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six-sanctuary · 3 years

Text

Homecoming (Will Miller x Reader)

Author’s note: I’ve never written a fic before but was HEAVILY inspired by all the amazing content @lucrezia-thoughts and @charnelhouse generate (Super hope that's okay!) and wanted to try my hand at it and contribute to Triple Frontier Fr-saturday. (I know I'm a day late whoops)

Also I suck at proofreading I’m so sorry for any errors and hope someone enjoys this. Lowkey proud of myself for not being obnoxiously shy and just saving this to my desktop somewhere for eternity.

Anyways here we go no more rambling this is the fic. If I still dig it later on I might write some more in this lil universe either with Will/Reader or throw in some Benny/reader. Maybe even Santiago/reader if I can get his voice right.

Below the cut is 18+ only please and thanks!

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

You’d always been there, and you always would. It was the sort of realization that crept up slowly on Will. Looking back he wishes he could count the times he counted on you. He wishes he could put it into something concrete like numbers, something that he could wrap his head around, but you were there even before the numbers.

You were there before he was shipped off to war, before he had to learn to count as he breathed, in… two… three… four… five… hold… two… three… four… five…. out… two… three… four… five…. You were there before he broke and crumbled, falling into a million little pieces he didn’t know how to put back together again.

He wished he knew the number of warm smiles you’d given him. He wished he knew what number it took for him to fall in love, whether it was the hundredth or hundredth thousandth soft smile. All he knows now is that so much time was wasted, and he didn’t want to lose a second more.

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

You’d moved to Colorado a few months ago. It had always been part of the plan but that timeline got moved up when Will’s parents announced they were selling the house in favor of something smaller now that they were empty nesters. For a solid week, Will hummed and hawed about it, flip flopping back and forth. The thought of giving up something that was so integral to his childhood, something that had always meant home for him, was hard.

After weeks of his thinly veiled discontent, you came to a solution. After one of his talks, you sat him down in the dining room table of your apartment together and laid out the documents one by one. Rather than explain right away, you let Will take them all in, grabbing each one and skimming it before moving on to the next piece of paper.

“This is…. To buy the house?” Will’s thumbs smoothed over the paper as if in need of a reminder that they were real, that this was real. “My parent’s place?” His voice was thick with emotion, which never failed to bring it out of you. Rather than answer in words and risk your voice failing you, you nodded.

From there it was a lot of packing, a lot of hard work, but with the Delta Force boys help you two managed to get everything packed up in a hauler, ready to make the trek halfway across the country. The thought of being holed up in the car for hours on end with Benny made you the slightest bit nervous. The younger Miller was a bundle of energy and while you appreciated that most of the time, you were wary about being stuck in cramped quarters with the lightning bolt of a man. In the end the cars were split with you and Santiago taking Will’s Ford and Will and Benny driving the Uhaul.

You had a week of the gang’s help, well the gang minus Frankie. He had to head back a few days early to his wife and daughter. The others stayed, even Tom, though he was quick to point out several “serious”problems with the house that you’d need to look into. Despite that, it already felt like home. Sure it needed your and Will’s touch on the place, and a number of things had gone into disrepair as the Millers got older. At some point it had become too much for them, but it was the perfect project for a newlywed couple.

Not once did you regret it. Not when you were lugging heavy boxes up the stairs nor when you learned the roof needed to be replaced. No, each problem was taken in stride because you knew with Will by your side, you’d get through it. There was nothing the two of you could not conquer.

Soon the novelty of the new house wore off and with Benny back at his apartment down the street and Santiago and Frankie back home, you and Will fell into a quiet domesticity. You lived in pieces, your life wrapped up in boxes while you made repairs to the house.

Will, though he meant well, was not as handy as he claimed to be. After the shower incident that required a late-night call to an emergency plumber, your big Delta Force husband was relegated to the simpler tasks, or the ones that required his muscle. If a dresser had to be moved, he was your man, rolling up his sleeves and making it look easy. The same went for anything that required reaching high places (the uppermost cabinets in the kitchen were a real bitch). In the end, Will ended up spending more time turning the side yard into a garden while you turned this old house into your home.

After a month, Will had to go back to work. He’d been requested to give a speech in D.C., back to the other side of the country. As much as you wanted him to stay, you knew that this was important to him. You knew how much it mattered to him to feel useful, to feel good about what he did and so with a kiss to the cheek, you promised him that you’d have the kitchen cabinets all painted by the time he came back.

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

Classic rock was softly playing out of the radio you had set up on the counter. Painting was boring work, even more so all by yourself. The radio made you feel less alone and so you hummed along as you worked. Stroke after stroke of paint was rolled onto the cabinets, breathing new life into the space. It was really mindless work and so your thoughts wandered as you painted. You thought about the home, what other projects you had in mind. If you finished the cabinets quickly enough you wanted to tackle the downstairs bathroom too before Will got back.

He'd called every night but it wasn’t the same as him being here. If you were lucky, you got him on FaceTime and got to see his face light up when you appeared on his screen. Even with the small image of him on your phone he was so handsome, golden and bright. You’d called him your Apollo once, god of the sun, and he’d found that funny. Ben was picking him up from the airport tomorrow and driving him home and then you’d have your sun again.

The opening of the front door snapped you out of your thoughts, your head whipping around. “Honey?” His gruff voice was unmistakable to you. Without a second thought your paintbrush was set down, dripping slightly off the drop cloth though that was a problem for later. Your feet carried you to him, flinging yourself into his arms when you saw him standing there in the foyer. “I thought you were coming back tomorrow.” You nuzzled into his neck, breathing in the smell of him as his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. “We finished early and I wanted to surprise you.” It was definitely a surprise.

His hand moved from the small of your back to your chin, gently lifting it to place a soft kiss on your lips. “I missed you,” you breathed before stealing another. “I know.” He always knew. He knew every time he left you would miss him and he would miss you. You’d play this game and then he’d come home and reclaim you. One kiss turned into two, which then turned into three and four. Your hands moved to his short blonde hair, moving to the back of his neck to pull him closer, ever closer.

Leaving his bags at the door, you two tangled, desperate for contact, desperate for two to become one again. He picked you up, something you’d normally protest as your feet worked just fine, but instead you let him carry you up the stairs, deeper into your home, to your bedroom.

With a playful grin he tossed you onto the bed, nearly chuckling at the way you almost bounced. His amusement only lasted a moment before lust and his need to have you took over. He descended on you on the bed, lips crashing into yours for a heated kiss as his tongue grazed against your lower lip. He was everywhere at once, overwhelming all of your senses as his name repeated over and over in your head like a mantra.

Will… Will… Will…

His large hands held your wrists above your head, somehow managing the dichotomy of being gentle but firm, while his lips retraced every curve of your skin. Every time he came back the routine was the same. Will wanted, no needed to learn you again, to cover every soft spot that made you sigh to ensure you were the same as when he had left. He needed to know and so he kissed you, his trimmed beard tickling as he slowly made his way down your body earning soft moans along the way.

He only left your wrists when he got to your legs, separating them and placing one over his shoulder as you laid back on the bed. There he paused, looking down at you so bare and exposed and wet beneath him. It was hard not to move under his gaze. “God you’re so beautiful.” You felt heat rise in your cheeks as you whined out his name. He placed a less-than-chaste kiss on your inner thigh before moving closer, breathing in your heady scent. Licking your folds, he let his tongue circle your clit, smirking at the sounds leaving your lips.

He knew your body like the back of his hand and it took no time at all for him to bring you to that peak of pleasure. Closer and closer, more and more you felt your body respond to him, your hips rolling up against his tongue, hands fisting in the sheets or his hair whichever was closer. “C’mon baby,” he coaxed, slipping a finger into your slick heat, curling it to stroke the soft spot that made you cry out and shudder around him.

“That’s one.”

And you knew your husband would follow through with another. He collected your orgasms like some collected baseball cards, counting each and every one. No night ended with just one, leaving you spent exhausted and so satisfied at the end.

Wiping the wetness from his face, he kneeled next to you, watching as your breathing rate came back down, waiting for the sign that he could have you again. As you blinked the haze away, his hands trailed up and down your side, drawing absent patterns against your soft skin. The look in his eyes of restrained hunger made your mouth go momentarily dry, reigniting the flames of passion within you. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you used your other hand to reach for him, pulling him over you.

It was all the encouragement he needed. After tossing his shirt away, his calloused hands move to your thigh, hiking it up over his hip. You had only a moment to take in the sight of him, the well-toned muscle, the scar on the left side of his stomach, before you two crashed together once more. Your hips ground against the hard bulge in his pants, leaving a dark patch in the denim. You needed more, more friction, more him.

He pulled away only long enough to unbutton his pants, kick off his boots and rid himself of the rest of his clothing. Standing at the edge of the bed, he stroked his impressive length a few times as he admired your naked form. Then the wait was too long and crawled over you, lining himself up and so agonizingly slowly pushing himself into you. You tried to be still but it seemed your body had something else in mind as your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him ever closer.

“Someone’s eager,” he breathed, both of you knowing full well that neither of you had the patience to wait much longer. Pressing his lips firmly against yours, he moved, hips snapping into you at a quick pace, his size stretching you in ways no one else ever could. Your body molded to fit around him, your leg wrapping around him once more in an effort to guide him ever deeper. He bottomed out in you before pulling out and pressing into you again and again and again. Each motion put stars behind your eyes, the fireworks building to another crescendo.

You felt him get closer, the rhythm of his hips losing itself as he continued to thrust into you, hips stuttering as the pleasure overwhelmed. “One more honey, I know you have one more.” His low throaty growl in your ear was enough to push you over the brink, your hands clamoring for purchase on his back and shoulders as you cried out once more. Your core clenched down on him and it took only a few more hurried thrusts before you felt his hot seed shooting into you as he let out a low grunt.

His forehead rested against yours as he remained where he was, not wanting to pull out of you just yet. A thin sheen of sweat covered the both of your bodies and despite that you didn’t think either of you were finished quite yet. You had a full week of time apart to make up for. Will pulled his head back from your forehead to give you another soft kiss, this one lacking the passion and lust but more than making up for that with the love and affection he poured into it. “It’s good to be home.”

#kiki writes #triple frontier #will miller #will miller x reader #will miller x you #will ironhead miller #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction

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teeswrites · 3 years

Note

what about feeling homesickness and Calum comforting her?

thaxxx! i changed a bit, hope you like ❤

Home

He was standing in front of her house, it's was a fresh end of the afternoon in LA, with a cool wind and a pink-shaded sunset. He had a cigarette between his fingers in one hand and the other one was resting at his side after he knocked on the door. She opened and locked it with her key "night" he checked his iPhone '5:57 pm' "almost night. And you are gorgeous. As always" "thanks, you are too" she directed her gaze to the cigarette quickly, but not quickly as he dropped it onto the ground and stubbed his foot in it. She hated when he smoked. "thought you were going to quit" "I will" "yeah and I will fly away from this damn city" "what is wrong with LA?" "It isn't home" he knew she missed her hometown, Milwaukee, and he also knew she had duties in LA and she knew that too "babe..." "It's alright" she breathed deeply before look at her boyfriend and smile "thought we were going, huh?" "Yeah, sure, let's go" "let's go" he took her hand in his empty one and they walked to her car. She had a glowing conversible candy apple red 1966 Ford Mustang that Calum was never allowed to drive "why I cannot drive?" "You know why" "oh, come on. It's old shit, honey" "no! Almost kill me isn't 'old shit'" "was an accident and you just broke an ankle" "A leg" she sat on the driver's seat and he watched how good she looked in the sunset "hey!" She snapped her fingers "aren't you coming in?" "fuck! Sorry. it's your fault!" he jumped into the car and put on the seat belt "I will not apologize for you having a terrible sense of beauty" she had low self-esteem sometimes "my sense of beauty is perfect" he leaned closer and cupped her face "just as you" "you are perfect" she smiled and pulled his neck to a passionate kiss. A calm and warm, but passionate kiss "but, seriously babe, let me drive" "no!" she turned on the engine, adjusted the mirror and backed up the car from the driveway without taking her gaze from the mirrors "that's how you back up the car with safety" he groaned, throwing his head back "It happened once! And it was an accident" "I know, just recalling" she winked and made the way for the downtown.

Last year, before they started dating, she asked Calum to back the car out of the driveway, but he did it without looking in the mirrors, according to himself "who the fuck know the right side of pen drives?" and ran over her. Accidently, of course. For luck, she just broke a leg and he took care of her, and due it, they become closer. "You know, there're some bad things that happen for good reasons" "I thought we were done with this subject" he squeezed her right hand "if I haven't given all my attention to the damn pen drive and ran over you, maybe we'd not become closer as we did" "yeah... fine, I will let you drive" she parked the car left the driver's seat "move on, Cal!" he stood up and gave her a deep and quick kiss before sat down in the driver seat and squeeze the beige leather steering wheel "I love you" "love you too, but now I'm fucking dying to know where we're going" "you were driving and I have to know?!" "yes, Mr. driver" she teased, he giggled "fine. Know a place" "good".

They were on a road that she didn't recognize "Calum" "my name" he loved when she said his name "where are we going?" "It's a surprise" "oh no. Please, don't do this to me" "sorry, babe. I didn't make the rules" "which rules?" they laughed together "okay" she turned on the radio and tried to connect with some decent station "fuck" "you know you can use your pen drive, right?" she had taken the pen drive off the car "not with you in the wheel" you know, just for caution. he rolled his eyes and she finally connected with some Latin radio station

'Once de la noche y todavía no contesta'

'Un de la mañana y todavía no hay respuesta'

"Oh, no! No way!" "What?" "I am not bilingual like you" "and...?" "Not listening to something I do not understand" "so are you graduated in Korean now?" "No..."

'Cómo hacerte entender...'

he swallowed dryly a little "don't know what are you talking about" "no? What about that time you got drunk and sang out loud BTS's songs, huh?" "Only the English parts! Now just change it" "but it's Maluma!" he looked at her without blinking and pouted "fine" he smiled like a kid

'... eres muy bonita pa' llorar por el...'

She changed the radio station once more and found a random one

'Day to night to morning, keep with me in the moment

I’d let you had I known it, why don’t you say so?'

"You got to be kidding me" she giggled "I hate this song!" "I know" she kept laughing

'You got to keep me focused, you want it? Say so'

"Just turned it off" "oh, but I like it" Calum turned off the radio "no songs for you" "hey, that's my car! Spent lots of money on it" "But I am driving" "don't make me feel more regret than I already am" he laughed and leaned quickly to kiss her cheek "hey, Cal" "hum?" "I am bored" "you're acting like a fucking kid" "no. I am a fucking kid" "well, it's not a long ride. We'll be there soon" "where is 'there'?" "Nice try, nice try" she pouted and laid her head on the window so she could stargaze and think about how lucky she is to had been run over by the man driving at her side. She was so so in love with him.

Flashback:

Some friends had texted her. Bon Jovi was going to be in town and they have two tickets more. They gave it to her of course expecting she'd invite that guy she hanged out a few times, definitely her new crush. Calum. Such a beautiful name 'thanks Roy' he had introduced them. For some miracle, she got the guts to invite him.

[4:28pm]

'Be here at 6pm'

[5:17pm]

'Your place is so far from where I am now'

'You can drive my car'

'will be there in 40 minutes'

She grinned, shook her head lightly and blocked her phone to finish her makeup 'he will never desire me' she thought even knowing she will try to impress him anyways. Was 5:55pm when he arrived "I have exactly 2 minutes in advantage" "you made it, next time I will let you have a rest" "thanks" he pecked her cheek out of breath "are you ok?" "Yes, you are just breathtaking" he laughed "oh, I am not" "yes, you're. Always" she blushed "thanks" "you're welcome. Can I have a glass of water? The bus stop is far from here, you know?" "Yeah, sure come in". She gave him a glass of water and dropped on the sofa "thanks" "how can I refuse water for someone? Especially someone like you" he arched an eyebrown "someone like me?" "Yeah" "how is someone like me?" he dropped next to her "ridiculously healthy" "oh" he giggled "thanks. I really appreciate" "so, where were you?" "someone is interested in where I was" he teased, she rolled er eyes "you love annoy me, don't you?" "And you still have to ask? Anyhow, I was hanging with a friend" "'hanging with a friend' means banging with a girl?" "What?!" He started laughing "are you jealous or something?" "No..." She blushed "just trying to know you better" "so why are you blushing?" "I..." "Relax, I was with Luke. He is planning a trip to our home country with Ash and Mikey too. So we went out to lunch, but he lives far from here..." her body relaxed and she smiled "Australia is very nice" "is the best place in the world" "yeah, except the fact that is not Minnesota" he laughed "keep dreaming, kid" "I am two months older than you" "whatever, ms. jealousy" "'m not jealous!" "you looked so relieved when I said I was with Luke" "I didn't" "it's ok, I already admitted to myself that my love life is a joke anyways" "I bet it's not true" "trust me, it is" "thought you were the kind of guy that spent the night in 3 parties and in this 3 parties, hook up with at least 2 girls. At the same time" he laughed out loud "oh, honey, I used to be that guy, and now I am feeling very proud of myself" she giggled "why you are not that guy anymore?" He cleaned his throat "well, I met this lady, some months ago, and now all I do is think on her. I made out with someone a few days ago and couldn't finish the job, because was thinking on her" 'wow that hurted' "wow... You should be with this girl right now, not with me" he looked at her, 'unfreakingbelievable' "I literally made an hour and a half trajectory in 40 minutes to go in a concert just to be in your company cause' honestly I am not going to this concert because I want to see old Jon Bon Jovi sing 'bed of roses' and take ladies to Heaven..." she giggled "why do you think I did that?" "'Cause you're an idiot" he grinned "you are right, I should be with the my romantic interest" she frowned a little and they just stayed looking inside each other's eyes for a minute "I-I think we should go" it felt like he raped her with his gaze "are you ok?" "I dunno" "alright, tell me if you will need an ambulance" "okay" "so, where is that bad boy keys?" she chuckled "here" she gave to Calum the key "please, be careful" "my middle name is safety" "really? I thought was Tomas" "details, details". They were on the driveway ready to go when she saw Ginger, her cat, with the paw stuck in the water drainage grid "oh! wait a minute" she left the car "what's wrong?" "My cat. you can back the car while I help Ginger?" "no problem. Am I allowed to listen some music, too?" "Sure. The pen drive is in the glove compartment" "'kay". she ran to Ginger to help her little baby "my God, love, I am here" Calum grabbed the pen drive in the glove compartment and started back the car slowly without looking in the mirrors "well, it's done, Ginger. You are free now" she freed her cat that ran back to the roof. Calum was fighting with the pen drive's USB entrance "why I never put that shit on the right side?" and he forgot that he was backing the car. She turned to went back to the car or they would be late and all she could see was the car's trunk colliding with her hip. When he stopped the

car she was already on the floor. She definitely needed that ambulance now.

He took her to the hospital and then back to her place. He locked the front door and she dropped onto the sofa, now with a broken leg "that was the last time you drove my car" "you're sure?" he joined her on the sofa "you will need someone to help you during the next two weeks" "I have other friends..." "So we are still friends?" "Yes" "I am sorry for ran over you" "yeah, be mad with you will not change what happened" "it's because of this that I will be the one who will take care of you. Remember? My middle name is carefulness" "Wasn't safety?" "Is a long full name, see? Calum Safety-Careful Tomas Hood" "hum, I don't think so" they laughed "sorry, again" "stop apologizing and start looking for a driver costume" "I will not do that" "why not? Would be so sexy" she bit her bottom lip "you think?" "You are already sexy so..." "I'm" they laughed "okay, you don't need a costume, but I will need help in the shower, instead" "I will love to help you with the shower" "I was thinking in call Roy" "call Roy?!" he looked a little angry "you should see your face. And I am the jealous one here" "well, I just maybe, just very very maybe am into you" she smiled and blushed a little "I am into you too" "you are saying that only because do not get turned on by Jon Bon Jovi tonight" she laughed "And you are saying this only because you ran over my leg" he turned his grin to a line "No. I really mean it" "me too" she bit her bottom lip and he smiled again "but… unfortunately, you are not literally into me" "not for too long" soon the distance between them became minimum and in a blink of eye, they kissed. They kissed like already did that for years, like their lips met each other already before, even being the first time. Calum laid her back on the sofa and things started to get hotter, soon her Bon Jovi's tank top flew across the living room. She broke the kiss "what are you doing?" "I am trying to make up, because of the concert. Do you mind?" she smiled "you really know how to fix up the things" and they kissed again, now his black tee was off and...

