk, catching Kahli’s gaze with curiosity, and she slid down in front of Antoine’s desk in an attempt to hide herself. She poked her nose over and glared at him.

“I swear to god, Antoine -”

Antoine leaned over and grinned down at her. “Don’t make that dee-dee blow up or anything, kay?”

Kahli returned to her feet and snarled at him. Then, without another word, she turned on her heels and stormed out of the building.

She couldn’t return home right away, however; she was sure she would need Petra’s help if she - as Antoine so gently put it - didn’t want the dee-dee to blow up.

Petra didn’t have much information that she didn’t already know, however. The vehicles would require more of the small engines buried in the ruins around Portia. Petra did, however, offer some helpful advice.

“There are still some of those ancient robots roaming around in the ruins,” she explained. “They’re dangerous and they will attack, so you’ll need to be careful.”

Of course there would be more things that wanted to kill her. It seemed if she wanted to have any luck building the dee-dees, she would need to improve her fighting skills. And that wasn’t a task she was quite ready for, since it would require talking to Arlo.

Or Sam. She could talk to Sam. Sam did offer to teach her a thing or two, after all. And she had heard a few times that Sam was equally as skilled as Arlo - if not better. Arlo probably would never admit it, but she got the sense that it was probably true.

To her relief, Sam was in town on patrol when Kahli left the research center, and Sam greeted her excitedly when Kahli approached.

“There she is!” Sam said. “The Bandirat Killer! The Hero of Portia! I am not worthy!” She bowed dramatically.

“Are you done?”

Sam laughed. “To what do I owe this honor, oh Great One?”

Kahli hesitated. “I, uh, maybe have a favor to ask of you?”

Sam raised a curious brow. “Oh?”

“I’ve gotta go find some engines in some ruins for Gale,” Kahli started. “Petra said they’re full of nasty robots.”

Sam nodded. “Yup.”

“I was wondering… you know, after my adventure with the bandirats and all… if you could, maybe…”

Sam grinned. “You wanna learn how to not kill yourself with a sword?”

Kahli blushed. “How’d you know?” Had Sam seen the awkwardness unfold, too? Her stomach twisted; would she be the talk of the whole town?

Sam shrugged. “Well, you’re not exactly a trained fighter, right? You just picked that thing up off a dead rat and nearly got yourself killed.”

Relief washed over her. Kahli cleared her throat. “Right. Exactly. That’s exactly it. I am ill prepared for this. Please help me, Great One.”

Sam laughed. “You are wise to come to me for this,” she said. “No one is better than I. I’ll make a fighter outta ya. I’ll make you so good, you could kick even Arlo’s ass!”

Kahli smiled. “That’s all I could ever hope for,” she said.

#lacuna #lacuna10 #mtap #my time at portia #fic #fanfic

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weeping-petals · 4 years

Text

The One Behind the Mirror

Word Count - 2,316

They were at a stalemate. The King stood before the pawn, the Knights far out of reach of their commander. Within a series of moves, it would all be over. The fight would be glorious, but despairingly too short.

“Checkmate.” Pearl set the figure down. It was a good strategy, but ultimately she came through. “Your tactics are somewhat unorthodox, but their almost effective. Almost.”

Steven moaned and looked at the figurine of his King. “Can we play something else for a change? How ‘bout Gutters and Scaffolding?” He began clearing off the coffee table and gathering up the pieces from the game. “You’re too ruthless, and I’m no good at chess.”

“You always manage to beat Garnet.”

“She always lets me win, because she wants to build up my confidence.”

Pearl couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, that’s the reason you never manage to defeat me.” Abruptly, she stood when the warp pad activated.

The light beam evaporated, revealing one Amethyst and the Garnet under scrutiny. Amethyst was coated in mud and stormed off the pad. Steven and Pearl beheld, wide eyed. “Uhh….”

“I hate that FOREST!”

“You’re tracking over my freshly waxed floor!” Pearl cringed when Amethyst zipped upward and crashed to her backside. “Why do I bother!”

“‘Coz your picky as plucky,” Amethyst grumbled. Only her narrowed eyes were visible.

“What happened!” Steven sprang over. “Are you hurt?”

“She’s annoyed, but otherwise unharmed,” Garnet spoke. She adjusted her shades, out of habit.

“A certain someone set a BOOBY TRAP!”

“Ah.” Steven croaked.

Garnet sighed. “I tried to warn you.”

“She insulted my honor!”

“You shapeshift into Pearl all the time. What’s the difference?” Garnet went over and plucked Amethyst up. She shook the smaller gem up and down, casting off the thicker folds of gunk.

“Yeah,” Amethyst gruffed, “but she hit a cord. Uncool.”

“You want me to hose you off? We can go to the carwash.” Steven offered. “I bet Dad wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Someone has to stay here, and I need Pearl to accompany me.” Garnet dropped Amethyst. Promptly, the small gem raced over to the couch – much to Pearl’s protest.

“At least let her hose off outside! Not on the furniture!” Pearl grabbed Amethyst by the boot, but Amethyst held onto the couch really digging her fingers in.

“It’s just mud! I’m not diseased!”

“On a good day, you’re a plague!”

Steven turned to Garnet, while the other two persisted to bicker and hiss. “Can’t I watch the pad? You just wanna know if she comes by, riiight?”

“Not quite. The warp pads connect across the globe, and that’s not the problem. The problem is, we don’t want her coming here for you.”

“Aw, guys. Can’t you lay off?”

“Steven,” Garnet chided, but gently.

“I think it’s impossible to find her, anyway,” Steven muttered, slyly. “She’s a master at hide-and-seek.” The argument shut down abruptly, and Pearl uttered,

“Have you gone back to the forest? Steven!”

Oops. Steven began sweating, looking from the stoic gem back to the ruffled Pearl, her arms stained in mud. “Er, uh… no! That would be irresponsible. Heh-heh.”

Pearl shook her hands of the muck and hurried to Steven. But Garnet stepped forward and raised a hand.

“We’ll discuss this later,” Garnet grated. “For now, Steven.” She looked to the child. “Please stay put.” Those orders delivered, she motioned to Pearl and moved to the warp pad. Pearl followed. In a blinding zip of light, the two vanished.

In the meantime, Amethyst still loafed on the couch, or, sat on the cushions leaning forward. She waited for Steven to join, swaying her boots in the air. Steven climbed onto the seat beside her and sat, deflated and glum.

“She used her ‘you’re so grounded’ tone.”

“How are you even able to sneak onto the warp pad?” Amethyst queried.

Steven clamped his lips together. It took some effort to draw forth a lie. “I haven’t then, have I? Case closed!”

“Or did she manage to get through?” Amethyst stroked her chin – it was hard to tell, due to all the muck. “You haven’t by chance seen her lurking around? Plotting something di’bolical?”

“No!” Steven burst. “I couldn’t ge—” Amethyst gawked at him.

“What have you been—” Amethyst didn’t finish. Steven sprang off the couch and raced to the doorway, screaming his head off. A go to solution, when things overwhelmed him. “Wait! Steve!” Amethyst made an effort to follow and drag him back, but Steven was much faster than she gave credit for. He was already stumbling down the steps and sprinting across the beach.

Amethyst would have gone after him and hauled him back, but the warp pad. It was typical of her to ignore orders, but this was different. In the case of Spinel, she wouldn’t risk it.

Out across the fields, Steven was still screaming as he raced across the border of Beach City, until he reached the It’s a Wash.

“Hey, sorry!” Greg called, from within the inner chamber of the carwash, “gimmie a sec, and I’ll grab the trusty bucket’o suds.”

“Dad! It’s me!” Steven hurried to the entrance of the carwash scrub chamber, and cautiously peered inside. It still gave him the creeps since his experience with the cat final form. Eek.

“Shtuball? Eeh!” Greg wobbled on the ladder. He worked with a wrench, adjusting the screw on one of the large brushes. “Come all the way over yonder to see your old man? I appreciate that.”

“Yeah. Kinda needed a break and some space.” Steven managed to catch his breath. He glanced back toward the rising gradient of the beach point, and the remaining arms of the temple guardian. “Not much going on, aside from a lot of board games. Oh, and Amethyst might come by for a deep scrub.”

“Eek,” Greg groaned. “Have her hose off first. It took ages to flush the grates after the blood blorp, whatever that was, yuck!”

“It won’t be that bad. She just fell into some mud.” He debated, twiddling his thumbs. “Some thick, magic mud.”

Greg gave Steven a no-nonsense look. “Yep. Have her hose off before I slot her in. Not gonna fool with that.” He banged around a bit, and wrestled around with the tool box set on the platform of the ladder. “Anything else on your mind? The Fryman mentioned you’ve missed swinging by for your daily quota of them bits.”

“I have, haven’t I?” He loved the bits. They were one of the best parts of his daily routine. “Homes been a lil weird with the gems. They’ve been ultra-protective, and I think I’ve messed things up again.”

“Uh-oh.” Greg ceased his work and carefully stepped off the ladder. He took a rag from the tool box and wiped some of the soap goo from his hands. “You need to spend the night with me? If you need space, I can sack it up in the office.”

“I don’t think so. They get a tiny bit upset if I’m out of sight for too long.”

Now Greg looked anxious. He tossed the rag aside and approached his son. “This sounds a little more serious than the usual, Sthu. You sure everything’s all right?”

Steven nodded. “Um… yeah. Pretty sure.” He looked up at his father, and the somewhat expectant but patient gaze offered. “Er, would you by chance know a gem called Spinel?” Now that look of adoration and apprehension flipped to utter panic. Oh, so he did know Spinel. She wasn’t lying.

“WHAT! Spinel’s loose? I thought they caught her! What gives?”

Steven blinked, alarmed but more upset by his father’s cold terror. “No…?” Greg hoisted Steven under arm and sprinted to the van, he leapt inside and slammed the doors. Shoot. “Are you okay?

“I should ask you that!” Greg stammered. “What happened? Did she hurt you? Talk to me, Steven! Why the heck would they get you involved with her?”

“They didn’t know!” Steven spat. He shrugged out of Greg’s grip and stood back. “They had no idea she was there!”

“But how could they not know?” Greg rebuked. “How’d she get out? They told me she was dealt with! That’s what they do with those monsters, they bubble them and lock ‘em away! Who let her out! Why?”

“She’s. Not! A. MONSTER!” Greg gawked, stunned and a little misty. Steven felt the same way. All these secrets, all the precaution. No one told him why. They said they were protecting him, but he was also scared. They made him scared of something he didn’t understand.

“They keep saying she’s horrible, and that she’s dangerous! She hasn’t done anything. Really!” Steven rubbed his eyes. “All I did was fall asleep. I was bored! But they won’t leave her alone, and I think… being lonely and chased around the forest is really messing with her. Dad! She said the knew me! She knew you! You knew her, right! What’s going on?!” He threw his arms high, panting. “Please.”

Greg softened and deflated a bit on his seat. “Aw, Steven. I’m sorry for wigging out on you. I… it’s just, she’s bad news. You gotta believe me.”

“Why? Garnet said, she was hurt and broken! Why can’t we try and help her! If we can, we should! She’s not all bad.” He clenched his fists and began quaking. “You were once friends. Why did that stop?”

“Ah… uh,” Greg dawdled, scratching the back of his neck. Steven got his directness and confidence from Rose, for certain. Sometimes, it ached a bit to see how much he was like her. “Did Garnet mention how bad losing Rose was, for all them?”

“Yes!”

“Okay.” Greg picked up a crumpled shirt, and used it to dry Steven’s eyes. “The truth is, they’re afraid of her.”

“That’s not a good reason!” Steven barked. “Why?”

“Let me finish. Blow.” Steven blew his nose, and Greg tossed the shirt. “They’re afraid of her, because when— well. Let me see. She was badly upset, let’s start there. Badly upset, okay. For a while, the gems lost track of her. She’s good at hiding, getting around, that sort. And when she did come back, she kinda… she came for me, and… well, she uh… she didn’t come for a visit.” He fumbled, looking anywhere but at Steven. “She was upset, and wound up… hurting me. Physically. All around, I was… it wasn’t good. Not good at all.”

Steven felt everything click into place. The distrust, the anger. Betrayal. Everyone believed and trusted his mother, but they were losing her. They accepted it. This crushed Spinel.

“Did she hurt you bad? Did you have to wear a full body cast!?” Steven sniffled.

“No-no,” Greg was quick to assure. “Mostly scared the pi— pants, off me.” He chuckled, but it was uneasy and dejected. “But, I could tell she was hurting something bad too. I don’t know why she did it, and I doubt she really knew either. They endured a lot, while Rose and I were waiting for you. And that’s why they’re afraid of her. I’m guessin’ they don’t know what she might do, or if it is safe to let this be. I’m sure they don’t want to fight Spinel, and to be honest, I don’t want her hurt either. I think it was worse seeing her that way… after all,eh….” Greg let his words escape.

“They could leave her alone,” Steven asserted. “She seemed… sad. I don’t know. I think she really wants to be left alone. If she’s really sorry, that means she doesn’t want to come back.” That meant, maybe she didn’t want to see him either.

Greg nodded. “The gems tried that. Once. Gave her space, gave her distance.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Look, I don’t get involved with their business, unless that business involves you.” He pulled Steven up onto his lap and gave him a tight hug. “Leave the danger and life-threatening missions to the pros. They know what they’re doing. They’re trying their best, for your sake.”

“I know,” Steven grumbled. “But Spinel seemed really nice.”

“Nice?” Greg squawked.

“And she must’ve really loved mom.” He returned Greg’s hug. “It wasn’t her fault she broke. It happens, right? People break. It made her do something bad, and that made everything worse. Now she’s all alone, with no friends. No home. It shouldn’t be that way.”

“I know, Sthuball. I know.” He pulled Steven back and looked him in the face. “If you want, I can tell you some stuff about her. She was… actually really on board with Rose and I. Totally shipped us.”

Steven mumbled, still gloomy but it felt good to talk. And cry. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

“On one condition.” Greg held up a finger. “You leave the nope rope to the Crystal Gems. It sounds like she got ahold of you, somehow.” Steven nodded. “I’m glad she’s sort of cooled off. I wish they’d come here and given me a warning. At least, an update on how you’re holding together.”

“They’re freaked out, too.”

Greg grumbled something, which Steven didn’t catch. After a while, they opened the doors and let in some fresh air. Greg remained somewhat skittish, glancing around the roof buildings and patches of grass. For Steven, it felt good to know the reasons behind the Crystal Gems behavior, yet all along, he was hoping they’d been blowing the encounter out of proportion. Occasionally, they were known for that. It brought on new feelings of conflict for the gem, and her ill-begotten history with his family. He wanted to ask his dad more about this encounter, but recognized the uneasiness in Greg’s quick glances around the nearby field. It was kind of the same way he looked at Amethyst, but more on edge and spooked.

He felt bad for defending Spinel.

#steven universe #su #su the movie #spinel #steven fanfic #steven fanfiction #spinel fanfiction #greg fanfic #greg universe #greg fanfiction #garnet fanfic #pearl fanfic #amythest fanfic #amythest fanfiction #garnet fanfiction #pearl fanfiction

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platypan · 5 years

Text

Strangest 6/?

In the wake of the Demogorgon, Steve is absolutely normal, relaxed, and fine in every way, though he has started keeping track of actions in his life a responsible adult would probably kill him for. One of those recurring actions is letting Billy Hargrove take over the corner of his couch.

Steve stumbled back from the door to the garage, waved aside the general shape of Max, and grabbed the doorknob to the bathroom. The door didn’t quite latch behind him, but he rattled around with the hook clasp until it caught, and sank down against the wall. If the room is gonna to whirl so much around me, he thought, maybe I shoulda staggered closer to the toilet.

On the other hand, sitting next to the door put him about four feet from the door to the garage, where over and around the sounds of his own pounding heart he could hear Max hissing at Billy through the door. It was a nice reminder that although he had brought someone into his house who threatened a child to make a point, she was okay. Billy hadn’t actually burned her neck. Billy Hargrove, he groaned into his arms, the person I was using to tell myself no kids were in danger. He didn’t actually hurt a kid to fuck with me, he just made it clear he...might.

“That’s all,” he yanked his shirt over his head, wiping the sweat off his face with it, and let himself slump to his side against the door. The painted wood felt cool and good against his shoulder. “That’s all he did. How could I have known, right, the dude that almost beat my face in. He beat some of his own stupid into my face,” he mumbled, listening to Max pounding on the door to the garage. Glad she doesn’t have a cigarette burn on her neck now, he huffed a laugh. Hope she doesn’t have cigarette burns anywhere else.

His hands shook, and he clenched them together, trying to breathe slowly. “I-I know she’s afraid of him,” he leaned his head back against the wall, his vision blurring. “I know she’s afraid of him. And I fucking brought him in here. He attacked Lucas, he tried to hurt Max, he’s a--he’s a fucking grenade. He’s a land mine that I brought in my house.”

This is why Nancy’s too smart for me. She probably saw this bullshit coming a mile away. “My bullshit,” he snorted, feeling his lungs seize, and braced himself between the door and wall, as it felt like it was spinning away from him. “Because I’m bullshit, she’s right, I’m bullshit.”

His breath wheezed through his teeth, and he muffled the noise with his sleeves. “Fuck, Billy, what the fuck.” He let his head thud back against the wall, and resisted the urge to do a Billy, and thump it a few more times. Sure isn’t helping his head any. He concentrated on the burning pain in his lungs, and eyes, and tried to breathe. Billy still hadn’t responded to Max--he could hear her banging get louder, the rhythm a little slower than the blood pounding in his ears. “Shit,” he mumbled into his sleeves. “Shit. Shit. Bullshit. Bullfuckingbullshitbastardfuckheadshitface.”

He leaned there for a long time, letting his brain haze out. For once he welcomed the way his vision swayed, and particles fell from the ceiling, and imaginary blue mist rose from the floor. He could smell the earth of the tunnels again, and the metallic mud where blood had soaked in the ground.

It felt like hours later when Steve finally stomped out, grabbed a plate, and thumped one of Nancy’s nasty vanilla candles in the middle of it. Max was sitting at the kitchen table writing out columns of math, her left hand clenched around her skateboard, and her foot tapping at the ground. She glanced up, but kept her head lowered. “That candle smells like shit clear over here,” she said hoarsely.

“At least it doesn’t smell like the Upside-Down,” he leaned back, folding his arms, and she barked with laughter, leaning against the table.

He couldn’t tell whether she was laughing or crying with her hand over her face, but her voice when she finally said “Light it, then,” was thick-sounding and wet.

He reached over and rattled around in the drawer of flashlights, clothespins, rubber bands, and, apparently, easter egg colors, and found the matches. “Want me to take you home?”

At that, she shoved back from the table and stomped in a circle around the kitchen, drawing shaky breaths, and wiping her eyes and nose on her sleeves, before dropping back in her seat. “I, uh. I let Billy out.” Her voice was husky. “He’s home by now.”

Steve clonked the plate down on the table. “Shit. Damn it. He went home?”

“Yeah, he fucking went home!” she shoved the table at him, and he grunted as the leg of it slammed into his knee. “You left me in here! You--” she smacked her hands on the table. “You grabbed him and threw him and fucking locked him in there! We thought you were calling Neil, until you--” she waved a hand, “--stumbled off to the bathroom like a goddamn drunk. The hell is going on, asshole!?”

“I have no fucking clue,” he winced, rubbing his knee, and took a shaky breath. His lungs seemed to have showed up for their shift, so that was something, anyway. “He just--he came over to make bread and he--he’s out of his goddamn mind, I don’t--I don’t even care, come on, we gotta go get him back.”

“What the fuck do you mean, get him back?!” She followed him to the hook where he hung his keys. “Don’t give me that crap, what the hell were you fighting about?! You--you didn’t get that mad at him lighting up in your house. You--if you’re gonna fucking--if you’re taking your bat, I’ll walk.” She bit her lips together, and her grip tightened on the edge of her skateboard where her hand had been resting. “I don’t wanna watch you get your--revenge, or whatever, come on, Steve, nobody got hurt.”

“Fuck,” he watched her set jaw, and red eyes, and swallowed. “...no, that’s--it doesn’t ma--I mean, come on. We can yell in the car, Max, I’m not trying to--I’m not bringing--” he waved his empty hands. “--I’ll be mad at him when he’s not around his dad, I can’t be mad at him if he might be getting his face broken.”

“I’ll--I’ll come, I guess,” she grabbed a paper towel and blew her nose. “If--if you’re not gonna--do anything. Like that. But tell me what he fucking did.”

“He, uh. He was fucking with me. By threatening you.”

“What.” She kicked the table again. “What?! What in the hell. Damn it. Fucking. Fuckhead. What the fuck. So what, he--” her homework crumpled as she shoved it in her bag, then shoved her books in on top.

“I’d told him he couldn’t--if he was--if we were--” Steve pulled his coat on, waving around, then at himself. “Just leave my goddamn kids alone, fucking christ. Just leave ‘em the fuck alone.”

“That didn’t even make sense.” she accepted a Ziploc for her bread, breathing slowly, and wiped her eyes. “What, that was your deal, he could stay here and do--” she waved a hand, wrinkling her nose, “--whatever, and he wasn’t supposed to hurt us, and he managed to fuck that up? The fuck, Billy.”

“How the hell do I know,” Steve ran his fingers through his hair. “He was--he was fucked up all day, but usually like. If he wants to fight he just--” he waved a hand. “He just does. I thought he was doing better, I’m so goddamn--” he took a breath as shaky as hers. “I’m so fucking sorry, Max. Shit. I--I didn’t mean--”

“Shut up. Shut the hell up, Steve, we’re mad at Billy.”