"Honey, 're you alright?" Calum took her off the flashback "oh, yes. Was thinking in the first time we fucked" he laughed "so delicate" "sorry, the first time we 'made love'" "uh, that was bad" she laughed "thanks for ran over me, by the way" "only you for thanks the idiot that ran over you" "well, you are an idiot, but you are my idiot" "possessive" but he was hers and he loved that "oh, shut up" he laughed "so, was thinking in the week after your leg was better, huh?" "That wasn't the first time we fucked" "It was" "no, we fucked after you took me home in the night it happened" "no, no. I fucked you that night and I thought we had fucked, but three weeks later I discovered that I was wrong" "I am not..." "The way you move, babe, when you were with the broken leg wasn't sex with you, was sex for you" she laughed "It should be a compliment?" "Yes. And a good one" "well, in that case, thank you very much" she directed her gaze back to the sky and he looked at her, he was so in love

About 30 minutes later, Calum was taking the exit on the road to Santa Monica, she had read that in a sign. "Santa Monica!" "yup" "the pier?" "Yes" "oh, you know I love a pier, is…" "…so romantic" she laughed at him pretending to be her "but, we are not here specifically because of the pier" "so why?" "You will see" "please, stop. It's killing me" "oh, you're such a drama queen" he parked the car and turned off the engine "let's go". He tugged her to the amusement park "that's so exciting! what are we gonna do?" "fucking kid" she giggled "we'll play hockey" "what?!" he guided her to the Playland Arcade "that's..." she was confused that couldn't even talk "there's a lot..." "air hockey tables? yes" "but..." "Look, I know that do not have ice and is not real hockey, but I thought you'd enjoy" he rubbed the side of his neck "hockey remembers you home, right?" she had some water on her eyes and a true smile "I would like everything since it came from you" he smiled and flipped the disk "so, let's see if the Milwaukee girl still in flames" "you definitely know nothing about Winsconsin"

She won, of course "Badgers rocked your ass Aussie boy!" as she said, and they decided to rest on the pier, her head on his shoulder and his arm around her body "that was lovely" "me losing or your very kind comment about it?" she giggled "no. You remembered the air hockey here and tried to diminish my homesickness" "I understand how bad it is" "thank you" "no, thank you" "for what?" "To be with me, to love me, I was taking the wrong way before met you, you know?" "Well, shout out to Roy" "shout out to Roy" he repeated and they laughed "I was thinking in buy a ticket for you. To go home for a few days..." she looked into his eyes "what do you think?" "don't" she said smoothly "you sure? I have been saving money to paying the first tax to a car mortgage, but it can wait..." "No, Cal. Buy your car" "but you miss home" "yes, I miss it, but..." she cupped his face "I have you here and I realized... my home is you" he smiled and dipped to kiss her. She rested her head back on his shoulder and watched the moonlight reflecting in the ocean "and you are mine" he whispered against her hair. she smiled and enjoyed his company, she was so in love with him and he was so in love with her.

suggested playlist:

#anon #request #5sos imagine #calum hood blurbs #calum hood #calum 5sos #5sos fluff #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer imagine #calum hood imagine #calum hood fluff

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iwillbeinmynest · 4 years

Text

Redcove Harvest - Bucky x Reader(f) Chapter 2

Author’s Notes: Thank you all for the kind and enthusiastic response to the first chapter. Here’s chapter two for ya’ll. I hope you like it. I have a feeling this series with hit at least ten chapters but that means high word counts so hopefully that isn’t an issue.

AU: Farmhand!AU and SingleMom!Reader

Word Count:

Notes/Warnings: (Notes are for the whole series) FLUFF, mentions of a past toxic relationship, a wild storm at the end, drama and a break-up, mentions of drinking, kids being adorable and ridiculous, kissing, romance and a tiny bit of angst if you look hard but nothing more than that of a Hallmark movie.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Bucky dropped Steve off at the store and then made his way to the address on the napkin. He turned off the highway onto a dirt road. He drove for about three miles or so down the tree lined drive. He took his final turn into an open but very busted gate. The fencing that lined the property was made of wood and was rotting in a few places. He figured that was probably on the list of things he might be doing.

He kept driving and saw that both of the fields on either side of him were overgrown. The fences were covered with saplings, vines and weeds. The fields beyond them were waist high with wheat colored grass and broom straw. He added that to his mental list. This dirt road ran for just over a mile and then he came into view of the house. It was a white two story with a wrap around porch. There was a large slab of old concrete that was being used to park cars. It held an orange tractor-mower, a Burgundy Ford and three electric kids cars. Two were pink and one looked like a little John Deer tractor.

Okay, so kids, that’s fun.

Bucky parked where he wouldn’t be in the way and got out of his truck. Two little girls, no older than ten, ran out of the front door laughing, each carrying their own basket. They didn’t even see Bucky and ran in the opposite direction, disappearing behind the house.

Bucky looked around the yard and saw a third field directly across from the front door. It was about forty yards from the porch but it was lush with greens and scattered bright colors. The field, that was also lined with a worn down fence, was a massive garden.

He could only pick out a few types of plants, though; tomatoes, cabbage, some kind of hanging gourd and (at his best guess) carrots.

A woman stood up from behind a thick patch of greens. Her hair was braided back and she had gardening gloves on. She was wearing a yellow tee-shirt, jeans and black rubber boots. She picked up a basket and started walking towards Bucky.

He slid his hands into his pockets and nodded his head her way. She waved briefly and closed the gate behind her.

Bucky could see her basket was full of freshly harvested radishes.

She reached a hand out, “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

Bucky shook it with another nod. “Bucky. Well, James. James Barnes but call me Bucky.” Bucky cursed in his head.

Y/N smiled. “Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

He froze at her smile. She was stunning. She had dirt on her cheek and a little sweat on her forehead but it only seemed to add to her beauty.

Her brow furrowed and she used a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked out over her property. “So, I need all of the fields cut and the fence lines cleaned. That will all probably take you at least a week. Then I’ll need the front field bailed but I have to rent the machine. And I’m sure you’ve noticed the fences are busted in several spots, we used to have cows, and one of Gavin’s bulls took out a few posts in a fit. And-”

“Wait, I’m sorry.” Bucky jumped in as politely as he could. “So, I have the job?”

“Isn’t that why you came?” She looked a little confused.

“But you don’t even know me.” He said.

Y/N smiled. “You come highly recommended, Sergeant.” She leaned on one leg and rested her basket on her hip.

Bucky ticked his head to the side and then it dawned on him. “Steve called you.”

She nodded once. “He did.” She grinned.

Bucky could have melted from the softness of her smile.

“You can run a field mower, right?” She asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, great. I put the keys on the seat for you.” She said over her shoulder as she began to walk away. “I’ll be in the yellow barn for a bit but if you can’t find me there give me a ring.”

“Will do.” He said to himself as he watched her walk away for a minute. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. He cursed Steve under his breath.

* * * *

Bucky ran the mower for five hours. Somewhere in the middle Y/N called him back to the house for water and lunch but he insisted he only needed the water and that he’d take a bottle to-go if she had it, which she did.

Her property was huge, he guessed at least 250 acres. He didn’t even finish half of the first field. He pulled the Tractor back to where it was parked when he pulled up, then he tried to brush as much of the dust off of him as he could.

He could feel a sunburn on the back of his neck and decided that he’d either need a real hat or something to cover the skin above his collar.

He walked up the front steps and knocked on the door.

He heard little bare feet slapping on hardwood and running his way. The door opened and a little blonde baby was grinning up at him. “Hi!” She beamed.

“Hi,” He smiled back. “Is your mom around?”

“MOMMA!” She shouted.

A faint voice called back, “Comin’, baby!”

Bucky smiled.

The girl grabbed his hand. “I’m Lex. You should come inside. Momma doesn’t like it when the front door is left open.” She tugged on him and he conceded. Lex closed the door and then left him there.

Another girl walked past and when she noticed him her eyes grew wide. She very clearly had no idea who he was.

“Momma,” She started as she backed away.

Y/N appeared from around the corner and her gait faltered when she saw Bucky in the house. She put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders.

“Bucky, who let you in?”

Bucky had clearly crossed a line. He backed up, taking a step towards the door. “I’m sorry, Lex-”

Y/N rolled her eyes and sighed, relieved. “Of course, Lex.”

The daughter at Y/N’s side twisted and shouted as she disappeared, “Lex! You can’t just let people in the house!”

“But momma does it!” A faint Lex shouted back.

“Momma is the grown-up, she’s supposed to!”

“Gracie quit yellin’ at your sister!” Y/N turned back to Bucky. “I’m sorry. Kids.” She chuckled.

“I was just about to head out but wanted to know what time you’d like me tomorrow.” He confessed.

“Oh, umm.” She put her hands at her hips. “How about eight? I’ll pay you for a full day's work today but I’d figured that you could work eight to three for the most part. Weather pending, of course.”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Great. Oh! Will you come write down your information so I can pay you?” She waived him over and headed down the hall.

Bucky followed as she turned a corner and ended up in a massive kitchen that spilled into the family room.

“I’ll pay you weekly at twenty two an hour if that works?”

Bucky’s eyes went a bit wide. “Yes, ma’am that works for me.”

She looked over at him as she grabbed a pen and pad from a small basket on the counter. “Stop calling me ‘Ma’am’. Just Y/N is fine.”

He nodded as he wrote down his name and number and address. “Will I get to meet your husband?” he’d meant it innocently.

Y/N turned and said, “He passed a few years ago,” with no tone whatsoever.

Bucky jerked his head up. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

She held a hand up and plastered on that gentle smile. “It’s fine. Really.”

Bucky handed her the pad and pen back.

“So, will a check work?” She asked.

“Sure, that’s fine.” He smiled back. He felt bad for bringing up her dead husband. He also felt bad knowing she had kids. “I appreciate the work.”

“I appreciate the help.”

There was an awkward pause so Bucky tried to fill it, “I’m sorry for coming into the house when I shouldn’t have. I didn’t mean to scare your daughter.”

“Who, Gracie? Nah, she’s tough. She was probably trying to decide if she was gonna grab a bat.” Y/N chuckled. “Lexie, on the other hand, needs some work on her stranger danger skills. She’s only five but that girl is another kind of fearless.”

Bucky laughed. “Well, hopefully I fall out of the stranger category, now.”

Y/n nodded. “Steve vouched for you so, I’d say you’re good.”

“Did he really call you?”

“He did.”

Bucky shook his head. He made a note to punch Steve real hard.

“I’ve known Steve since before Gavin died. He’s a good man. He mentioned you a lot. I’m glad to finally meet you.”

Y/N met Bucky’s eyes and they stayed like that for a moment.

“Mom! Lex won’t give me my Legos back!” Gracie yelled from up stairs. A smaller scream followed little running footsteps.

Y/N sighed and put a hand to her head. “I should take care of that.”

Bucky jerked from his spot against the counter. “Yeah, yeah. Of course, sorry. I’ll let you get to it.”

“Yeah, thanks.” She followed him to the front door. “Feel free to use whatever you need in the morning. If it’s on the property you can use it or fix it. I’ll have a full list of everything I need done, too. You’re welcome to leave for lunch whenever you’d like or eat up here.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at her as he stepped through the door. “Have a good evening.”

“You, too. Good night, Bucky.”

He jogged down the steps and hopped in his truck. He suddenly got the feeling he was going to love his job.

* * * * * * * * * *

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #reader x bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky romance #bucky barnes fanfic #Redcove Harvest #my fic #iwillbeinmynest #Farmhand! AU #farmhand! Bucky

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cutie1365 · 4 years

Text

A Kid from Queens Part 20

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Info: CA: Civil War Era. Tony Stark enlists his daughter to find the web slinging spider in Queens.

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: Language

A/N: For my sweet, sweet anon- Happy Birthday my love! This is for you, as you wish.

Any and all feedback is much appreciated!

Masterlist linked in my bio. Taglist in the reblog.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

With the gala a little more than a week away, you began to make your preparations. You’d already gotten your dress and had it fitted with your tailor. That left Peter. It wouldn’t be a stretch for you to assume that he’d never been to a gala before. Meaning most likely, he also didn’t have a suit. Or one that wasn’t a hand-me-down.

Of course, you’d already picked out the perfect Tom Ford black suit for him. You were the one that invited him and wanted him to come, the least you could do is get him a nice suit that he can wear for years to come. For that to happen, it would have to be tailored to perfection, and luckily you knew just the place.

Yes, you already had all of his measurements from his Spider-Man suit so you could just give them that, but where’s the fun in that? Everyone deserves a private audience with the best tailor in New York at least once in their life. The thrill of almost being impaled with tiny pins is completely worth the reward of having something made so perfectly for you. To have an item that no other person owns, and only fits you. Your body gets to be the canvas that the garment is painted on.

You’d already made the appointment when you texted Peter.

Are you free after school today?

Nearly an hour later, in what you suspected was a passing period, you got a reply.

Yeah, why?

You smirked as you typed your response, you wanted this to be a surprise.

You’ll see ;)

Peter shook his head with a smile at your cryptic message, if he knew one thing, it was to always expect the unexpected from a Stark.

As the final bell rang, he leisurely made his way from his locker out to the entrance of the school. He walked absentmindedly, hands in his pockets before he looked up and his eyes grew wide.

On the street in front of the school, you were leaning against your convertible. Sunglasses on, arms crossed as Flash stood before you. Your body language was a clear indication that you weren’t amused with Flash’s feeble attempts to flirt with you.

As you looked up and your eyes met with Peter's, a smile spread across your face as you wiggled your fingers in a wave. Flash whipped around to see what, or rather who, had drawn your attention.

“Penis Parker, your ride’s here.” Flash teased as Peter approached the car. You slowly lifted your sunglasses to the top of your head.

“You know Flash,” You took a long breath, drawing out your words, “For a straight guy, you really love to talk about Peter’s dick.”

Laughter erupted around you from the small crowd of Flash’s cronies that had gathered to watch him shoot his shot with a Stark. You lowered your sunglasses as you held your smirk, Flash’s face turned beet red and he stormed off with a huff.

“I think that was the greatest thing I’ve ever witnessed.” Peter beamed, a giddy smile on his face. You walked around the hood of the car and hopped back into the driver seat.

“I was just stating a fact,” You chuckled, “Hop in.”

Peter did as instructed, closing the door behind him. You kicked the car into drive and sped off.

“Did Flash ask why you were here?” Peter asked curiously, and you nodded in response.

“I told him Tony Stark needs Peter’s help on a project for his internship and asked me to pick him up right away,” You smirked, “That shut him up.”

Peter chuckled, imagining the look on Flash’s face when he realized that Peter wasn’t making any of this Stark Internship stuff up, and that Tony Stark actually knew who he was.

“So where are we really headed? Your text was very mysterious.” He smiled, you turned to face him once you’d reached the stop light.

You lifted your glasses and smiled at him, your eyes meeting. You couldn’t believe the two of you were here like this. A month ago you weren’t even speaking, and as much as that broke your heart it was worth it. The hiding and sneaking around was worth it to be here now with him, driving around New York with the top down, not caring who saw you.

You reached to take his hand, giving it a squeeze. Peter leaned closer to you and you met him halfway, your lips meeting for a moment in a chaste kiss.

A honk from the car behind you forced you apart as the light turned green.

“Let’s get a move on!” The driver yelled.

“We’re having a moment here!” You yelled back, earning a middle finger in response as you took your foot off the break.

“I love this fucking city,” You laughed, and Peter joined in.

“Are you gonna answer my question or am I supposed to guess?” Peter smirked, his hand still in yours.

“Queens.” You answer, glancing at Peter and seeing him raise a brow, “We’re going to a gala, and you need a suit. We’re going to my tailor.”

“So does that mean I get to see your dress?” He wiggles his brows, causing you to laugh.

“No, it’s a surprise.” You shook your head, using the heel of your hand to turn the steering wheel, taking you onto the Queensboro bridge. The first place you’d met Peter. If your father hadn’t enlisted you to find the webslinger, you would have never met him. Or maybe you would have. Maybe you were destined to meet and no matter what path you followed it would always lead to him.

“Where is this gala again?” Peter asked after a moment, he had been glancing out the car at the bridge. You wondered if he was also thinking about your chance encounter.

“Inside Belvedere Castle in Central Park.” You answer, it had recently reopened but you’ve never been to an event inside. It normally housed exhibits or small private parties. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited, and a little nervous. You didn’t want anything to go wrong, you needed a good night, especially considering what had happened last time. You knew you’d be safe with Peter by your side, but you just wanted one smooth night with no heroes required.

“Cool,” Peter nodded, having never been there himself. How he got wrapped up in a life of billionaires and crime fighting, he’d never know.

“So I figured we could get some food after the fitting? And maybe bring May some, because we need to do some schmoozing.” You said, causing Peter to raise a brow.

“Why?” He asked, curiously.

“Soo... they always book rooms in a hotel near the venue for after the gala. They collect the most donations at the bar of the afterparty and this year they picked The Plaza. They gave me a room, so I thought we could stay there, order room service, kinda have a mini vacation.” You explained, hoping this wouldn’t be too much. A gala is one thing, but spending the night in a big fancy hotel is another.

“That sounds amazing!” Peter beamed.

“But,” You said, drawing out the word, “I don’t want May to kill me, so we kinda need her blessing.”

“Yeah that’s a good idea. I don't think she’ll mind.” He said casually.

“I’m prepared with more shoes if she says no,” You laughed, but you weren’t kidding.

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary.” Peter chuckled, shaking his head.

“I don’t know... If my son asked to spend a night in a fancy hotel with his girlfriend I’d be a little hesitant.” You shrugged.

That was the first time Peter had heard you refer to yourself as his girlfriend, and that was the first time you’d said it outloud. You liked the way it sounded, you could get used to that.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

After a fitting full of laughter and you shamelessly checking out Peter’s ass, the two of you were sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner and chatting.

“Hey guys,” May says as she walks in the door, “Oo that smells good.”

“We got you some.” You smile, pointing back to the box on the counter.

“Aw, you guys.” She smiled as she made her way to the kitchen, ruffling Peter’s hair on the way.

“How was work?” Peter asked Aunt May while he tried to flatten his hair.

“Good, good. What are you kids up to?” She asked, taking a bite.

“We were just talking about that charity gala I told you about.” Peter said.

“Oh right, the childhood cancer one.” She nodded, chewing.

“Yeah, so Y/N was just telling me that they gave us a room in the Plaza for that night, but we wanted to make sure that was ok with you first.” He said, and this was the moment of truth.

“I don’t know Peter, let me think about it.” May said, just as you’d suspected.

Peter looked at you, worry evident in his eyes, he wasn’t expecting her to say that. You shook your head in a “don’t worry, I got this, follow my lead” kinda way.

You picked up your phone, and stared at it for a moment, forming your plan.

“Oh shoot,” You muttered, pretending to read and scroll through something on your phone.

“What is it?” Peter asked, looking over your shoulder, seeing the screen was black as you continued to tap on it.

“I forgot I had booked a salon and spa appointment for tomorrow but I have a meeting with the Robotics Board upstate,” You explained, turning and speaking directly to Peter.

“Can you get it moved?” He asked, playing along.

“No, it’s nonrefundable,” You shook your head, and went back to swiping on the blank screen before pretending like a brilliant idea just popped in your head, “Aunt May, why don’t you go?”

“Me?” She asked, surprised.

“I mean, it will just go to waste otherwise and I can’t make it. We’re starting trials on new nano-tech prototypes so it’s probably going to take all day.” You explained. If this whole engineering and CEO thing didn’t work out, you might have to go into acting, because you were killing this.

“Well... I guess if it’s gonna go to waste. I haven’t been to the spa in forever.” May smiled. Hook, line, sinker.

“Perfect, problem solved!” You smiled, and quickly changed the subject back to Peter’s day at school to not seem too suspicious.

Now we wait.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

The three of you talked for hours, about life, about school, about work. It felt good, normal even. Like this was something you could get used to. Peter and his Aunt accepted you so quickly into their world and their lives. You felt like you’ve been doing this for years, like you’ve known each other for years. They didn’t treat you like the daughter of a billionaire, they just treated you like Y/N.

Before you knew it, it was late and about time for you to head home. When you were with Peter time seemed to fly by. You were gathering your things when May spoke up.

“When’s this gala again?” She asked Peter, and you knew your plan was coming to fruition.

“Friday.” He answered.

“The Plaza you said?” She asked, and the two of you nodded in response.

She sighed, knowing you’d both be safe there and it was close to the venue.

“Ok.” She nodded and both of your faces lit up. It worked!

“But no alcohol.” She pointed at both of you with a stern face.

“No alcohol.” You and Peter repeated in unison, nodding along. That wouldn’t be a problem, you’d learned your lesson from last time you were drunk around Peter.

“No drugs.” She maintained her protective stare.

“No drugs.” You both nodded.

So far the bar was pretty low. If it were your father he’d be saying ‘No hacking government agencies, no lazers, and don’t do anything I would do’ which really took a lot off the list.

“And use protection.” May said finally, your eyes going wide. Peter dropped his head into his hands.

“May....” He groaned in embarrassment. You hoped your cheeks weren’t betraying you and turning a bright red. You never expected that to come out of May’s mouth.

“I’m just saying. You’re both adults, I just want you to be careful.” She answered, and you smiled and nodded awkwardly.

“I’ll um, I’ll walk you out.” Peter pointed to the door, and you followed him.

Peter was silent on the trip from the apartment to the elevator.

“Told you we’d need the spa day,” You smirked, trying to cheer him up. He still looked mortified by May’s comment.

“You know, my father would have said something much worse, so you shouldn’t be embarrassed.” You tried, comfortingly grabbing onto his arm.

“I know, I just... I don’t want you to think that’s the only reason I want to go. Especially after what Thomas said-” Peter began to ramble, but you cut him off.

“Hey, hey. I know you Peter. I know you’re not like that. I don’t want you to worry about that. We’re in no rush. It’ll happen when the time is right.” You said, still surprised that clearly what Thomas had said was weighing on him so heavily. You knew he’d said it just to get under Peter’s skin, but you couldn’t let him win.

“Ok.” He nodded, seeming to be convinced by your words as the two of you stepped off the elevator onto the first floor.

“Now we can have a relaxing night out where you don’t have to lie about where you’re going.” You smiled, trying to lighten the mood as you were approaching the door.

“Yeah you’re right, I’m sorry.” Peter shook his head for even bringing up Thomas. You grabbed his arm once more, stopping him from opening the door. He turned back to you, and furrowed his brows slighting in anticipation.

“There’s no need to apologize for caring, Peter. It’s sweet.” You assured him, and he smiled. He bent down to kiss you before leading you out to your car.

“Text me when you get home safe.” Peter instructed as he opened your car door for you, a true gentleman.

“I will, I’ll see you Friday. I actually do have a meeting for the Robotics Board tomorrow. Now I have to go book May a salon and spa appointment. Maybe I’ll throw in a manicure for good measure.” You rambled as you got into the car and started the engine, lowering the window as Peter closed the door.

“You’re gonna spoil her.” He teased, leaning into the open window.

“Who else am I going to spoil? Unless you want some Jimmy Choos and a mani pedi?” You teased back, making Peter chuckle.

“Drive safe.” He kissed you once more before backing up back onto the sidewalk.

“Bye.” You smiled with a wink before pulling out onto the street.

Once you had returned home and gotten into your pjs you raised your phone to take a selfie. Snapping the picture, you sent it to Peter to let him know you’d made it home safe.

Proof of life ;)

Almost immediately you saw the three flashing dots appear as Peter typed his reply.

Cute pjs, goodnight, don’t let the spiders bite.

You chuckled, shaking your head at your phone screen.

I don’t think that’s how the saying goes lol, stay safe on patrols tonight x

Pulling your blanket over yourself as you settled into bed, you heard your phone ding.

I always am ;)

You shook your head, that boy was going to be the death of you.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!

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go-dark-turtle · 4 years

Text

(Warning slight swearing. Please enjoy this is my first attempt at an x reader fan fiction. Let me know your thoughts. I'd totally appreciate it lots 💜 Also if you draw any fan art of this I'd love to see it. Also I MUST add! Thanks to an ask I submitted to the lovely and wonderful @kakyoin-shades it gave me inspiration to write this.)

Free the Future

Kakyoin x fem reader fan fiction

Chapter 1: Convincing the Crusaders

The five men stood looking over the ocean, they finally made it to Eygpt. Polnareff walked over to the woman they just fought against to check up on her (and to see if she was beautiful or not) and was horrified by her appearance. She had no teeth thanks to Star Platinum. The men laughed at his reaction.

They knew time was short and they had to keep on moving they made it to a nearby town, and Joseph Joestar handed his wallet to Avdol entrusting him to get the best vehicle that would get them across the open desert areas. He and his grandson Jotaro looked for a nearby pay phone.

You just arrived in town in your dark blue, almost navy Ford Scorpio Mk I Saloon, you drove past Joseph and Jotaro while they were on the phone and you drove back around the side street.

"Thank goodness I made it in time," You said with a sigh of relief.

You parked up along a side street and saw the dune buggy drive past with the remaining of the Stardust Crusaders. Your eyes widen when you saw Kakyoin chilling in the back seat your vision went hazy and you held your face.

"There's no time thinking about that right now. Come on (Y/N) stay focused."

You shook your head and slammed your hands down on the wheel to get yourself to focus again. You slowly followed the dune buggy and they didn't stop rather they slowed down as Joseph and Jotaro jumped into the back.

"SHIT!" You yell you had to act quickly and stepped on the gas.

At that moment you drove along side them on the narrow road, Polnareff started to curse and swear raising his fist at you as you overtook them, Avdol gripped the handrail and hung onto it for dear life as Polnareff began to chase you down. The others in the back was flung to the right, to the left, bumping into each other as well as the doors and the boot.

"OH MY GOD! Polnareff slow down, what's got into you!" Joseph held his head before he was flung backwards again.

Polnareff grunted, "This damn driver what's their problem, I'll show them for showing off!"

You panicked as you were nearing the open desert area, you couldn't let them across it no matter what. You acted quickly Polnareff was on your tail and at that moment you drifted to the left and blocked the end of the street and you slammed on the breaks and you fell into the steering wheel your hands shaking your breathing heavy.

"Oh CRAP!" Polnareff slammed on the breaks and stopped inches from your car.

Jotaro and Kakyion fell into each other as Joseph slammed his head against the boot door. Avdol closed his eyes and awaited the impact. When everything came to a halt everyone had a sigh of relief all but Jotaro. He huffed in annoyance, adjusted his hat and vaulted himself out the back of the buggy. He stood on the road and glared at your car. Unfortunately for you the drivers side of your car was in front of his sights. He clenched his fists as marched up to the car. He gritted his teeth and he swung the door opened with one motion, he reached in and gripped your shirt, pulled you out the car and held you up so high you were practically dangling in his grip, you panicked as you saw the angry expression, it brought fear in your eyes.

"What the HELL is your problem. Do you have any idea how dangerous that kind of driving is?! HUH do you! I should teach you a lesson for almost wrecking our new ride we just-" Jotaro got interrupted

"Jotaro stop! Don't hit her!" Avdol ran up behind him and grabbed his shoulder

"Her?" Jotaro paused for a moment he then looked at you up and down and huffed.

He sighed and dropped you all while glaring at you. You landed with a thud and you started to rub your butt, but still looking at Jotaro's icy glare. Polnareff rushed out the car and rush up to you almost knocking over his younger friend.

"I am SO sorry mon chéri, my friend doesn't know any better. Are you okay?" Polnareff offered his hand to help you up.

Avdol sighed and face palmed off course Polnareff couldn't help himself when a girl is about. Jotaro gritted his teeth and approached his tall haired friend. Polnareff helped you up and he smiled as well as checking you out at the same time. You smiled, but then it faded as Jotaro brushed past him and glared at you once again.

"You better have a good reason for this you bitch!" Jotaro huffed.

You stared into his icy blue eyes, but then you noticed Joseph and Kakyion walking up to the others when you saw the young red haired teen you froze in fear your vision began to get hazy, your eyes began to lose focus.

"OI I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!" Jotaro pulled you close to him again.

You snapped back to reality and before you knew it an arm became between you both.

"Hey Jotaro that's enough, Don't really know what's going on here, but I want some answers." Joseph stood between you. You took a deep breath and folded your arms and closed your eyes to hide the fear and pain.

"I know where Dio's hideout is, I also know you are after him and you don't have much time left. I have a beach house nearby, we can stay at until tomorrow. Please. Don't cross that, desert." the last line had you slightly choked up and the men's eyes widen. (Apart from Jotaro that is.) You quickly wiped your tears and stood proud in front of them.

"Mr Joestar this is kind of a blessing don't you think?" Polnareff whispered to the older gent. "I mean, what luck, that someone knows the whereabouts of Dio"

"Hmm, I don't know about this Polnareff... She could be one of Dio's servants. And she happened to know we were in this town. Straight after dealing with another stand user..." Joseph folded his arms unsure what to believe.

"As much as I agree with Mr Joestar, we do need to cross the desert quickly and find Dio. But can we really trust this person..." Avdol looked down with concerned eyes.

Polnareff rushed to your side "Well, I believe her. If she was trying anything you think she'd blow up our car or even attack Jotaro. But she didn't." He winked at you and you smiled you were glad at least one of them was on your side.

Kakyion walked past Jotaro and Joseph and placed his hand on his hip and stood next to his tall haired friend and smiled softly.

"I also believe Polnareff, this is the turnout we are after. Think about it, no matter where we go we always get attacked. It's about time we have someone on our side and help us take down Dio." He folded his arms and gave you a nod to acknowledge you were on their side you quickly look to the ground as if you were shy from his gaze.

"Hmm... You do have a point Kakyion. Perhaps we should try and trust them even a little" Joseph held his hat trying to decide what was really the best option.

Jotaro pulled his hat down and smirks "Yare Yare daze, she might be helpful for now, but as soon as she double cross us, Hmph don't worry. I'll kick her ass I don't care if she's a girl, Star Platinum will make sure she thinks twice before dealing with us."

Joseph placed a hand on his grandson's shoulder and grinned " Ah yes, that sounds like a good idea, alright miss.... um uh-"

You glared back at Jotaro you didn't like his tone and how he was judging you when you were the one trying to help him and his fellow comrades. You look up at Joseph and you force a smile.

"Y/N but call me whatever you like." You respond to Joseph.

The Stardust Crusaders all take time to introduce themselves to you and after so long you finally get to know the name of the man that haunted your dreams. You smile softly and show gratitude to them all but Jotaro trusting you. He still glared at you, waiting for you to slip up at that moment.

"Well, since you have a beach house nearby I think it would be a good idea to have a bit of time to recuperate, Mr Joestar I think using both our vehicles would help with our luggage problem wouldn't you agree?" Avdol stood next to his older friend and extend his finger at both the cars still in the middle of the road.

"Hmm, yes that is a good idea, you don't mind Y/N you do have a bigger boot than ours." Joseph simply asks "I also think it might be a good idea to spilt up between the cars. Jotaro and myself will take the buggy. Avdol, Polnareff, Kakyion you take the um..." He walks around the back of your car to get the name of the model and his eyes widen.

"OH MY GOD! You have the Ford Scorpio Mk I! It's not even out in this region how did you get your hands on such a fancy classy car!" Joesph starts to gush over your car.

"Ah, I see you are a man that likes classy vehicles. You see I have a family friend called Tamsin..." You start to bond with Joesph telling him about Tamsin and that he's basically your version of Speedwagon (sporting a short ginger bowl cut, big moustache and 70's glasses.) in that if you need something he'll sort it out. No questions asked.

Polnareff walks up to the passenger side of your dark blue car and opens it and is about to place his buttocks on the seat only to be pushed aside gently by Kakyion.

"I call the front seat mon ami" Kakyion grins at him

"Huh? Since when? I got here first!" He stands in front of him and puffs out his chest.

"Since Mr Joestar said we should take both cars and besides..." Kakyion got cut off by Avdol

He pulled Polnareff's ear, dragging him to the other side of the car and opened the back door and pushed him in and sat next to him and folded his arms and huffed. Kakyion smiled softly chuckling to himself and sat down in the passenger seat. (Basically Avdol is sitting behind you in case you wondered)

"If you were to sit in front you would distract Y/N with all your flirting or trying to touch her knee and besides" He winked at his friend, " You wouldn't want me to be sitting all by myself in the back would you?"

Polnareff huffed and folded his arms for a moment, but then placed an arm around his Egyptian friend.

"Of course not can't leave my best bud all alone can I and besides," He grinned " We can stretch our legs more, too bad for you Kakyion." He giggled like a school girl while he extended his legs outwards.

"Hmm, is that so?" Kakyion smirked, looked into the mirror and shifted his seat backwards into Polnareffs knee before shifting it back to where it was, the Frenchman winced in pain and grabbed his knee.

"You did that on purpose, why you!" Polnareff leaned forward, but then you approached the car and he quickly sat back and pretend nothing happened he wanted to be on his best behaviour around you. Avdol softly chuckled and watched you wave to Joseph and Jotaro. He smiled out the window to his old friend and gave a small wave.

You got in the car and you saw Avdol and Polnareff in the back seats and you glance over to the passenger seat and Kakyion was sitting there giving you a soft smile. You immediately look ahead with a mix of emotions, fear, shyness and nervousness. Kakyion took note of your behaviour and wanted to reassure you.

"Please don't let what Jotaro said, get to you. He's been on edge for a while. He will warm up to you soon. But we all believe in you Y/N." Kakyion placed his warm hand on your shoulder and you look at him trying not to think of that horrible nightmare that keeps haunting your vision.

You swallow hard and let out a heavy sigh before smiling back at him, " I appreciate that lots Kakyion, say you guys have been travelling since this morning, haven't you," You slowly reach for the glove box and the men in the back moved forward and prepared for the attack. "I thought you'd appreciate some nice cold Coca Cola."

You turn with 3 Coca Cola bottles in your hand and see them with angry expression and you let out a shriek that you drop the bottles. Kakyion leans in close his arm brushes against yours in a swift motion and he catches the necks of the bottles in his fingers. He slowly sits back up and gives you a warm smile all while placing the bottles on his lap. A small blush grew on your cheeks, he was so close you could smell his scent, musky with a hint of cherry. You nod back in relief, but you turned your attention the gentlemen in the back seats with a raised eyebrow.

"Sorry miss Y/N you can understand our reflexes we haven't had it easy the past 40 or days or so" Avdol looks at you with a guilty expression.

"I'm sorry my darling its just anytime we've tried to relax something happens. I hope you can forgive us" Polnareff clasped his hands together, his eyes almost reduced to tears.

"It's okay, " You give a sheepish smile, "I understand I truly do and once we are at the beach house I'll explain..." You slowly sigh and close your eyes, "I'll tell you everything." You open your eyes with a determined look.

You see Joseph and Jotaro in the buggy and they have reversed out the way for your car to squeeze past. As the cars lined up just before you were in front you wind down the window and you lean outwards.

"Mr Joestar its going to be a 3 hour drive, it's just south of the border just follow my lead and if you and Jotaro need to make a pit stop anywhere, just flash your lights at me and I'll get the signal." You smile at him and beep your horn a few times " See you in a while"

"Right you are Y/N. To be honest, I'd rather wait until we make it to the beach house before we can take it easy. See you in a few hours." He gives a small wave to you and smiles while giving a big wave to Avdol and Polnareff in the back.

You slowly drove along the main road of the town, you look in the mirror and see Joseph is close behind you. You smile, knowing that everything was going smoothly. Kakyion smiled by you and leaned towards you as he leaned into the back to give his friends their bottles of Coca Cola.

"Y/N Thank you so much you have no idea how much I've been dying for a drink" Polnareff smiled as he gripped the bottle

"It is a very nice gesture Y/N so very thoughtful of you my dear." Avdol smiled as he raised his bottle to the mirror as his way of saying thank you.

Polnareff tapped Avdols arm and whispered "Hey Avdol I can't open this bottle you think I can use Silver Chariot to pry the bottle cap off?"

"Hmm, I suppose you could, but don't let Y/N see you" He places his hand over the side of cheek to hide his lips from your view "She might not understand stands as such, though if you were to open yours could you do mines also?" He brought his bottle closer.

You smile, taking in the hustle and bustle of the busy streets with vendors on both sides of the town, you realise about the Coca Cola bottles and you reach down to the side pocket of your door and you hand Kakyion a bottle opener not once taking your eyes off the road. You gasped slightly at his warm touch of his fingers as he slowly takes it from you.

"Oh, thank you Y/N. I was wondering how I was going to open this" He smirked and laughed slightly while looking at his friends in the back as Polnareff stuck out his tongue while aiming Silver Chariot's arm with such concentration.

Just then BANG Silver Chariot's sword flung both the bottle caps into the air and the pressure of the Coca Cola spouted upwards landing on the Frenchman and the Egyptian man leaving them with half of the liquid left in the bottle, other half soaked them. Avdol pushed Polleraff in annoyance before grabbing his bottle and laughing heartily. Polleranff joined him in chuckling loudly.

Kakyion smiled softly and grinned " I was going to offer this" waving the bottle opener at them "But you managed to open it all by yourself, I wonder how that is so, hmm?" Oh he very much knew how.

Avdol sat forward and grinned "Oh yes, that well, uh I used my super strength to open it." He chuckled loudly to hide the embarrassment in his voice oh Polnareff was going to pay for this later.

Kakyion brought the bottle to his lips and began to drink the Coca Cola while the gents in the back chuckled and drank theirs, just then Polleranff had an idea pop into his head. He tapped his Egyptian friend to get his attention and pointed at the back window and gave his Coca Cola bottle a shake, Avdol smirked and grinned as he knew exactly what he was thinking.

Joseph and Jotaro followed behind you slowly and Jotaro slumped more in the seat, resting his arm on the door and placing his chin on his hand as he took in the vendors as they drove passed.

"What the hell!" Joseph frowned, looking at your car in front

He saw his two friends shake their bottles of Coca Cola and Polleranff taking a slow chug and giving a satisfying "uh-huh" and a cheeky grin before shaking it again.

Joseph gripped the steering wheel harder and gritted his teeth "Son of a bitch! Do you see this Jotaro! They are having Coca Cola without me!"

Jotaro glanced forward and deeply sighed "What a pain.." before pulling his hat down to his face and adjusted himself ready for a snooze.

You look into the mirror and see Joseph with an annoyed look and you then see both the men in the back chuckling and giggling slapping their knees. You smile at how close they are as friends. Kakyion softly smiles and enjoys more of his Coca Cola and places the bottle opener into the glove box.

*********************

Two and a half hours had passed and the laughter had eventually died down from the back of the car both the men rested their heads against each other as they fell asleep with how smooth your driving was. Kakyion looked back at his friends and smiled warmly he looked at you while you gave the road all your attention.

"Take this a compliment Y/N Avdol doesn't normally fall asleep in our car journeys, the fact is that he must really trust you. It is warming to see him so relaxed." Kakyion rested his hand on his chin as he places his elbow on the door.

"I had no idea Mr Avdol was always cautious. I'm just glad he can get some rest and feel relaxed." You reply while looking out to the open road with the odd car passing you.

Kakyion looked at you curiously " Say Y/N you mind me asking and of course you will explain everything shortly, but could you tell me, why are you helping us?"

*Cue the start of Roundabout theme*

Your breath got shaky at him pressing you to talk, you gripped the steering wheel your palms got sweaty, your vision got hazy, but you shook your head to snap back to reality. He looked at you with concern his eyes fixated on you with how you are acting and shifted himself forward leaning towards you and awaited your answer.

"I'll just say these two words for now," you replied with a shaky squeak.

"Hol Horse..."

[<--------To Be Continued----------]

Chapter 2

#jojo bizarre adventure #jojo part 3 #kakyoin x reader #kakyoin noriaki #joseph joestar #jotaro kujo #jean pierre polnareff #muhammad avdol #fan fic

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elizaviento · 4 years

Text

A Promise of Things to Come

Note: This is for @smudgethistledraws :)

*****

A Promise of Things to Come

(Stan Pines x Reader)

SFW -- 2650 words

*****

Before my knuckles could make contact with the front door of the Mystery Shack, it was flung open unceremoniously by the most adorable and energetic creature imaginable – Mabel Pines.

“You’re finally here, hurry up – come in!”

In fact, I was 10 minutes early. But, try telling this ball of energy that.

Before I could reply, she grabbed my hand and practically dragged me up the stairs to the attic bedroom she shared with her twin brother. Catching only a small glimpse of Stan as he lounged on his worn chair in the living room, he tossed me a wink before disappearing from view. Naturally, I could feel my cheeks burn as my heart skipped a beat. And, naturally, Mabel was the first to notice.

“Hey! You’re here now to teach me to draw, not to fawn over Grunkle Stan,” she chided as she slammed her way through the attic door, startling Dipper who was situated on the floor with about a hundred sheets of graph paper surrounding him.

“Oh hey,” he greeted as he gathered his wits. He had obviously been deep in thought, no doubt mapping out a new dungeon for his next game of DD&moreD.

Waving to him casually, I glanced around the room which was littered with half packed boxes and I was reminded that the summer was rapidly coming to a close. The twins would be returning to California by the end of the week and my weekly private sessions with Mabel would be coming to an end. Which also meant my opportunities to snag precious time with Stan would be coming to an end, as well. He and his twin brother, Ford, would be resuming their seasonal sailing trip around the world, leaving the Mystery Shack back into Soos’ capable care. And I – I would go back to my day job; art teacher at the local high school.

“Dipper, where are my art supplies?” Mabel questioned her twin as she tossed items from boxes in search.

“How should I know?” he asked, annoyance lacing his tone as he gnawed on the end of his ink pen so hard, I was afraid it would explode in his mouth. “You’re the one who packed them away.”

“But you should have been watching me!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. Catching a hint of color from the corner of my eye, I strolled over to a box situated next to Mabel’s bed and pulled her pallet of watercolors from inside. “You found them!”

Snatching the pallet from my hands, she then dove into the box to retrieve the remainder of her supplies.

“Uh, Mabel – it seems like Dipper has claimed most of the space up here today. How about we have today’s lesson in the kitchen?”

Dipper glanced up at me, displaying an appreciative smile as Mabel agreed and yanked me back toward the stairs.

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

On our way to the kitchen, I was able to sneak one more peek at the man I’d been quietly admiring all summer before settling in at the table with Mabel and all of her supplies. For our last lesson, I gave her free reign to create whatever her heart desired as I casually day dreamed. In the living room, I could faintly hear Stan and Ford planning their fall adventure and I mentally inserted myself into those plans; imagined myself at Stan’s side, supporting him unconditionally. In fact, I’d do so regardless of a fantasy trip around the world, if only given the opportunity.

And, why hadn’t I received that opportunity? I couldn’t quite say, to be honest. The brief interactions I’d had with Stan thus far included his poor, but endearing, attempts at flirting and my bashful giggling. It was nearly impossible to spend time with him alone due to one of the kids or his brother constantly milling about. And now, with the summer coming to a close, I’d probably not see him again for the better part of a year.

Sighing to myself, I was only brought back into the moment when the snap of Mabel’s fingers, just inches from my face, pulled me from my brooding.

“So, what do you think?” she asked, holding up the painting she’d just completed of her and her pet pig, Waddles. Mabel had picked up the techniques I’d taught her rather well and her own unique style emerged quite early. In truth, she was incredibly talented.

“It’s great, dear,” I assured, taking the small canvas from her hands to inspect it closely.

“Really?! Oh, I’m so glad because it’s a gift for you! I want you to keep it to have something to remind you of me and Waddles.”

Peering over the canvas at the young girl’s beaming smile simultaneously warmed and clinched my heart. I refused to accept any form payment when I’d agreed to tutor Mabel but I supposed taking this token of her affection would be fine. And, it was quite well done as Mabel was a natural talent.

Glancing at my watch, I was disappointed that our final session was coming to a close. It was finally time to say goodbye.

I kept the affair as short and sweet as possible, hugging each twin in an almost vice like grip. Dipper was utterly adorable as his round cheeks flushed crimson and he stuttered his farewell. Mabel gave as good as she got, crushing my ribs with force I didn’t think was possible within her tiny body.

And, by the time I’d made my way to the door, the living room was deserted. I’d missed my chance. That is, until I somberly stepped out onto the front porch and collided with something large and solid.

“Woah, watch where you’re goin’ there, toots,” a deep and gruff voice rumbled from the object blocking my path. A voice that was delightfully familiar and set a rush of warm dopamine through my circulatory system.

“I – I’m so sorry!” I stammered, gathering my wits as Stan wrapped his large hands around my biceps and peeled me from his front. “I was just on my way –”

“Say, whatcha doin’ this coming Saturday?”

Now a foot between us, I glanced up toward his face to catch him peering down his nose at me. But, his eyes were soft; a hit of a smile playing on the corners of his mouth as he awaited my reply.