“Yeah, but I brought him home. To my house, where a bunch of fucking middle-schoolers come to feel safe.”

“Yeah, that’s probably why he wanted to be here,” she sidled closer, punching his shoulder. “You and your hot chocolate and blankets. You did a fucking nice thing and the asshole shit on it. That’s what he fucking does. He’s a fucking piece of shit, everyone knows this.”

Steve nodded, blowing out the candle. “...jesus, that reeks.” He opened the door to the garage for her, glancing around to see what kinda of wreckage he had to clean up. It looked suspiciously tidy. “It smells as shitty as Billy,” she growled, and he snickered.

“Sometimes he’s worse.”

“Because he’s shitty.” She waited for him to open the car door, nearly crushing the bread in her grip before he tapped her hand to remind her.

“...yeah.” Steve sighed. “Yeah, he really is.”

As he drove Max home, and listened to her saying she was fine, it didn’t make any difference to her, he tried to think. “I don’t know whether to tell anyone.”

“What,” she looked over.

“I mean, what if Neil’s actually gonna kill him. He needs someplace to go, and. I mean, nobody trusts him anyway--”

“You’re still gonna--what? Pull the hell over, Steve, what’s--you just wanna yell at him, or--”

He did, leaning his head against the steering wheel.

“He threatens me all the goddamn time, so--” her fingers on the bread pan were turning white. “Steve. Did he hit you in the bathroom?”

“No! No! He hit the wall. He flipped out and punched the wall.”

She let her head fall back against the seat, closing her eyes. “Something, anyway.”

“Shit. I just want him--I don’t want him here, but like--I don’t want him, want him--”

She groaned. “Christ, leave me out of it, if you’re gonna have, like, make-up sex, I don’t wanna know--”

“No! No. I don’t want--I just don’t--I don’t wanna say the wrong thing and make him worse--”

“You can’t fucking make him worse, you fucking moron,” she punched his leg. “You saying you don’t want me to say anything to anyone? You want me to keep a secret so Billy doesn’t get butthurt that everybody knows he’s exactly like he damn well is.”

“Noooo,” Steve groaned into his arms.

“Fine. I won’t tell anybody.” She swallowed. “Take me the fuck home, asshole.”

“I’m not saying--Max. Just--go ahead and tell people he’s a shithead. Just maybe don’t...tell them he was doing it at me? I don’t want, like, Dustin or Nancy trying to--”

“Ohhhh,” her eyes widened. “Christ. Yeah. They’d fucking. Dustin would die. You could just have Nancy shoot him in the dick, though. Nobody’d think it was her fault.”

“I don’t want him to get shot.”

Max was cackling. “Fight of the exes! Fight! Fight!”

“I’m taking you the fuck home.” He pulled back onto the street, his lungs feeling a little less weighted. “Thanks, Max.”

“...what’s one more secret,” she grunted.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “You can come over too, y’know. Bring Lucas. Watch a movie, I’ll--I’ll haul Billy upstairs to do homework.”

“Gross. ...you offering some kinda big brother trade-in?” she punched him again, in the apparently universal incomprehensible Hargrove language of knuckles. “Same number of years on you.”

“Less mileage, maybe. Ow.”

“You’re so weird--ew, wait, am I Dustin’s sister now?”

“Yeah.” He smirked over. “Welcome to the family.”

“Ew, then is Billy your brother then? Gross, Steve.”

“Oh no, you’re right!” he clapped his hands to his face, then grabbed the wheel again. “The babies we won’t have will have three heads!”

She cackled. “Make Billy carry them around. Like a possum.”

“He’d probably drop them.”

“Oh no, your dickbabies!” she echoed, snickering. “I am gonna hurl, shit. Three heads. Too much fucking screaming.” It wasn’t even funny, really, but as he pulled close to their block, slowing in trepidation, they were both smiling. “Steve, wait,” Max smacked his arm. “Stop. Let me out here.”

He pulled over again, frowning over. “We gonna walk in the snow?”

“He’s already seen your car a couple times and talked to you on the phone, let’s get out here, or he’ll want to talk--what’d he say on the phone, anyway? You sounded like a robot.”

Steve sighed, gripping the steering wheel. “Probably the usual bullshit. Billy’s worthless and if I talk to him I’ll end up in jail. Did he like...get arrested or something? In California? Why’d you have to leave?”

“Well he’s Billy.” She snorted. “So probably. Neil hates California, though,” she put on a growly voice, “‘Everyone there only wants money and sex!’ Hawkins, Indiana is a ‘traditional American town full of hard working people.’ I guess Billy was going out a lot, like, getting phone calls? Neil never lets people talk to him here, hardly. I don’t know.” She kicked the floor mat.

“...he’s not allowed to use the phone?”

“I mean, he can use it, but Neil always wants to know who he’s talking to, and he’ll grab it away from Billy and talk to them, and if somebody calls for Billy he usually tells them not to call again and hangs up.”

Steve felt his fury rising again, and blew out a slow breath. “How the hell is he supposed to get a job, then.”

“Who’d want him,” she opened her door, and he opened his, stepping out into the snow with a deep breath.

“Yeah, but you don’t know anything he actually did? He didn’t have a parole officer, or anything?”

“Mostly he just acts like an asshole all the time,” she rolled her eyes. “He’s not the mafia, Steve. So. What are we doing. You’re gonna call him out?”

“...not sure if I want your dad to notice.”

“He won’t care, he doesn’t want him having friends anyway, go ahead and scream your head off.”

“No, I’m--I’m not--” Steve stared at her. “I don’t wanna fight him. I just want him to come back.”

“Okaaaaay,” she was squinting at him. “Why, though? I mean, you could get him alone later. Like, at school?”

“Your dad might actually fight him,” he hissed, flailing. “You saw what he was like tonight!”

“No,” she frowned, biting her lips. “They don’t fight, really, I mean he just kinda dishes out, and Billy takes it--”

“Jesus god fucking bastard,” he spun around, tromping towards their house, and nearly slid off the sidewalk on a patch of ice. “Send him outside when you get back.”

“...he’s not gonna listen to me, what--”

“How do I get him out here,” Steve stopped, facing her.

“You locked him in the garage,” she had her eyes narrowed. “Tell me what the fuck is going on, or I’m not helping.”

“Do you seriously think I’m more dangerous than his dad,” Steve flailed. “I just pushed him in the garage, I didn’t hurt him!”

“You’re mad at him! Neil won’t even notice him at this time of night! He’ll go to school tomorrow! It doesn’t fucking matter--what’d he even do--”

“He f--he almost burned your goddamn neck off,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, swallowing. “I--I got him away from you, and the--then I had to go--breathe. For--just--help me get him. Out of there.”

“Jesus, Steve, breathe,” she squeezed his elbow, eyes wide. “Damn, Steve. Go home. Don’t just shake your head, go--he’s fine, he’s been okay for years--”

“He’s not okay,” Steve rubbed his face, taking deep breaths. “He’s an alcoholic asshole bag of shit, but I am taking him home. Help me. How am I--doing that.”

“Go around and bang on his window,” she set her shoulders. “I’ll keep everybody talking in the kitchen. Get him to climb out. Just--tell him you’ll tell on him if he doesn’t,” she shrugged. “He’ll come.”

“...I don’t want to tell him that,” Steve grimaced.

As they walked closer, Max lifted her head like a bird dog, and then Steve heard it--he wasn’t familiar with the guitar riff, but it definitely sounded like Billy’s music. “Well, that’ll make it so he can’t hear you, but I dunno how Billy’s gonna hear you either.” Steve nodded, and she shoved him onward. “Go get him. Blessings, I guess, I sure don’t want him back. No returns.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Oh. Max, you got a ride in the morning?”

“...I can just walk, there’s not that much snow. But--I’ll call, if--if anything.” He nodded, and she took a deep breath. “Uh, Steve. Thanks. For getting so mad. For me. And.” She stopped there, glaring at her bread, and he reached over to do a gentle push at her shoulder with his fist.

“Weak,” she snorted, and turned towards the front door, juggling her pack, skateboard, and bread through the snow.

Steve crunched around the back of the house, feeling a bit like he was on patrol, and watching for shadows in the darkness. The sides of the Hargrove house were somewhat lit by the neighbors, but he followed the music around to the back, and there was the forest. Even knowing nothing had happened, Steve took a deep breath of relief when he saw Billy’s window set in the hill, a bit higher up off the ground--not that demodogs couldn’t climb a bit, but at least they couldn’t casually hiss against the glass. And after tonight, Billy wouldn’t be sleeping in there, and it wouldn’t matter. He hoped Max was the window set next to it, and not one of the ones around the front, where anything could just smash in, no effort required. I hope if something does, it eats Neil Hargrove.

Behind the snowy windowsill, the light in Billy’s room was glistening off his muscles as he lifted weights, and Steve stared for a long second, licking his lips. The song was blasting about somebody who was only seventeen, and Steve braced himself.

He ran scared, he reminded himself, jogging in place, and blowing on his fingers. Sorry, Nancy, Hopper. Finally get rid of the asshole that tried to murder me with fists, and here am trying to talk him back in. He hadn’t considered his idiocy murder tally in a while, and he tried not to. His dad wants him to die. He blew through his cheeks. I’m here because his dad wants him to die.

At least ten on the deserving-of-a-mercy-killing-by-smart-people tally today, he figured, giving himself three for staying in the restaurant bathroom after Billy chucked a bottle at his head, two for not calling Hopper when he had Billy locked safely in the garage, and a generous five for driving over and standing under his window, planning to convince him to come back and wreck more of his house.

When Steve tossed a snowball at his window, a dumbbell crashed to the floor. He cringed, but tossed another one, and Billy came to the window. He was yelling something over his shoulder, but he looked freshly showered and un-made-up. He squinted out the window, and Steve grabbed another handful of snow, throwing it while it was still mostly fluff, so it sprinkled the window more than thumping it. Billy stood, frowning down, long enough that Steve bent and hucked another snowball.

When the snow fell away from the glass, Billy was gone. The music got quieter, and he came back and threw the sash up. “Hey, King Steve,” he folded his arms on the sill, leaning awkwardly under the wood with his back bent. His cigarette hand was shaking.

“God. Are you okay? Climb out and come back,” Steve stage-whispered up.

“The fuck would I do that?” Billy glanced over his shoulder, taking a long drag on his cigarette. “You said we’re done.” His eyes were red, and his hands shook, and Steve wondered if he was still cold from his trek through the snow, after Max had thought Steve was more of a danger than their dad.

“Yeah, done fucking,” Steve hissed up. “I’m not sucking face with somebody that’d hurt a kid, jesus, you fuckhead.”

“I didn’t,” Billy rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, what if she’d stepped back, asshole. Get your ass back in my house so I can be mad at you.”

“The hell does that mean?” Billy crouched, rubbing his arms.

“I can’t fucking be mad at you if I’m afraid he’s gonna--hit you with something!” Steve waved towards himself. “Come the fuck on. Come back and drink hot chocolate and we’ll--we’ll figure this out, come on.”

“--figure what out,” Billy leaned further out, shirtless and shivering. His cigarette fell, and he told either it or Steve to fuck themselves, and dug out a new one.

“Christ, put a shirt on, it’s freezing. Throw me a bag, man, pack some clothes, come on.”

“...you want me to come back with you why?” Billy hugged his arms, leaning his chin on the windowsill, and looked about twelve years old. Steve wondered if his dad had hit him then, too.

“I can’t be mad at you until I know you’re safe,” he blew on his hands. “You’re not safe here--”

“You’re the one who’s pissed off,” Billy snorted. “Marched me out of that bathroom like there was a firing squad.”

“...after we made out for like ten minutes,” Steve frowned up, then around. “I wasn’t that mad.” Was I even mad? He’s like a natural disaster, I don’t even think to get mad, I’m just counting the sandbags and bottled water. I’m not even--“God, you’re exhausting. You guys should have a garden chair or something out here.”

“...it’d be covered in snow,” Billy hissed back, leaning further out. “If you’re cold, go home, idiot.”

“I’m the idiot? Get a blanket or something, asshole, there’s snow on the ground, if you didn’t notice. Your arms are in the snow.”

“There’s some stranger in my yard trying to get me to run away with him,” Billy leaned away, then came back, pulling on a sweatshirt. He brushed the snow off the windowsill.

“You should definitely go with the stranger,” Steve called up, wishing Neil Hargrove was away, so he could actually yell. Or climb in, and drag him out the door. “The stranger has candy, and he’s getting really fucking cold--”

Billy glanced over his shoulder, smacking his hand over a laugh at Steve’s shivery growl.

“Come on, Hargrove. It’s the goddamn balcony scene, what are you waiting for, like a song, or a swordfight--” he spread his arms, feeling like he was challenging the other boy to a duel.

“Yeah, why is the most popular boy in school under my window,” Billy rested his chin on his arms. “You bring your bat?”

“No! No, swear to god, Hargrove, I’m not trying to--to trick you, or--I just--”

“Fuck off, Harrington, I’m not that fucking--impaired. I’m not coming down.”

Steve took a slow breath, rubbing his face. “It’s not a joke, to you, about the bat. Is it.”

Billy laughed, looking away. “It’s hilarious, the fuck do you mean. Nice guy Steve Harrington and his blood-soaked nailbat. Sounds like a kid’s book.”

Shit, he seriously thinks--“Kinda does,” Steve stomped his feet, face screwed up in thought. “Something Mike’s mom would read. ‘I will not hit you with the bat. I do not care where you are at,’” he smirked up, but paused, frowning at his hands. “Uh, ‘Do drugs, drunk drive, do this, do that, I will not hit you with that bat.’ ”

Billy stared at him for a long second, before making a noise that sounded like he might be starting to cry, but turned into cackling giggles. “That was so bad, christ, no wonder Nancy dumped your ass.”

“I know, right?” Steve wrinkled his nose, and blew into his hands. “Your dad is such a fucking asshole. Chill out, Hargrove, I’m not a serial killer. What if I leave it at Dustin’s house? Or Mrs. William’s.”

“...what?” Billy wiped his nose, frowning.

“You were scared of me all day,” Steve squinted toward the front of the house, trying to figure out how they got from Billy beating his skull in on the Byers’ floor to Billy flinching into the grocery store salsa display.

“Shut up, you were fucking pissed off all day,” Billy’s snickering had turned wet again. “The fuck did I even do, thought you were gonna slam my head in the fucking car door. I hadn’t even been a goddamn disgrace in the restaurant yet.”

“Jesus fuck, Hargrove,” Steve whispered.

“Didn’t know you’d be so pissed Max called. I coulda walked in, jesus--”

“Wait, what?” Steve bounced on his toes, rubbing his arms. “I wasn’t mad, that was fine. I’m trying to get your ass in my car right now, dude, I like it way better in there than--”

“You said you wanted to run my dad over,” Billy blew a smoke ring. “Fucking...wrong side of the bed this morning?”

“No,” Steve blinked up. “He was being an asshole. I wouldn’t actually run someone over, not unless he was like...shooting at people.”

“Like you didn’t hit anything with the bat,” Billy sighed, leaning his forehead on his arms, then waved the cigarette. “What’s the blood from, your royal majesty?”

“It wasn’t a person,” Steve almost rolled his eyes, then remembered Billy’s urgent whispers in the kitchen, asking to apologize, the way he kept insisting Steve had let his head fall against the bolt of his door, and Max’s shaky voice on the phone saying “I think he, uh. I--I think he slammed him into a few other things,” she’d said. “The tub makes a noise.” Steve rubbed his face. We showed him the bloody nail bat as a threat, and here I am, expecting him to know I’m different. “Okay, yeah, I gotta tell you, or you won’t know, right. Something got out of the Hawkins Lab--”

“Yeah, you said that,” Billy leaned out further, almost close enough for Steve to jump and grab his arm, yanking his legs into the sill, his body upside-down through the window, and dumping them in a tangle of limbs in the snow.

He elected not to grab for him. Billy’s got enough head trauma. “It wasn’t--they’re fucking hard to describe, the Scooby Squad calls them, uh, ‘demodogs’. Billy mouthed it, head warily cocked. “Like these--blue Chuck Norrises--but their heads open like fucking banana peels with teeth--”

“What,” Billy cocked his head, squinting.

“They did!” Steve heard how loud his own voice got and bit his lips, and they both listened for a long second. He dropped back to a stage whisper. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me--”

“I believe you believe it,” Billy took a long drag on his cigarette, eyes narrowed. “What’d the drugs do?”

“Drugs? I didn’t--”

“The shit you shot me up with. That help you see blue monsters?”

“That--that was a--that made you sleep, dipshit, I didn’t have any of that. Anyway, they were just wandering around, tunneling--”

“Tunneling,” Billy raised his eyebrows.

“All these goddamn tunnels, man, it was like huge--evil--maneating--gophers--”

“Oh my god,” Billy snorted into his arms. “Gophers, what the hell.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m not fucking--word wizard Billy Hargrove, shut up.” Billy’s head jerked up, cocked. “Anyway, they killed Nancy’s friend--Barbara Holland--and, oh, some hunters, Mrs. Williams’ dogs, Bob Newby--he ran the Radio Shack--”

“Holy fuck,” Billy’s mouth dropped open.

“Some police officers, some soldiers--” Steve resisted the urge to count on his fingers, watching Billy’s frown deepen. “--some techs from the lab--oh, Dustin’s cat--”

“...we’d have heard about it,” Billy sat back further inside, but kept his eyes fixed on Steve’s.

“Well, I mean, everybody did, they just weren’t real specific about what happened. Exactly.”

Billy leaned away to rummage around, returning with another cigarette. “Exactly?”

“Yeah, they said something leaked into the ground, a chemical leak. An asphyxiant. Lots of closed-casket funerals.”

“Some kinda hallucinogen,” Billy rolled his eyes. “On lab specimens? Like...dogs? Or something? Apes? Something big.”

“This is why I didn’t wanna tell you,” a droplet of icy water rolled off the gutter and down the back of Steve’s ear, and his shivers turned into a full-body shudder. “Fucking hell.”

“--and in the middle of all this bullshit,” Billy paused to light up from his stub, “--you were at the Byers house, with a--with a fucking bat, and a bunch of kids, and--and ‘monsters’ everywhere?! Who the fuck are their parents? A bat? Doesn’t anyone in this shithole town have a gun?!” he stood, and stomped away from the window, then clomped back to flick the stub of his cigarette at Steve. Not being very aerodynamic, it missed by several feet. “A fucking bat, they gave you.”

“Don’t fall out the window,” Steve snorted. “Uh,” he bit his lips together, taking a deep breath, and considered how to explain Eleven. Billy raised his eyebrows.

“Gonna lie now?”

“No. No, just--they were all trying to get rid of--there’s just a lot, shit. They were luring them away from us.”

“‘Luring them,’” Billy repeated, “Where?”

“Back to the lab. They had a way to kill them--”

“Better than a baseball bat,” Billy ran his fingers through his hair, sighing. “What the hell was the syringe about, then.”

“Oh,” Steve cringed. “That was for Will. He was really sick, like, hallucinating, he drew all those pictures everywhere.”

Billy rubbed his shoulder. “You shot me up with some...medicine?”

“We doped you up with what we had to knock him out,” Steve accepted the blame for Max’s syringe-grab. “Saved my life, probably, you shithead. Come on.”

“Probably thought I was King Kong that whole time,” Billy stared down at him. “What, that’s all I get?”

“I’ll answer all the questions you want when I’m not kinda afraid your dad will walk in and do--whatever you thought I was gonna do, christ. Come on, Hargrove,” he unclenched his hands to beckon. “More horrified than mad, here.”

“...you drove over to get me back in your car ‘cause you’re worried,” Billy raised an eyebrow, snorting.

“Look, you’re--you’re a goddamn human--person--being, I can’t just leave you for him to--whatever, christ. I had to let you out of the trunk, I couldn’t let you drive away drunk, and I can’t let him--the hell did you think I was gonna do, anyway?”

“Like I know,” Billy huffed, leaning his head against the window frame. “Wouldn’t let me apologize. Thought I might as well get it out of you with Max there.”

“What,” Steve walked up to lean back against the side of the house, and closed his eyes, pressing his hand hard across them until he saw lights.

“You wouldn’t wanna scare Max,” Billy’s voice came from above. “Hardly gonna cave my skull in with Max there. You don’t wanna scare kids.”

“You thought I was mad this morning, so as soon as she was gone, you got out of the car and ran,” Steve said slowly, feeling like he was in one of those airplane safety videos, waiting for the oxygen mask to drop, only his was defective. Maybe I’ll get sucked out of the plane.

“Harrington. Shit,” there was a knock against the wall over his head. “I had my fingers between her and the cigarette. She was fine, fuck, Steve, come on.” Steve looked up to see Billy’s hand flat against the siding, a couple inches above his head. He reached up and held his next to it, and Billy took a shaky breath. “...don’t just yank me out. Break my fucking neck.”

“I won’t,” Steve waggled his fingers, and let his eyes fall shut again at the feeling of Billy’s warm calluses against his nearly-frozen hands. He squeezed.

“Christ, you’re gonna get hypothermia,” Billy mumbled.

“Standing in the snow ‘cause some stupid asshole took Stranger Danger to heart,” Steve let his head fall against the siding. “Come back, okay?”

Billy yanked his hand away at the sound of a knock, and Steve smacked the side of the house, stepping away to see inside.

“Come on, come on,” he hissed, and Billy frowned at him, glancing between him and the sound. The door creaked.

“What the hell, you didn’t go? Jesus fuck,” Max slammed the door again, and Billy yelled after her to get the hell out, then came to the window again, rubbing his face.

“So you...you fucking told Max you’d get me to leave.”

“She knows I’m trying,” Steve rubbed his arms, stomping his cold feet. “She’s supposed to be keeping them in the kitchen, but she probably thought one of us would give up by now.”

“She’s--she’s a goddamn--I’m fucking allowed to live here too,” Billy bared his teeth. “He drug me here all the way from California. Until I can get a job, I have to live here, she can’t--” he stomped away.

““...Hargrove. Come to my place,” Steve whispered back. After a few seconds, he threw another snowball, and heard muttered swearing from inside. “Billy. You know you don’t wanna be here, throw your school shit out. Pack some clothes.”

“What, as a favor to Max? Get her dumbshit drunk brother…” he disappeared again, and Steve leaned under the window, whispering his name. After a long four minutes of silence, Billy stuck his head out again. “Fine. I’ll--I’ll disappear. Fine. Fucking--whatever, I’ll go--I’ll find a fucking way back to California. Just a goddamn minute.”

“Hey, Max didn’t ask me to get you.” Steve waited, and caught the bookbag before it dumped over in the snow.

“Then it’s to fucking protect her, isn’t it,” Billy leaned his head out to snarl. He tossed his gym bag, and peeled out of his sweatshirt to toss it down too. “From the fucking--fucking rabid dog,” he laughed unevenly, lifting the sash further to swing a leg out the window. “Gonna take me out to the corn crib and shoot me in the head?”

“Jesus.” Steve grimaced up at Billy’s grin. “I’m taking you somewhere safe because you think worrying about that shit is normal. The fuck are you doing? Put a shirt on.” He shook out the sweatshirt, waiting for Billy to stop watching him and decide.

After grabbing a skinny little tank top and yanking it over his head, Billy finally got his other leg out the window, tight jeans flexing over his ass as he lowered himself quietly from the sill and dropped. He smacked a hand into Steve as the snow gave way unevenly, then jerked back, crossing his arms. Steve drug his gaze up from the jeans to the naked shoulders and biceps, swallowed, and cleared his throat. The snow crunched under their sneakers, in a small cloud of panted breath. Billy stood in the snow, the reflected light from the streetlights gilding his hair and biceps, and Steve stepped in close.

“You look okay. Are you hurt--worse?”

“The fuck are you doing,” Billy allowed himself to be turned around, but his skin was rapidly reddening as Steve ran fingers along his side, then over his shoulder, looking for new bruises.

Steve reached up and tucked the soft curls back again, narrowing his eyes at the bruises he’d seen after gym, in the shower. He ran his thumb along the marks Neil’s fingers had left, and Billy licked his lips. “Did he hit you some more? Did anything happen? Shit, you’re bright red, come on, why didn’t you keep your shirt on,” Steve handed him the sweatshirt, and zipped it up when Billy left it open. “C’mon, man. You’re gonna freeze solid.”

“Shut up,” Billy said hoarsely, and Steve handed over the gym bag.

“If you freeze solid, I will flip my shit again,” Steve grabbed his hand again, tugging him along back to the car. “I’ll carry your icicle back and throw you in a hot tub and then yell at you, so help me god.”

Billy snorted, but allowed himself to be drug along.

At the car, Steve had to let go of his hand, and Billy raised his eyebrows at the hesitation. “...seriously thought you might be dead, Hargrove,” he let go. “...you’re such a fuckhead I want to keep track of you--get in the car before your dad brings his--chainsaw, or something.” Once they tossed his shit in the back seat, and Steve had the heat cranked, he looked over again. “You look about the same,” he set his jaw. “You okay? He didn’t do anything before I got here?”

“The fuck do you care?” Billy curled away from him, leaning his head against the window. “Talked to him long enough earlier. Tell him about Max, he’ll fuck me up for you.”

“...cared enough to come chase you down, you fucking...dickhead,” Steve held his hand over the heating vents on Billy’s side, and cranked them open, turning the heat on full. “I can’t--shit. I had to get your ass back and--I’m so--I’m so fucking sorry about. Everything. Shit.” He took a long, shuddering breath, and he saw Billy’s dark gaze fasten on him in the light of passing cars.

“What. What the hell are you sorry for.”

“Sorry. You--you fucking told me. You kept saying you were gonna get beat, I saw you covered in glass from that cooking sherry--he fucking--he broke a bottle over your head?”

“The hell do you wanna hear,” Billy hunched in his hoodie.

“I guess,” Steve waited to turn his headlights on until he’d turned the car around, “I just--there’s a lot going on, with me, I didn’t--you punch shit all the time, you punch me--”

“Look, you win, I’m fucking leaving already, what do you want,” Billy rolled his head against the headrest, blinking rapidly at the ceiling.

“No! No, I’m just saying, Max is punchy! You--you fucking punch each other--I didn’t get it. I didn’t know he said that shit to you, he doesn’t let you use the phone--you’re really fine?”

“He lets me use the phone,” Billy muttered.

“Yeah?” Steve raised his eyebrows, and Billy looked away to watch the road, biting his lips.

When they pulled into Steve’s garage, Billy grabbed his stuff, swearing under his breath. The house smelled of gross bathroom candle and fresh bread. Billy frowned around, wrinkling his nose, and flinched back as Steve grabbed his hand again, leading him up to the other bedroom. The door opened on a king-size fourposter with a fluffy, flowered down comforter and matching walls, and Billy stopped in the doorway, dragging on Steve’s hand.

“I can’t sleep here.”

“Sure you can,” Steve let him go, threw open the empty closet, and yanked on a few drawers in the matching dressers, ignoring Billy’s quizzical glare. “Once we get your car fixed, you can bring your shit here until you get things figured out.” He pointed to the beige rotary phone. “It’s a different line, you can use that number for job stuff...IIII need to remember to make a phone call.”

“Until you throw me out, you mean,” Billy snorted.

Steve scrabbled at his hair. “I’m--I’m still fucking pissed. You’re--you’re an asshole, you were screaming at me in my kitchen earlier, you--” he took a deep breath, “--all that--happened. But I’m kinda...more pissed off you thought you were gonna fucking die, you thought I was gonna kill you or something because--” he cocked his head, frowning. “I don’t even know, dude. He’s got you convinced nobody’s safe. But you can stay as long as you want.”

“Oh, sure,” Billy stepped closer to the bed, frowning around, and crossed his arms.

“No, I’m serious,” Steve flicked the latch at the top of the door. “Look, it locks from in here. If you’re freaked out about something, I can’t get in. Nobody can get in.”

“I mean, you could break the door,” Billy pointed out, but he sat cautiously on the bed, listening. The comforter poofed up around him, smelling like flowers, and a bit like dust.

“Okay,” Steve frowned around. “You’d hear it, though. You could...lock yourself in the bathroom, or go out the window and drop down.”

“...spend a lot of time planning escape routes from your house?” Billy raised his eyebrows, and Steve dropped next to him, huffing a laugh, and groaning into his hands.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ do, actually--oh,” he waved down. “Mind if I sit down?”

“...nooo,” Billy squinted at him. “It’s your--”

“Your room.”

“Really not.”

“Really is.” Steve fell backwards across the bed with a pwoof of comforter, groaned, and reached over to prod at Billy’s elbow.

Billy leaned back alongside him, turning on his side to prop his head up with his hand and watch Steve. “Thanks for adjusting your schedule,” Steve sighed. “I couldn’t’ve slept knowing you were back there.”

“You don’t anyway,” Billy shrugged.

“And I’d have gotten really cold yelling at your window all night. Sorry I wasn’t really--paying attention,” Steve frowned at the ceiling, then looked over. “Okay, you keep talking about rules and what I want. I want my shitheads to be safe.”

“Yeah, I fucking get it,” Billy growled, tugging at his earring.

“I’ll tell ‘em to leave me alone while you’re here. I can hang out other places.”

“What? I’m not a fucking--junkyard dog.” Billy pushed himself up, glowering.

“I can’t trust you, Hargrove,” Steve rubbed his face, groaning. “I’ve got no fucking clue what you’ll do. You don’t have any goddamn idea yourself! Shouldn’t have tried the first time, holy shit, Steve, you fucking moron. Hopper said he didn’t much like you around the kids, and of course dumb Steve Harrington here, no, sure, sir, I got this, he listens to me, what the fuck could go wrong--he just attacked Lucas because he was pissed off, obviously he kissed me so he’s totally changed--”

Billy leaned his head back, looking away towards the door. “So all this handholding, it was just to get me in the car, you still think I’m--I’m a fucking--danger zone.”

Steve reached over and ran his thumb over the clenched fist Billy was leaning on. “Sorry I...said some shit,” Steve folded his arms over his face. “I’m still fucking pissed, but I shouldn’t have--made it sound like I--I give some shits,” he snorted. “I do. Give tons and-- just--tons of shit whether you’re dead. Jesus.”

“...you sweet-talking me, Harrington?” Instead of snickering, like Steve anticipated, Billy shifted closer. “You’re shit at it.”

“I knoooooow,” Steve groaned, rolling to sprawl sideways across the bed. “I’m shit at a lot of things.”

Billy shifted behind him, his breath warming Steve’s ear. “Let me--lemme apologize, my liege lord. Come on. Your Majesty. King Steve.”

“Yeah, that’d be fantastic, actually--” Steve’s exhausted mutter turned into a “What the jesus, Hargrove--” as Billy spooned up behind him, sliding a hand around Steve’s waist and unbuttoning his jeans. He elbowed back, scrambling away from Billy’s tongue on his neck, and landed on his butt next to the bed. He tucked his chin back up over the edge of the mattress to glare, and Billy started sniggering. “Who the hell have you been apologizing to?!”

“Doesn’t matter--”

“The hell it doesn’t. Use your goddamn words, asshole.”

“What do you want me to say?”

Steve glowered over the edge of the bed at him, suspecting sarcasm, but Billy was just waiting, plucking at the bedspread like his fingers wanted something to do. “Fucking--fucking apologize for--the kitchen, you asshole--”

“I’m sorry I burned you,” Billy watched his face, and Steve blinked, remembering. In the mess over Max, he’d forgotten.

“Yeah, okay, you didn’t mean to,” Steve raised his eyebrows. “Right? It wasn’t some huge stupid plot to burn my knuckles off.”

Billy huffed a laugh. “Yeah, no. Didn’t mean to.”

“I don’t care, it was an accident, I’m not mad about that.” Billy bit his lips, nodding. “Say it sooner next time, and I’ll be like ‘no problem’. Well, go on.”

“Yeah,” Billy nodded again. “...gimme three tries. I’m in the slow class, y’know,” he laughed. “I’m sorry I tried to--to trick you, to control you, it’s your house, I don’t make the rules, I can’t--I can’t make you do anything--”

“What the fuck,” Steve glared up, resting his chin on the edge of the bed, and Billy swallowed. “Max, Hargrove.”

“I’m an irresponsible and disrespectful brother, and I’m sorry. I was rude all afternoon, Max deserves better,” Billy rattled off, then took a shaky breath, watching Steve’s face. “You both deserve someone better. I’ll be--I’ll try harder. I won’t fuck up, I’ll stop fucking up--you look like a goddamn prairie dog sitting down there. I’m still fucking up, aren’t I, shit, I’m a fucking idiot, Harrington, tell me what you wanna hear. Tell me what to say.” He crawled over to drop off the bed onto the floor, facing Steve, and crossed his legs. His eyes and eyelashes were wet, and his voice was getting hoarse again. The vacuum-marks in the white carpet vanished, then returned as he ran his hands over them, breathing shakily, and Steve reached over and caught his hands, narrowing his eyes.

“...I meant the cigarette and Max’s neck,” he squeezed Billy’s fingers.

“No,” Billy shook his head at their hands, mouth quirked. “You wouldn’t get so pissed off you’d want me to die for something I didn’t even do. If I’d done it, yeah,” he glanced up, and his eyes widened. “Shit, no, that was it.” he grinned, the water in his eyes shining. “I’m--I’m so fucking dumb I don’t get it, but I’m sorry--”

“Shit,” Steve yanked a hand free, and held Billy’s mouth shut with his thumb. “Shush, it’s--shut up a minute, lemme think.” Billy nodded, closing his eyes, and the tears he’d been holding back ran down his cheeks. Steve took a long breath. “You thought I was already pissed off,” he tried, and Billy nodded against his hand. “You wanted me to just...get mad already, so it’d be over, with Max there so I wouldn’t kill you.”

Billy opened his mouth to run his tongue around Steve’s thumb, and Steve ignored the heat in his cheeks. “Come on, get off the floor, back on the bed.”

“You gonna let me apologize the other way now?” he pulled Steve up after him, crawling to lie in the middle. “My mouth knows what it’s fucking doing with a cock in--”

“No, shut up,” Steve sat next to him, taking his hand. “Okay. You haven’t been--that Billy that beat my face in. That attacked Lucas. Lately.”

“Fuck,” Billy rolled his face against Steve’s knee, and Steve felt an urge to punch his shoulder for interrupting, but decided it was absolutely not the time.

“Shut it, asshole. You--you’ve been somebody I kinda…” Billy was quiet, listening, and Steve slid his fingers into the soft curls, only to feel Billy’s shoulders shaking. “Stop laughing--I kinda want you around. All the time.”

“Fuck,” Billy muttered again.

“I saw you with Max and I just--I thought you--I let a fucking monster in my house, you were gonna burn her, acting like your fucking dad--I thought I was gonna puke up a lung--” Steve got all out in one breath, and closed his eyes.

“No, I didn’t even scare her, I did good with little Will Byers, right. And Eleven. It hasn’t--it hasn’t even been two weeks,” Billy rolled onto his back, frowning up, and wiped his eyes. “I’m gonna fuck up,” he grinned again, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. “Again. You’re gonna wish I was dead.”

“Shit, no, fuckhead. You’re not, not--” Steve ran his thumb along Billy’s cheek, wiping the tears away, and leaned to smack a kiss on his forehead. “You’re not gonna do that shit again. Not if you know I wanna protect you too, you stupid asshole. You don’t have to--get all--I don’t know, do chess exercises on me, I want you safe. If you start to get crazy, you can go for a run or something, or lock yourself in here, or--” he frowned around, ignoring Billy’s muffled giggles. “I don’t have any ideas. You’re smart, we can think of a plan. Keep Billy Hargrove feeling safe so he doesn’t burn the world down,” he shrugged, and Billy curled around him again, his laughter wet and panicky.

Steve frowned at the phone in his hand, looked up and met Billy’s eyes, and blew his cheeks out. He leaned against the headboard and dialed, and Billy leaned close, so the phone was pressed between their ears. Eleven answered.

“Hopper residence,” she growled, and Steve could hear Hopper shouting something in the background. He felt Billy swallow.

“Hey, El, it’s Steve, could I talk to your dad?”

“What the hell, Harrington,” Billy hissed, but shut up as she dropped the phone, or something. They winced in unison.

Over the clunking and feedback noises came her muffled yell, “I WON’T TELL YOU UNTIL YOU AGREE,”came her muffled yell, and then scrabbly noises, and Hopper’s voice.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. You’re right. Hello?”

“H-Hopper,” Steve cleared his throat. Billy was rigid with tension against him. “Do--do you have a minute?”

“It’s pretty late, is this Steve Harrington?” he sounded amused. “Yeah, kid, what’s going on?”

“Uh,” Steve slid an arm around Billy, squeezing him. He didn’t relax. “If--can--can I tell you something, and you just--just believe me? I’m sure, it’s not--I’m not being stupid, or--”

“Yeah, of course, kid, what’s going on?” A scraping noise came through like he was pulling out a chair.

“Uh. Billy’s dad. Billy and Max’s dad, he’s--I know he’s told you--stuff--” Billy’d turned his face into Steve’s shoulder, swallowing repeatedly.

“He’s done that, yeah,” Hopper waited.

“He’s--” What, Steve tightened his hold on Billy, feeling hot skin where his sweatshirt had rucked up. Evil? Hitler? “It’s--it’s not true, what he’s said. He’s--he scares them with nail guns, he--” Says mean things, he...makes them...act...bad?

“Not gonna matter,” Billy whispered, taking another shaky breath, but pressing his ear closer to the phone.

“Nail guns?” Hopper’s voice had gone appropriately grim, and Steve took courage, and a deep breath.

“Yeah. He’s--he’s violent. He hits him--hits him in the head all the time. He broke a bottle over his head. Please don’t--don’t take him back there. He’s staying here--if you--if you see him around, don’t take him to his dad.”

“Not gonna matter,” Billy whispered again, his nails scraping Steve’s skin through his shirt as he tightened his grip.

Hopper could probably hear him, but he was quiet for a second. “...I will pass the word on.” it felt like Billy’s lungs seized--he made this high gulping sound, and Steve drew him in tighter. “Are they both okay? Do I need to send a car around?” Billy’s face was in a wet spot against Steve’s shoulder and neck, and Steve could feel him shuddering, even though he was nearly silent.

“Max is still home,” Steve cringed at Hopper’s soft “Shit.” “I--I mean--he always--he focuses on Billy. I told her to call me if anything--I can pick her up, or bring her here, she says she’s fine--”

“Did something happen today?” Hopper asked, his voice extremely even, and Steve flinched back from the phone.

“I--I realized some things,” he ran his free hand up to tangle his fingers in Billy’s hair. “I hadn’t--I didn’t think, I didn’t know how bad it was. I went and got Billy, I set him up here.”

“Is that putting you at risk? Do you want me to come talk to him?”

Billy huffed a wet laugh, and Steve lifted the phone to lean their heads together. “I--I--no, I don’t think so? We--get along, pretty much.”

“He’s gonna wanna talk to me,” Billy swallowed, but didn’t try to take the phone.

Hopper was quiet again. “I’ll take your word for it. But if you need anything--”

“I’ll let you know,” Steve felt his own throat closing up at the sound of someone willing to come save him from his own stupid decisions, like the homocidal classmate currently most of the way into his lap. “Maybe--don’t let his dad know he’s here, I mean, he’ll probably figure it out, but--”

“Yeah, kid.” He muttered something vaguely obscene, and Steve grinned. “And you believe Max is okay?”

“I mean, for now? I don’t--he’s not--it’s not Billy’s fault his dad’s like that,” Steve growled, and Billy went still for a second, like he was holding his breath. “He’s fu--uh, he’s--he’s crazy, it’s not like if Max is perfect he’ll never do this shit to her. I think--I think it might take him a little while, though.”

“El, hon, come here,” Hopper called. “Okay, I need to get on this from my end. Anything else I can do?”

“Don’t think so,” Steve repeated the good night, and let the cord pull the handset off the bed, wrapping his arms around Billy. “Jesus, I can feel your heart pounding.”

“Can’t believe you came and talked me out of the window, you’re--you’re a goddamn lunatic,” Billy nuzzled against his neck, pulling away so his breath warmed Steve’s jaw. He smelled like Billy, his cologne mostly worn off but still faintly good, some kind of alcohol behind the cigarettes he’d been chaining in the window, warm and just a little sweaty. “The fuck did you do,” he laughed under his breath, ducking his head. “Fucking--how did--I had to call in a fire, to get cops to come. Never fucking believed me.” Up close, and shining with water, his eyes looked like the glowing blue-green water in travel photos of Hawaii. Steve resisted the juvenile urge to lick under Billy’s wet eyelashes, half compelled to break the weirdly sincere eye contact, and half wary of his probable flinch. “Told me to stop making prank calls.” Billy’s eyes flicked to Steve’s mouth, then up to his eyes again, and he grinned, licking his lips and leaning in to nearly brush lips. Steve’s head thudded back against the headboard, but as he opened his mouth ask whether this was another apology, or whether Billy actually wanted to kiss him, or if it was something new and horrible, like payment for room and board, Billy shoved away.

“Shit. Damn it.” He flopped back against the comforter, staring at the ceiling. “Fine, I know, we’re done.” His foot thumped against Steve’s knee.

“No, not--I didn’t get--shit.” Steve rubbed his face, feeling his brain wanting to go home, and ready to switch off the lights. He punched his thighs, taking a deep breath, and felt microscopically more awake. “Hargrove. You--you just tried to fuck me out of being pissed off. You...threatened a kid to make me attack you.”

“Dumb doing it in the kitchen. Kinda surprised Max didn’t knife me.” Billy snorted wetly, and Steve wrinkled his nose, reaching over to the bedside table for a Kleenex, and tossing it at his face.

“We just...you ran away from me a couple hours ago because you think I’m some kind of...baseball bat murderer.”

“Yeah,” Billy agreed again, sliding his toes under Steve’s t-shirt. He blew what sounded like half the contents of his head into the tissue, and Steve grimaced, tossing the box over. “Figured a straight guy wouldn’t mind a bunch of crying,” Billy laughed, sitting up to blow his nose again. He wiped his eyes. “Fucking figures. Never been so sexy, right.”

“I just--I don’t--” Steve couldn’t imagine Billy Hargove not being sexy. “Are you even--”

“Fine, I get it,” Billy grabbed the growing pile of used Kleenex, and stalked off to the bathroom. “Get out, I might--might fucking whine some more. Shut the hell up, Billy, nobody fucking cares.” he slammed the door.