I felt a bit silly as I admitted, “I have no plans. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I was – uh – wonderin’ if… ya know, if you’d maybe wanna catch dinner with me?” Awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, a slight blush crept up from his neck to dust his cheeks. It was utterly endearing. He actually seemed anxious at the prospect of my refusal. “The kids leave on Friday afternoon and Ford and I won’t be packing up until the following week, so I thought –”

“Of course, I’d love to,” I replied before he could somehow talk himself out of it. “I’ll meet you here at 8:00 pm.” Then, I stepped around him and headed to my car without another word.

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

When Saturday evening finally arrived, I spent an exorbitant amount of time fussing over my hair, makeup and outfit. Checking the time every 15 minutes, the butterflies in my stomach seemed to be having a ticker tape parade. Then, with half an hour to spare, I drove the path that would lead me to the disheveled shack in the middle of nowhere.

What I’d expected when I arrived was far from what I was actually presented with. Instead of finding Stanley Pines in his normal attire, casually lounging on the ratty couch situated on the front porch, I was greeted with a dapper man in a proper suit holding a bouquet of flowers that appeared to be hand picked.

Parking my vehicle, I was startled when Stan moved with impressive speed to make it to my door before I could open it myself. Tucking the flowers under one arm, he fumbled with the handle until it popped open and I gawked at him in confusion.

“Hey, don’t look so shocked,” he mumbled as he offered me a hand, which I gingerly took. “I can clean up semi-decent when the mood strikes.”

Speechless, I took the offered bouquet and allowed him to lead me toward the shack. But, words continued to fail me as we entered, due to the sight before me.

Someone had taken the time to thoroughly clean. The shack was spotless, from ceiling to floor and a pleasant aroma wafted toward me from the kitchen.

Someone had helped him arrange this. And, since the twins had departed the day prior, that only left one person. However, I knew better than to give Stanley’s twin brother any credit in this matter.

“I hope you don’t mind staying in,” he hedged, shifting his eyes toward me to gauge my reaction.

“Of course not. What smells so good?”

“Um, well –” he took the flowers from my loose grip and popped them into a drinking glass filled with water on the kitchen counter, “–chicken parmesan…?”

The uncertainty in his voice earned a giggle from me as he escorted me to the kitchen table. Everything had already been set up and served on mismatched dishware. There were two long stem candles placed in the middle of the display, flickering a soft glow on the meal that, indeed, resembled chicken parmesan. Silently thanking Ford for the valiant effort, I took a seat in front of one of the placements with a smile that I was certain resembled that of a lovesick teenager.

What was all this? Why had Stan gone through all the trouble when he could have easily taken me to Greasy’s Diner? Why had he even asked me to dinner in the first place? Most of our previous interactions had been brief and surface level. An intimate setting, such as this, begged familiarity or the promise of it. Or – or maybe I was reading far too much into a kind gesture?

I was suddenly pulled from my inner contemplation when Stan yanked the other chair from the table and plopped down across from me. He seemed a bit stiff and awkward and he reached for the bottle of red table wine and poured himself a tall glass before scooching the bottle toward me. Taking his lead, I poured myself a glass as well and attempted to settle in.

Dinner was, surprisingly, easy and carefree. Stan proved to be an excellent conversationalist and had fantastical stories that kept me on the edge of my seat during the duration. Soon, I found myself pouring my third glass of wine and my inhibitions were being softened around the edges as my smiles and giggles materialized with ease.

“Ya gettin’ tipsy there, doll?” Waggling his eyebrows, he tipped the wine bottle toward me before taking a swig directly from it.

“I could ask you the same question,” I countered, taking a larger gulp than was necessary from my glass. Another giggle passed my lips as Stan lowered his glasses to peer at me from above the rims. Suddenly stunned by his beautiful eyes, I covered my mouth with the back of my hand and averted my gaze.

“Why did you ask me to dinner?” The words tumbled from my mouth before they'd even fully formed in my mind and the humiliation crept up from my chest to burn my cheeks. I wanted to take them back – stuff them back down my throat and swallow them whole. But, it was too little, too late.

Luckily, though, the wine had kicked Stan’s cockiness into high gear and he was more than willing to explain.

“You’re cute,” he stated simply, running a large hand through his hair. “I’ve also caught you making eyes at me. Couldn’t let that opportunity pass by, now could I?” Then, he laughed; a booming baritone that seemed to vibrate from his body, travel across the distance between us and tingle the tips of my fingers and toes.

I had no retort. Mostly because the wine was coursing through my veins delightfully, but the truth was undeniable.

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

“Me too, doll.”

The conversation continued to flow, easy and effortless. Stan encouraged me to tell a story or two of my own when his reserve had finally been tapped. He even appeared interested as I spoke instead of the slightly annoyed demeanor he always wore.

Eventually, though, the conversation grew scarce and the wine ran dry. It was late and I became hyper aware of the fact that the two of us were completely alone in the shack. Briefly, I wondered where Ford could be. But, I hadn’t seen him all evening so it was probably safe to assume that he’d taken refuge elsewhere for the evening.

And, that realization sent a rush of adrenaline directly to the base of my spine.

“I should probably get going. I have plans to meet a friend for breakfast tomorrow.”

It was a poor excuse, but an excuse nonetheless. As much as I wanted to spend time with Stan, I didn’t want to move too fast and squander my opportunity for a meaningful relationship.

“Oh, of course, yeah. I’ve – uh – got important things to do too, ya know.”

Scrambling from the table, he approached me and offered me his hand in the same manner as when he’d met me at my car. The endearment hit me hard and actually felt tears prick my eyes as I slipped my hand into his. Seconds later, he had me to my feet and slyly tucked and hooked my arm around his in a guise to steady me as he led me toward the front door. Even though I wasn’t anywhere near intoxicated, I allowed him this reprieve and reveled in the warmth of his body where we touched.

Soon – too soon – we were standing on the front porch of the shack, a warm breeze caressing my cheeks and tousling the loose strands of my hair. This one singular moment was perfect and I would have been content for it to last forever.

That is, until I felt Stan’s gaze bore into me and I was compelled to tip my face upward to lock my eyes with his.

His expression was soft and somehow sweet – expectant. Something seemed to crackle in the atmosphere between us, drawing us toward one another like the pull of a magnet. I was powerless to resist it, even if I’d wanted to, so I nearly melted when Stan gently cupped the back of my neck and coaxed me toward him.

His lips were firm yet yielding as they molded around my own. Almost chaste in their gentleness and my heart swelled with thick emotion. I returned the kiss with as much fervor as I could muster, slightly opening my lips to encase his before swiping my tongue very lightly on his bottom lip. It was a promise of things to come… later.

Then, just as soon as the kiss began, it was over. The warmth and pressure now a ghost upon my lips as he pulled back and released me. I was slightly dazed as he chucked and slung one burly arm around my shoulders.

“Don’t lose my number while I’m gone this fall, huh?” The uncertainty in his voice made me smirk. Did he actually think I’d forget about him?

“Impossible,” I replied, pointing toward the bumper sticker Mabel had plastered on the back of my car with the Mystery Shack’s telephone number in large, bold font.

“Good girl.”

The End.

#gravity falls #stan pines x reader #stan pines #fanfiction

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orangeoctopi7 · 4 years

Text

Everyone Loves an Underdog

: Chapter 1 : Chapter 2 : Chapter 3 : Chapter 4 :

The brothers were eternally grateful that Stan had his own car, so they didn’t have to endure a painfully awkward drive with Filbrick to the gym where the boxing match would be held. Their father took his own Oldsmobile.

“Uh, is the gym on the corner of Beach and Poplar, or Beach and Poppy?” Stan asked as they stopped at an intersection.

“I don’t know, you spent far more time there than I did.” Ford shrugged. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember how to get there?”

“It’s been over forty years and last summer I got my memory erased, cut me some slack, Sixer!”

“Ok, ok, relax! You know it’s off of Beach Street, right? So we just need to find Beach and drive up and down it until we find the right building.”

“Right. I can do that.” Stan assured himself.

They only had to turn around once before they found the gym. Luckily, there were plenty of cars parked outside signalling they had found the correct building. There were obviously some highly anticipated matches tonight. Stan doubted most of them were here for him, though. A three-round match between a couple of minors was hardly the kind of stuff people were clamoring to see.

“Did you two get lost on the way here?” Filbrick asked sarcastically.

“What? Hah, no!” Stan denied. “Ford thought he saw a UFO, we went a different route to see if we could get a better look at it.”

Ford rolled his eyes. Sure, throw me under the bus.

“You two need to stop wastin’ your time with that crap.” Filbrick grunted. “Now go get warmed up, or you’re gonna hurt yourself out there.”

“Good luck!” Ford told Stan as he made his way to the locker room.

“What, like I need it?” Stan called back.

Stanford followed his father into the stands, where they took a seat in the front row. A few spots had been reserved for the fighters’ family members and coaches.

“Hey there, Fil!” Stan’s coach said as he took a seat next to them. “Your Stanley sure likes to cut it close, doesn’t he? I mean, I know he’s more than a match for the Crampelter kid, but you’d think he’d give himself more than five minutes to warm up!”

“Yeah, he was busy goofin’ off with his brother here.” Filbrick inclined his head towards Ford.

“Oh, is that Stanford?” The coach asked sarcastically. “Yeah, I didn’t recognize you, it’s been so long.”

Ford rolled his eyes. It hadn’t even been a year, and he would have quit sooner if his father hadn’t been so insistent that it was “teaching important life skills”. The teen had only been able to convince his father to let him quit when he brought home brochures explaining that State Science Fair winners often won scholarships.

“What’s it been, five months since you quit? I thought you traded in your boxing gloves for a lab coat and test tubes?”

“I’m just here to support Stanley.” Ford answered stiffly.

“Sure, sure.” The coach turned his attention back to Filbrick. “Y’know, Fil, you’re a lucky guy. You got two very talented sons. One’s got all the brains, the other’s got all the brawn! Makes me wonder what’s left for the third one!”

The two men chuckled over the joke.

“Yeah, I would be lucky, if either of ‘em had the sense to put all that talent into something useful!” Filbrick replied. “Instead Stanley wastes all his winnings on that fancy car of his, and Stanford’s got his head in the clouds, dreamin’ about UFO’s and monsters. And they both waste all their time tinkerin’ with that old wreck they found on the beach. It was cute when they were little, but they’re both about to graduate from highschool! It’s high-time they grew out of it!”

“I’m right here.” Ford hissed.

“...What was that?” Filbrick asked, although it was clear he knew exactly what his son had just said.

“I’m sitting right here! I’d appreciate it if you stopped talking about me as if I wasn’t!”

The two older men stared at the teen for a moment, their shock apparent even in the dim light of the stands.

“Finally standin’ up to your old man, eh?” Filbrick finally said. “Maybe you learned something here after all.”

The coach and Filbrick moved on to talking about the other matches that were taking place that night, leaving Ford to steam silently to himself.

I still have to live with him for at least another day. I’ll just have to bite my tongue until the Time Tape is fixed. Then I can say whatever I like to his gravestone.

* * *

By the time Stan got changed into his boxing gear, he didn’t have a lot of time to warm up. But he was a limber, 17-year-old kid. If he could take on a horde of zombies without warning at the age of 63, he could go a few rounds with Crampelter after only five minutes of warm up.

It felt like significantly less than five minutes when the bell rang that signaled it was his turn in the ring. He took one last swig of water from the fountain, popped in his mouth guard, and walked out the door into the waiting crowd. His coach was waiting for him at the ropes. And just behind the coach, in the front row, were Ford and Filbrick. Stan tried to smile at his brother through the mouthguard. Ford chuckled and smiled back.

“Ladies and gentlemen, introducing our junior heavyweight match of the night!” the announcer called as the fighters entered the ring. “In the blue corner, weighing in at 254 pounds and six feet, seven inches tall, Dalton Crampelter!” There was a smattering of polite applause before the announcer continued “And in the red corner, weighing in at 210 pounds and 6 feet and an inch tall, Stanley Pines!” The crowd cheered. This may not have been the main event of the night, but people loved to see a little guy take on a big guy, even if Stan hardly qualified as a little guy in normal circumstances.

Crampelter glowered down at Stan as they both stepped to the center of the ring.

“Yhr hoing doon, Mines!” Ever the bully, Crampelter always had to get a taunt in, no matter how stupid he sounded trying to talk through his mouthguard. Stan just rolled his eyes and smirked.

The referee approached them, looking completely exasperated. He’d worked here since before these two rivals first started boxing lessons, and he knew their history. “Alright you two, I don’t want a repeat of last time. Don’t make me pull you blockheads appart. At least try to beat each other up within the established rules. I’ve lectured you both on them so many times, I shouldn’t need to repeat them again.”

"I hon't if he hon't." Stan mumbled.

Crampelter just sneered.

The ref stepped back and held up his hands. The bell rang, and the match started.

Stan made a jab for Crampelter right away. The bully had been expecting it, and blocked. They continued to exchange jabs for a few seconds, neither penetrating the other’s defenses, until Stan successfully faked Crampelter out, twitching his left hand down and popping the bully in his right temple the moment his guard was down. The ref blew the whistle.

“Hard blow to the head, point red!”

The two contestants stepped back. Stan could hear cheers from Ford and his coach behind him. He could also hear Crampelter’s coach yelling obscenities from across the ring.

They squared up again and the bell for the second round rang. This time, Crampelter came out swinging. Stan blocked the blow, but there was so much force behind it, it sent a jolt of pain through his arm. That’s gonna bruise in the morning. He had to take a step back to keep his footing, and Crampelter took advantage of the momentary loss of balance to drive another punch in, this time aiming for Stan’s gut. He turned his body just in time to dodge the brunt of the attack, but the glancing blow to his ribs still hurt.

Now Stan knew it was time to get serious. He feigned a trip, and when the bully tried to push him over, he surged forward and landed an uppercut to Crampelter’s jaw. The bully gave an enraged snort, and grabbed Stan’s offending arm. Crampelter shifted his weight forward, fully intending to push Stan down to the mat, as though this was a wrestling match, and squash him.

So you wanna fight dirty, huh? Alright then.

Stan pushed back against Crampelter for about a second before reversing directions without warning. He pulled the bully down with him and extracted his arm, rolling out of the way at the last second, so that his opponent landed hard on his shoulder.

The ref blew his whistle again, and stepped forward to separate the two fighters. “Well, at least we got one round where you both fought fair.” he sighed. “Disqualified round due to illegal moves. No points!” The crowd cheered. They didn’t care if it was illegal, they were getting quite the show.

Stan and Crampelter were both breathing hard by the start of the third round. Stan’s right arm was throbbing where he’d blocked that harsh blow earlier, and he could tell from Crampelter’s stance that the bully’s shoulder was hurting him where he’d landed.

Let’s hope I can end this in the next round.

Both competitors rushed forward at the bell. Stan got a solid jab in at the sternum, but Crampelter was more concerned with his footwork. The bully stomped down hard on Stan’s right foot.

“Yah cheatin’ fonofah--” Stan mumbled through his mouthguard. He kneed his opponent in the shin, but that only seemed to make Crampelter mad. The hulking teen bodychecked Stan, glomming onto his head.

Stan tensed up. He’d fought government agents and South American drug gangs and angry bikers. He knew how to come out on top in an unfair fight. He headbutted Crampelter, gaining himself a little bit of room as the bully reeled back from the blow.

“Lef’ hook!” Stan shouted as soon as his arm had room to maneuver. His fist collided with Crampelter’s nose, making a satisfying crack.

The whistle blew for the final time. “Match point due to injury, victory red! Can we get a medic up here to set Crampelter’s nose?”

Stan spit out his mouthguard and grinned down at his family. He climbed down from the ring to the sound of applause.

“Great match, kid!” His coach greeted him. “I mean, as your coach, I kinda have to tell you to not fight dirty like that, but hey, he started it, right? And you still came out on top!”

“Congratulations, Stanley.” Ford was at his side in a second, looking him over with concern. “But how’s your arm? It looked pretty bad from where I was sitting.”

“Don’t worry so much, Poindexter, I’m fine.” Stan assured him.

Filbrick simply gave a small nod of approval. “Good to see you can beat an overgrown gorilla boy.”

Stan gulped involuntarily. “Uh… thanks, dad.” He said with a forced grin. “Welp, we’re gonna head home!”

“Head home? But Somners and Epstein are fighting next!” The coach protested.

“Oh, uh, yeah, but, heh, my arm’s really been through the wringer tonight. I gotta get it patched up, y’know.”

“They got plenty of ice at the concessions stand.” Filbrick grunted. “Y’can’t go runnin’ home to ma to get coddled every time you have a rough match. Gettin’ hurt is part of the game, son.”

That was something Stan knew all too well. In the time between getting kicked out and moving to Gravity Falls, he’d occasionally take up prize fighting to earn a little extra money. He could never keep it up for long though. It was too rough on the body, especially when they paid you to take a fall, and the other guy thought the only way to “make it look convincing” was to actually beat the snot out of you. And of course, no matter how much they offered to pay him, it never seemed to be enough to cover a trip to the hospital.

“Well, I need to go home and work on my science fair project.” Ford interjected.

“Tough luck, you should’ve thought of that before you came out here tonight, Knucklehead.” Filbrick said caustically.

Stan stared at his father like a deer in the headlights. I got my own car, we can go home if we want! He wanted to say it, but for some reason, his insides froze and his mouth glued shut in the face of his dad’s disapproval.

Ford put an arm around his shoulder. “Fine then. Let’s go get you some ice, Stan.”

The brothers made a beeline for the concessions stand, but once they got a bag of ice for Stan’s arm, Ford started pulling him towards the exit.

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

“But dad said--”

“Oh please, he probably won’t even notice for another round or two. And then what’s he going to do?”

“Probably ground us when he gets home.” Stan guessed. “Shout so loud the neighbors knock on the wall again.”

“Grounding will hardly matter once the Time Tape is fixed.”

“I mean, our past selves will still have to deal with it.”

“We were grounded plenty of times in the past. Once more won’t hurt.”

Stan climbed into his car and tried to figure out how he could hold the ice pack to his arm and still properly grasp the steering wheel.

“Perhaps I should drive.” Ford suggested.

Stan grit his teeth for a moment before finally sighing and trading spots with his brother. “Just don’t drive her like one of your crazy spaceships.”

“That would be impossible. Cars don’t have pitch or roll.”

“Yeah, let’s keep it that way.”

They drove in silence for a few minutes, until Stan winced as his arm gave a particularly painful throb.

“How’s your arm?” Ford asked in concern.

“Hurts more than I remember.” Stan admitted. “Course, I’ve had worse. Well, probably not by this point in my life, but I will have worse.” he rolled his eyes. “Yeesh, time travel is confusing.”

“Yes, the sooner we can get back to 2013, the better.” Ford agreed. “I don’t know how much longer I can take living with dad. I’ve already come dangerously close to snapping at him twice.”

“Yeah, same here. Not the snapping part, funny enough, but I really don’t think I can take much more of him.” Stan adjusted the ice bag on his arm. “Is there anything I can do to help speed that along?”

“Hmmm… you could finish filing off the points on the circuitry while I open up the original Time Tape’s casing and remove the burnt-out circuitry. Just be careful, it’s very fine detail work.”

“Sure. Anything to get back to our own time quicker. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to see ma again, but…”

“Can’t say the same for dad and everyone else?”

“Yeah.”

Their mother was waiting for them when they arrived home, having already put Shermie to bed for the night.

“Oh, baby, what happened?” She asked when she saw the half-melted ice bag Stan was holding to his right arm.

“Heh, you should see the other guy!” He joked.

“I suppose that means you won your match?”

“Yeah. Probably for the best you didn’t come, mom, it was a bloody one.”

“Only when you broke Crampelter’s nose.” Ford amended with a snicker.

“Well, what happened to your arm?”

“Heh, I blocked a punch that felt like the giant put all of his weight into.” Stan explained. “Then in the next round, when I popped him with an uppercut, he grabbed the same arm and tried to push me down. I had to twist it around a lot to get out of there, and I think that made the bruising worse.”

Caryn heaved a beleaguered sigh. “I don’t know why you keep on fighting in these boxing matches. You’re gonna get yourself really hurt one of these days!”

Stan shrugged. “It’s fun. And it’s good money. I’ll be able to pay off my parking ticket now.”

“Well, there’s that at least.” She turned to Ford. “And Stanford, honey, did you have fun?”

“Er… fun isn’t the word I’d use to describe it.” Ford grimaced. “But I am glad I went.”

“Oh good. And lemme guess. Your father stayed to watch the other matches tonight?”

“Yeah.” The boys answered in unison.

Their mother rolled her eyes. “Guess I’d better wait up for him too.” She switched on the TV and sat on the couch.

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Filbrick Pines #Crampelter #My Writing

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nataliedanovelist · 4 years

Text

GF - Beauty Within the Fallen ch.V

Summary: Two misfit twins come across an enchanted castle, home of a mysterious beast, and slowly begin to form a strong bond that just might survive through anything. Even evil demons.

AU and artwork belong to the beautiful and very talented @artsycrapfromsai. Go give her some love, guys!!!

ch.IV - ch.VI

~~~~~~~~~~

When the children arrived back with the master of the castle and a pig, Soos was a horrid mess and Wendy took charge. The servants of the castle helped to bring the old beast up to the West Wing and back into his bedroom. The journal watched, uncovered by glass, and listened to the children working together to take care of Stan. Mabel was soft, Dipper was strong, and they were both kind. Once Mabel made sure Stan was comfortable in his bed, Dipper accepted the large supply of bandages and washcloths with hot water and began to work on his injuries. It turned out that Stan had several bad scratches and bites on his back as well as his arm; one bite on his right shoulder was particularly nasty and probably hurt a lot.

All while the boy cleaned the wounds, the beast growled in his throat, almost like purring from an angry cat. He tried to mask his pain, but Mabel sat by his head and held his claw, telling him that if he wanted he could squeeze her hand when he was hurt. Stan gave her a funny look as Mabel petted the back of his paw, feeling the soft texture of his gray fur and smiling. “I can take care of myself.” He growled. “I’ve been doing it this long.” “We know.” Dipper said firmly, free to roll his eyes since Stan’s back was to him. “But we kinda owe you.” “You’re darn right you do.” Stan sneered. “I’ve got a long list of disgusting chores that’ll give my face a run for its money, and it’s got your names on it.” He sighed and added in a softer tone. “Guess it’s not all your fault, though.” Mabel shook her head. “It’s okay, Monsieur Stan, we shouldn’t have come into your room. We’re sorry.” Dipper nodded. “I’ll admit, I suck at knowing when to quit.” Stan snorted a laugh. “Wanna call it even?” “Deal.” Mabel accepted happily and squeezed his paw. As Dipper continued to work, Stan’s tired old body, comforted by the girl’s petting and the boy’s care, started to lose its strength again and he soon fell asleep. Mabel giggled, listening to his deep breathing, and turned to look at the journal. It was closed, so Monsieur Ford had no way to talk if he wanted to. Pitying him, Mabel got down from Stan’s bed and went to the journal. She opened it and sat it on the table, touching as little as she could. Dipper paused bandaging an injury and watched with a skeptical look. “There you go, Monsieur Ford.” Mabel said kindly. Words soon appeared on the page. Thank you, my dear. Thank you so very much for bringing my brother home. “You’re brother?!” Mabel gasped, but then covered her mouth with both hands, afraid of waking Stan, but he was too exhausted to be stirred right now. Yes. The master of this castle, my brother Stanley. “Monsieur Ford,” Dipper said, finished helping Stan, and he walked towards the journal and his sister. “You weren’t always a journal, and Stan wasn’t always a beast, right?” And he looked back at the portrait of the twin boys. That is correct. We were once human, like you, but we were cursed. “S'il vous plaît, Monsieur.” Mabel pleaded. “Will you tell us what happened?” Since you two seem to enjoy stories, I shall. You will have to help me along, reading. Ford’s tone seemed to be warm and inviting. Despite this, Mabel’s face turned red and she rubbed an arm nervously. “I don’t read very good.” “That’s not true, Mabel.” Dipper said quickly and side-hugged her. “Don’t worry, I’ll read out-loud.” I am sure a bright girl like yourself is a fine reader, Mabel. The journal wrote. </i>You remind me so much of Stanley; he too often thought little of his intelligence, but he is way smarter than others (and he) gave him credit for.</i> Mabel smiled, still red, and sat on her knees, looking up at the book. An armchair scurried up to the kids and spoke. “AH! Mi precioso, do not sit on the cold floor! Come, come! Have a seat, both of you, and relax.” Kids, this is Abuelita, as she prefers to be called by everyone. Soos’ grandmother. Ford explained as Mabel sat in the cozy chair. “Thanks!” She said to Abuelita. Dipper joined her with the journal in his hands. He laid the book on their laps and said, “We’re ready, Monsieur Ford.” Very well. Thirty years ago, shortly after our parents’ death, we became entangled in something we shouldn’t have. It was my fault. While Stanley was as strong as five men and more witty than any professor, I excelled academically and held a lot of promise. Father and so many others unfairly showed favor in me and I was ignorant to how it must have hurt my twin. I also felt out of place, alone. Notice the six-fingered hand on the cover; as a human I have six fingers on each hand. As a child I was bullied and made fun of, but Stanley was always there and told me it made me special. It became my mark as I began to investigate the strange mysteries of the woods and the wonders of the world. Intrigued, I soon met a golden triangle with one eye and formal attire. When the words slowly disappeared, they were replaced with a drawing. The kids looked to indeed find a triangle with a top hat and a bowtie and a cane, having only one eye and two stick arms and two stick legs. Bill Cipher. A dangerous demon of nightmares and a master of the mind. Ford went on. I was a fool, blinded by his flattery and games. I was falling down a very deep hole, but I was lucky to have Stanley there, like always, and he managed to con the ultimate conman. This angered Bill, and as revenge he cursed us. “How?” Dipper asked. “What exactly did he do to you?” He turned Stanley into a beast and me into a journal, and all of the servants turned as well, as we are now. I cannot walk or talk like the staff can, only communicate through writing, and I slowly lose my pages. With each page, I lose part of my memory and a part of myself. When the last page falls, I will be nothing more than an empty shell, and everyone will remain cursed forever. “This story's so sad!” Mabel exclaimed. “There’s gotta be a way to get a happy ending!” “Mabel’s right,” Dipper said. “Is there a way to undo the curse?” The journal was blank for a moment, but then these words seeped onto the page: After he cursed us, Bill only said that when Stanley loves someone and earns their love in return can the curse be undone. Mabel lit up. “Love? We can help! There’s tons of cute single ladies in our village who would love to go out with a nice, smart, strong guy like Stan!” “I dunno, Mabel,” Dipper said hesitantly. “Everyone in our town thinks we’re weirdos and make fun of us. How do you think they’ll react to Stan?” “But once they got to know him…” Your people think you are weird? The journal wrote. How come? Dipper crossed his arms over his chest. “They think we’re ‘odd’ because Mabel’s learning how to read, I don’t wanna join the army, and we like to invent things.” They make fun of you over that? I’m sorry. I think reading and inventing is no reason to be made fun of, nor is a lack in desire to fight. “Oh, I still wanna learn how to fight, I just don’t wanna be anyone’s tool.” Dipper then suddenly turned bright red. “No offense.” Ford, however, quivered ever so slightly and big capital letters spilled over the page. HAHAHAHAHA! No offense taken, my boy! Holy Moses, I haven’t… well, I wouldn’t call that laughing, but thank you for making me almost laugh for the first time in thirty years. “Thirty years.” Mabel repeated with a small moan. “Don’t you worry, Monsieur Ford, we’ll help Stan fall in love so everyone will be free.” It is not for you to worry about. “Yes it is!” Mabel insisted. “You’re our friends. We wanna help you.” “Yeah, man,” Dipper said, actually gradually siding with Mabel on this one. “Once Fiddleford finds this place we’ll go home and help find someone for Stan.” “He’s a great guy,” Mabel said. “And I’m the best matchmaker in the world! I bet together we can end this curse and kick Bill’s butt!” “Mabel,” Dipper hushed as she became overly passionate and was a bit too loud. Your enthusiasm is greatly appreciated and valued, kids, but do not fret over it. We have time. “How much time?” Dipper asked, eyeing how many pages Ford had. If I absolutely had to make a guess of how long we have left… ten years. “Oh.” Dipper said, freed from the sense of urgency. He yawned into his hand. “Still, we’ll do what we can for you guys.” The journal was blank again, like he was doing some thinking, but then he wrote, Thank you, again, but now is not the time to worry about all that. You two should get to bed. It’s late. Mabel shook her head. “Nuh, uh. What if Stan needs our help with his boo-boos? We’ll just have a sleepover right here, won’t we, Abuelita?” “Si, niña.” The armchair said and used her unusual arms to throw a blanket over the twins. Dipper took off his hat, finding Abuelita quite comfortable, and he wrapped an arm around his sister. After the scare he had earlier, he had to admit he liked the idea of sleeping by her side tonight. “Good idea, sis.” “I’m full of good ideas.” Mabel joked. “G’night, Monsieur Ford.” Goodnight, Dipper and Mabel. Sweet dreams. Mabel hugged Dipper around his waist, his arm still around her, and she smiled as she closed her eyes. She could hear his heartbeat. It was faster than it should be for sleep. Knowing just what to do, she began to quietly sing a lullaby. “Days in the sun, though your life has barely begun, not until my own life is done will I ever leave you.” Dipper chuckled, remembering the song Fiddleford and Shermie used to sing, and he muttered sleepily, “Oh, I’ll tremble again to my dear one's gorgeous refrain. You will not forever remain out of reach of my arms.” His eyes, which had been open, found Ford’s open pages spilling a poem missing it’s tune. All those days in the sun, What I'd give to give you them all, All to my love, And sing out my call. “You know that song?” Dipper asked and Mabel opened her eyes to find it on Ford’s pages. Our mother used to sing it to us when we were children, every night. Please, continue and ignore me. “You should sleep, too, Monsieur Ford.” Mabel said sleepily. She took the journal in her arms, hugged the closed book, and held him as she leaned on her brother. Ford didn’t get a chance to explain that he did not sleep, but as he could ghostly feel the girl’s warmth, he was beyond happy to be in her embrace for the night. Dipper smiled, gave Mabel a squeeze, and closed his eyes for sleep as he uttered under his breath. “Days in the sun will return, we must believe. As lovers do, that days in the sun will come shining through.” ~~~~~~~~~~ Despite the wolves, despite the darkness, despite the freezing cold and the falling snow, Fiddleford trudged on. He held his casted, broken arm close to his chest for warmth, crushing a few inches of snow with his boots. The snow was coming down hard, blinding him and making it feel like a hundred tiny knives were cutting his face, but he forced himself to keep going. The idea of his children somewhere in this snow terrified him. “Dipper!” He called out. “Mabel!” Fiddleford brought his scarf up to his nose so his breath would warm the bottom-half of his face. The familiar scents of family and love came to his schnoz. Mabel had knitted him this green scarf. In fact, she knitted him his sweater and gloves, too, but this scarf, tangled and elementary, had been Mabel’s first scarf and once Shermie’s, but when he died and left it back to Mabel, she insisted that Fiddleford have it. Every time Fiddleford went to Paris to sell the clocks and music boxes in the past, he always asked the twins what they wanted, as a way to help handle his absence better. Every time, Dipper asked for a book everyone would want to hear him read and Mabel hesitantly asked for yarn. Yarn was usually very expensive, and she knew that, but she had a raw talent for knitting and sewing. No one had taught her how to knit or sew, but the minute the materials were in her hands, as young as four, she knew what to do. She was amazing like that. Better yet, with her gift of yarn, if lucky enough to have some, she always made clothes for others before herself, knitting Dipper, Fiddleford, and Shermie sweaters and gloves and scarfs and hats to keep them warm during long winters. The first time she surprised Fiddleford with a blue sweater, she smiled at him and said, “Now you can have me wherever you go.” Fiddleford wiped his eyes dry; he couldn’t afford to cry, his tears would freeze on his face. Mabel needed him, Dipper needed him, so he continued to call out their names as the rest of the village searched behind him, much slower than the old man. ~~~~~~~~~~ Stan woke up to the sound of giggling. He opened his eyes, facing the window and Ford’s table, and he found Mabel standing there with a quill in her hand and playing tic-tac-toe with Ford. She was Xs and Ford was Os. Most of the time Mabel won, but occasionally (whether to keep her humble or because Brainiac couldn’t help himself) Ford would win, but Mabel seemed just as delighted by Ford’s wins as her own. “Yay! Good job, Monsieur Ford! Okay, you go first.” Stan smiled and slowly sat up. Dipper was by his side and smiled. “Morning, Stan. How are you feeling?” “M’fine, kid.” Stan said, popping his old back and stretching his arms. He ruffled his fur loose and gave the boy an impressed smile. “Good job fixin’ me up, I feel good as new.” “Thanks.” Dipper said. “Monsieur Stan!” Mabel called, turning away from her game with Ford for a moment. “Did you see?! IT SNOWED! We should all play outside!” “C’mon, Mabel,” Dipper said easily. “Stan’s just a hurt old man, he should take it easy.” And he gave the beast a smirk. “Old man?!” Stan barked and stood tall and strong. “That’s it, you just earned yourself a huge snowball to the face!” “And don’t worry, Monsieur Ford,” Mabel said, setting her quill down and scooting the table with Ford on it closer to the window. “This way you can watch us. If you want to.” Thank you, Mabel. The words read. Waddles oinked happily and showed his belly to Stan, lying on the floor. He glared at the animal. “And what is that?” “That’s my pet pig, Waddles!” Mabel joyfully introduced. “He found us in the woods last night.” “No,” Stan said firmly and shook his head. “No pigs allowed in this castle. They’re nothing but fat, naked jerks.” “Aw, come on,” The girl cooed and hugged her pig with big brown eyes. “Just for a few days?” Stan winced. Sacrebleu, that girl was just very manipulated. He ignored the painful reminder that the kids were only here for a little while and growled, “Fine, just make sure he doesn’t eat any of Sixer’s pages or I’m eating him for lunch.” “Don’t worry, we keep books around him all the time.” Dipper said as he petted the pig’s head. “He knows not to bother them.” Dipper and Mabel dragged Stan out by his paws and for the outdoors. Waddles climbed up on Abuelita the armchair and curled up for a nap. The kids admired the beautiful garden covered in the late autumn snow. A soft blanket coated the whole world, fluffy but not delicate. Everyone was warmly dressed and ready to play. The twins took in deep breaths and then slowly counted to three. On three, they simultaneously jumped off the short balcony and landed on their faces. Stan watched, confused, but then they both rolled on their fronts and laughed, their breath visible, and they began to make snowangels on the ground. “Come on, Stan!” Mabel called. “Yeah, c’mon, man!” Dipper shouted happily. Stan smiled mischievously, took a step back, and then launched himself into the air. He landed with his beefy arms over each kid and his head in the middle, and when he turned on his back with the kids in his hold, all three were laughing like mad. Mabel swiftly made a snowball and threw it at Dipper’s face. He scrambled up after his running sister and threw one at her. Stan sat in the snow, watching the kids play, throwing snowballs at each other and running around the yard. His tail wagged against the sparkling snow. Dipper threw one and Mabel ran around Stan, resorting to the ball hitting him right in the face. Stan shook the snow out of his eyes as Mabel laughed and Dipper paled, but wearing a kind smirk on his face, Stan gathered a snowball in his paw and threw it at Dipper, who was hit in the chest and ran. Stan scurried to his feet and ran around with the kids, throwing slightly bigger snowballs that the kids enjoyed. Stan soon made a huge snowball with his strong arms, the ball almost as big as one child, but when Mabel threw one at Stan’s face he accidentally dropped the huge ball that was held over his head and he was covered in snow. Dipper and Mabel laughed so hard they had no choice but to stop running, leaning on each other for support. Stan found their laugh more contagious than the plague and roared with joy as he shook off the snow like a dog on all fours. Mabel ran into his arms and Dipper soon followed, hugging him to warm him up and apologize without words for winning the war. Stan was surprised by their desire to hug him, but he hugged them back gently and rubbed their backs, finding their clothes soaked. “Alright, gremlins, let’s get you dry and warm.” Stan said and picked them up to go back into the castle. “We can play again later.” “Okay,” Mabel cooed as she snuggled against Stan’s chest, holding onto his gray fur. “Hm, you’re so warm.” Stan’s own face suddenly felt a little warmer. “Yeah, well, there’s some benefits to being a big ugly monster, I guess.” That didn’t sit right with the twins. From each of his arms, they exchanged looks, but an idea came to Dipper that distracted him from Stan’s comment. “Hey, can we read with Ford while we dry off? He says he’s got lots of great stories to tell.” Stan smiled down at him. “You like him, don’t you?” “Yeah, he’s pretty cool.” Dipper said, glancing away. “I thought you would. You’re both nerds.” Stan teased. Dipper shrugged in a whatcha-gonna-do-about-it style. Mabel hopped down and said, “I’ll go get him so we can read together!” And she ran up the stairs. Dipper got down from Stan’s hold, too, and was about to go to the living room, but Stan spoke and stopped him in his tracks. “Kid, wait. You really like books, right?” Dipper turned and responded with a dip of his head. “Yeah, I do. I was pretty much the only one that read the library in town, and by library I mean one bookshelf.” Stan waved a paw towards himself. “Follow me. I got something for you.” Dipper casually followed Stan down a hallway and they stopped at the double doors. The beast turned to the boy and gave him a cunning smile. “Ah, ah. Close your eyes.” Dipper crossed his arms over his chest and sneered at him with a smile. “Is this a prank?” “No, just do it.” Stan chuckled. “It’s a surprise.” Dipper gave in and closed his eyes. After testing that he truly was blind by waving a paw in front of his face, Stan opened the doors and put a hand on his back to help him walk. “Okay, okay, here we go… okay, stop.” “Can I see?” “Hold it, squirt, gimme a sec.” Stan hurried to pull back curtains and brighten the room. Candles magically came to life. “Okay, okay… open ‘em up!” Dipper opened his eyes, blinked to adjust to the newfound light, and then his jaw dropped. Towering over him, a room arguably bigger than the ballroom held thousands if not hundreds of thousands of books. Rich mahogany desks sat filled with parchment and quills and ink, globes and atlas took up some desk space, but Dipper couldn’t tear his eyes away from all of the books. Stairways and ladders could reach the books up at the very top and giant windows seeped in beautiful sunlight to ease the eyes. “Shut. Up.” Dipper said hoarsely. “I’ve never seen so many books! Look at this place!” He went to a bookshelf and gently ran a hand over the dozens of spines exposed to him. “You like it?” Stan asked, leaning by the door with his arms crossed over his chest. “I love it!” “Then it’s all yours.” Dipper’s jaw was nearly on the floor when he turned to look at the master of the castle. “You really mean it?” “Sure do, Smart Guy.” Stan smiled at him. “Go nuts.” Dipper, trembling, ran to a shelf and began to pick books to read. Mabel came in, carrying Ford carefully like he was a baby, and she gasped joyfully. “Wowie, zowie! A whole library!” She gave Ford to Stan to hold and joined her brother, helping him by holding his stack of books. Stan smiled and opened Ford to talk to him. Immediately words appeared before him. That was ingenious, Stanley. Dipper will surely make good use out of the library. “Thanks, Sixer.” Stan watched the kids from across the vast room, his smile dropping. As a twin, he knew that it was rare to have something done only for you and not you and your twin. He wanted to do something special for each of them, but each of them separately. The library was Dipper’s, though Mabel was free to use it since she obviously liked stories (Stan noticed that Dipper liked “books” and Mabel liked “stories”), but she needed something of her own. “I wanna do something for Mabel.” He whispered. “But I know nothing about what girls like. Make-up? Dolls?” My knowledge on girls is also very limited. Ford admitted. But I do know that you should consider something that sparks her interests and not something exclusively femanine. You didn’t give Dipper a gun or a sword. Stan shrugged. “Okay, good point. So, what? What does Mabel like?” Well, I can recall her saying this morning that she loves sweaters. When I asked her about it, she said she loves to knit but could rarely afford the yarn. “That’s it!” Stan closed Ford gently and held him against his chest one-armed. “Mabel, sweetie, can you come with me? I got something for you, too.” Mabel shoved the twenty-plus books in her brother’s arms and ran up to Stan. He smiled at her huge grin and walked with her down the hall. He led her to a single door. Mabel instantly took off her pink headband and tied it over her eyes so she wouldn’t be tempted to peek. “I wanna be surprised!” She squealed. Stan chuckled. “Give me your hand, kid.” Mabel did and Stan led her into the room. He opened a curtain and let go of the girl’s little hand. “Alright, you can look now.” Mabel pulled her blindfold down onto her neck and she gasped so big her lungs filled quickly. It was like a grand supply closet. There was a wall full of rolls of different patterns of fabric and silk, figurines to make clothes on, drawers full of supplies, desks full of paints and canvases and brushes, and an odd shelf of some kind, squares that held bundles of yarn, all in rainbow order. What was better yet, this room may have been only twenty feet wide, but it was forty feet tall, like a tower, and a rolling ladder helped to reach the higher fabrics and yarns. A window as tall as the room let in bright sunlight to make crafting easy. “OH MY GOSH!” Mabel cried out and looked around the room. “It’s like arts-n’-crafts heaven!” “It was Ma’s room.” Stan shared as he chuckled over Mabel’s joy. “She used to come down here and spend hours painting and drawing and making clothes. Pa used to get on her case about it. Said she didn't give the seamstresses enough to do.” “Your dad sounds like a stupid jerk.” Mabel added quickly before resuming her cheerful attitude. “This is wonderful! I love it! LOOK at all the COLORS!” “If you like it so much, then it’s yours.” Stan said. Mabel turned and Stan was clutched to find her crying. Well, not really crying, but there were tears in her eyes and one escaped each eye, rolling down her cheeks. “THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!” Mabel cheered and ran to him. One arm busy holding Ford, Stan fell on his butt by the impact of the girl and she hugged him around his big neck, nuzzling her face into his fur. He stared ahead in astonishment and wrapped an arm around her, petting her soft brown hair and admiring her warmth. Too soon she skipped away and climbed up the ladder for some red yarn. “I’m gonna make you a sweater first! Then I’ll make Ford one, a little book-holder to keep him warm.” “I don’t think he really gets cold anymore.” Stan said as he stood again. “Well then, I’ll go ahead and make him a sweater to wear when he’s human again.” Mabel reasoned. Stan was distracted by that statement. When he was human again. When they were human again. He had lost all hope for so long of someone ever loving him that it seemed foolish to think of the curse ever being broken, but Mabel and Dipper seemed to like him, and Ford probably loved him (for some odd reason) so maybe it was possible for him to find a beautiful mademoiselle to love and have her love him back. Stan shook his train of thought away as Dipper now joined them, six books stacked in his arms and making his limbs quiver, but he didn’t seem to care. “Mabel, what’s… whoa-oh!” Dipper awed at the room. “No way! Cool art supplies.” “Thanks!” Mabel said and climbed down with red and orange yarn in her arms and she opened a drawer full of different size knitting needles and pulled out a pair she liked. “Wanna read to us by the fire?” “Sure.” In the lounge, Stan sat in front of the huge fireplace, making plenty of room for Ford to be safe. Dipper and Mabel sat in his lap, the boy at his left and the girl at his right, and Dipper opened Ford and the journal began to tell a story. Dipper read the words out-loud, occasionally having Mabel give reading a try, only needing assistance a handful of times for bigger words, but Ford seemed to purposely use smaller words when it was her turn to read. Stan, without realizing it, was purring. The children noticed, but said nothing. Mabel nuzzled closer to him, grateful for his large body and fluffy gray fur. She thought he was wonderful in every aspect and Dipper full-heartedly agreed. The biggest mystery of them all was how Dipper didn’t see this all before.

~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note: This… this is where, in my humble opinion, the story actually becomes worth reading. I feel like the patience we, the audience, must have with the BatB story - seeing the Beast as he is before his change of heart, seeing Belle run away and all the obstacles before them both - make the bonding scenes even better. Gives a FINALLY sort of feeling. I wanted to carry that over here, making the beginning a little slow (though I probably lost some readers that way), but making it even more rewarding for those who read on. Or maybe I’m just making an excuse for a suck-ish beginning. Who knows. Okay, so Waddles NOT being a footstool is so that it ties in more to the canon GF storyline. I didn’t want Waddles to be some pet Stan didn’t like and only tolerated for someone else’s sake or a farm-animal that was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Rather, I had him always be Mabel’s and I also left him at home in the beginning to better parallel the show’s canon (even though Waddles is in the intro, he isn’t introduced until S1E9). I also, mainly, just really wanted Stan to only allow Waddles in the castle to make Mabel happy, cuz Imma sap that’s why. Moving on, I put both Days in the Sun and a hint of Something There at the end. When writing the snow scene, I listened to Wolf Children’s Snow soundtrack; I personally thought it fit so well. Not much else to say except Mabel’s craft-room is my idea and I love love LOVE the library scene (both in this fic and in the animated BatB movie; the live-action movie RUINED the scene!) Thank you so much for reading, and I hope y’all enjoy it!

#GF #gravity falls #ford pines #stan pines #mabel pines #dipper pines #beauty within the fallen #fanfiction #love #snow #wolf children #library #gotta love some stan twins angst #BONDING #okay but seriously HUGE thanks to everyone who's been supporting this #thank you so so much to every who's been following and leaving nice comments #love y'all!

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beanie-beebo-writes · 3 years

Text

Faith Pt.II

Category: Oneshot; genfic

Summary: Another life saved, another lost. Day in and day out it's the same for the Winchesters. Continuation of the episode from s1, Faith

In the life of a hunter, you couldn't have connections. Ties to the normal civilian life meant putting others at risk. Sam and Dean knew this, but nothing would stop them from feeling connected to the people they saved. Every once in a while, an opening would come up between hunts. Giving them the perfect opportunity to catch up on the lives of those they saved, however they could. Usually it was through local papers; it was safer that way. Calling meant the connection would still be there, and opened the possibility of a blossoming partnership.

One early summer afternoon, Sam and Dean had settled back into their chintzy motel room. Their previous hunt had consisted of nothing more than a measly vamp infestation, but still nonetheless grueling. It was enough to make Dean want to sleep for a few days after a nice, hot shower.

"I wish more hunts were this easy." Dean said, plopping onto the nearest bed.

"Yeah, you're telling me." Sam said, failing to observe Dean was on his bed. "Alright, I don't know about you, but I need a shower. I can still smell that last vamp we took out, perfume included."

"Bathroom's all yours. I need a breather, maybe a nap. Just don't use up all the hot water, Frieda." Dean said.

Sam rolled his eyes before shutting the bathroom door with a huff. Dean gave himself an approving nudge on the shoulder and smirked.

"Dean 1, Sam 0." Dean muttered to himself triumphantly.

He momentarily began to doze, but it wasn't long before his thoughts got the better of him. It had now been almost two months since his father chose to sacrifice his own life for Dean. He still couldn't wrap his head around it all, of what exactly happened and why his father seemingly gave up so easily. He wondered exactly what could have been going through his mind when he did what he did. There were so many unanswered questions, ones he would probably never get the answers for. The likely deal his father made to save him was just as much of a knee-jerk choice as Sam going to that faith healer that one time. How desperate was his father to make such a choice?

Dean still remembered the look on Sam's face when he found out his brother had drawn the short straw, from that hunt not too long ago. He never was good at hiding how he really felt, not from Dean anyway. The hurt shone brightly in his younger brother's unshed tears, and it was obvious the only reason Sam brought him to the faith healer was out of desperation. But deciphering his father's true intent was like trying to focus a laser on a minnow in murky water.

Had Death whispered in his ear, or was he really so far out of options? Dean paused as the image of the reaper coming after him in Nebraska came to him. He shuddered as the memory clashed with his father's final moments.

Dean opened his eyes and sat up, suddenly feeling sick. A knot formed in his stomach for a completely different reason as a face wedged itself to the front of his mind.

He almost reluctantly opened up Sam's laptop and went through Ford City's past few obituary sections in the local papers.

There had been so much going on, he hadn't recently checked in on any previous hunt survivors. Guilt seeped deep into his heart. Last time they had talked, she had months left to live.

Sure enough, in the second most recent newspaper was Layla's face, sticking out like a sore thumb.

"Layla Rourke; beloved daughter, niece, granddaughter, and friend to many passed away Thursday, June 29th 2006. Services will be held Friday, July 7th at Munderloh Funeral Home from 1pm to 3pm and 5pm to 7pm."

Dean's stomach dropped. Another name to add to the list of the people who he didn't save, once again. He almost wanted to laugh, the last conversation they ever had, involved faith. Where was this so-called God now? Where was He whenever good people needed it most? It was easier to believe that a God never existed than to get his hopes crushed every time a life drained away, at his stupid expense nonetheless. Yet, the people who still believed, got their hopes crushed in the end. Dean only wished he knew how to feel.

"Hey, you okay?"

Dean turned around to a fully dressed Sam, fresh out of the shower.

"Uh, do you remember Layla? The chick who was at that faith healing session?" Dean asked.

Sam huffed in amusement. "Yeah, I definitely remember. Why?"

"She uh, her funeral is this week." Dean said.

"Oh.." Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Wow, um. I'm sorry to hear that."

"I think I'm gonna head up to Nebraska, you good for a few days?" Dean asked.

"You sure you don't want me to come with? I'll be fine, but I know how much that last conversation…" Sam trailed off.

Dean clenched his jaw. "I need to do this by myself, Sam. I'll be fine."

"Alright, just let me know if anything comes up." Sam said. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but-"

"You're always there, blah blah. I know. Enough touchy feely crap, I'm headed out." Dean retorted.

"And Dean?"

Dean turned around, a hard glare set in his eyes.

"Just be careful."

Dean slammed the hotel door behind him in frustration, roared the Impala's engine, and sped off towards Ford City.

Dean pulls into a decent sized parking lot, thankfully while all the other grievers seem to be heading away for intermission. He takes a swig of whiskey and exhales roughly before heading inside the nearly empty funeral home to pay his respects. After finding his way to the correct viewing room, he comes across a shorter woman standing by the casket, blocking his view of Layla. He hangs off to the side out of sight, waiting until she is ready to leave the room.

"You can come up, if you wish. I won't be too long." She says.

"It's alright. You take your time." Dean says.

"You're not bothering me, hun. I don't bite." She responds.

He takes up the invitation; Dean figures it probably wouldn't hurt to give her some company.

"She really was something, wasn't she?" Dean asks.

She sniffles lightly. "Layla truly was one of a kind. One of the brightest souls I have ever had the blessing to come across."

Dean nods, taking in Layla's peaceful presence.

Brief pause. "How did you know her?" The woman asks.

"Layla.. She was kind to me even when I didn't deserve it. Even when I was for some reason chosen to be saved over her, she never held it against me. I think she even had faith for me."

"Yeah, that sounds like Layla. She didn't have a mean bone in her body. I'm Jamie, by the way; Layla's aunt."

"Nice to meet you; I'm Dean. Sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, same to you."

Another brief silence.

"You know, I may not know you, but I can tell you're worth more than you think." Jamie says.

"Sorry, but you are highly mistaken." Dean replies.

"Layla, she was a person of good faith. She only kept you around, if she felt your intentions were good. She may have been kind to everyone, but if you knew her, you also knew she wasn't one to condone ill intentions. If she had faith in or for you, you are a good person."

Dean didn't have an answer; his eyes focused on Layla.

"Did you come far?" She asks to break the tension.

"Uh, yeah," Dean finally glances back into Jamie's direction momentarily. "I was originally working in Jersey this weekend."

"Hm, now if you weren't a good person, then why did you come all this way for her?"

He stares at Layla's portrait next to the casket. He knows Jamie was trying to make a good point. Although, that point didn't condone everything he had done.

"It was nice meeting you Dean, take care." And with that she walks away, leaving Dean alone with Layla.

For a few moments, he didn't even know what to say. What could he even say? One of the last times they had been together, he stopped her from being healed. He felt so dirty, standing here when he clearly felt he shouldn't have been. It's not like his brother couldn't kill Azazel without him. Yeah, Sam would be broken without his brother, but not incapable. He would have Bobby at least. Sam survived college without him, he could have survived Dean pulling the short straw.

"Hi Layla.." Dean's voice begins to waver. "I bet I'm the last person you wanted to hear from, but.. I'm here anyway. I couldn't not say goodbye.."

Dean plays with the denim of his jeans awkwardly.

"Listen, about what happened months ago.. I need you to understand, I never wanted this to happen to you. The reason I was healed...wasn't God. Although, I'm sure if you were here, you would say so anyway. My brother brought me to Roy because... he was desperate. And.. He made a mistake. I mean, I guess if he didn't find Roy, we never would have met and I would have never saved those people.."

Dean pauses and glances behind him, making sure he was still alone.

"My brother and I, we hunt things..Unnatural things. I'm not going to explain everything but, if you were to follow us for a day, maybe you would understand. And what healed me, was something.. not natural. And God.. He wouldn't condone what it was. Now, I know I couldn't save you. But there hasn't been a day that has gone by, that I haven't regretted that. Hell, if anything, I would have traded my life for yours in a heartbeat."

Tears begin to sting his eyeline.

"Layla I.. I wish things could have been different for you. I'm sorry." He sniffled. "I know your Aunt Jamie was saying all these things about me being a good person, but.. If I was a good person, I would have let you be saved, even if it was unnatural. But me being me, I hunted the unnatural thing before you could get that chance."

Dean pauses to collect himself.

"Yeah.." He whispers to no one in particular.

He gives her a final farewell, shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, and somberly heads outside. Just after he walks out the double doors, a paper smacks him in the face causing him to flail briefly. After gathering himself, he holds out the paper to observe.. a poster appreciating the troops. "Thank you, for putting your life on the line. You are our hero."

Suddenly he looks up, feeling as if he has eyes on him. Standing across the parking lot in a beautiful, rose colored dress is Layla, smiling. Before Dean could think of what to do, she disappears.

Dean/Jensen tags: @akshi8278

#spn #supernatural #spn s1 #spn 1.12 #spn 1x12 #spn faith #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #spn gen #spn genfic #supernatural genfic #dean winchester #dean #layla rourke #classic supernatural #spn oneshot

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beanie-beebo · 4 years

Text

Oneshot: Dean pays respects to an old friend.

A/N I know I never really write like I used to, but I do come up with a few good things now and again. Enjoy. ❤

In the life of a hunter, you couldn’t have connections. Ties to the normal civilian life meant putting others at risk. Sam and Dean knew this, but nothing would stop them from feeling connected to the people they saved. Every once in a while, an opening would come up between hunts. Giving them the perfect opportunity to catch up on the lives of those they saved, however they could. Usually it was through local papers; it was safer that way. Calling meant the connection would still be there, and opened the possibility of a blossoming partnership.

“I wish more hunts were this easy.” Dean said, plopping onto the nearest bed.

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” Sam said, failing to observe Dean was on his bed. “Alright, I don’t know about you, but I need a shower. I can still smell that last vamp we took out, perfume included.”

“Bathroom’s all yours. I need a breather, maybe a nap. Just don’t use up all the hot water, Frieda.” Dean said.

Sam rolled his eyes before shutting the bathroom door with a huff. Dean gave himself an approving nudge on the shoulder and smirked.

“Dean 1, Sam 0.” Dean muttered to himself triumphantly.

He momentarily began to doze, but it wasn’t long before his thoughts got the better of him. It had now been almost two months since his father chose to sacrifice his own life for Dean. He still couldn’t wrap his head around it all, of what exactly happened and why his father seemingly gave up so easily. He wondered exactly what could have been going through his mind when he did what he did. There were so many unanswered questions, ones he would probably never get the answers for. The likely deal his father made to save him was just as much of a knee-jerk choice as Sam going to that faith healer that one time. How desperate was his father to make such a choice?

Dean still remembered the look on Sam’s face when he found out his brother had drawn the short straw, from that hunt not too long ago. He never was good at hiding how he really felt, not from Dean anyway. The hurt shone brightly in his younger brother’s unshed tears, and it was obvious the only reason Sam brought him to the faith healer was out of desperation. But deciphering his father’s true intent was like trying to focus a laser on a minnow in murky water.

Dean opened his eyes and sat up, suddenly feeling sick. A knot formed in his stomach for a completely different reason as a face wedged itself to the front of his mind.

He almost reluctantly opened up Sam’s laptop and went through Ford City’s past few obituary sections in the local papers.

There had been so much going on, he hadn’t recently checked in on any previous hunt survivors. Guilt seeped deep into his heart. Last time they had talked, she had months left to live.

Sure enough, in the second most recent newspaper was Layla’s face, sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Layla Rourke; beloved daughter, niece, granddaughter, and friend to many passed away Thursday, June 29th 2006. Services will be held Friday, July 7th at Munderloh Funeral Home from 1pm to 3pm and 5pm to 7pm.”

Dean’s stomach dropped. Another name to add to the list of the people who he didn’t save, once again. He almost wanted to laugh, the last conversation they ever had, involved faith. Where was this so-called God now? Where was He whenever good people needed it most? It was easier to believe that a God never existed than to get his hopes crushed every time a life drained away, at his stupid expense nonetheless. Yet, the people who still believed, got their hopes crushed in the end. Dean only wished he knew how to feel.

“Hey, you okay?”

Dean turned around to a fully dressed Sam, fresh out of the shower.

“Uh, do you remember Layla? The chick who was at that faith healing session?” Dean asked.

Sam huffed in amusement. “Yeah, I definitely remember. Why?”

“She uh, her funeral is this week.” Dean said.

“Oh..” Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wow, um. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I think I’m gonna head up to Nebraska, you good for a few days?” Dean asked.

“You sure you don’t want me to come with? I’ll be fine, but I know how much that last conversation…” Sam trailed off.

Dean clenched his jaw. “I need to do this by myself, Sam. I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, just let me know if anything comes up.” Sam said. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but-”

“You’re always there, blah blah. I know. Enough touchy feely crap, I’m headed out.” Dean retorted.

"And Dean?”

Dean turned around, a hard glare set in his eyes.

“Just be careful.”

Dean slammed the hotel door behind him in frustration, roared the Impala’s engine, and sped off towards Ford City.