Steve groaned, letting himself tilt, slide along the headboard, and faceplant in the pillows. After a short asphyxiation period, he went and knocked. “Hargrove.”

“Washing my face, Harrington, why does all your soap look like pink goddamn glitter seashells, what the hell--”

Steve burst out laughing, letting himself slump down to sit against the door. “Y’know.”

“I know what,” Billy growled, as the faucet turned on, then off, then on again.

“I just need--I want to--” he sighed. Billy’s footsteps came closer and smacked the door. “I don’t think you’re...”

“What, Harrington, the suspense is killing me.”

“Holy jesus, wait, I just realized you can cook,” Steve stared at all the matching furniture. “There’s fresh bread down there. Hargrove. Let’s go eat some goddamn bread.”

Billy opened the door and frowned down, and Steve leaned back against his leg, looking up at the now pink and fresh-faced Hargrove.

“You’re a little glittery,” he informed him. “Much sexier.”

“...you’re falling asleep, aren’t you,” Billy sighed, but put a hand down to haul Steve upright. “Is this when the weird Harrington rituals start? Do I have to watch singing mice?” he wrinkled his nose, and Steve held on to his hand, dragging him downstairs. Just as they came around the corner of the stairs, the phone started ringing, and Billy stuck his face right up next to Steve’s as he picked up.

“We do this now, right,” he whispered, his mouth quirked, and Steve stared at it until the “Hello? Hello?”s from the phone finally caught his attention.

“Yuh,” he cleared his throat. “Uh, hello, this is the Harrington residence.”

“Hi, hon, sorry it’s late, this is Joyce, Joyce Byers?”

Steve’s heart shot into overdrive. “Hi, Mrs. Byers, do you need help?”

“Oh! No, no! I’m sorry--” she sounded frazzled, and they could hear Will’s voice in the background shouting ‘Mom! Mom! Let me talk to him first! C’mon! Augh, Mom--’ There was a brief muffling of what sounded like several voices and a dog at the other end, and then she returned, breathless.

Billy covered a laugh.

“I’m so sorry--”

“It’s fine, Mrs. Byers,” Steve put in automatically, making bewildered faces at Billy.

“I only just heard about Will’s plans, I’m so sorry, are you absolutely sure your parents will be okay with it?”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “I am absolutely sure of that, yeah.”

“Oh, good!” she sighed. “He said he’ll just get a ride with you tomorrow after the game, then, if you’re sure you’re up for giving up your whole weekend.” They could hear Will in the background yelling ‘Moooooom!’ “I’m not supposed to tell you, but we went grocery shopping, and they had the valentine chocolates discounted--”

Billy and Steve were staring at each other as Will and his mom started giggling, fighting over the phone. Billy bit back a grin. “All weekend boyfriend, Harrington.”

Steve scrabbled at his hair. “Jesus christ.”

#harringrove #stranger things fic #fix it #platypan #platypan fic

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vore-scientist · 5 years

Text

In Which Yonah Gets a New Assignment & Sophia Gets a Teacher

A Tale of the Mystic Woods

(SFW G/t with vo/re mentions)

This is the official “first” story for Mystic Woods. THE START OF A BEAUTIFUL FRIENDSHIP (a very rocky start). Finally, I have written out the circumstances that brought The Princess Sophia and Yonah The Giant Wizard together! It also flashes back to Yonah’s Trial! Find out why he ended up imprisoned in the forest.

Content: Lots of GT. No actual vo/re but lots of vo/re-ish moments & implications of safe vo/re that has happened and more to come.

Content warnings: strong language! & There are some tense mentions of almost fatal in the flashback but no actual vo.re, fatal or even implied fatal happens. very dramatic (TM). It ends in a very sweet moment anyways. Kinda cheesy moment in my opinion. Also a silly sarcastic joke about fatal at the end of the fic itself.

--- The loud knocking at Sophia’s door tore her from her melancholic daze. A bit of drool fell from her mouth as she blinked into existence again. She was sitting at her desk, a half-assed and half-hearted needle-point project sitting on it, untouched for hours. At first she thought she had dreamt the knock, but it came again. Strange. It wasn’t a meal time, there shouldn’t be anyone at her door. “Is your Highness awake?” came the voice of her servant, Meyers, “His Majesty requests your presence.”

/Does he now?/ Even stranger. Her father never ended a grounding early; she still had a week of solitary left by her calendar. In fact she checked the chalk drawn calendar she had drawn on the far wall. Yep, still a week left. All the days past had big angry red exes through them. Picking up a piece of yellow chalk, she drew a “?” on the next empty day. She got up and walked to the door. “Yes Meyers, I’m awake,” she said, “and decent.” With a loud CLICK the door unlocked and opened, revealing Meyers who cringed at the sight before them. “You’re... Highness,” Meyers couldn’t get the words out. “What is it Meyers?” she demanded. They pointed behind her and to the left. She turned to face her full length mirror and groaned. She looked like shit. That would be the only way to describe her state. Not having to interact face to face with another human for 2 weeks, she hadn’t cared to keep up appearances, and was not expecting to do so for another week. Her dark thick just barely curly hair was more like a piece of road kill glued to her head, her current dress was covered in food and paint stains, most recently a new wet spot of drool on her bosom. Meyers prepared her a bath, and after she was clean, did her hair into a braid that reached her knees, and helped her into a nice clean gown. One that her father had gotten her for her last birthday. It was a light blue color with gold embroidery. Finally she was ready to face her father. At least, on the outside. She allowed herself to be lead out of the room. “So, are you being paroled?” sneered Sophia’s oldest sister as they passed in the hall. “That would be a first. I would lock you in the tower forever if I were queen.” “Eat shit Rosie,” Sophia spat, she wasn’t in the mood. So pissed was Sophia that she didn’t think to wonder what her older sister was doing here. It had been a few years, ever since she married her “true love” Prince Sol and had gone to live in his kingdom. Rosie wrinkled her brow and nose, and folded her arms, “Well, you’re as pleasant as ever.” “You’re one to talk,” came a man’s voice from down the hall. It was Daniel, Sophia’s older brother. He was followed by Ilana, one of her other older sisters. With their straight black hair, pointed faces, matching eye color/shape, and impressive height, they could almost be twins, but they weren’t. Ilana was older. Daniel smiled warmly and kissed Sophia on her cheek, and Ilana hugged her. “Wow look at us, all the elder siblings all in one place!” Daniel laughed genuinely, “How long has it been?” “Don’t know, don’t care” Rosie sneered, tossing her warm brown locks over her shoulder. While Daniel did seem to care, he was wise enough not to press the issue. So he turned his attention back to Sophia. “Glad to see you back in society again,” he said, “but I was sure you had another week to go, is father getting soft in his old age?” “If anything he’s gotten harder,” said Sophia, “It makes me worried for why he wants to see me.” “Well you did blow up the stables trying to cast... whatever it was you were trying to cast,” said Daniel, but his eyes shone with amusement. “You really need to stop all this magic nonsense Sophia,” said Ilana, her voice full to the brim with disappointment “you’re too old for childish fantasies. You’ll never get any offers of marriage if you carry on this way.” “I’m also too old for you to tell me what to do,” countered Sophia kindly. Ilana meant well, but she was a bit ditzy and old fashioned. And she had told Sophia the same thing every time she attempted magic, and every time it blew up in her face, which was most times. By now Ilana knew it was no use to try and convince Sophia to stop. Still, she never failed to tell Sophia off, even if she did it oh so politely. The threat of never being married was new, but not surprising, as Ilana had just been rescued by her own “true love” after she got “lost” in the Caves of Manic Rain. Ever since then her straight black hair had a shimmer to it. Daniel was still a bachelor, prefering to court royals in a safer, less deadly quest-requiring way. But it was much slower. Still, he went to a lot of parties. Sophia thought he rather liked designing each new extravagant outfit that just had to have because it would be a scandal if he wore the same thing twice. “Well I could care less what she does,” said Rosie, “the more she gets in trouble, the more likely she is to be disowned and that’s one less person who could inherit the sword.” Daniel rolled his eyes, “That’s not how it works and you know it, there’s always a chance it picks some distant cousin we don’t even know about.” “You’re highnesses, I really must get The Princess Sophia to His Majesty,” piped up Meyers, they had been standing silently next to Sophia the entire time. There was an urgency to their tone that silenced the royal children, allowing Sophia and Meyers to continue their journey. Not for long, however, since they ran into Sophia’s two youngest siblings. Relatively. Sophia was nearly 20, the youngest sibling, Molly, was 10. It was Molly that ran up to her, bouncing up and down. “Father let you out early!?” She asked, clasping her hands together dramatically. “It seems that way Molly” Sophia replied, ruffling her hair which was in two big ponytails. Molly looked up at Sophia with her unchild-like eyes that were imbedded in her round face, “I’m glad! It is wrong that Father locks you up just for wanting to learn magic!” But he does. Thought Sophia. He’s The King. It doesn’t matter that it’s wrong. Sophia’s smile strained. “Fathers prize stallion was kept in that stable, Sophia is lucky it wasn’t inside at the time,” said Yonatan, who was only a year older than Molly, but couldn’t be more different. An 11 year old who was stoic wasn’t abnormal, but usually they had experienced some sort of trauma, rather than being a pampered prince. His already square face made him seem older, like he was a dwarf. A skinny dwarf. But he was just a 11 year old boy. Or it would have been abnormal if a fairy hadn’t “blessed him” with intelligence and wisdom beyond his years. So for an 11 year old that meant the intelligence and wisdom of someone who was 15. Making him a bit of an asshole.

“I must go, father calls” she told them, and continued down the hall.

The door to her father’s office was open and he was at his desk, his crown set on his salt and pepper curls, reading glasses almost falling off of his nose as he read some important document. She sat herself down in one of the chairs. Normally princesses weren’t in his office. The chairs were stone and stiff to disarm people. He did not look at her.

“You set the stable on fire on purpose.” he said, in a low but quiet voice. It wasn’t a question, he was stating a fact.

She said nothing.

“You said it was an accident, that you cast the spell wrong. But you didn’t.”

She still said nothing.

“We can’t keep doing this Sophia,” he said, looking up from his paper at last.

For those not used to it, having to stare into the glaringly magical forest green eyes of the Mystic Woods King was always jarring. Surrounded by his warm brown skin it was as if he were a tree given human form. Because it was not his irises that were green (well, they were too, just a darker, green-ish brown). The “whites” of Ben’s eyes were filled with Woods magic. Sophia suspected that originally Ben had dark brown eyes, like she had. Before he became The King of the Mystic Woods.

But Sophia had never known Ben without his green eyes, which low light had a faint glow, and in darkness shone like sunlight through leaves. So she had no problem maintaining eye-contact.

“It was all fun and games when you were stealing books from the library. But Last time you joined a witch coven, and they were evil! You were lucky!”

Ok, that one she had to admit was a mistake. She had been so happy they didn’t care about her being royalty, that she hadn’t considered they were after her mystical royal blood.

“And before that… before that…” he was struggling to remember. “You grounded me for applying to the Academy of Wizardry,” she supplied. “I grounded you for Forging A Letter From Me to get in!” He didn’t raise his voice, much, but he did stress each word like a mallet on a gong. “Forging The King’s notary is high treason and a hanging offense!” “But,” he said, letting out all of his breath. Sophia perked up. Had he said ‘but’!? ‘But’ what!? Holy shit, had she won!? After all these years of sneaking around, being caught, and punished, rinse and repeat, had she won!? Maybe Daniel was right, maybe Ben was getting soft in his old age. “But, I think it is time I admit that I cannot stop you from learning magic,” No way, no way, nowaynoway! Sophia’s heart started racing. “And I would rather you not attempt to teach yourself destructive and dangerous spells just to spite me,” he continued. Stop beating around the bush!! Sophia was sitting up completely straight, her hands clasped in her lap, knuckles white. The force of her heart beat almost shook her from her seat. “I have found you a tutor.” She rocketed out of her seat and ran to hug her father, even though he didn’t deserve it. And then danced around the chamber. Before she ran out of energy and noticed her father still sitting their, stoic and frowny as ever. There was a catch. She stopped jumping and looked fearfully at her father. He looked past her. A guard entered the room, followed by another man. And the colored drained from Sophia’s face and out her feet. “Ah, Mr. HaEsh, right on time,” he smiled horribly. The largest man Sophia had ever seen entered Ben’s office. He was so big that his tall curly hat nearly brushed the top of the 3 meter doorway. If he had been any wider, he would have at to get creative with angling through the door. Standing up straight he towered over the princess and The King. He held his hands behind his back and hidden under his massive, bushy, but neatly tied, mane of jet black hair which ended in a neat point at the small of his back. By his wizard hat, and painfully garishly colorful wizard robes. This could only be a wizard. But where was his wizard staff? The wizard Mr. HaEsh looked down his strong nose at Sophia with cloudy dark brown eyes. He had a very sharply shaven goatee and sideburns that might as well be squirrel pelts glued to his face. They looked just as dead as his eyes. Despite being on the chubbier side, and with burly arms, he looked almost gaunt. His eyelids drooped behind thick rectangular spectacles, and an aura of greyness hung around him. Was he ill? Or maybe older than he looked? He looked between 30 and 40. He was followed by another guard. Adorned in silver plated armor with fractal engravings shaped looking like twisting plants, liquid emerald used for the filling, Sophia recognized them as Mystic Woodland Rangers, or mage guards, as they were commonly called. And they were high ranking too. What the fuck was going on. When Mr HaEsh spoke, his voice was distant, and higher than Sophia had expected. It still rumbled and shook Sophia’s very bones. She saw her father tense too. Who was this man? “You’re Majesty. has requested. my presence,” he said, his breath coming in short pathetic bursts “for all the trouble. this must be either dangerous. or interesting.” /Trouble!? Danger?/ thought Sophia. Her father coughed and adjusted his crown, “Hmf, yes. Mr HaEsh, I have a new assignment for you.” The wizard raised his brows but said nothing. “This,” Ben gestured to Sophia, “Is the Princess Sophia.” “It is a pleasure. to meet you. your Highness,” Mr HaEsh greeted her. She extended her arm and while he bowed and kissed it gently, he did not remove his hands from his back. His lips were oddly cold. He straightened up and looked back down at his king. “The princess desires to learn magic,” The King continued, “You are to be her tutor. She will be moving into your tower tonight.” “WHAT?!” both Sophia and Mr. HaEsh exclaimed. The air in the room changed in an instant. The greyness around Mr HaEsh was being strained by something, and the guards had tensed into combat-casting stances, magic circling their fingertips which were pointed at the wizard. King Benyamin remained calm, but an aura of power surrounded him too. One that scared and comforted Sophia. It was the magic of the Mystic Woods, and it always felt friendly, even if the situation was not. The King looked to the guards. “Please take the princess outside, I have additional details to discuss with Mr HaEsh,” he ordered. The guards eyes widened. “But sir,” one spoke, voice cracking, “The subject is never to be without guard even-” The magic flared up around The King, not in a threatening way, just to make his aura more powerful. “I gave an order, follow it.” “Yes sir!” said the guard and they both flanked Sophia who stood up a little too fast. “Father,” she said, curtseying and turning to leave. The wizard bowed to her again before she exited. “Highness,” he said, sending shivers down her spine. She looked back and saw, before the wizard’s hair fell over them again, the massive rune-scribed iron cuffs on his wrists. Then the door was shut and she was standing alone in the hallway. With the two guards. All three of them breathed enourmous breaths. Once, twice, three times, a fourth. A few minutes and they all had recovered, cold sweat ran down their faces. “I thought we were ash for sure!” one of the guards whispered. The other nodded. They started going back and forth. Sophia only caught bits and pieces. “Have you ever seen-?” “-wasn’t a guard yet-” “-for years! How do we know he didn’t -” “-I think he has he’s a-” “I cannot believe The King brought him into the castle! He isn’t safe-” “-two of us on staff! We are not enough to handle him if he-” “Locking himself in his office with that thing-” “-supposed to LIVE with it, she’ll be-” “Excuse me,” Sophia broke in. The guards stood at attention. “Who is that man?” The guards exchanged glances. “Does the princess not remember the trial from 6 years ago?” said a guard. It didn’t matter which. “There are so many trials, I do not remember them all,” she said, “elaborate.” “That thing, that man,” the guard’s voice shook, “is dangerous, he was put on trial as a dangerous entity who infiltrated The Kingdom and Wizard Academy! He should have been executed, but His Majesty showed mercy.” The guard was being obtuse on purpose, she could tell. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. She might be shorter than the guards by a good decimeter, but she was a princess! They answered to her father, and thus to her. “Why is he dangerous?” Sophia demanded. The description was pulling at a memory but it was just beyond her reach. But that was when the door opened once more and King Benyamin walked out, with the wizard behind him, looking even more grim. The wizard glared at Sophia, as if he was trying to convey hatred but for some reason couldn’t. Now that Sophia knew they were there, she looked at the Mage Cuffs. As the wizard stared at her, something like hunger flashed in his eyes, but was gone quickly. The runes on the cuffs glowed a with iridescence, he stifled a cough, and the dullness returned. The Princess Sophia’s things had already been packed. The King had been planning this for a while it seemed, without her or Mr HaEsh knowing until now. All of Her belongings were handed to her in a single small case. And within an hour they were in a carriage heading out of the city. The guards came too, one sat next to Mr. HaEsh, the other next to Sophia, but directly across from the wizard. Mr HaEsh sat still, his head down, his eyes hidden by the brim of his hat. His hands still cuffed, his breathing regular but wispy. In a desperate attempt to liven the atmosphere Sophia made one attempt to engage in conversation. “Hey, wizard, I heard you’re a criminal,” She said, the wizard did not respond, “Well I’m a thorn in my father’s side. so who is being punished here, me or you?” “Hruh” was all he said, the corners of his mouth twitching up, but there was a faint flash of light from behind him and the guards instantly had their magic up. The one next to the wizard put his hands near Mr. HaEsh’s face. And the wizard sneered at them. “Careful,” he said, grinning, his mouth stretched to an unsettling degree, “I’m sure you’ve. heard the stories. And you don’t want. to have to get your fingers. regenerated. I’ve heard it’s painful,” and he snapped his teeth at the mage-guard’s hand. The guard flinched away, and the wizard laughed a hollow laugh. Sophia made no more attempts to converse with this obviously insane criminal wizard. An insane criminal wizard that she was being sent to live with. What on earth was her father thinking! Had he just threaten to bite a man’s fingers off??? This man would kill her in her sleep! Fuck fuck fuck! She looked out the window to distract herself and saw that they were heading towards the Mystic Woods. Great. Just great. A dangerous criminal who lived in a even more dangerous forest. Her father was definitely trying to kill her. The carriage, which had to have some enchantment on it, smoothly left the path and was steered into the woods. It must also have a Direct Spell, asking the forest for a path to their destination that would not move around, since it was only a hour before the carriage stopped. Sophia looked out. They were in a large clearing that contained a rundown looking tower at one end. It was surrounded by a fantastically well kept magical garden. A river ran along one side of the clearing, and a section had been blocked off to form a pool near the tower. The Sun was just starting to set behind the tower, splitting the light across the greens of the forest and glimmering off the river and colors of the garden. It would have been beautiful if not for the circumstances.

The guard next to the wizard shook as he took out a key and the wizard turned to present his cuffed wrists to the guard. Placing the key in the lock, the guard whispered a few words and the runes faded, the key turned clockwise, and the cuffs came off. A fog lifted from around the wizard. His dull black hair became warm and vibrant, his cheeks less sunken, his arms seemed to swell with renewed strength. No longer did he look almost 40, but merely his late 20s. His clothes became more saturated, his hat stood up, and he looked at Sophia once more. His once hollow eyes filled with fire and she swore they glinted orange for a moment as he drew a long satisfying breath through a wide smile. When he exhaled the air around his mouth was distorted. “I hate those fucking things,” he said, rubbing his wrists. His voice, once distant, slammed into Sophia. And into the guards, who were shaking more than ever. He looked at them and they cowered. “Gentlemen” he said, with eerie politeness, “as always it’s been a huge displeasure,” and he got up, exiting the carriage. It shook as his mass disembarked.

The guard who had nearly had his fingers bitten handed Sophia the case with her belongings and coaxed her out the door. When she had both feet on the ground the door slammed behind her and the horses were whipped into speeding off. Leaving her with the wizard. She decided she would not show any more fear. He may be some sort of monster, but he was clearly in her father’s employ, he couldn’t hurt her, a princess he was apparently hired to teach. Could he? She looked around for Mr HaEsh and spotted him by one of the fruit trees. It looked like standard apple tree, with golden-green apples. They were probably poison.

Mr HaEsh reached up and plucked an apple. These weren't normal at all. They were so big that the apple fit perfectly in his hands! He sniffed it and bit into it. The sound of the crisp crunch crackled in the air. Sophia walked over to him as he finished the apple.

“They never fucking feed me when I’m summoned for just a day.” he said, tossing the core aside and picking another apple. Ok so they weren’t poisonous. “I get called upon in the morning and I’m shipped out! Don’t stop to think if i’ve even had breakfast yet! And then they don’t give me anything.” He took a third apple.

As he vented his eyes started to glow again, joined by the roots of his hair, making his head look like a dying coal fire. Smoke gently billowed from his locks. Was this some sort of intimidation tactic? Eating apples and pretending to be made of fire?

After eating a total of five apples, but picking at least ten more and storing them in his hat, he finally said “ready to head inside?”

Actually she kinda wanted an apple, but he had taken extras. Surely he would give her one. So she followed him to the base of the tower, right below the window which was about fifteen (15) meters up.

“How-”

“The vines” he said, indicating the prolific and thick vines that grew up the tower. The vines with massive thorns.

“You go first,” said Sophia.

The wizard shook his head, “I need to be behind you in case you fall, the thorns aren’t real.”

Cautiously Sophia reached out and brushed a hand against the side of a thorn. It passed right through. The vine was real, the thorn was not. Clever.

She was grateful that Mr HaEsh took her bag, as she needed both hands to climb up. And up and up and up! It seemed as if she should have reached the top by now? Her hands were red and raw, she might not be able to hold her grip for much long and Oh. She had reached the window! Looking in she saw inside a single room, much bigger than it should be. Magic she reminded herself. This was a wizard’s tower after all! She heaved herself up and let her legs dangle into the room. Shelves with books and bottles and jars and thingabobs lined the walls, papers littered the floor, and there were three desks. One with a pile of books and writing materials, one with a small cauldron and utensils, and one that was piled with just junk. How could her dream have come true in such a nightmare-ish way? She looked down, it was probably a little over a meter drop to the floor and she hopped inside. The moment she crossed the threshold the distance from the windowsill to the floor became over 4 meters feet and she fell onto the floor with a thunk. The chamber was even larger than before, everything was 3 to 4 times as large as it had first appeared. But she wasn’t concerned with that, her legs were rattling from the impact and she was nursing her sore bones and muscles. *thup* And Yonah landed beside her, but with a lot more practiced grace. He dropped her case next to her, walking over to the giant desk. “Hey why the fuuuuu-“ but she didn’t get to say “ck didn’t you warn me” Yonah grumbled and from his sleeves drew out a beautiful staff. It was a dark red wood with gold engravings swirling up to a dark pink crystal ball at the end. He tapped the floor with his staff twice, the crystal ball flashed briefly and with a mighty POOF Yonah was over 20ft tall, perfectly proportioned to the rest of the room. He walked to his desk, opened a book, set up a magnifying glass, got out a piece of paper, and started writing. And Sophia remembered. How could she have forgotten? --- The twelve year old Sophia groaned quietly. She, Ilana, and her sibling sister Sasha had just finished their embroidery lesson and were doing their homework from yesterday’s poise and posture class. Sophia watched Ilana walk across a one inch wide plank of wood with a glass of water balanced on her head. She tensed and untensed her eyes to focus and unfocus them. “I’m BORED!” she groaned loudly, and Ilana yipped. She did not fall but the glass did topple over and smash on the floor. “Look what you made me do!” said Ilana as a servant ran to clean up the mess. She approached Sophia and held out her hand. Sophia looked at her own glass of water and held it up. Then brought it to her mouth and drank it. “hey!” “Let’s go watch today’s trial!” said Sophia, and Sasha who had been dozing off perked up. “We’re supposed to be practicing our poise,” Ilana said. “I didn’t invite you,” Sophia took Sasha’s arm as they left the room, the servants didn’t stop the. Ilana ran after them. Sophia gave her a hard look. “I’m the oldest! I can’t let you go without me,” she said. There wasn’t anything Sophia could do, so the three of them made their way to the throne room. They stopped off at the kitchen for snacks, and found their youngest sibling, Molly, stealing cookies. Molly demanded she be allowed to come too and bribed them with cookies so they couldn’t say no. When they got to the room the guards wouldn’t let them in. And they wouldn’t explain why, just that their father had a list of those allowed entry, and they weren’t on the list. Sophia didn’t push the issue; she knew another way in. Up the stairs, to the balcony. It was empty, they would be able to watch the proceedings without being discovered. And the proceedings were just about to start. The throne room wasn’t packed, but there was a lot of activity. The King, of course, sat on his throne, and along the walls stood the most colorful population Sophia had seen. There were the usual Law Masters and their Grand Law Master Diana Gluck, there was Sir Mordecai The King’s Voice, all wore dull reds, blues, blacks, and browns. Other members of the court stood around, talking excitedly, they had more color and variation to their garb but it was nothing compared to the wizards. There were at least 20 wizards. All in different colors in the most garish combinations and horribly designed robes. The floor looked like cheapest Jackson Pollock. The Voice walked over to The King and whispered in his ear and he called the room to quiet. The doors opened and the subject of today’s trial was brought in. A long procession of Mage Guards marched into the room, but their footsteps were drown out by the clanks and thuds of the shackled giant they had in tow. With a face full of black hair, and a messy head full to go with it, the giant looked wild. The patchwork clothes looked like they were made of the entire stock of prison uniforms. Sophia imagined that the giant must have eaten the prisoners to get their clothes. The giant’s eyes were bloodshot, lack of sleep or crying? His breaths came in short shudders, in fact the man was shivering. His cheeks were sunken, and his skin grey-ish. But it was the cuffs that really put the look together. Thicker than Sophia was and made a dark silver metal engraved with shining black runes. his hands were linked at the wrist and his ankles were chained together. With the same runic metal. Every so often the giant’s eyes would flash with a hint of fire, and the runes would glow with oily iridescence and the giant would cough and shiver harder. The giant was forced onto his knees, looking over the circle of guards at The King. Even though it was The Voice of the Court that spoke. “The accused, Yonah HaEsh, of an Undefined Class of Magical Being. He has been designated as Monstrous Being - Magical Humanoid - Hybrid Human With Fire Elemental Heritage,” rattled off The Voice. “He is charged with trespassing in His Majesty Benyamin’s Kingdom, classified as Invasion due to his status as a Giant, and Infiltration due to the extent of hiding his nature and the length of time this persisted. Mr. HaEsh disguised himself as a human and forged documentation to enter his Majesty Benyamin’s Kingdom and attend the Illustrious Academy of Wizardry. Mr. HaEsh frequently entered areas of The Kingdom from which monsters, most particularly giants, are strictly forbidden.” He looked right at the giant now, and his voice wavered for a second, “To verify for the record, your name is Yonah HaEsh?” The giant took a painful breath before answering “yes” “And your mother is Malaka HaEsh, a giant, your father Emmett HaEsh, a firewitch?” “yes” “Do you deny any of the charges as described?” There was a long pause. Everyone held their breath. “no” The Voice took a deep breath “The Court Recommends a sentence of execution, the standard for repeated invasion offenses.” Several of the wizards gasped. The giant hung his head. A few tears fell to the floor, splashing on the guards. “The Court now opens the floor to those who would argue for or against the court’s recommendation” A group of 6 wizards emerged from the crowd. From the matching formal robes, the smaller hats, and the less offensive, highly coordinated colors, they looked extremely professional. One of them, an older woman with white twists of hair and dark wrinkled skin stepped forward. “State your name, any title, and intention for the Court,” said The Voice. The woman adjusted her grip on her staff. It was polished dark grey with blue crystals imbedded in patterns and a silver cap in the shape of entwined snakes. At first her voice was too quiet to hear. She grumbled and a few of the crystal lit up. And her voice projected. “Sean Werthan, 50 years Grand Master Wizard of the Academy of Wizardry.” At her voice, the giant lifted his head and squinted in disbelief at the woman. But didn’t dare say or do anything else. “Myself and the following self selected faculty and students are here to argue in defense of the accused and trusts that His Majesty, King Benyamin of Orr and The Mystic Woods, who generously allows the Academy to reside within his realm, will act with logic and mercy.” The King leaned forward, The Voice spoke. “Did you not expel the accused from your Academy, Grand Master?” Hushed whispers flew around the room. The woman nodded. “I do not deny the action I took against Mr. HaEsh,” her piercing eyes were aimed at Benyamin, “Nor will we attempt to deny the charges of forgery and falsification, and classification of his heritage,” she took her eyes off The King to look at Yonah who did not meet her gaze. “However we argue against the charges of infiltration and invasion,” she said, “Which, given the circumstances and the conduct of the defendant, are unwarranted.” It was at this point that Sophia stopped paying close attention and let her mind wander. It wandered over the wizards that wore more distinct colors and fashions. She gave them all names and backstories and secrets. Still, she caught the gist of the proceedings. The giant was supposedly non-aggressive, for his entire time masquerading as human. An astonishing display of self-control seeing as Fire Witches are famous for their volatility. He intended no harm, and perpetrated none. Not at the school nor during any excursions into cities or towns. His only intent was to learn wizardry. His only crime was the law forbade his attendance, his only crime was being born non-human. The younger wizards all contributed to support her arguments, citing personal experiences from the specific to broad. It all seemed pretty convincing to Sophia. However, even if their claims were true, the Giant, as a now magically trained monster, was extremely dangerous. And he had broken the law, knowingly, deliberately, frequently. Every time he stepped foot in a city or town. Technically even the Academy was “off-limits” and illegal but they were more inclined to let magical beings roam around. They did not however, let them become students. “We will now deliberate on the fate of the accused, Mr HaEsh,” said The Voice. The King and the Law Masters left to a back chamber. After a few minutes the tension had died down enough for people to start conversing and moving around the room. The wizards who had defended the giant attempted to talk to him, but were stopped by the guards. “No one may approach the accused,” they said. “But he’s our friend! He might die and we might never get to speak to him again!” ohhhh a conflict! Sophia started to pay attention again. Perhaps the wizards would start a scene! “Not my problem,” said the guards. “No, but she is,” said a wizard, pointing at the giant. The guards turned around. The blood in the guards ran cold but not as cold as Sophia’s as from her vantage point she saw Molly approaching the giant! How had she slipped past the guards?! When did she leave the balcony?! /SHIT/ As the girl got closer to the face of the giant everyone went quiet. At a meter tall and that close to the giant’s mouth… Everyone was thinking it. Even with his hands and legs bound and magic suppressed, he could easily gobble up the princess. And he was facing death at the hands of The King. - Tired, cold, and starved, the scent of the girl hit Yonah as a wave of warmth and possibility. And hunger. He opened his eyes to a world blurred by tears and because his glasses had been taken away. That didn’t make sense to him. He blinked away the tears and squinted down. It was a princess, and she smelled really good. Really sweet. They had not fed him for days. A monster like him probably wouldn’t be given a last meal. And this was the daughter of The King who would give the order to end his life.

And it would be so easy. She was so small. While he had never eaten a human before, and could barely fit one in his mouth, let alone swallow one whole like proper giants were known to do; he was certain to have no problem swallowing this child.

No.

That thought was expunged as soon as it came. This was a child!!! He couldn’t eat a child! But her smell persisted, drilled itself into his brain.

His stomach growled. He heard the gasps from the people around him and he drew himself away from the girl. He couldn’t actually move away but he sat up so that she wasn’t so hear his face. The guards all started to draw up magic, but they didn’t make any moves to save the princess.

“Hello big man!” the girl’s high voice pierced the silence. Still the guards did nothing.

/What they fuck were they even good for?/ thought Yonah. They should remove the child from the presence of a hungry giant, he had even backed off to give them room. /Assholes!/ Did they want him to eat her? Let an innocent girl die just to finally have a real reason to kill him. Or maybe they were too scared. /Cowards!/ These were the best Mage Guards in The Kingdom? They were shaking in their armor.

“H-hello,” he whispered.

“You look terrible!” she declared. He couldn’t disagree. His stomach rumbled again.

“You’re hungry!” she was right about that. This was just torture. Maybe he could… just hold her in his mouth. Maybe as a hostage? No no no. He wouldn’t be able to resist swallowing.

The princess was rummaging through her pockets, “Want a cookie?” She produced a cookie, and smiled in a horrifyingly disarming fashion. Finally the guards started to try coaxing the girl away but it was useless. She was fixated on him. Her brilliant brown eyes wouldn’t leave his own dull ones. And he did want a cookie. He needed a cookie. Deserved a cookie. Cookie. He leaned forward and opened his mouth. No one made a sound. Yonah was holding his breath too, not wanting to scare her. She reached out to place the cookie into his mouth but stopped. Had she realized the danger she was in? Her free hand went back into her pockets and produced another cookie. “You need more than one!” she said, “because you are so big!” and she started placing cookies on his tongue, taking cookies from her pockets one at a time until they was a small cluster. “All gone! No more cookies!” she turned her pockets inside out. Yonah allowed himself to smile as he sat back up, closing his mouth. The cookies were small, but fresh, and made in a royal kitchen. They had been heavily spiced with ginger and were full of sweet almonds. He let them melt in his mouth but for the girl’s gratification he made small chewing motions and swallowed. “Thank you.” She yelped with joy and sped off. - The guards parted to let The King’s Youngest run into the arms of her father who had been standing, frozen at the scene before him. He had walked in just in time to see her start placing cookies on the giant’s tongue. He hugged her tight and picked her up. “Daddy!” she yelled, “I gave the giant man cookies!” “I saw that,” he said, his fake smile so practiced that his daughter had not yet learned to tell. The King stood there, holding his daughter, looking at his prisoner. The guards had not reformed their circle. There was no one in between them. Molly waved at the giant. He stared hungrily back. They really should have fed him. And The King sighed. The wizards were right. For all the things they get wrong, for all the times they act without thinking. They were right this time. This monster, this man, didn’t deserve death. But his Law Masters couldn’t think of an alternative. There was no room for him in the dungeons and they had no prison large enough. Neither was it practical to use up so many mage guards for a 25/8 watch. And finally, there was no way they could keep him cuffed forever. The drain wasn’t just on magic; it was on life force. He had been cuffed for three days already, and he was sickly. He was truly amazed at the restrain the giant had shown, the mind still sharp and in control. If only he had someplace to keep him. Someplace he wouldn’t need guards, or cuffs.

A tickle of forest magic reached into his mind. “Mr. HaEsh,” he said, agreeing with the forest.

The Voice straightened up, ready for the signal to give the sentence, but the signal didn’t come. The giant’s eyes flicked to The King. Ben knew he made the right choice. “I would like to offer you a job,” he said, smiling wickedly. The confusion in the room was palpable. The Law Masters were in crisis, The King had NOT discussed this with them. “And if you take it, you life will be spared.” ---

Ohthegods. Ohthegodsohthegods. Sophia looked up at the giant, who was larger than she remembered, even back then when she was smaller. Ohfuckohfuck. She should be scared but she wasn’t. “Hey! HEY!” cried the princess. But the wizard ignored her, even as she ran up to his feet and kicked them, and pulled at his wizardly robes. Finally she just climbed up to the desk, making use of the thick embroidered designs on Yonah’s robe. Even as she hung off of piece of clothing on Yonah’s chest, he didn’t acknowledge her. After she jumped onto the desk she collapsed, panting. “If you’re going to live here you’re going to have to become a better climber” said Yonah, still not looking at her, and still writing. She walked over to stand under the magnifying glass. The wizard looked back at the book and laughed at the enlarged head of the princess, staring up at him with a weird combination of confusion, excitement, and fury. “You! You! I-“ Sophia stammered. Yonah put the quill in its stand and looked down at the princess, trying not to laugh too hard. “Yes? Princess?” He smiled wide, eyes sparkling with feigned interest and real annoyance. He hissed out the “cess” in princess, blowing a stream of hot air over Sophia, really hot air smelling like someone had fanned a campfire in her face. The glass fogged up. “You’re Yonah HaEsh!” she said, “I was at your trial!” “Were you now? I don’t remember you being there,” not that he liked to remember any of that day aside from… the princess and the cookies. Sophia was too old to be the cookie princess. “You almost ate my little sister!” there was no fear in her voice or her face. Maybe she was still processing. Ah, now that made more sense. And he wasn’t going to deny the accusation.

“You’re the giant Evil Wizard!”

“Ughhhhgggg” Yonah pinched his nose, “I’m not. I’m not Evil. You’re father hired me as an ‘Evil Wizard™’ because the actually Evil Sorcerer who used to live here mysteriously disappeared, and he needed a replacement. It’s just a title. I’m also a Royal Wizard.”

Sophia snorted and folded her arms, “No other Royal Wizards live in Evil Wizard Towers… and”, as she remembered more, “They don’t have stories from adventurers that come running out of the forests yelling about the magic giant who tried to eat them.” She remembered more and she paled, “One of them claimed you DID eat them, but- then how,”

It was Yonah’s turn to snort. “Adventurers? They were thieves. Idiots. Tasty though,” he licked his lips and Sophia backed away. Not that there was anywhere to run to, being on his desk.

“I let them go! They’re mostly desperate teens forced by their wicked mothers to risk their lives stealing from a giant. I said I’m not Evil. I even try to give them money before they run. They don’t always take it. Well, sometimes they run before I can give them any.”

That sounded suspect to Sophia, she would believe it when she saw him do it. (And she would, eventually). For now, he was an Evil Wizard. That was his official title. And looking back at the past few hours, he hadn’t seemed particularly good. And she was his captive. All her life she had been avoiding a classic fairytale scenario but she’d ended up in one anyways. Even if it was highly unusual. This was going to be fun, if she played the game right.

“Hey,” she said, after Yonah had gone back to his notes. He sighed and looked at her, “Are you going to eat me? And if you do will you let me go or just kill me? Is that my father’s plan? Have you wipe me off the face of this fucking planet?”

Just with her question the giant’s stomach growled. He retrieved three apples from his hat, now minuscule in his giant hand, and tossed them in his mouth like little candies. “I’m still deciding.”

Sophia really couldn’t tell if he was serious. Evil or not, he was a jerk. But it didn’t matter, because she had remembered one final thing.

Possibly the most important thing.

She looked down at the book Yonah was reading. It showed diagrams and symbols and letters in other languages, and words she couldn’t begin to comprehend.In fact it hurt her brain to look at them. They were magical. He was magical. He was a academy trained wizard.

“So,”

She picked up the book, and looked at it as if she could actually understand the words. Her brain begged her to look away from the migraine-inducing patterns and script, but she wanted the dramatic effect.

“When do lessons begin?”

[Thanks for reading! please reblog! for more mystic woods go to vore-scientist.tumblr.com/tagged/mystic+woods+story, or go to my blog and search mystic woods story! ]

#safe vore #soft vore #giant tiny #giant/tiny #sfw #mind the content warnings

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halogensleep · 5 years

Text

pour your gasoline on me (let’s torch the whole world down) ch. 3

AN: put this song on repeat with the volume kinda low if you really wanna live the dream

“I have a job for you. One that you won’t like, but one that I need your expertise on.” The phone call from Laszlo wasn’t even started with any pretense.

“I’m in business with the Collective presently… you know how they feel about side jobs.” Charlotte sighed and rubbed her temple. “Give me two weeks then I’ll be back on the market.”

“I don’t have two weeks, Queen.” She heard Laszlo grumble and scratch his chin. “However I do have a blank cheque in front of me and two Filipino senators who need to… how do you say… bite the dirt?”

“Bite the dust?” Charlotte scoffed and plonked herself down on the hood of her car.

“Mhm, that.”

“Well you called the right woman.”

The vantage point from where she had parked was vast and beautiful. The sun was setting over the treeline in the distance, and the clouds became candyfloss pink because of it. Charlotte leaned back and sighed in contentment with the view. Then, she became decidedly intrigued by the job Laszlo was offering.

“So why is it you need me, specifically?” She tucked the phone between her chin and shoulder, freeing up her hands so they could pat down her pockets for a loose cigarette, a rare pleasure these days. “Can’t you just… I don’t know… call a local service? The Philippines sounds like a big road trip.” She put the cigarette in her mouth and clicked the lighter.

“Some of my shipping routes pass through the ports in their districts. The cunts took money under the table on the understanding that they would leave my business dealings alone, but, well, election season has come back around.” Laszlo chuckled loudly, his laughter transforming into a deep, throaty cough. “Apparently the Gooks are going straight now. It’s a problem, a billion dollar problem—”

“Laszlo you’re saying a lot of racist shit that I don’t have time to wade through right.” The bridge of her nose was pinched, the cigarette puffed a little harder in exasperation. “I don’t care why it is you want them dead I just want to know why it is you need me…”

“They have the Duterte death squads backing them.” Laszlo sighed, and Charlotte imagined his sweaty, greasy knuckles swiping down his bowling shirt, then reaching round to rub the back of his bulbous neck in consideration of his problem. “There isn’t a contractor in the entire Philippines stupid enough to take the job.”

“I’ll try not to be offended that my name was the first one that came to mind then.” She tapped the ash on her cigarette.

“You fly in, you kill them and plant a little evidence, you fly home. As far as Duterte is concerned the senators were involved in a bad business deal with the Chinese cartels. It will be like we did him a favour,” Laszlo said, as if were the easiest feat in the world. “I need someone I can trust, I need you.”

“Do you know what I need?” Charlotte blew a cloud of smoke and thought about it seriously. “I need two million dollars, a plot of land so I can free up some space in my refrigerator, and three anti-aircraft rocket-propelled grenades. Yep, mhm, that’s what I need.” She nodded decisively and stubbed her cigarette out.

There was a scoff and some laughter on the other end of the phone. “One million dollars. I’ll give you two rocket grenades but it will take me a few weeks to get them, and as for the land? My brother looks after the construction unions… we can figure something out…”

“Two weeks.”

“You leave in four days, I want you there by Wednesday.”

“You’re breaking my balls, Laszlo,” Charlotte warned sternly. “I’ll leave Friday, I’ll be back Sunday morning. I want the million up front, I want to fly first class, I want you to book me into a presidential suite, and I want enough chilled Dom Perignon to put Carrie Fisher down. Do you understand me, Laszlo? Am I being crystal clear?”

“Fine, fine!” He bristled and sighed. “What name should I put the reservation under?”