~~~

“You can come up, if you wish. I won’t be too long.” She says.

“It’s alright. You take your time.” Dean says.

“You’re not bothering me, hun. I don’t bite.” She responds.

He takes up the invitation; Dean figures it probably wouldn’t hurt to give her some company.

“She really was something, wasn’t she?” Dean asks.

She sniffles lightly. “Layla truly was one of a kind. One of the brightest souls I have ever had the blessing to come across.”

Dean nods, taking in Layla’s peaceful presence.

Brief pause. “How did you know her?” The woman asks.

“Layla.. She was kind to me even when I didn’t deserve it. Even when I was for some reason chosen to be saved over her, she never held it against me. I think she even had faith for me.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Layla. She didn’t have a mean bone in her body. I’m Jamie, by the way; Layla’s aunt.”

“Nice to meet you; I’m Dean. Sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, same to you.”

Another brief silence.

“You know, I may not know you, but I can tell you’re worth more than you think.” Jamie says.

“Sorry, but you are highly mistaken.” Dean replies.

“Layla, she was a person of good faith. She only kept you around, if she felt your intentions were good. She may have been kind to everyone, but if you knew her, you also knew she wasn’t one to condone ill intentions. If she had faith in or for you, you are a good person.”

Dean didn’t have an answer; his eyes focused on Layla.

“Did you come far?” She asks to break the tension.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean finally glances back into Jamie’s direction momentarily. “I was originally working in Jersey this weekend.”

“Hm, now if you weren’t a good person, then why did you come all this way for her?”

He stares at Layla’s portrait next to the casket. He knows Jamie was trying to make a good point. Although, that point didn’t condone everything he had done.

“It was nice meeting you Dean, take care.” And with that she walks away, leaving Dean alone with Layla.

For a few moments, he didn’t even know what to say. What could he even say? One of the last times they had been together, he stopped her from being healed. He felt so dirty, standing here when he clearly felt he shouldn’t have been. It’s not like his brother couldn’t kill Azazel without him. Yeah, Sam would be broken without his brother, but not incapable. He would have Bobby at least. Sam survived college without him, he could have survived Dean pulling the short straw.

“Hi Layla..” Dean’s voice begins to waver. “I bet I’m the last person you wanted to hear from, but.. I’m here anyway. I couldn’t not say goodbye..”

Dean plays with the denim of his jeans awkwardly.

“Listen, about what happened months ago.. I need you to understand, I never wanted this to happen to you. The reason I was healed...wasn’t God. Although, I’m sure if you were here, you would say so anyway. My brother brought me to Roy because... he was desperate. And.. He made a mistake. I mean, I guess if he didn’t find Roy, we never would have met and I would have never saved those people..”

Dean pauses and glances behind him, making sure he was still alone.

“My brother and I, we hunt things..Unnatural things. I’m not going to explain everything but, if you were to follow us for a day, maybe you would understand. And what healed me, was something.. not natural. And God.. He wouldn’t condone what it was. Now, I know I couldn’t save you. But there hasn’t been a day that has gone by, that I haven’t regretted that. Hell, if anything, I would have traded my life for yours in a heartbeat.”

Tears begin to sting his eyeline.

“Layla I.. I wish things could have been different for you. I’m sorry.” He sniffled. “I know your Aunt Jamie was saying all these things about me being a good person, but.. If I was a good person, I would have let you be saved, even if it was unnatural. But me being me, I hunted the unnatural thing before you could get that chance.”

Dean pauses to collect himself.

“Yeah..” He whispers to no one in particular.

He gives her a final farewell, shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, and somberly heads outside. Just after he walks out the double doors, a paper smacks him in the face causing him to flail briefly. After gathering himself, he holds out the paper to observe.. a poster appreciating the troops. “Thank you, for putting your life on the line. You are our hero.”

Suddenly he looks up, feeling as if he has eyes on him. Standing across the parking lot in a beautiful, rose colored dress is Layla, smiling. Before Dean could think of what to do, she disappears.

#supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #spn #supernatural #gen fanfic #spn gen fic #oneshot #spn oneshot #dean winchester #winchester #sam winchester #Don't fear the reaper #faith #season 2 #season 2 supernatural #faith supernatural

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snekatiegf · 4 years

Text

Moon

Fiddleford McGucket except he’s a werewolf

Ao3 link

Summary: The Pines family's discovery of a certain old man's lycanthropy. (First bit takes place nearly immediately after Society of the Blind Eye, the second is only days away from Weirdmageddon, and the third is during Ford and Fiddleford's conversation post-weirdmageddon.)

Pairings: None, but can be Fiddauthor if you’d like.

Warnings: Werewolf attacks but no injuries, old injuries/scars but not in detail, a short argument between Stan and Ford

Characters: Fiddleford, Dipper, Mabel, Stan, Ford.

"Is that a wolf?"

Said wolf was currently rooting through their trash outside. It looked ragged and underfed, it's ribs prominent through its fur. Its fur was probably once light brown, but now most of it was grey or white, and its fur was falling off in some places, revealing just how old this wolf might be.

Upon hearing Stan's voice, the poor thing swiveled its head around to him and the kids, and suddenly it didn't matter how pathetic the canine looked. It's body language completely changed, tail straight and ears forward, whatever fur left on its back raising in aggression. It bared its teeth at the three, and even though it was definitely missing a few, that didn't make the remaining any less sharp.

"Oh boy. Kids, get inside." Stan immediately pulled on his brass knuckles, ready to punch the shit out of this thing if necessary.

"Aw, but it looks hungry," Mabel said.

"Wait, it looks familiar," Dipper said, squinting at the animal.

"Familiar? How many wolves have you run into?"

The three slowly backed away from the wolf, but it was staring at them intently. Or, as well as it could stare at them, considering how its eyes were so unfocused.

Dipper suddenly realised why the wolf looked so familiar.

He remembered earlier that summer when he had asked Fiddleford McGucket about a scar the old man had on his shoulder- a bite mark. McGucket had just brushed his question off, saying that he couldn't recall, but he got bitten by animals all the time, and that it was likely from one of those incidents.

If Dipper is right… oh boy.

"Stan, I think that's McGucket!"

"Kid, what are you-" Stan was cut off when the wolf lunged at him, snarling. He shouted in surprise when he was knocked backwards. The wolf was way too scrawny, why the hell is it so strong?

"Don't get bitten! I think that's a werewolf!"

Oh man. Stan wasn't sure about how correct Dipper was, but he was not going to take that chance. Besides, werewolf or not, getting bitten by this thing wasn't on his itinerary. Even if it wasn't a werewolf, it probably had rabies or something.

He slammed his fist into the wolf's face, causing it to yelp and jump off him. He jumped to his feet and ran to the Shack, grabbing each kid on the way. He slammed and locked the door shut, and just in time, too. Half a second later there was a loud bang as the wolf slammed into the door.

Stan looked out the window, where the wolf was snarling and scratching at the door. The large mark where it had been punched was already healing over. Definitely not a normal wolf.