Charlotte paused and smiled.

“Put it under Becky Lynch.”

…

The presidential suite was precisely that. It was sleek, stately almost, the walls were embossed with gold leaf detailing and the furnishings were exquisitely carved from cherry wood. It made a nice change from rustiness of the chop shop. Charlotte sunk deeper into the abundant bubbles and traced her finger over the edge of the copper bathtub. The tub was sat proudly on a white marble platform in the center of the bathroom, and she had wrinkled in the hot water for at least an hour while polishing off a bottle of Dom between thumbing the pages of her newest case. A luxurious day in the office by anyone’s standards.

Rosamie Aquina and Emmanuel Bautista-Cembrano, those were the two senators she was tasked with killing. Their security detail would present more than a problem if the intel she had collated was anything to go by. Laszlo wasn’t wrong when he said the Duterte death squads were out in full force to protect the senators. She turned the images over one by one and saw the face of one man in particular always caught in the background, General José Roberto Ocampo, otherwise known affectionately as The Boogeyman. He was the man tasked with keeping them alive on the road to the elections. It helped that he had a penchant for hard liquor and loose women, Charlotte knew so long as she created a decoy for The Boogeyman and his soldiers with those two distractions she could finish off the senators and be on a flight out of here by Sunday morning.

The phone rang.

“Hello?” Charlotte put the call on loudspeaker and sunk back down into the searing water.

“Oh she’s a killer queen! Gunpowder, gelatine! Dynamite with a laser-beam! Guaranteed to blow your mind!” An abundantly cheerful voice singsonged down the phone. “Bow, bow bow bow!” she hummed the bassy guitar solo.

Charlotte sighed. “Are you finished—”

“Ooooh, recommended at the price, insatiable an appetite!” The singing voice cracked with the attempt at a high note. “Extraordinarily nice, she’s a killer queeeen!!”

Charlotte paused for a moment, her lips twitching in annoyance. “Are you done—”

“To avoid complications she never kept the same address, in conversation she spoke just like a baroness!” The Irishwoman sung out of tune. “Met a man from China, I nearly stabbed her in the vagina, she pulled a gun to shoot me, didn’t think she could do it to me but she’s just that way inclined!”

“Those aren’t the lyrics and you know that.” Charlotte sighed and rubbed her brow, exasperated and deeply out of her element with the insane woman singing down the phone to her. “What do you want, Becky?”

“Can’t I just call my girlfriend to say hello?”

“I’m not your girlfriend.”

“Ah, pish! Of course you’re my girlfriend!” Becky sounded offended. “We had dinner, we slept together, I tried to stab you while you were asleep and you fired a warning shot near my very lovely and unscathed face… which you surely can’t still have your panties in a twist about? You’ve gave me the cold shoulder for a month now!”

Charlotte looked up at the ceiling and made the water splash with her frustrated, fidgety movements. “I’m not your girlfriend, Becky,” she lowered her tone.

“Well, alright.” Becky sadly sighed. “Does this mean you don’t want the gift I sent up to your room?”

“What gift might that be exactly?”

There was an abrupt knock to the door of the hotel suite.

“That one.” She could tell Becky was smirking on the end of the phone. “Do you like surprises, Charlotte?”

“Actually, no.” Charlotte grumbled and clambered out of the bathtub. “I hate them.”

“Even when they’re from your girlfriend?”

“You’re not my girlfriend.”

“I stole an industrial fridge for you.”

“You’re still not my girlfriend.”

“Rude of you,” Becky scoffed.

“Mhm,” Charlotte ignored her and trudged through the large suite towards the door. “What am I going to find on the other side of this door exactly?”

“Something you should probably take the safety catch off your gun for.”

“Bold of you to assume I ever have the safety on.”

If she anticipated anything, it was Becky standing out in the hall in lacy black lingerie underneath a trenchcoat and a small knife in hand for good measure, if only because Becky always had that damn knife glinting in her fist and she was feeling hopefully optimistic that lingerie would be involved too. The thought made Charlotte smile as she padded through the long marbled hallway, which in turn made her furrow into a frown because the thought of Becky randomly showing up was supposed to be instantaneously infuriating and in no way capable of earning a small smile. It was a problem for the next psychiatrist, Charlotte told herself and put it away.

The door was knocked again, far more impatiently this time.

Becky sighed on the phone. “I wouldn’t keep whoever it is waiting—”

“Goodbye, Becky.” Charlotte hung up before Becky could taunt her anymore.

The hotel robe was tightened around her damp muscles and the sash was loosely knotted at her waist. She opened the door and became instantly surprised, though she made sure not to show it in the slightest. The man in front of her was most definitely not Becky Lynch. He tucked his cap underneath the armpit of his tunic dress jacket and worked his jaw muscles from side to side, slightly irritated. Charlotte bit the inside of her bottom lip so hard it drew blood to the surface.

“Don’t ever make me knock the door twice,” General Ocampo growled and stormed past her, shoving his dress cap into her arms.

Charlotte stalled, entirely out of her element and slightly embarrassed because of it. Two of Ocampo’s men stood guard in the hotel hallway and closed the door behind their boss. She breathed a small sigh of relief. If they were aware of who she was, or, rather, what she was, then they certainly wouldn’t have sealed Ocampo in what was now for all intents and purposes the most expensive slaughterhouse this side of the horizon.

“Hang these up neatly,” Ocampo dolled out the orders with a light foreign accent and began unbuttoning his dress jacket. “I paid for four hours and that’s what I expect, not a minute more and not a minute…” He stopped and looked at the uncorked champagne on the dining room table, his eyes widening. “Did your madame never teach you it’s rude to drink without your guest? Prostitutes, no manners!” His eyebrow craned with pure disgust.

“Apologies,” Charlotte said meekly and dipped her head to hide her gritted teeth, the cogs turning and chewing against one another in her mind as she tried to piece this together. “I thought you might like to have a glass waiting for you… I wasn’t prepared for you to be so prompt.” She played along to save her skin.

“You weren’t?” He seemed offset by the statement.

“My mistake. Busy important men like you? Well, they tend to run late.” Charlotte lifted her head and made the best out of an unexpected situation. She deduced from Ocampo’s pomp and self-importance that a sense of vulnerability and weakness might do the trick, and so she went with that. “You’re… well… you’re actually my first client…”

“Stop talking.” Ocampo instructed and turned his back to her, filling the champagne flutes on the table with the uncorked Dom Perignon. “We are what we are, there’s no need for pretense or illusion. I am a man. You are a woman. I am a man with few female acquaintances. You are a prostitute. And so we must be the creatures we are in candor, crave the things we crave without shame.” Ocampo turned back around and offered a half glass of champagne. “Here, drink.” He nodded down to the flute with a weak nod.

Her gun and professional accoutrements were left by the bed still in the package Laszlo sent ahead. It presented two problems, first and foremost, the man she would inevitably have to kill in order to kill the people she was paid to kill was standing in front of her under the assumption she was a prostitute… and she was without the tools to kill him quickly and silently. The second problem, which was essentially the root cause of the first problem, was that she expected Becky to be on the other side of the door which was why she didn’t bother to get the gun in the first place. It was stupid. It was beyond stupid. It was stupid for a number of reasons, the first being that had it of been Becky, she would have been in more immediate need of a gun than she was presently.

Charlotte sipped the champagne and remained the perfect picture of calm, because she was calm. This was a puzzle at best, a brain teaser with higher stakes. Becky had sent this man here for a reason after all.

“Please, sit down,” Ocampo said, gesturing to the suave living room.

“Most men go straight for the bedroom?” Charlotte nodded down the hall.

Ocampo smiled slightly. “I paid for four hours,” he said, turning on his feet to lead the way to the sofa. “And I will tell you when it’s time to move to the bedroom.” A stern look was shot over his shoulder.

Charlotte stared at the man unbuttoning his collar, who somehow managed to be a problem that needed to be eradicated and a clue to a puzzle she wasn’t sure merited solving, though she didn’t have time to make any immediate decisions. Instead, she blinked and followed him to the living room.

“Well then, how exactly would you like to fill the next four hours?” Charlotte pretended to be intrigued.

They sat down on the sofa and Ocampo paused, he looked at her strangely. The low ambient light from the golden fixtures highlighted the sheen of sweat across his brow. He looked out of his element, nervous maybe. The sudden flitting of his eyes showed a deep sense of submission. It was stark in contrast from the first assessment she made of his character. Charlotte felt as though there was something missing, a piece of context that she hadn’t quite deduced yet. Ocampo rubbed his knee and swallowed hard, looking around for a moment.

It was as if he was embarrassed.

It was as if something wasn’t going to plan.

Charlotte placed her champagne flute on the coffee table and leaned across towards him. She placed a hand on the top of his knee, her fingers brushing against the tips of his own. Ocampo instinctively pulled his hand away. Bingo, Charlotte realised. There was a pretext to this that she was still unaware of, one that Ocampo wanted her to be aware of and was growing all the more frustrated because she wasn’t. She thought it might be a kink or fetish of some sort...

A roleplay, it dawned.

“Just so we’re crystal clear…” Charlotte licked her lips and thought of how to phrase it. “I need to know what your limits are for the scene… descriptively and specifically.” She leaned in with a small smile, and he became a man out of his element just like that, his stern exterior dissolving into something weak and tacit.

“No bruises.” Ocampo breathed heavily and swallowed in embarrassment. “Our shared contact said you were a skilled dominatrix… that the role of a seductive hitwoman was your speciality and you would only be in Manilla for a few days. I had to meet with you.” He stared at her with a languid look in his eyes, and his voice barely hovered above an embarrassed whisper. “I want you to pretend you were hired to kill me. I thought we could pretend that you’re using the disguise of a prostitute as your cover?”

“Excuse me?”

“Is that not—”

“Stop.” Charlotte lifted her hand and screwed her expression. “A prostitute?”

“Well.” Ocampo became nervous. “If you have a better idea…”

Like that she was rigid and perfectly herself, overwhelmed and underwhelmed, simultaneously. She wasn’t sure if this was a puzzle or a game, a thing to be solved or a thing to toy with for no reason beyond the simple pleasure of finding a new way to kill someone. She hung there for a moment, blinking slowly and certain that this situation was, surprisingly, a gift from the Irishwoman in both name and intent.

Charlotte smiled and sat back, rigid and domineering, existing as herself in truth and candor, wanting the things she wanted without shame. Though, shame was probably the wrong word altogether because she had never really experienced anything close to shame before. Instead, she wanted the things she wanted with a profound sense of consent because Ocampo wanted them too, or at least he thought he did, which opened up a thousand possibilities that had never been there before.

“I am a hitwoman who has been sent to kill you,” Charlotte exhaled the weighty confession. “Well, not you specifically. I was sent to kill the people you protect by the people they pissed off. It’s a complicated situation… most hit jobs are…” She wiggled her eyebrows with a faint sense of amusement. “You’ll forgive me for describing you as ‘collateral damage’ when I get home.”

There’s a moment, when people realise they are well and truly fucked, on the praecipe of death, where their eyes narrow as if their soul is slipping and retreating inwards, trying with all it’s might to protect itself and hide from the oncoming slaughter. Instead, Ocampo’s eyes widened and pearled with arousal. It was unusual, but not entirely disappointing.

“You haven’t tied me up.” Ocampo became unsure of himself, as if he wanted to suggest bondage but was too embarrassed to do so. “I could run… or shout for my men… I could attack you!” He glared and didn’t mean it in the slightest, Charlotte could already tell.

“You won’t do that.” Charlotte glanced to the ceiling and rubbed her hands. “The woman you think is our shared contact? Well, she’s a hitwoman too. It’s a long story, I wouldn’t go as far to describe us as friends. I mean, she once tied me up in a warehouse and nearly stabbed me to death to steal a job…” Her blonde hair was pulled back to reveal a small deep scar on the side of her neck. “It was a hell of a day at the office.” The memory earned a faint smile. “Still, the point I’m trying to make is that if she hasn’t already killed the men standing outside of this room then she’s probably on her way to kill the people you protect — which means I’m about to lose my fee and Duterte will make your death a hell of a lot more painful than I intend to.” She lifted her flute and took a sip of champagne. “I would recommend you don’t divert the path you’re already on, Ocampo.” The glass was placed back down with a satisfied sigh.

Beyond the marble and regality of the suite, there was no noise, not the slightest of sounds, just overwhelming silence. It was exhilarating. It was thrumming with possibility, and for all Charlotte knew perhaps Becky had already killed the men outside, or perhaps she was already on her way to finish the job and undercut the deal with Laszlo and all of this was just a rouse in the meantime to keep her preoccupied. It was infuriating, it was exciting, it was enough to plant the tiniest seed of giddiness in Charlotte’s gut. Ocampo seemed giddy too, his breathing steeped in arousal and excitement, though for entirely different reasons.

“Your bondage is psychological,” Ocampo whispered and nodded. “You’re so convincing,” it was exhaled, impressed and full of arousal.

“You said no bruises,” Charlotte shrugged. “So, how about we jump to the part where you tell me where the senators are staying and in return I won’t gouge your eyes out with my thumbs?” She didn’t so much as blink.

“Is that how you killed the last man who displeased you, Queen?” His dark eyes glimmered with excitement.

Charlotte sighed and became impatient. “No,” she said with a rub against the back of her neck. “The last man I killed was a psychiatrist who thought I had a school girl crush on the hitwoman I was telling you about before… he thought it meant I wasn’t a psychopath.” There was a deep exhale, and then her eyebrows lifted. “I shot him between the eyes and made it look like he was having an affair with his secretary and things turned bitter. Last I heard, she’s doing time at Rikers Island.”

“So you’re a lesbian psychopath assassin?” She watched his trousers tent.

“Wow, you really chose the operative adjectives there.” Charlotte shook her head with faint disapproval. She blinked, thinking about it for a moment with a furrow of her brow. “I wouldn’t say I’m a lesbian. I wouldn’t say I’m anything. People are aesthetically pleasing but god, are they boring.” She closed her eyes. “Well, everyone except…” The sentence trailed and never finished.

“Except who?” Ocampo leaned forward with hope for a satisfying answer.

“Are you expecting me to say you?”

“I’ve paid a lot of money.”

“Of course you did.” Charlotte nodded and realised she wouldn’t earn a dime of what was now in Becky’s back pocket. “Tell me, do you enjoy what you do? The killing? The violence? The finality of it?” She leaned forward with the flute stem rolling between her fingertips.

He pulled back a bit and sat up, stiffened and offset, as if he wasn’t expecting just how far this roleplay would depend on the crux of their deepest personal truths. He swallowed and rubbed his chin, thinking and considering his answer, and on some level Charlotte appreciated both the frankness and absurdity of this unfurling situation. Ocampo reached for the glass of champagne on the coffee table and took a sip himself.

“I enjoy being powerful, who doesn’t?” Ocampo forced a small smile and placed it back down.

She saw through the charade like a knife slicing through butter. There was a heavy sense of guilt that Ocampo was hiding but just not well enough. It repulsed her, offended her almost, it was the same feeling that brewed within her during the war years, which were now a faint and nearly long-forgotten memory. There were a few men she served with who joined specifically for the license to kill another human being, and then when they finally did, they came home changed for all the wrong reasons. The sense of power lasted only for a little while, the exhilaration of it, the hero complex, and then after a period of time all that remained was the burden of guilt, the regret of playing God.

Charlotte didn’t see the act of killing that way. To take a life, to snuff it out and watch it fade, it was like listening to a symphony that could only ever be played once. It was awe striking. It was profound. To kill someone wasn’t to be powerful, to kill someone was to submit to a power far greater than herself, and maybe it was because she understood that wholeheartedly that she was so damn good at her job.

General Ocampo sat there quietly for a moment, his thick black eyebrows knitting together as if something was troubling him, he exhaled and became slightly more resolute. “This story, the one of you and the hitwoman you like...” He turned and peered at her, eyes narrowed with absolute intrigue. “How does it end?”

Charlotte didn’t have an answer.

…

When the front door creaked open, when the sound of heels clicked through the marble hallway, she already knew it was her. The hotel suite was silent and in the process of being cleaned with a forensic eye for detail. Charlotte scrubbed the blood spatter off the floor of the bedroom on her hands and knees, teeth gritted and brow sweating, entirely without the time for anymore games.

“Been busy?” Becky leaned her hip against the door frame and folded her arms, smirk widening with abundant amusement.

She looked up from the bedroom floor and moved her hair out of the way. “A dominatrix?” She threw the cloth down in exasperation, looked at the ceiling, at the headboard, then finally at the grinning troublemaker she was actively trying not to kill.

Her hair flowed down her shoulders like liquid copper, shiny, waved, curving its way along the outskirts the black bustier beneath her open beige trenchcoat. She was wearing high-waisted jeans that hugged her hips and tight stomach in the best ways possible, although it was slightly demystifying, Charlotte would have preferred the bustier and nothing else. Becky was however wearing red lipstick and false eyelashes, accoutrements that Charlotte had never seen her dabble with before, and she had no complaints about it.

“Well.” The Irishwoman lifted her brows. “In hindsight, I rather enjoyed that craic at the chop shop… after my burns healed, obviously.” She dusted her fingertips over the chest of drawers and stepped further inside the room on the click of her heels. “You certainly know how to make a girl feel important.” There was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“Why show up now? You disappear for two months and pop up in the Philippines for what exactly? To steal my job again?” Charlotte chewed.

“How did you kill him?” There was no decisive answer to the question put to her, just a short nod toward the corpse wrapped in bed sheets and linen, her pointer finger suddenly lifting in the air. “Or better yet, did you have fun killing him?” Becky tilted her head to one side.

Charlotte got up off her knees and wiped the skin that was pinkened from the pressure. “He was jacking off with his eyes closed and so I counted down from ten…” Becky’s eyes widened with surprise. “I shot him when I got to two.”

“Cruel.”

“Hilarious.”

“Hilariously cruel.” Becky genuinely giggled and plonked herself down on the chaise lounge. “Swanky room by the way, I see Laszlo likes to keep you sweet.” She nodded in approval.

“I imagine he does. I know where he lives, after all.”

“Do you know where I live?”

“In the worst case scenario of everything I ever do.”

“Well now.” The half empty champagne flute was lifted from the table beside the chaise lounge and examined slightly. “Sounds like that place comes with a hell of a view, I’ll take it.” The troublemaker looked her way with those cold, mischievous, brown eyes.

“The guards outside?”

“Their bodies are playing a very tight game of Twister in the cleaning cupboard.”

“And the senators?” Charlotte was ready to leap for her gun if it wasn’t the right answer.

“Another date, perhaps?” Becky sucked her lips between her teeth for a moment. “I don’t usually play well with others but I thought it might be fun to tag along… I would hate for anything to happen to my beautiful, delicate, fragile, little—”

“I will fist you in the asshole with a knife in my hand.” Charlotte glowered and pulled the hotel robe around herself tighter. “There’s a room service cart in the living room, go and put him in the cleaning cupboard while I get dressed.” She nodded to the corpse and walked to the bathroom.

Lungs pushing, teeth gritted, pulse quickening, she closed the bathroom door and listened to the sound of a woman in the bedroom following orders. Charlotte closed her eyes, and for all her pretense, perhaps this was exactly what she wanted to happen, perhaps everything was going to plan. She had put Becky’s name on the reservation after all… but the trouble was that she absolutely knew Becky was here on other business. People like them, psychopaths, the unafflicted, they didn’t just jump on sixteen hour flights for romps and romances, this was most definitely a business trip.

It was merely a question of what business it was and how it intersected with her own.

…

The last time Becky had worked with another contractor, well, it ended with one more death than originally anticipated. When she had said she didn’t play well with others, it was absolutely the truth. There was something about this life that was profoundly lonely, and all the more perfect because of that reason. The troublemaker enjoyed her own company. It was a pleasure that was becoming more complicated and conditional on a moment to moment basis, because being here, with her, watching her work the way she worked, it was like seeing in colour for the very first time.

The Irishwoman wasn’t sure she would ever be able to go back to the way things once were.

“Hey, Nicole Kidman…” Charlotte’s voice was detached and cool, her demeanor slightly playful, her hand barely stifling the screaming mouth of the woman squirming and kicking underneath her. “Can you turn that on for me?” She nodded to the curling iron next to the mirror.

“My god, I adore you,” Becky whispered the confession with blinding, confusing, profound honesty. “What setting does her Majesty care for?” She plugged it in and watched through the mirror’s reflection as Mrs Aquina, in her pristine pink skirt suit, her laddered stockings, her red painted nails clawing at the Big One’s biceps, kicked and squealed a little louder.

“Do you think loose wave will do the trick?” Charlotte lifted a museful eyebrow.

“Why take a chance?”

“Pin curl?”

“Much better.” Becky agreed and dialled up the heat. “What are we doing about the old man?” She nodded to the barely breathing body sprawled over the shattered coffee table.

“Do you know much about the Triad?”

“Worked for them once or twice, sure.” Becky nodded.

“Make it look like this came from them.” Charlotte pressed her weight harder on the screaming woman’s mouth. “The evidence in the briefcase will only go so far, I don’t want there to be any doubt about who ordered this…”

For a moment, Becky hung there, contemplating how to make her work as impressive as possible. It was astounding how quickly the urge to please the Queen crept up on her, how deeply she felt the need to be admired for her creativity. She drummed her fingers on the desk and pushed forward, her steps toward the dying man filled with consideration.