"What was it that hurts werewolves? Silver? I'm sure I've got some silver lying around somewhere…"

"Wait, we can't kill it!" Mabel shouted, immediately distressed. "If it's a werewolf that means it could be somebody from town!"

"Mabel, I think that's McGucket! Look at it! And remember that big bite mark he had?"

Mabel's eyes widened. "Grunkle Stan, you can't kill that wolf!"

"You're saying that wolf is McGucket." Stan sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Fine, what are we supposed to do with him, then?"

"We can't just leave him out there, he might get into town and bite someone," Dipper said.

"If he hasn't already," Stan replied. "How many werewolves do ya think are in town?"

"Soos thinks that the mailman is one," Mabel offered. She jumped back when McGucket slammed into the door, still snarling.

"You think he can stay distracted all night?" Stan asked, "'Cause I haven't got chains just lying around, kid."

"I have nets!" Dipper replied. "But I'll need some kind of muzzle, or else he might bite through it…"

"I think I've got that handled."

It wasn't too difficult to capture McGucket. The first step of the plan was to distract him- that was Mabel's job. She climbed onto the roof and called down to the angry wolf. "Hey there! I'm Mabel and I'm being distracting! And look what I've got!" She held up a paper bag, and grabbed a handful of its contents before chucking it off the roof. Hamburger meat. McGucket was on it in an instant, catching the meat out of the air. He sat down and stared up at Mabel, waiting for more.

As Mabel kept the wolf occupied, Dipper and Stan were carefully sneaking up on him. They had to rely on McGucket's poor hearing for this, but they weren't entirely sure if it would have translated over to his wolf form. It was a chance they just had to take. Stan was armed with several ropes, and his brass knuckles in case things got messy, while Dipper held his net.

Once they were close enough, Stan and Dipper nodded to each other, and Stan grabbed one of his ropes. He launched himself at the wolf, leaping onto his back and wrapping the rope around his muzzle. McGucket snarled and swirled his head around to try and bite at Stan, but Stan already got the rope circled around his snout several times. Realizing he wouldn't be able to bite the attacker, McGucket began to writhe and jump around to try to dislodge him from his back. Stan barely managed to tie the rope around the back of McGucket's head before he was thrown off.

Dipper took this moment to leap forward, casting the net over McGucket and drawing it tight. McGucket was growling at him, but with his muzzle tied shut, there wasn't much he could do. Stan, who was slightly bruised but otherwise unharmed, stepped forward and grabbed the net. "Thank god that's over. Now we lock him up somewhere until morning."

That somewhere ended up being the bathroom, along with some clean clothes, because the last thing the Pines family wanted was to wake up to a naked McGucket in the morning. He howled all night, keeping the residents of the household from getting much sleep, until, with sunrise, it ceased.

Stan knocked on the bathroom door. "McGucket? You good?" There was some shuffling followed by a thump.

"Howdy! I don't rightly know where I am! Are these clothes for me?"

"Yeah."

More shuffling, then the bathroom door opened, revealing a ragged-looking McGucket. Or, more ragged than usual, at least, with dark circles under his eyes. His donated clothes fit him poorly but they did their job. He froze when he saw Stan, eyebrows furrowing as if trying to place something, before he shook his head. "Well, howdy there! You think you can explain how I got so far from my shed?"

"Maybe if you do some explaining about how you're a werewolf."

"That's right, ain't it?" McGucket asked. While he sounded generally unapologetic, he did look a little sheepish. "Didn't realise it was a full moon last night."

"You're a werewolf and you don't keep track of the moon."

"I think I used to, once upon a time…" he trailed off, that same concentrated look on his face. "Guess I haven't recently. I ought to buy a calendar!"

"Yeah. Well, we found you digging through our trash last night. And you almost bit me." McGucket's eyes widened in panic at that.

"But I didn't, did I?"

"No, lucky for you. Also lucky for you, the kids recognized you and didn't let me hurt you. That's what all the net business was."

"The kids… Dipper and Mabel? Well I appreciate that. I didn't hurt them either, did I?"

Stan frowned at the old man. Stan doesn't see him around a whole lot, only ever at the lake, really. But something about him seemed a little different than the last time he'd seen him. While still quite a wacky man, he seemed a little more… put together?

"They're fine," he replied. "They should be down soon and Dipper might question you, since he's into all that spooky fantasy stuff."

"I'm not sure how many answers I'll have for him. I can't quite recall… I've been like this long as I can remember yet."

Stan glanced at the angry scar on McGucket’s shoulder. Despite looking pretty frightening, it was completely healed over, so it definitely wasn’t recent.

“Well, get ready for as much explaining as you can do. C’mon, I’m making pancakes. Bet that’s a step up from garbage and raw hamburger.”

___

“Not this again,” Stan muttered, watching the wolf dig through the trash outside.

“What do you mean?” Ford asked.

“He did this last month, too. The kids made him some moon phase calendar but it doesn’t look like he’s been using it.”

“Moon phase? Stanley, is that a werewolf?”

“Yeah, it’s-” Stan cut himself off, remember who McGucket had been to Ford. The previous conversations about the old man’s current state had been painful, and now Stan had to tell Ford that his old partner is a werewolf, too? “Stanford, that’s Fiddleford Mcgucket.”

Ford didn’t answer right away, just stared at the wolf outside. “A werewolf…” He spun around and jabbed a finger into Stan’s chest. “Fiddleford is a werewolf, and you knew this, and you didn’t tell me?”

Stan stepped backwards, startled. “Woah! I only knew he was your partner like three days ago!”

“And you didn’t bother to tell me then!”

“It slipped my mind, okay? With all this paranormal junk happening all the time, it’s hardly the strangest thing I’ve had to deal with. Besides, I figured maybe you knew already! “ Stan pushed Ford’s hand away. “He didn’t remember when he got bit, and the scar looked old. It could’ve happened on one of your little excursions.”

Ford sighed, watching the pathetic-looking wolf as he scavenged through old food remains. “I have something that could help him, something I picked up in another dimension. I can’t give it to him now in his wolf form, but soon I’ll give it to him. It’s medicine, it will help calm him down during his transformations.” He turned away from Stan. “I’ll bring him back to the junkyard, you don’t have to worry about it.”

___

He held out the bottle to Fiddleford. "I got it in one of the alternate earth dimensions, one I call-" he faltered. He'd called that dimension the Better World Dimension for some time, but now he wasn't sure if it was the most fitting. After all, he never got to learn where Stan had gone after taking the journal. Alternate Fiddleford had never really mentioned his brother, so he assumed maybe their relationship in that dimension had never been repaired. "I called it the better world dimension. There, the understanding of mythical beasts is much greater. I acquired this medicine which keeps a werewolf aware during their transformation. You will still become a wolf, but you will be completely aware of yourself the whole time."

Fiddleford stared at the bottle for several seconds before his face broke out into a huge grin. “You’re givin’ this to me?” He asked, sounding astounded. He carefully took the bottle and examined the label. “Well I’ll be darned. This is far too kind.”

Ford chuckled gently. “I’ll feel that after everything, this is the least that I could do.” He dug out a small slip of paper from one of his many pockets. “And I have the recipe to make more, for when you run out.” He paused, eyes glancing to Fiddleford’s scar. “How did it happen?”

“It’s still a little fuzzy,” Fiddleford answered, carefully placing the bottle on the ground beside his chair. “I think I was out collecting scraps. It came outta nowhere- a big fluffy fella. I don’t think I realised what it was at first.” There was a short pause as he seemed to contemplate something. “Stanford?”

“Yes, Fiddleford?”

“I missed you.”

Ford had to try really hard to not let himself tear up. (He failed.) “I missed you too, Fidds.”

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #werewolves #werewolf mcgucket #fiddleford mcgucket #dipper pines #mabel pines #stan pines #ford pines #fanfiction #text #mine

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barfzal · 5 years

Text

cosmos

word count: 4,525

warnings: smut, public sex, hand on throat if that counts (it’s nothing rough though)

requested: yup!

a/n: hey, hunnies! this one is about my favorite pretty boy, nolan, being your sweet lover. this was definitely inspired by my sweet anon who just wanted to just talk it up with a soft nolan under the stars, and it is also loosely inspired by the song fade into you by mazzy star. anyways, i so appreciate you guys being patient with me when i took my tiny hiatus from writing, and i hope you enjoy this. and i love reading feedback and comments, so please don’t be shy. all the love ⋆ mia

The engine of the 1993 Ford coughs and wheezes through the serene, forested back roads of Manitoba. The air is a comfortable seventy degrees, but the breeze is cool enough to make the tip of your nose cold. You fall into a drowsy state from the rhythm of the aged pickup truck’s engine and the consistent, soothing pattern of Nolan’s thumb over your knee. Your head rests back into the passenger seat, and your eyes greedily trace over every detail of your lover. The wind ruffles the curling ends of his honey tinted hair; the slight arch of his eyebrow gives his resting expression an unimpressed nuance; his narrow eyes are the same color of a densely clouded sky after a heavy rain; his parted lips are the shade of tart raspberries; the natural flush of his soft cheeks makes his fair complexion warmer; the dim lighting in the truck makes the curvature of his bone structure more prominent and a shadow forms under his sharp jaw; his fingers hang leisurely over the steering wheel that he’s pulling now. The vehicle turns off of a road, and dips into a poorly cleared grassy plain lined with lush, towering trees.

Nolan had mentioned taking you out earlier, but you figured he meant to one of his town’s drive-in films or perhaps to the park, and now curiosity sparked in you as the truck wandered off into an isolated field. “Where are we going?” you ask quietly while you affectionately tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. His fingers slip from your thigh and pull on the gear shift to put the truck into park. “Right here,” he answers you with a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Your eyebrows push together quizzically, and he nods at you reassuringly. He unfastens his seatbelt, and pushes open the driver door to get out of the truck. Your eyes follow him as he rounds the hood of the truck, and you unfasten your own seatbelt while he opens your own door. You turn in your seat, and you can feel his hands slide over your hips. His sturdy arms wrap around your waist and take you into his embrace. You look down into his blue eyes before he presses a kiss to your lips that draws all remaining breathe from your lungs. You unintentionally hum a sweet sigh into his lips. While his fingers slide up your spine, your fingers fold into his hair, gently clenching your knuckles at the ends of his long hair. When your lips draw apart, the tips of your noses meet. Nolan has a wide smile that is as contagious as it is beautiful, and you let out a giggle lighter than the air. Your fingers slide down the warm back of his neck while his hands slide down your arms. “Come here,” his deep voice hums to you quietly while taking both of your palms into his, and you slide from the passenger seat.

Coming to your feet, one of your hands falls from Nolan’s to close your door, and he guides you to the trunk. With his free hand, he opens the hatch, and lining the flatbed are worn-in comforters, quilts and crotched throws from his family’s linen closet. “I figured,” he explains while bringing himself into the flatbed, “that we could watch the sunset.” He’s on his knees as he leans against the truck’s steel tool box that is lined with various pillows that he and his sisters must have used to line their childhood forts with. “I also brought wine,” he says with a soft chuckle, and he pops open the tool box to reveal a bag cooler, that he would take on fishing trips, with one bottle of sauvignon blanc inside it. “I don’t have any glasses though cause they would have broken back here, so we’ll just have to drink from the bottle,” he says with a sheepish grin and slight shrug of his shoulders. Your smile widens, and relief visibly spreads over his face. “I love it,” you say while crawling into the flatbed and between his thighs. You lean into him and leave a kiss at the tip of his nose while your fingers playfully ruffle his silk brown hair, and he lets out a hushed laugh while his hands find your back.

Nolan leans back into the sea of assorted pillows, none of which seemed to have matching pillow cases, with you between his thighs. He guides you down into his chest with both of his hands on your back, and your hands slide up onto his chest under you. You allow yourself to fall into him, and you can feel his fingers sweeping up your hair and pulling it over to your back. It always amuses you just how delicate he is when handling your face. His long fingers trace down your temples, and he cups your cheeks as the two of your lips reconnect in a slow kiss. It was moments like these that made it feel like the warmth and light of the sun was bottled up in your chest. Like from far in the distance, someone would be able to see the glow of your joy against the horizon. You can feel the sparse hairs on his upper lip tickle your top lip, and your fingers caress his jaw also sprinkled with a light peppering of hair. You hear his quiet groan when you playfully nip at his bottom lip, and the both of you pull away with a breathe-filled giggle. “I love you,” you hear him say, and you can feel the deep baritone in his chest as he speaks. Your eyes open to meet his, and your fingers weave through his long auburn hair, raking and combing it back tenderly. “I love you, Nolan,” you murmur to him as his hands hold you close by your waist.

It was in the home of his strong arms that you stayed curled up as the sun sank down in the sky like a penny floating down to the bottom of a wishing well. The sun blew out like a candle, and the sky shifted hues of rich magenta and fiery orange. As the largest star in the solar system laid to rest, the sky turned into an infinite blanket of violet over your heads. Small stars burned holes through the amethyst sky, and the waxing gibbous moon looked like an incomplete pearl in a sky of jewels. Your head remains nestled in the cozy fabric of Nolan’s sweater. You can feel his fingers slip through your hair while the fingers of his other hand trace down your arm. Your fingers trace over the delicate line work of that small floral tattoo on the lower portion of his inner bicep. Your fingers laced between his, and you lift his arm up to your lips to kiss into the ink on the inside of his wrist. Your hands lift to trace over the smoothness of his warm cheeks. Your finger slowly caresses over the smallest birthmark under his eye, down the surface of his cheek, and over the curling hair at his sideburn, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear again. Under the pale moonlight, his skin is creamy, and the slate blue hues of his eyes are dimmed, but on his cheeks, there is a gorgeous peach nebula forming from the cool air.

The overwhelming urge to kiss him builds in the pit of your stomach. His lips look soft and inviting, and he notices your eyes flicker to his lips. His one hand resting on your arm slides up to the front of your neck. Using his thumb, Nolan angles your chin up to allow him better access to your open mouth, and your eyes close when you taste his tongue. The flavor of his tongue is sweeter than a honeycomb and tart from the white wine the two of you had been sipping on. Your moan is smothered by his tongue, but he responds by lightly wrapping his fingers over the base of your throat. His other hand cradles the back of your head, and his fingers are laced with the strands of your hair. Your fingers slide under the rich fabric of his sweater and you can feel the muscles in his abdomen tense from the sensation of your cold fingertips. Your hands slide up over his sturdy chest. When the kiss carries on, the knot in your stomach loosens. You part lips with him to let out a sigh of ease before your lips wrap around his full bottom lip again. You feel Nolan’s breathe on your tongue, and it sends a spark from your mouth down your throat and to your core, and with just one of his hushed whines you feel a familiar ache between your thighs.

Your nails slightly press into his bare chest and drag down his warm flesh to the hem of his jeans. With your fingers digging under the waist of his pants, you give the denim a gentle tug. He moans between your lips, and you can feel his knuckles tighten into a fist in your hair. His tongue lightly prods open your lips, and he presses his teeth into your bottom lip gently, pulling at it before his fingers lightly squeeze at your throat. A squeak escapes your lips and fills the space between your mouthes, and he pulls his lips from yours to look into your eyes. With your foreheads pressed against one another you bite your bottom lip suggestively. “Please,” you breathe to him while looking at him with faux innocence rimming your eyes.

A smile spreads over Nolan’s lips before he slides his hand from the base of your throat to the back of your neck. His other hand frees itself from the tangle of your hair, and his hand slides underneath your shirt, fingers grazing the ticklish skin of your hips. His lips press into yours once more as he sits up so his back is resting on the trunk’s pillow-lined tool box. Your body is lifted with him, twisting in his arms to eagerly follow his lips. You both fell into a quiet harmony of matching one another’s moans. His hands trace down your hips and over your ass. His fingers dig into your skin there, and with a strong grasp he squeezes you and pulls at your ass before his hand snaps back to slap against the surface of it. You gasp against his tongue, and to that, he lets out on of his self-satisfied chuckles. His eyes lift to yours as he pulls you by the back of your thighs, wrapping your thighs around him and pulling you down to straddle his lap.

When you meet his steel eyes, you can see the smug grin on his face dissipate when you grind yourself down into him. Your hips rocking back and forth, and the slight friction of rubbing yourself onto him causes him to groan out a low “fuck,” and it allows you a sweet relief from the heightening sexual frustration. His teeth tuck into his bottom lip, and now it’s you that has a small smirk on your lips. He watches your expression change, but he knows that he would never let you win the teasing competition between one another. His fingers find their way to the front of your throat again, and lifting his thighs up, with one hand supporting your lower back, he lays you on to your back. You let out a tender sigh as he earnestly sinks kisses into the center of your throat. Your neck extends back, and you feel Nolan’s warm tongue slide along your skin, and his supple lips press a wet kiss into your chest. His fingers glide down your chest and he squeezes at your breasts through your shirt.

Nolan’s fingers fumble with the edge of your shirt and lifts it off of your stomach. His lips roam the space between your ribcage, and you feel your bones rattle with desire. You stretch out for him, arching your back, and he brushes his lips down the middle of your stomach. Your stomach churns, and it feels like butterflies are fluttering their delicate wings under the surface of your stomach. You pull the rest of the fabric off of your shoulders, and the crisp air stings your warm flesh, and as you open your lips, Nolan strips off your pants and they find their way to the corner of the flatbed with your shirt. Nolan’s eyes lift to you and grins briefly before he uses his strong hands to press your thighs apart. His lips press a kiss to your clothed center, and in return you gasp for him, the ghost of his warm kiss lingering there. His lips travel up to the front of your chest. He lines the top of your breasts with sweet kisses before unhooking the clasp of your bra. He tugs at your bra, and your warm breasts jiggle from his motion. He wraps his lips over your nipple, sucking it between his lips. His tongue is warm, and it contrasts the frigid breeze that stirred the still air. Your moan carries off in the wind, and he presses himself between your thighs. Through his denim, you can feel his shaft on your clothed pussy, and your hips squirm involuntarily as he pushes into you to tease you more.

Desperate, your fingers hook under the waist of his jeans and yank it down in an unsuccessful, feeble attempt to pull them off of his broad hips. He pulls his toned hips from yours and the loss of pressure makes you whine for him. “Nolan, baby,” you whisper with your cheeks growing warm. You looked up at him. The sky painted in deep swirls of dark lilac and a midnight navy over his head. He slips the warm sweater from over his broad shoulder, and throws it up to the right of you while he sinks to his stomach, fingers sliding down from the back of your knees to your thighs. You tuck his sweater under your head while he firmly presses your thighs in to your chest and you feel him nibble into your clothed pussy. You sigh quietly and your fingers clench into the nearest throw pillow, knuckles turning white as you buck your hips forward. He hums as he presses a warm kiss into your slit and you let out a sigh of desperation. “Please Nolan, please,” you give into the begging he loves to hear when the two of you tease each other.

Finally, he peels the wet panties over your thighs, over your calves and off of your ankles until he throws the fabric in the corner with the rest of your clothing. The cool air against your heat makes you whine out for him, and with that, he presses his warm tongue in between your slit. You can feel his tongue at your entrance, and it slowly slides up your folds until he reaches your sensitive clit. Your eyes find his, and you watch his lips purse and his spit falls from his lips and onto your pussy. With that, you writher under him, wanting more of his tongue inside of you. Your feet fall to his shoulders, and through the pleasure, your toes curl into his defined shoulder blades when his mouth clamps down on you.

The sounds of his muted groans and warm tongue lapping at you fervently fills your ears, and you can smell the dark scent of his cologne and natural musk on his sweater near your head. The combination of his scent, the sensations and the sounds of his wet tongue and groans is the closest to heaven you have ever gotten. His saliva rolls down your slit, and it makes your moans grow louder. He pulls his lips from your pussy and presses sloppy, generous kisses into your inner thigh, his lips leaving a glistening print on your skin in the glow of the moonlight. His teeth drag over your thigh, and you whimper for him when he nibbles into the softness of your thigh. He presses another warm kiss to your inner thigh while his hand slides up your stomach, and you feel his fingertips at your lips. He pushes his ring finger and middle finger into your mouth, sliding the digits along the middle of your tongue. You happily oblige by sucking on his finger tips, your cheeks hollow while he presses a kiss to your raw clit. Your moan is muffled by his fingers, which he takes from your lips, and they are coated in your saliva. He presses the length of his two fingers into you, deliberately, hooking them towards him while he watches you stretch around his fingers. He mutters out a quiet curse at the sight, and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth while he watches you unravel under him.

Underneath the denim, his cock is growing full while he watches you sprawled out under him, wriggling and naked in the back of the old truck. Your fingers slide along the length of his soft hair, and he sinks his tongue into your clit. His lips wrap around the bundle of nerves, and he flicks at it with his strong tongue. His saliva is dripping down his chin, and coats his upper lip; the stubble of his faint beard and mustache are covered in your juices, and it makes your hips squirm under him. The pressure building to be almost unbearable while he fucks you with just two of his fingers. “Please Nolan, I need this,” you whine to him, thinking of what is waiting for you beyond the button and zipper of his jeans. He sits up now, pulling his fingers from between your legs and bringing them to his lips to suck on them. You watch him; his hair is disheveled from your roaming hands, and his face has mauve flush to it while his fingers hang from his lips, and he sucks the flavor of you from his fingertips. His other hand moving to sweep over his hair and tuck some of it behind his ear.

When he lays himself over you, you take his tongue into your mouth and delight in the flavor of yourself on his lips. Your hands are finally within reach of his button and zipper, and you hastily pull his jeans open. With both feet, you push his jeans down as far as you can between hot kisses. Your fingers slide over his hips and to his lower back, nails pressing into him gently. Nolan kicks his jeans and underwear the remaining way down his calves and shoves them off of his ankles with his feet. One of his hands helps him steady himself over you, while the other hand slides up over your waist and squeezes into the softness of your breast. He squeezes into it while groaning at the sensation. Your fingers eagerly wrap around his thick shaft and stroke the stiff length and full girth of his cock, and Nolan lets out an earnest groan for you from the back of his throat. His tongue sinks into your mouth while you press your lips to his.