None of her considerations were reserved for the dying man, not a single one. She was already quite decided that a carved triangle over his slowing heart would be more than enough to do the trick. As the saying goes, sometimes less really is more.

When she finished the task and looked over her shoulder at Charlotte again, it was in her eyes, the calmness, the languidness, the serenity, as if she were reading poetry, as if the yawping woman with scalded red marks seared into her cheeks was the final page of a book she was utterly engrossed in. Becky would remember the wild one like that forever, she smiled slightly, and her considerations only grew deeper on how exactly to make the real reason she came here fit for a Queen.

When the senator stopped screaming, when a bullet was finally fired between the eyes, the muscular creature stilled and hung there, blood spattered across her face and blonde mane, eyes completely blank, a satisfied smile creeping up her cheeks, and Becky hoped for it to never end. The beasts of Wicklow were alive and well while Charlotte still breathed, and so was the little scrawny girl who cried at the thought of them falling down.

It wasn’t a frightening realisation, not anymore, two months had been spent mulling over the conundrum, and now it was merely a problem that needed solving.

“Charlotte?” Becky cleared her throat.

Two narrowed blue eyes found her, inhuman and predatory, cold and calculating, shining with exhilaration. Charlotte clambered off of the body and stood straight, and she said nothing, just stood there and waited expectantly.

“My god, you’re beautiful.” Becky shook her head slightly, awestruck and unconcerned with hiding the fact. “I think you might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.” It was a confession she needed acknowledging, a truth that needed to be heard.

“I hate how much I don’t hate you.” Charlotte closed her eyes, and her voice rasped in a way that made Becky’s stomach feel ticklish and weak. “This is the most fun I’ve had in…” She opened her eyes again, and she saw a gun barrel staring back at her.

“You don’t look surprised?” Becky whispered.

It made Charlotte laugh. “I’m many things, but surprised isn’t one of them.” She pouted, slightly.

“Disappointed?” Becky became troubled.

That wild woman, that fucking maddening, perfect, wonderful woman, blood spatter still wet on her cheeks, she stood there and smiled with a small shake of her head. “Rebecca Kelly,” she smiled as she said her name. “You could never disappoint me.” Her stare grew in intensity.

Becky nodded and took a small amount of comfort in it.

“You know how the Collective feels about side jobs, Charlotte.” Becky shrugged slightly and pulled the safety off her gun. “They offered me a lot of money…”

“I’m glad it’s you here, you know that right?” Charlotte smiled and looked away for a moment. “I never wanted you to end, not really, I don’t think.”

For the first time in twenty five years, Becky felt tears roll down her cheeks, and god, it was humiliating. The fact Charlotte couldn’t stop staring, shocked and confused, only made it worse.

“Do you think I’m an evil person?” Becky blinked away her tears.

“Yes.” The wild one laughed, and her mouth slackened into a grin. “You’re the biggest cunt I know, I promise.”

“Thank you,” Becky exhaled a relieved, flattered noise. “I needed to hear that, thank you.”

“Do you mind if I have a last scotch before we do this?” Charlotte nodded hopefully at the decanter on the side table. “Now that I’m thinking about it, a cigarette would be good too.” She patted herself down for the gold tin.

“Smoking is terrible for your health,” Becky sighed and rolled her head as the Queen reached for her back pocket. “Honestly, Charlotte, it drastically lowers your life span—” A movement caught her eye, an arm pulling back, and she was on her back a second later, a pain shooting through the middle of her chest.

Becky snapped her eyes open and spluttered, when she looked to the source of the pain, a knife was stuck inside of her to the hilt. She laughed so loud it shook the room, she laughed, and she laughed, and she laughed until the copper penny taste of blood was coating her mouth. A shadow landed over her eyes, and she reached for the gun a few centimetres away, but a foot stepped firmly on her wrist and held it there.

“Hey you, it’s okay,” Charlotte whispered and crouched down, and her long warm fingers brushed the hair out of the troublemaker’s eyes. “It could have been either of us. Today I was the better woman, tomorrow it could have been you.” Her voice was soft and reassuring, tentative and unsure of itself.

Becky nodded and laughed again, blood dribbling over her lips, her chest driving up and plummeting back down against the searing pain of the wedged knife, she nodded to the gun, eyes fluttering.

“I. I. I.” Becky caught a breath and was struggling to find another. “I need you to pick it up.”

“And ruin your pretty face?” Charlotte frowned softly.

Becky weakly smiled at the compliment.

“Well, if you’re sure.” Charlotte picked the gun up without examining it too closely. “I want you to know...” She stopped and sighed. “Well. Maybe some mysteries are worth keeping, right?” Her smile was genuine and sad, simultaneously.

The barrel was pointed and the trigger pulled, and Becky couldn’t help but laugh again, she laughed even though it was noiseless, she laughed even though it was quickening her death, she laughed and she didn’t care that it was absurd. Charlotte looked horrified and confused, her eyes darting between the giggler and the tiny white flag that had erupted out of the end of the pistol.

“Be mine?” Charlotte choked out the words that had been scrawled on the tiny rectangular flag. “Be fucking mine?!” It was growled with disbelief.

“I turned down the job.” Becky swallowed, eyes fluttering. “I. I. I thought.” She lost her nerve as pressure was applied to her wound, Charlotte let go for just a moment to search for something to stem the bleeding. “I thought we could stop trying to kill each other, I wanted to make it official.” She coughed slightly.

“You stupid bitch.” Charlotte hissed and tried her hardest to mitigate the damage. “You stupid, idiotic, crazy fucking bitch—”

“Hey,” Becky whispered, her mouth tasting blood, her tongue impossibly dry. She placed her fingers over the hand applying pressure to her gut. “Would you have said yes?” It was exhaled hopefully.

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” Charlotte insisted and became deeply stuck in her thoughts as her shoulders leaned forward to apply more pressure. “I… I like you Becky.” She chewed and exhaled through her nostrils. “I like you and it isn’t easy.”

There was a knock to the door.

“Go.” Becky weakly nodded to the balcony. “Twenty feet, you can ice your sprained ankle when you get somewhere safe.” She pushed a reluctant Charlotte toward the open balcony doors.

“I can’t let them take you alive, Becky, you know too much.” Charlotte became conflicted, her eyes darting between the front door and the dying woman on the floor.

“We both know you won’t kill me.” She managed a tiny last laugh, and her eyes fluttered closed. “Run. You have to run. You run until you’re far away. If I survive this, I suggest you never stop running.”

“I don’t think you’re going to.”

“Then still always lightly jog, because you never know.”

“Becky…”

“Just go,” Becky’s voice became tiny and quiet.

“Alright.” The door banged so loud that it jumped and wobbled in the frame. “If you survive this… come and find me again. You, you come and find me again, Becky Lynch.” That wondrous woman made a break for it.

“Get a jog on, little girl blue.” Becky pursed her lips and smiled.

#charlynch fic #charlynch #charlynch fanfiction #charlynch story #charlotte x becky #becky x charlotte #femslash #wwe femslash #lesbian story #lesbian assassins

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god--baby · 6 years

Text

who owns you (nsfw)

poly bowers gang x ambiguously gendered reader

Anonymous requested: Can I request like the Bowers gang being jealous and possessive??

if you’re interested in a guy reader, try possessive

word count: 3589

tag list: @bowers1989 @pixelcube0 @jordan-writes-occasionally @emmaamalie @heckstetter @soft-jjba-requests @cutegoat-boy @tonguepopperr @lilypad1234 @lonely-baby-doll @zudyblr @daddywise-issues @bitchingfor-it @imnotagoodlistener

Another Friday night, another party. You were alone as the boys played beer pong against each other, having bent arms (Henry) and sweet-talked (Patrick) their way into taking the entire table away from the rest of the party.

You were chain smoking, a little nervous.

It was nothing, you told yourself. It was nothing.

It was just that this group of jocks, passing around a joint, kept looking at you. What they were looking for wasn’t hard to guess.

Wouldn’t be a problem, except they sat between you and the door leading back into the house. Between you and your boyfriends was a group of fucked-up guys easily twice your size.

And these weren’t just any guys. They were the kind of guys who never got told no. It wasn’t in their vocabulary. They always got what they wanted and if the look they were all sending you right this moment told you anything, what they wanted had something to do with you.

You weren’t a stranger to guys who didn’t know the word no. Henry and Patrick… well. They fit the bill. But there was something different about them. They were learning. You’d taken the time to teach them that “no” didn’t mean you didn’t want them or didn’t love them, it just meant “no”.

You’d never had to teach Belch and Vic the meaning of the word. For that, you were grateful.

As you were snubbing out a cigarette and lighting yet another, the back door opened, the sounds of a triumphant Henry floating out. He absolutely crowed, probably made an amazing shot, and you wished more than anything that you could just go in and watch them, get a drink and lean on the kitchen counter facing the middle of the table, cheering for all of your boys, not picking a side, just along for the ride.

You wished. And you wished, and still, that group of boys stayed where they were, an impenetrable wall of terror.

Putting the fresh cigarette to your lips, you took a deep drag, watching that group of jocks out the corner of your eyes. One of them was wearing a tie-dyed shirt, all yellow and orange and red. The rest were in polo shirts and khaki shorts and boat shoes: the uniform of douchebags everywhere.

Finally, they stood. And they walked toward you. Licking your lips, you allowed yourself to look at them head on. And then you put the cigarette to your lips again, taking a short puff before putting it down again, blowing out a short stream of smoke, crossing your arms as much as you could and keep smoking.

These boys didn’t know what they were getting into, here. They didn’t know you from Adam. Probably from Etna, some school where they ruled the day. Some school where students couldn’t imagine sharing the halls with the likes of your gang.

“Hey,” said the one in the light blue polo as they all arrived in front of you, making a semi-circle around you, blocking you into the spot you’d been holding at the edge of the porch.

“Hey,” you said, keeping all your nerves far away from your voice.

You took another drag off your cigarette and blew the smoke into the face of the one in the teal polo. He waved the smoke away, letting out a cough.

“What’s up?” you asked, nonchalant as you please.

“Well,” said the one in the light blue polo. He seemed to be the spokesman, if not the leader, here. “We were wondering what a pretty little thing like you was doing all alone at a party like this.”

“I’m not alone,” you said.

“Sure look alone,” said the one in the yellow polo.

Rolling your eyes, you said, “my crew’s playing beer pong. Two against two. No room for me. Besides, I wanted to smoke.”

“Who’s your crew?” asked the one in the tie-dyed shirt. He seemed genuinely curious.

“Where’re you guys from?” you asked, deflecting the question.

“Etna,” said the leader.

“Mm,” you said. And then you took another drag off your cigarette, gently blowing the smoke right into his face. “You ever hear of Henry Bowers?”

They thought about it. They thought about it for too long.

“That’s my man,” you said.

“Huh,” said the one in the tie-dyed shirt. “I think I’ve heard about him. Mean motherfucker, isn’t he?”

“He’s got nothing on me,” you said.

It wasn’t true. But you needed all the lies you could get at this point. It was just you against five, and lies, when told right, could serve you well.

“Oh, really?” asked the leader, taking two steps towards you, getting in your space.

“You better back up,” you said.

“Y’know,” he said slowly. “I think I’ve heard of you.”

“Not every rumor is true,” you quipped.

“So, the rumor going ‘round about you fucking everyone in your crew? Truth, or fiction?”

You laughed.

That particular bit of news was found out and spread by Gretta Bowie. Bless her, but she didn’t know everything, not the way she thought she did.

For instance: rumor going ‘round said you were fucking every single boy in your gang. It didn’t say that the boys were fucking each other, too.

Little details like that. She always missed them.

“Oh, truth. What about you?” you asked. “Boys, this looks like a circle jerk if I’ve ever seen one.”

The one in the tie-dyed shirt laughed until the leader looked back at him, silencing him.

“Knew you were a whore,” the leader said, putting a hand under your chin. “You just got that kinda look.”

“I’d take your hand off me if I were you,” you said, borrowing the steel from Henry’s voice and the lack of life from Patrick’s eyes. You crossed your arms like Belch and planted your feet wider and balled up your fists like Vic, using what you had in their absence.

“Or what?” he asked, his grip on you just tightening.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” you said.

And then you put your cigarette out on the back of his hand. As he howled, he took a step back, giving you enough room to stoop down and pick up the beer bottle you’d abandoned ten minutes ago. You slammed the bottle against the floor of the porch, breaking off the body, leaving the neck, sharp and dangerous.

You held it out, swiping it in a semi-circle toward the guys. One of them jumped back to avoid the glass, but the rest held their ground.

“Nobody puts their hands on me except my boys,” you ground out between your teeth.

“Crazy ass,” spat the one whose hand you’d burned. He was cradling that hand in his other, and you grinned.

“You shoulda known better,” you said.

“What the fuck?” asked a voice by the door.

You turned, knowing that voice and three others like they were your own.

Henry.

“Your bitch fucking burned me,” snarled the leader.

“Probably had it coming then, didn’t you?” asked Patrick, pushing his way into the circle to put his arms around you, fearless as always.

“I didn’t do —” started the boy.

You cut him off.

“He put his hands on me,” you said.

That was all you needed to say. Your boys flew into action. Vic jumped on the back of the one in the yellow polo while Henry went after the one with the burnt hand. Belch threw a right hook at the one in the teal shirt and then rounded on the one in the tie-dye shirt, who had attempted for a moment to pull him away. Patrick kissed your cheek, hard, before he left you to go after the remaining boy.

You watched in awe as they took care of business, knocking one out, probably giving another a concussion, breaking a nose here, splitting a lip there.

You lit up another cigarette as the jocks finally got some good sense in them and ran away, leaving behind their knocked-out friend. You grinned, imagining him coming to in a few minutes or an hour, wondering where his friends were, not getting any answers.

Henry came back to you, holding out a hand.

“Come on,” he said, voice gruff.

You smiled at him and took his hand, letting him pull you close. You dropped your cigarette in a discarded plastic cup just before you entered the house again, the rest of the guys following you and Henry. Without a word, Henry led you and the guys upstairs, to the door of a bedroom. He banged on it before opening it. Two girls were laying on the bed, kissing, and he barked at them, “get out.”

They jumped, scrambling off the bed and grabbing their heels and all but running out of the room, making themselves small so they wouldn’t brush against any of you as they left.

“Henry,” you reproached.

“No, baby,” he said. “Can it.”

“Can it?” you snarked as he pulled you into the room, the other boys following, Patrick closing the door and locking it behind him. “Really? After what I’ve been through, you’re gonna tell me to fucking can it?”

Vic sat on the side of the bed, holding his arms out to you. Pulling away from Henry, you went to him, standing between his spread legs and hugging his head to your chest.

“What have you been through, baby?” he asked.

“I think —” you said. And then you finally dropped the bravado you’d been using when you’d been up against all those guys. Your voice shook as you said, “I think they wanted to fuck me. They called me a whore.”

“Baby,” Belch said with such care in his voice that you closed your eyes against it, shielding yourself.

“It’s stupid,” you said, eyes still closed.

“Not stupid,” said Vic, his voice muffled by your chest.

You hummed, not saying anything.

“Would you have fucking done it?” Henry asked, his voice nothing but barbed wire.

Opening your eyes, you looked over your shoulder at him.

“Henry,” you said, soft. “I know who the fuck I belong to.”

“Do you?” asked Patrick.

“Yeah.”

Henry grabbed you, yanked you away from Vic and pulled you into a crushing kiss. He bit hard on your lip, and in a moment, you tasted blood. Gasping, you tried to push him away. His grip on you only got stronger, his hands going down to your ass. He slid his tongue into your mouth.

And then you felt someone behind you. With your eyes still closed, you couldn’t be sure who it was — at least until he pulled the collar of your shirt out of the way and bit down, hard, on the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

Patrick.

You pulled, finally, away from Henry’s kiss, gasping for air, one of your hands going to Patrick’s head, grasping at his hair and trying to pull him away from you. He couldn’t be moved, his teeth still on your skin.

“Please,” you breathed. “Please — I —”

“Those assholes know who owns you, bitch?” Patrick hissed, lips brushing your skin.

“Yeah,” you said. “I — I told them. They’d heard.”

“Good old Gretta,” Vic said dryly.

“Yeah,” you said, letting out a breathless laugh. “Can I — please, Patrick —”

“You want something?” he asked.

“Be nice to me,” you begged.

“Nice?” he scoffed. “Nice. You don’t like me ‘cause I’m nice.”

“I like you no matter what,” you said. Then you swallowed. “I just need — something. Softer. Please?”

“Softer,” Belch said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Please,” you begged.

“Hank,” he said, uncrossing his arms and holding one out toward you. It was a question, a request.

“Henry?” you asked, looking at his face. Looking him over, seeing if you could go away from him.

He took a deep breath, then pushed you away from him. Towards Belch.

Patrick let you go at the last second, begrudging. Grumbling.

You went to Belch, into his arms. He held you close, one hand on the back of your head as you pressed your face into his chest. You took a deep and shaky breath, breathing him in.

“You know who you belong to?” he asked softly.

“All of you,” you breathed.

“Atta baby,” he said.

And then he pulled your face from his chest and bent down to kiss you. Soft, so soft. So sweet. You sighed into it, taking his hat off and running a hand through his hair, a little longer than he usually kept it, curly and unruly. He put a hand on the back of your neck and licked into your mouth, and you moaned into it, pressing yourself closer to him. His other hand went to your ass, gently squeezing, and you smiled.

“Will someone please fuck me?” you asked when the kiss was over.

“Fuck you?” Belch asked as Patrick chuckled and said, “so polite.”

“Please,” you said. You begged.

“I will,” Vic said. “Baby, c’mere.”

“No,” Henry snapped. “I’m gonna fuck you. And that’s that.”

You sent Vic an apologetic look as you split from Belch and went back to Henry. Henry pulled you towards the bed, sitting down on it and pulling you in to straddle his lap. You bent down and pulled him into a kiss. He laid back and pulled you with him, his hands going to your ass, squeezing you, rough.

You moaned into the kiss just as he reached down and pulled your shirt off over your head. He threw it to the side then hauled you up farther so he could take one of your nipples into his mouth, scraping his teeth over it, flicking his tongue over it, pinching at the other with his fingers. You closed your eyes and let out a shaky breath as he did, winding your hands into his hair.

Then he sat up and pushed you from his lap.

“Take your clothes off,” he commanded. “Now.”

“Okay,” you said, bending down to take your shoes off. Then you undid your pants and pushed them and your underwear down at the same time. You took off your socks last.

As you got undressed, he pulled his shirt off over his head, then stood, shoving his pants and boxers down. He got a condom out of his jeans pocket, tore it open with his teeth, and rolled it on, tossing the wrapper to the floor.

You watched him until he laid back down. He propped himself up on his elbows and said, “c’mere, baby. Now.”

You licked your lips and went to crawl on top of him, but he stopped you.

“Face my feet,” he said. “I wanna watch your ass.”

Huffing out a laugh, you turned and faced the other way. Then you ground down on his cock, back and forth over it because it was still a little soft. He sighed at you, letting it turn to a growl in his chest, slapping your ass, and you chuckled, looking over your shoulder at him.

“You gonna take my dick, or what?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” you said, all sarcasm.

Reaching below you, you held yourself up as you lined him up with your hole and then sunk down on him, hissing as he filled you up. You stayed like that, all the way down on him, for a moment, just breathing with it. Then, slowly, you started rocking back and forth, riding him. His hands went to your hips and he forced you to fuck him harder, faster. He hitched his feet up so they were on the bed and started pounding up into you, making you gasp and then moan.

Swallowing hard, you reached down with a shaky hand and started stroking yourself. You looked at the boys, at Belch and Vic and Patrick as they watched with hungry eyes. As you continued stroking yourself, Patrick left his post and knelt in front of you, batting your hand out of the way. You whined, and he chuckled, giving you a light lick before he kissed his way to your inner thigh.

Then he bit down, hard. You gasped and hit him lightly, so he’d get the fucking message and not make you bleed. He relented, instead sucking on your skin, not stopping until there was a deep maroon mark where his mouth had been. He blew a short stream of cool air over it, making you shiver.

Then he put his mouth on you, sucking and licking as Henry continued fucking up into you. Your breath came out in shaky bursts, until you were coming with a short shout, your hands in Patrick’s hair.

It didn’t take Henry long to come in you. After he was done shaking in you, he pushed you off him and took Patrick by the neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Patrick smiled into it, winding a hand into Henry’s hair and gaining a groan for his efforts. You rolled your eyes off them and got off the bed, getting gingerly to your feet, going to stand in front of Vic.

You kissed him, light, once on the lips before you got to your knees in front of him, pushing up the bottom of his shirt and putting your hand to the closure of his pants.

“Want me to blow you, babe?” you asked.

“How could I say no to that?” he asked, smiling.

You undid his pants, grinning, and took his cock out of his underwear, pressing the tiniest kiss to the tip before you took him into your mouth, pushing on until your nose was up against his core. It made you choke, and you coughed with him still in your mouth, and his hands shot out to grip you by the hair, pulling you off and onto him again.

As he pulled you off, you looked over to find Belch palming the front of his jeans. You smiled at him, then winked.

“Jerk off on my face, babe,” you said.

He grinned and stepped closer, undoing his pants and pulling his thick cock out. As Vic pulled you back onto his cock, Belch jerked off over your face. Patrick came around and did the same, letting out little grunts and groans as he did.

It didn’t take long for both of them to come on your face. Henry whistled at you, and you blushed.

Vic crouched down in front of you, pulling you into a deep kiss.

“See,” he said, “this is why I don’t watch porn anymore.”

You huffed out a laugh.

“Oh yeah?” you asked.

“Yeah. You’re nasty enough. I don’t need anything else, I got the real thing.”

“Kiss me again,” you said.

He did.

When the kiss ended, Patrick jerked your face in his direction and set to licking the cum off of you. Giggling, you waited until he was done to say anything.

“Cum eater,” you said.

“Slut,” he snarked back.

“Bitch.”

“Only for you, darling.”

“What’s Henry?” you asked. “Chopped liver?”

Henry hooted out a laugh, and you all turned to face him to find him dropping the used condom in the trash next to the bed, then doing his pants up again, followed by his belt.

“Got you there, Pat,” Henry said.

“Yeah, I did,” you said, proud of yourself.

“C’mon, baby,” Henry said. “Get dressed. I wanna go back to playing.”

You gave him a shitty two-finger salute and got slowly to your feet, hunting around for your clothes.

When you were dressed, Belch grabbed you by the hand and pulled you from the room, onto the landing where a line of your classmates and peers from other towns stood, waiting for the bathroom. Some of them clapped, drunk, obviously able to guess what you’d been doing.

Whatever. The rumor going around meant that you didn’t have to be careful anymore. If people thought you were fucking all of them, they weren’t wrong.

You took a bow.

Then you and the boys went back downstairs, pushed your way out onto the back porch, and each lit up a cigarette. Except Patrick. Patrick produced a joint — something you’d had no idea he’d had — seemingly from nowhere, and lit it.

He passed it to all of you one by one, and you slowly got a little bit high.

You refused another puff off the joint, favoring your own cigarette instead, as you looked to where one of the jocks, the one who’d been knocked out, laid prone on the floor of the porch, people making their way around him carefully, not messing with him, but also not helping him, obviously knowing who’d done it.

People didn’t mess with the gang’s handiwork, no matter how big their conscience was.

When you were all done smoking, you went back inside and bent arms and sweet-talked your way into commandeering the beer pong table. Belch and Vic against Patrick and Henry. You got a cup of punch and leaned on the counter, facing the middle of the table, cheering for both sides equally.

After a particularly good trick shot by Belch, you jumped up and down and pulled him in for a kiss. The kitchen, full to bursting, went silent. You pulled away from Belch, looking around at everyone.

“What?” you asked.

Henry let out a full-bellied laugh, then held out a hand to you.

“Gimme a kiss, baby,” he said.

You kissed him, and when it was over, he whispered against your lips, “they’ll get used to it.”

You grinned.

They’d have to.

#the bowers gang #bowers gang #henry bowers x reader #vic criss x reader #belch huggins x reader #patrick hockstetter x reader #poly bowers gang #mine

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yukiwrites · 6 years

Text

Morgan, Talking Dragons

Thank you so much for commissioning me again, @xpegasusuniverse! Morgan’s reactions are always so funny to write! I hope you like it! ;D

Summary: Morgan, now Linfan, finds out that Corrin can turn into a dragon -- but is he a manakete? Why hasn’t Odin informed her of this?! Such an interesting thing... she needs to investigate!

Commission info HERE and HERE!

Ever since Morgan fell into the Forgotten Kingdom and assumed the name of Linfan, she had yet to fight by Prince Corrin's side.

There were a myriad of reasons, most of them being that she technically became Prince Leo's retainer alongside her brother Odin, so she would mostly fight by their side instead of the commander of the army's.

Nevertheless, she never really thought much about who was beside her during battle due to how used she was to fighting alongside Owain, Severa and Inigo. They were an undefeated team, and despite the flights of fancy characteristic of her bloodline, she and her brother never got tired of their little group.

Of course, the one usually issuing orders of who would fight where was Corrin himself, though he himself also thought it better to leave Linfan beside the people who knew her from before, so the thought of fighting alongside her never crossed his mind, either.

One day, however...

"It's an ambush!" One soldier shouted from atop the hill they were camped at. "We can't see them very well, but there must be hundreds heading this way!"

Linfan, Corrin and Azura were taking a walk as the songstress told them all about that strange yet wonderful place. The prince glanced at both women and nodded.

"Anyone who can bear arms, come forward! We fight for our lives!" Corrin vociferated, a body as slender as his unfitting of such a strong and deep voice.

"I wonder if I can shoot my Thoron from a distance...!" Linfan quickly took out her favored tome, running beside her friend.

"Don't do anything you're not used to!" Corrin's voice seemed to deepen, making Linfan glance at him while they ran towards the edge of camp, where the ambush had been set. She widened her eyes once she saw something shining by the prince's hands: A dragonstone!

It was of a different shape and color, but she would recognize those anywhere!

"Lord Corrin, you're-" her mouth ran before she could think, the prince transforming mid-run and taking flight right after. "Whoa!" Linfan brought one arm over her eyes so as to shield them from the dust kicked by the strong wind. "He's a-"

Azura nodded beside Linfan. "A dragon, yes. I suppose you never had the chance to witness it in battle."

Morgan's jaw dropped, watching Corrin fly through camp and shoot a water-y thing at the purple-y invisible-y enemies. "B-but he doesn't have the ears?" She made a pinching movement over her left ear, pulling it backwards.

The princess frowned slightly. "He does, however?" She said, though it felt like a question. "Maybe you never noticed because of his hair."

"Holy cow!" Linfan slapped her forehead. "But manakete's ears are too long to be covered by hair..." She mumbled, the both of them finally reaching the ambush, redying themselves for battle. "Ohh, I gotta kick Brother's ass for this! He never told me there were manaketes over here!"

Despite their large numbers, the invisible enemies had no real strategy, simply throwing themselves at the first blade they found in their way. The battle was won before noon, without many casualties.

Odin ran to where his sister was, worried for having a skirmish away from her. "Linfan! Linfan, are you alright?" He cupped both hands around his mouth to shout for her.

"Brother! There you are!" Morgan waved from afar -- she had just been helping the healers carry a basket of herbs into the med tent.

"Linfan!" The mage sagged his shoulders with relief, trotting to where his little sister was. "How are you holding up? I don't see any injurie- OW! Hey, you just kicked my shin! What's that about?!" He jumped on one foot, holding the struck shin with both hands.

Morgan pointed right into her brother's nose. "You never told me Lord Corrin was a manakete! By Naga, this is the most surprising thing I learned since coming here!" She gestured as though her mind had been blown. "And his dragon form is so strange! He has horns! And he shoots, uh, water? He's shorter than the manaketes we know, too..."

Odin panicked, looking left and right to check if anyone was listening in. They were surrounded by people, their little show of sibling love catching more than a lot of unwanted attention. "L-Linfan, this isn't the best place-"

The apprentice tactician wasn't listening, however. She gestured as though in a trance. "Did you SEE his dragon form, Brother?! He's, like, four-legged? But he has thin fingers! ... Oh, wait! Wait, wait, wait...!" She covered her mouth in shock, frowning deeply.

Her brother stared, his mouth agape, knowing he was unable to stop her once she got this invested in babbling about something.

Linfan tilted her head to him, as though about to utter a secret. "Do you think... he can stop wyrmslayers barehanded?"

"Uh," Odin opened his mouth to retort, though he wasn't sure what to respond to that.

Morgan bounced back, clenching both fists up. "'Cause, you see, his dragon form has longer arms! He can totally put them over his head and SNAP," she slapped both hands in a loud clap, "stop a blade barehanded!"

"Mor- uh, Linfan." Odin finally managed to snap out of it, squeezing his sister's shoulder. "We shouldn't talk about manaketes out loud." He looked to the sides, worried about the following around them. "Lord Corrin isn't one-"

A familiar voice cut him in, as though an icy blade piercing through his uneasy heart. "'Manakete'? And my Brother is not one, Odin?" Leo spoke from behind, clearing his throat.

"What kinda word IS that, anyway? Sounds like a hoshidan delicacy or something." Takumi commented beside his nohrian counterpart, crossing his arms.

Odin started to sweat in buckets, his body freezing. "We, uh..."

"Oh, Elise and Sakura are here, too!" Linfan waved to the young princesses. The four royals had found themselves amidst the chaos of battle and stuck around to check on the wounded.

"Y-you were so passionate, we didn't want to interrupt..." Sakura stuttered, clutching both hands over her chest.

"But that sounds awesome!" Elise bounced, "now I wanna ask if Big Brother can actually stop a sword with his bare, uh... claws? I don't think he has hands when he's in dragon form..."

"OH!! That's a nice idea! I have experience in hand-chopping!" Linfan sprung up to her friends' side, her eyes shining with a tiny hint of mischief.

"Wait, wait," Takumi raised both hands, "you have experience in training dragons to stop wyrmslayers over their heads? I thought you didn't have memories from the past?" He narrowed his eyes to her.

Odin's head shot up, ready to blurt out something on the spot to cover for his sister, but she was faster.

"HEYA!" She yelled, hand-chopping Takumi's head.

The blow landed with a loud bonk.

"OUCH!!" The hoshidan prince covered his head with both hands. "Hey, what's the big idea?!"

"Fufufu," Morgan blew her fingernails with a smirk. "It's a legendary technique only known to the fiercest of swordmasters!! It's ingrained in my blood to conquer it!!" She made an extravagant pose, and if Odin didn't know better, he would actually praise her for the great save.

But he knew she was just saying whatever came to her mind, forgetting that they were actually lying to everyone about her amnesia and their secret background.

That seemed to hit Takumi intimately. "F-fiercest swordmasters?! Then Ryoma knows it for sure!" He puffed his chest. "And I'll learn it, too."

"Ohoh?" Linfan placed both hands over her hips, triumphant. "I shall bestow the knowledge upon you! Hiya!!" She chopped again, but this time, Takumi managed to evade it. "You're not supposed to dodge it, fool! You have to catch it, hiya, hiya, hiya!"

"H-hey, that's foul play- there are too many people here!"

"No excuses! Hiya!!"

Odin gave up getting anxious about the whole situation, sighing in displeasure. Leo cocked an eyebrow.

"So?" The prince asked, placing both hands behind his back.

"Wah! L-Lord Leo!" Odin quickly straightened his back.

"I'm waiting, Odin." Leo ticked his foot on the ground. "What's this 'manakete' and why did Linfan think my brother was one?"

The noise of Morgan running after a screaming Takumi under Elise's and Sakura's laughter turned into background noise.

"We, uh... Know a few... manaketes? From where we came from?"

Leo furrowed his brow. "Why are you asking me? Are you hiding more things from me, Odin?"

The mage's knees gave out. "P-perish the thought, milord! This Odin Dark is simply shaken because his little sister remembered something, that's all!"

Unamused, Leo simply shifted the weight of his body to another leg. "Let's suppose I believe you for now. My question was still left unanswered, though."

Opening and closing his mouth like a fish, Odin almost fried his legendary brain trying to get out of that one. "M-manaketes are... dragon shapeshifters from back home." Finding no way out, he decided to tell the truth in layers.

"What?!" Leo took a step towards his retainer, squeezing both of his shoulders. "Your land has that many royals with a strong Ancient Dragon's blood?"

Odin's mouth pulled with an almost smirk. "Y-yes, that's exactly it! The royals of our lands are called manaketes and they can t-turn to dragons! Different dragons, but still-"

"You must tell me more about this." Leo lifted his chin up, urging Odin to put himself on his feet. "Come, tell me more over dinner." He turned on his heel and started walking towards the mess hall.

Flinching, the mage quickly ran after his master. "L-Lord Leooo!"

#morgan #fire emblem awakening #fire emblem fates #owain #takumi #leo sakura elise corrin azura #my writings #Yuki's Commissions

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 6 years

Text

Incubus!Chase Brody x Magician!Reader

I saw a post that had the idea of Chase being an Incubus so I got inspired.

This story will not have anything explicit or any major NSFW content (only v minor talk about intercourse will occur throughout since we are talking about an Incubus here).

So w/o further to do here we go-

After what seemed like an eternity, you’ve finally figured it out.

You now knew how to summon any sort of demon you desired. Each one had their own special pentagram that must be drawn correctly and precisely before you could light the candles.

Even though your brother, Marvin, strongly advised against you tapping into demonology and the dark arts, you went ahead anyway to satisfy your curiosity.

Once you had finished drawing the pentagram that would summon a demon called an “Incubus”, you took a step back to make sure the image in your book matched the one on the floor. You also checked to see that the candles were in the right positions.

What compelled you to choose an Incubus out of all demons is beyond you, although you knew how to keep him at bay should he…..try anything.

Using levitation, your book hovered beside you, showing you the page with the summoning spell. You pulled out your small ritual knife from your cloak pocket, removing one of your gloves.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at the bolded words and began to speak them slowly and clearly. “Lilith, sweet Lilith, I ask that you hear my call. I ask that you send onto this earth one of your sons. And I shall allow him to fulfill any desires he wishes. Please, take this offering.”

Then you carefully sliced your palm with the knife, watching the small stream of blood trickle onto the center of the pentagram.

It was then you felt a sudden chill rush through you and then…..a portal opened up in the circle as the candles blew out at the same time.

You held your breath as a clawed, black hand emerged from it moments later. The creature slowly rose up from it, standing on his…..hooves?

Titling your head to the side, you gazed at him. You blushed slightly at the rather revealing outfit he had on, although you expected no less from an Incubus.

A devilish tail swayed gently behind him, and only his arms were black, the rest of his upper body sporting a pale complexion.

But strangely enough he had the lower body of a satyr and….some kind of snapback hat you’ve seen teens wear all too often. It was then you began to wonder if you made a mistake somehow-

“Like whatcha see, baby~?”

You blinked in surprise as the Incubus spoke, smirking as he leaned against the wall. Then he looked down at the pentagram and candles, skipping over them. “Lucky me to be summoned, eh?” He chuckled softly, his glowing blue eyes gazing into your [e/c] ones curiously. “What’s your name sweetheart?”

“[Y/n],” you replied to him, your heart pounding a mile a minute. “And..yours?”

“Chase. Short and simple.” He grinned, flashing his sharp teeth. “Wanna see what I can do?”

Already you were having second thoughts, but since you’ve made it this far you knew there was no going back. So you nodded. “Alright..but-”

However, a ball made of smoke appeared in his hands. Then he turned and went to shoot it into your trash can on the other side of the room. He missed, though, so he conjured up another one and shot that, this time making it into the bin.

“WOOO~!!!” Chase jumped with joy, spinning back around to face you with a childlike grin. “Did ya see that?? I made the shot!!”

“…..is that really your method of seduction?”

His smile faltered. “U-Uh…yeah, pretty much…look. I’m whatcha call a “lower tier” Incubus. See?”

He removed his hat, revealing to you the pair of small, nubby black horns that were almost hidden in his messy, fluffy grass-green hair. “The bigger the horns, the stronger our seductive powers and lust…..meaning I’m kinda…..very weak in those categories.”

“I’ve read about that,” you nodded in understanding. “So..you wanna just hang out and I can tell you about myself?”

Chase looked at you, surprised. “Really? But I…um..thought you summoned me..to uh…y’know….” A slight blush rose to his cheeks.

“Well I mean…I just picked a random demon to summon since I’ve never done anything like that before. Besides you..don’t seem comfortable with doing that.” You gave him a gentle smile. “And I understand since we only met not even a minute ago.”

“B-But..” He stammered. “I mean..I’m a-an Incubus. That’s my..m-my purpose. I-I have to…I…I need to-”

“Hey.” You took his hand into yours, giving it a squeeze of reassurance. “It’s okay, Chase. You don’t have to force yourself upon me or anything like that. I don’t mind if you wanna wait until later when we know each other better. We can always just…cuddle if you want at least some kind of intimacy going on.”

After giving it some thought, the Incubus sighed in relief, relaxing his shoulders. “A-Alright. Thanks, [y/n]...I...appreciate it.” He smiled at you.

“Of course. Consent is always key as they say.” ………

Over the course of a month, Chase pretty much became your demonic roommate. You had erased the pentagram you drew on the floor when it became apparent that he had quickly grown attached to you.

No, you two didn’t engage in any sexual activities whatsoever. Instead you simply told him about your life as a magician and how you branched off into other forms of magic besides silly card tricks.

And he was there to….simply fill that lonely space you’ve had in your heart for quite some time. You were always cooped up in your house studying spells that you’ve lost touch with many of your friends.

But with Chase being there for you…you did feel a lot better.

Cuddling became an all-too common activity for you both. At first it was awkward, considering that he refused to change his outfit or put on something less…revealing, so you were basically hugging an almost completely naked guy.

Thankfully, though, he was okay with a blanket being over him.

Whenever you two were laying down, he liked to curl up and bury his face into your chest for the most part. But he was an Incubus, so you weren’t too surprised that he wanted to use cuddles as an excuse to get close to your breasts.

He would still try to “seduce” you with more of his silly trickshots, even though they just made you laugh more than anything.

Oddly enough, despite it being an entire month and the moments of intimacy you two shared, his horns barely grew an inch and he never really lusted after you.

There were hugs, cuddles, and kisses, but never….anything beyond that.

You were okay with that, and you never tried to force him into doing anything he didn’t want to just so you could be pleasured.

You were more than happy with the sort of relationship you maintained with the Incubus, and it seemed that he was, too. ……..

“Chase? Honey? I have a really cool spell I wanna show you~!” You grinned giddily as you made your way to your room, spellbook in hand.

Although when you reached the door, you noticed that it was closed, which was strange considering you had it open before.

But then…you could hear soft whimpers and sobs on the other side.

“Chase?” You opened the door to see the Incubus on your bed, curled up in the very corner and hidden underneath a blanket. His tail was the only part of him sticking out.

Worried, you walked in and climbed onto the bed beside him, wondering what got him so upset. “What’s wrong?” You removed the blanket, only to find him with his face buried into his knees.

After a few moments of crying, he stopped and looked at you, his once vibrant blue eyes now dark and rimmed with tears.

“M-Me..”

You blinked in confusion, shifting closer and wrapping your arms around him. “Honey..” Your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean by-?”

“I’m…wrong [y/n]. I’ve…I-I feel like a-a disappointment….br-broken..…bu-but I don’t…I didn’t....w-wanna…” It was obvious he was having a hard time speaking, so you hushed him and held him close.

“Shhh, don’t keep it in. Just cry it all out.” You coaxed as you removed his hat and stroked his head. And he did just that as he shoved his face into your warm chest, sobbing uncontrollably as he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist.

With a soft sigh you ran your gloved fingers through his hair, your hand glowing with a pink, calming aura. It was something that automatically activated whenever you were close to someone feeling distressed. You gently kissed his horns as well.

After about a minute, the magic did its work and Chase calmed down, his sobs ceasing as he sat up slowly. “Th-Thank you...sorry a-about the stain..“ He mumbled, glancing down at you shirt.

“It’s fine.” You waved it off, the pink glow vanishing. ”I-”

But you were cut off when he then grabbed the end of your cape, bringing it up to his face to dry his tears and blow his nose into it.

‘Eww..’ You grimaced slightly. ‘And I just washed this, too..’ But you shook away those thoughts, knowing that whatever reason he was crying was more important than snot on your cape.

“So what do you mean you’re “wrong”, Chase?“ You cupped his cheek, wiping away any stray tears. "Is it because we haven’t...made love yet?”

“N-No..it’s… m-more than that..” He sniffled, placing his hand over yours and nuzzling your palm. “Honestly I...I-I was never fond of being summoned just for sex.”

You blinked in surprise, before you came to the realization as to why he said he was “wrong” and “broken”.

Because he was not like other Incubi.

“I know I was created to..lust after humans and nothing more,” he continued. “But I....I wanted to know what it was like to actually love one for their..personality and not just their body. I wanted to just do things like cuddle, and talk about life, and eat snacks, and watch movies like...normal human couples.”

A tiny smile grew on your features as he spoke those words. You almost forgot that this was a demon from down below and not an angel sent from above.

“And you got to experience that, didn’t you?” You asked softly.

“Y-Yeah,” Chase nodded slowly. “But...o-others who have summoned me simply....sent me back when they realized I-I didn’t want to...f-fulfill their desires right then and there.” His eyes filled up with tears. “And my mother...w-would be waiting for me...so disappointed..and my brothers w-would laugh at me. I-I keep promising them I’ll do it....but-”

“I won’t send you back.”

He gave you a double-take, eyes widening. “What...?”

“It’s obvious that you’ve been a lot happier here,” you elaborated. “So I don’t see any reason why you should go back. Besides I’ve already erased the pentagram if you hadn’t noticed. And it was incredibly hard to draw out...so I don't plan on doing that again anytime soon”

For a few moments, he stared at you, shocked. And then his face lit up with a smile as he hugged you tight. “Th-Thank you so, so much, [y/n]...I..I-I love you..” He kissed your shoulder. “I love you so damn m-much.”

“I love you, too, Chase.” You returned the hug. “But just remember, those things you said don’t make you any less of an Incubus. You’re not “broken” or anything like that, you’re simply friendlier and sweeter than most Incubi. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, understand?”

Chase nodded, nuzzling your neck and kissing it a few times, his scruff tickling your skin. “I-I understand..I’ll stay with you....on one condition.”

“And what’s that?”

“That I show you more of my latest trickshots. I think I’m getting better at ‘em.”

“....alright. But, I also have one condition you must agree with.”

“What would that be, babe?”

“We gotta get you out of that stripper outfit so I stop having nosebleeds every other day.”

“.....fair enough.”

#chase brody x reader #incubus #female reader

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