Gradually, Nolan pulls his lips from yours reluctantly. A string of saliva hangs from your bottom lips until he draws back further enough. His chest has a light sheen to it, the sparse hair on his chest is slicked and dewy from the heat between the two of you. He purses his lips, and you watch his spit fall onto your already messy and wet pussy, still tender from his tongue and fingers. One of his hands is pushing back the curl of his hair from his eyes, and the other hand is holding his cock by the base and gently smacking it against your slit. Your hips lunge up eagerly, and you can tell your squirming amuses him. His thumb gently slides over your swollen clit, flicking it back and forth while the tip of his cock slides between your folds. Your lips are curling around his name but you only get to “Nol,” when he interrupts the start of your plea by pushing himself inside of you. The tip of his thick cock spreading you open and making you whine out.

Inch by inch, Nolan eases himself into you at an excruciatingly slow pace. His eyebrows knit together, and once he is settled in he lets out a hushed moan. “It’s so big,” you choke out to him, his hips pressing into the back of your thighs. His thumb presses down into your clit and rubs it slowly in small circles with a firm pressure that makes you see stars. Your lips open, and you let out soft moans just for him, your nails dig into the blankets under you. “Oh my god,” he mumbles out, fully enjoying the way you pulse around his cock and writhe under him. Both of his hands slide up, and wrap over your hips, his thumbs meeting just under your belly button while he holds you in place sternly. He pulls his hips back, and sinks into you with a soft grunt from the back of his throat. If you thought his voice was deep, his moans sounded like heavy growls coming from the back of his throat. He finds a rhythm of fucking you that leaves you gasping for your breathe. His big, thick cock fills you just to your limit. You are gasping under him as his hips crash into you, and he fills you up ruthlessly while the truck under you rocks to his rhythm. Your skin feels radioactive, and the pleasure twists inside of you like a searing hot coal in the pit of your stomach. You feel your impending orgasm, and from the way you clenched around him, Nolan could feel it too. When he brings his hand between your thighs and his fingertips begin working cruelly at your clit to bring you over the edge, you reach a point where the simultaneous stimulation becomes too much, and your orgasm wracks your body with pleasure. You are a quivering mess under him, your skin dewy from an overheated sweat that you had worked up just by being under your boyfriend’s pace. He slows down and hushes at your whimpering.

His warm lips brush over your temple while he slowly rocks his hard cock into your sensitive pussy. You look up to him, and he smiles sympathetically at you. “You okay? That wasn’t too much?” he pursues you while brushing the hair from your face and placing a kiss into your forehead. You shake your head, and let out a giggle, somewhat shy after the intense orgasm. “I’m okay, baby,” you murmur to him, and with that you feel Nolan’s stiff cock pull out from you, and it wasn’t until that moment that you realize just how enslaved you were to him. Even after an overwhelming orgasm, you want him still. You slowly sit up, fingers pulling at the back of Nolan’s neck, and you draw his lips to yours, kissing him tenderly. He hums into the kiss before you pull from him. You turn over onto your hands and knees, and slide yourself back to him, and he smiles. He slowly rubs himself at your entrance before you sink back onto him, and he sighs out. “Holy shit,” he utters out over your shoulder while he disappears into you. His whole length resting inside of you, and you slowly pull yourself from him, and sink back. Over and over, you work your hips, and Nolan thoroughly and wholly savors just how badly you want his cock.

Nolan is biting into his knuckle when he comes to the point where he cannot let you control the pace any longer. He grows desperate for his release, and knows it would come soon, but not if you continue to tease him. His wide palm comes down onto your ass, and you feel the sweet electrifying sting of his palm against your skin. You sink down onto your forearms, and with your back arched deeply, Nolan’s hands wrap around your hips, and he presses himself into you. His relentless and harsh pounding starts, and, again, you feel the white hot burning of your orgasm in your stomach. One of his hands slides up to gather your hair and wrap it around his knuckles. With a fistful of hair, he fucks into you, and the new position allows his big cock to hit the one spot that makes your toes curl. Nolan leans over you, with sweat rolling down his chest and onto your back, he gathers your hair over your shoulder, and one of his hands snakes over your hip while the other wraps over the front of your throat. He pulls your back into his chest, and his head nestles into the space between your neck and shoulder. You can feel his harsh breath as he pants against your throat, and he lets out a deep groans into your ear. His groans turn into long dark moans, and he presses his hand along your throat and to your jaw. Nolan’s thumb pushes into your mouth, and rests on your tongue, your mouth hangs open to let out sweet moans. You are unable to inform Nolan of your orgasm that you are succumbing to with his thumb occupying your mouth, but the clenching of your walls notifies Nolan while sending him over the edge with you, and both of you climax together. Nolan’s growls turn into husky moans and quiet whimpers as he spills inside of you. You shiver under him as a warmth of his cum spreads inside of you, and he pulls himself out with deep panting. His cum drips from you, as you both collapse into a panting puddle.

Your foreheads press against one another’s, and with both of your eyes closed, unknown to each other, you both smile harmoniously. When your eyes lift up, Nolan is admiring you the way you admired him earlier when he was driving. His fingers brush back strands of your messy hair from your face. His cheeks are flushed deep to match the color of his lips, and he pulls a warm blanket over your shoulders. The two of you are still breathing audibly when you swallow hard, and kiss into his lips. “I love you so much,” Nolan breathes out after your lips part and you let out a breathy giggle while looking up into his eyes. His hand sinks to your lower back, your bare chest pressing into his as he presses you into him. The moonlight wraps him up in a bright glow, and you press a kiss into the bridge of his nose. “I love you, Nolan” you whisper, while your fingers comb through his feathery hair. For long moments, you lay your head on his strong chest, and wonder which star must have fallen from the sky to make this wish come true. You both laid there, under a breath-taking sky, in a small portion of the great cosmos, that was made for lovers like you.

#nolan patrick #nolan patrick smut #nolan patrick fic #nolan patrick imagine #philadelphia flyers #mia's writing

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thehomierobbstark · 5 years

Text

Shame: Kissing Strangers [Prelude]

Kissing Strangers [Part 1] // Communication [Part II] // In the Cut [Side Story]

A/N: A request was made for a development between our favorite couple in part 1 of Kissing Strangers, but I decided to actually take it back a step and do a prelude. I also listened to Summer Walker’s Shame when I wrote this, not a direct reflection of the song but it was a big inspiration for it. Unsure if there will be more of this series(?) but please don’t hesitate to give me any feedback on whether you liked this addition or not! ❤️ always

Warnings: At the bottom 👇🏿👇🏿👇🏿.

This is for all my lil cute ass black gorditas out there rockin back fat, belly rolls and thick ass thighs that touch!! x Reader is always gon be black, chubby, and sassy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the car rolls to a stop against the curb, you can hear the gears shift into park, the engine shutting off with a soft *click*. You pull your eyes from the window, turning from the dark outside world to face the person you’d spent all evening with.

After dinner, your friend Rashad had dropped you off with his friend Erik as his house, him offering to drive you back to your place since you lived close and Rashad didn’t.

You both had shared a pretty fun night, especially considering it was your first time meeting him, so you didn’t see the harm in having him drive you a few blocks to your place. Worse case scenario, if he turned out to be a psycho, you would just have to duck and roll out of the car and walk yourself the rest of the way home.

Everything was going fine until the moment he’d helped you up into his tall ’95 Ford Bronco, and his hands latched onto your waist to securely hold onto you until you were seated. He’d even gone as far as buckling you in, too, muttering something about the seatbelt being ‘tricky on this side’ as he pulled the strap across your chest.

You would have paid more attention to what he was saying except your eyes were locked onto the gold chain that hung from around his neck, and the small muscles resting atop his shoulders that you could see peeking through the neck hole of his shirt, distracting you a little.

Your mind only came back to you after you heard the seatbelt click into place, and when he pulled back to give you one last once over, his eyes hovered on your lips for a second too long, and you swore you could hear a tiny little groan escape his mouth as he licked his lips.

After that, you’d completely clammed up, not saying anything, and the both of you drove to your house in complete silence. All you could think about on the way back was how you’d acted that night with him and the things you’d said, your mind playing a constant loop of the memories over and over again in your head.

Did you… miss something?

Surprised wouldn’t exactly be the right word to describe how you were feeling (you were hot, he was… foinee… it made sense).

Shocked would have probably better encompassed your response, though, because you truly didn’t see that coming. Especially not from someone like him.

You’d never been so blatantly hit on before, so you really weren’t sure what to do in this situation.

Like every other girl, you’d unfortunately experienced the gross catcalling or lame ass pickup lines weird ass dudes tried to spit at you, but not much past that.

So for Erik to be so forward with what he clearly was feeling for you… you weren’t prepared for that.

Clearing your throat, you start.

“Erik-”

“Y/N-”

You both speak at the same time, words overlapping each others.

“Sorry,” he weakly chuckles, clearing his throat. “You first.”

He unbuckles his seatbelt, shifting his body towards you and giving you his undivided attention. His brown eyes look so warm and comforting, and the way he’s looking at you makes your insides do somersaults.

Nah, you can’t do this.

“Erik I don’t think we should-”

“Go out on a date with me.” Instead of overlapping this time, his words cut yours off, and your mouth hangs open from your unfinished sentence.

Your stuck, brain trying to digest the words you just heard.

He closes his eyes, a slow smile spreading on his face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you again but I got nervous.” He sheepishly admits, dimples creasing at the corners of his cheeks.

You still don’t say anything yet, and his eyes drift off somewhere as your words finally register in his ears, and his brows furrow together.

“Wait… you don’t think we should what, Y/N?”

There’s a mixture of confusion and worry on his face, and your poor little mind starts to panic.

“Uhh…nothing! Nothing at all. Good chat. Bye.”

You pop open the door, struggling to scramble out of the car so you could run away from this conversation. You didn’t have his number and you don’t remember telling him your last name, so if you got away now you’re pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to track you down on social media later.

Your flared anxiety had given you a serious case of tunnel vision, and if your mind wasn’t racing a mile a minute, you would have realized that the reason you struggled to get out of the vehicle was because your seatbelt was still on.

The car door opens up all the way and you look up to see Erik standing in front of you, a tired but uncomplaining expression on his face. You didn’t even know he’d gotten out of the car.

He reaches over you to un-click your seatbelt, and after you work your way out of it he extends that same hand, waiting for you to take it.

“C’mon,” he whispers to you softly, and you place your hand in his, stepping out of the car.

Instead of walking you up the driveway to the front door like you were expecting, he pulls you over to the sidewalk, linking his fingers with yours as you begin walking down the street in the opposite direction of your house.

Summer was coming to a slow close and the warm dewy air felt nice against your exposed skin, appreciative of the sweater knit crop top and shorts you’d chosen for the outing.

His warm hand also felt nice against yours, and even though your body was still vibrating a little with the energy from your anxiety spike, your soft in sync steps against the pavement helped you to focus on the repetition and calm your nerves.

You were about halfway down the block now of the quiet neighborhood, Erik’s eyes roaming over the houses on both sides of the street.

You knew that the owners of the house on the corner were elderly and kept to themselves, so when you got to it you pulled Erik to sit down with you on the ledge in front of their raised lawn.

You were fidgeting again, but you were determined to get what you felt off your chest, refusing to chicken out again.

He’d shown a surprising amount of patience and understanding so far. You hoped it lasted just a little while longer.

Once you were seated you dropped his hand, gripping the edge of the ledge as you lifted yourself to scoot back to a comfortable position, looking down at your dangling legs. It was now or never.

Taking a deep breath, you begin.

“I umm… I didn’t mean to get so skittish on your like that just then,” you angle a thumb back in the direction you came from. “You just caught me off guard is all.”

You laugh a little awkwardly, trying to bring some humor and lightheartedness back into the conversation like how it’d been earlier in the night.

“It’s okay,” he laughs lightly with you. “I did just kind of spring it on your out of nowhere, my bad.”

His attention was towards the ground too, focused on one of the cracks in the sidewalk his large foot was repeatedly covering and uncovering. You were grateful his eyes weren’t on you. His engaged stare could get a little intense for you sometimes.

“It’s cool,” you breathe out, feeling a lot more relaxed now that he didn’t seemed freaked out by your earlier weirdness.

“I haven’t been nervous like this since, like, high school, if you can believe it.” You sneak a glance up at him and see the bottom lip he was biting being pulled free by the cute little smile that takes over his face.

“Yeah?” He lifts his head up, those engaged eyes of his locking with yours, and suddenly it doesn’t seem so intense anymore. “I’m nervous too.”

Before you can catch yourself you snort a laugh, your eyes crinkling in the corners as a hearty little giggle follows.

“You’re nervous? You? What do you have to be nervous about?!” You give him a kind of bewildered look, not even believing for a second that this gorgeous man in front of you had butterflies fluttering around in his stomach.

“Yes I’m nervous,” he chuckles matter-of-factly, his ears getting a little red with their increased temperature. His next words are so low you’re not really sure if you hear them correctly.

“I’m sitting in front of some strangers house talking to the super cute girl I’ve been trying to flirt with all night. Who still, by the way, hasn’t answered my question from earlier. So, yeah, I think I’m allowed to be a little bit nervous. Don’t you?”

You’re stuck again, face wiped clean of all traces of humor and teasing while his words penetrate your mind, and you feel a little prick at the corners of your cheeks as you blush.

“Oh.”

Oh? This man just confessed that he’d been trying to get at you all night and all you can say is oh? If you could slap yourself right now you would, except you’re still frozen in place, nothing but the dopey little smile sitting on your lips.

Taking a moment, you try, and fail, to morph your face back into a neutral expression, but when you realize you’re unable to you try your luck at words instead.

“You know, I feel as though I should warn you. I’ve never actually been on a date before.” Your heart skips a beat at your own confession, but for once it’s not in anxiety. It’s in excitement.

It’s his turn now to look bewildered, which he exaggerates a little by mockingly holding a hand up to his chest.

“Wait. Hold up. You’ve never been on a date before? Like, at all?” His eyebrows are damn near on his forehead, and you giggle, amused by his reaction.

“No, I haven’t.”

He fixes you with a curious look, his head tilted to the side like a puppy.

“Can I ask why?”

You chew at your lip, mulling it over in your mind while you genuinely take a moment to think about your answer.

Normally whenever people found out that you’d never been in a relationship or had sex before, you always felt judged and pressured, like you were nothing more than just some uptight prude.

So you’d always lie and say you were saving yourself for marriage, finding that people seemed to respect your persecution for religious virtue more than they did your need to take things slow.

But when Erik asked, you didn’t feel any of that.

“I guess I just haven’t found anyone worth dating yet.” You shrugged, and when your eyes drifted back up to his, he smiled, looking at you like he knew exactly how you felt.

“Well, I hope that you find them one day.”

You drop your eyes back down to your legs again and slide your hand over on the rough brick ledge, linking your pinky with his and giving it a light squeeze.

“Yeah, me too.”

You don’t see it, but you can hear him sniff a little laugh besides you, making you grin hard enough to bite the inside of your cheek for a little relief, and you feel him give your finger a squeeze back.

Minutes that feel like hours stretch on underneath the starry moonlit sky, and you share nothing else but silence and understanding between the two of you as you sit and enjoy the moment together.

The headlights of a small sedan flood the pavement with its bright lights as it turns the corner onto your street, washing over the both of you.

You hop down off the ledge, brushing yourself off and turning to him.

“We should probably keep going before it gets too late,” you say, remembering the tons of errands you had to run tomorrow for your grandma and the basketball game Erik mentioned earlier he had to go to.

Rounding the block, you look at more houses together and talk about the neighborhoods you grew up in, your pinkies finding themselves wrapped around each other again along the way.

“Wowww, an Oakland boy all the way down here in L.A. So how do you like it compared to the Bay?” You’d been to Oakland a few times in your childhood (well, Concord more specifically), and although you were young, you’d immediately noticed that the entire vibe of the NorCal area seemed far more laid back and relaxed than the constant on-the-go lifestyle you’d grown accustomed to in your own jam packed city. You wondered if he liked the transition.

“Well, I actually had just started high school by the time I moved, and the first thing I noticed when I got here…” His voice trails off a little at the end, and you raise your eyebrows in anticipation at him, prompting him to finish.

“…well, y’all conceited as fuck.”

You laugh loudly at the admission, covering your mouth after remembering you were outside, and he joins in your laughter. You certainly couldn’t disagree with that statement. It was definitely one of the many things you’d disliked growing up in the popular city, and it seemed like no matter where you went you couldn’t get away from hearing at least something about Los Angeles.

In your city’s defense, even though a lot of the natives couldn’t seem to stop thinking the world revolved around them, endless amounts of media outlets, pop culture, and global communities couldn’t seem to stop talking about L.A. either. It was a double edged sword no matter what.

“I’ll totally give you that one. But let’s not also act as if Bay Area niggas aren’t super snobby either. Y’all stay on y’all weird hipster grind and corny ass fashion,” you poke fun at him, mostly being sarcastic. Considering your own city always tried to reinvent fashion every other week, you really had no room to talk.

“Hey hey, my ass know how to dress, okay,” he puts his hands up still chuckling. “Don’t be grouping me in with them other niggas,”

You step out in front of him, obnoxiously observing his fit to look for any flaws. Putting a hand to your chin you give a low hum, nodding in concession as you take note of his plain white tee, black bomber jacket and denim washed jeans with his OG Air Force Ones, cuban link gold chain still hanging effortlessly around his neck.

You speak before your mouth has a chance to water, not wanting to stare at his fine form longer than necessary.

“Yeah, I guess you fly or whateva,” you shrug off, snickering as he playfully pushes you aside.

“Yeah, and I guess you not conceited or whateva either,” he comments, and you purse your lips, raising a brow.

“Iono, I wouldn’t speak so soon.” You joke, and out of the corner of your eye you can see him smirk.

“Guess I’ll just have to find out for myself then.”

The both of you come to a stop in front of your house, finally having made it around the block. He tries to make a move to walk you to the front door, but you stop him.

“It’s OK, right here is cool. My parents installed cameras around the house and I know for a fact they nosy asses be looking.” You smile, shaking your head, and he kisses his teeth at you.

“Wassup? You embarrassed of ya boy or sum?” He teases you, flashing that radiant smile of his that lets you see his fronts, and you roll your eyes hard to keep yourself from swooning right then and there.

“Whatever, Stevens. Are you gonna wish me a good night so I can go or what?” You cross your arms and your legs with one foot over the other, keenly aware of that anxious feeling coming back over you making you want to roll yourself into a tight ball.

Right as he opens his mouth to say something his phone buzzes in his pocket, making him breathe a small sigh as he reaches in to grab it. Your phone buzzes in your purse too, and you slide it off your shoulder to fish it out.

You swipe the device open, being immediately directed to the new message. At the top you see that it’s a new chat created by Rashad, sent to a bunch of unsaved numbers you don’t know and yourself.

‘Hey guys! Thanks for the fun night. I think a few of us wanted to go check out a movie tomorrow night too. Who’s down??’

“Looks like we’ve been invited out again,” Erik comments.

“Yeah, it does,” you respond, eyes scanning the end of the message for details.

“You in?”

You look up from your phone, making eye contact again with those warm brown eyes of his, and smile.

“Consider it a date.”

Biting his lip, he looks down at the ground, trying to hide the shy smile that tries to make an appearance.

“Aight, coo,”

He grabs your wrist and walks you over to the steps leading up to your front door, dropping it as he moves to stand in front of you. You step up another level, making yourself tall enough to be almost eye level with him.

“Pick you up tomorrow at six?” He asks you, and you nod your head yes, not trusting your voice enough to speak.

He smiles again, this time not looking away, and his eyes fall over your face, landing on your lips.

Putting a finger under your chin, he lifts your face up a little, bending down to get closer to you. He swipes a thumb over your bottom lip before sucking his own into his mouth, and his eyes flick up to yours. Lifting his eyebrows with a twitch, he wordlessly asks for your permission, and you swallow, nodding your head again.

Cupping your face, he closes his eyes and brings his lips to yours, pressing them together gently for a sweet soft kiss. You breath in deeply, your hand reaching out to steady yourself against his chest, your body feeling light and swaying a little.

After a blissful moment, he breaks the kiss, giving your bottom lip a slight nip before pulling away completely.

“See you then.” He whispers. “Have a good night baby girl.”

He watches as you speechlessly gather yourself together long enough to adorably wave him an awkward goodbye, take yourself up the steps, and key yourself into your house, giving him one last lingering look.

As you cross the threshold of the front door, you close it behind you, leaning against it as you hear the Ford Bronco come to life outside.

To the sound of the rugged truck driving away, you press your face to your palms and let out a squeal of excitement against the sleeves of your sweater, with a smile so wide your face starts to ache.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings: CollegeBoi!Erik, SoftBoi!Erik, Fluff, Anxiety/Anxiousness

#TheHomieFics #erik killmonger #erik killmonger x black!reader #erik killmonger x reader #black panther #black panther fandom #black panther fanfiction #bp

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anistarrose · 5 years

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Ford in Amphibia - Chapter 2

Summary: Ford is subjected to mild bullying, and the gang decides to hunt an endangered species but makes an unexpected new friend along the way.

Warnings: none

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19375102/chapters/47328493

The Beginning

This chapter references a few more episodes of Amphibia than the last one, but doesn’t spoil any overarching plot details past the first episode, so it should be possible to read even if you’re not caught up. This is starting to look like it’ll eventually wind up as four-chapter fic, so stay tuned for more!

***

Ford sat on the couch next to Anne, watching intently as she flicked through albums of photos on her phone.

“Here’s my cat, Domino — oh, and here she is again, in my parents’ kitchen! What a little troublemaker!”

“She’s quite precious,” Ford agreed. “You say you have music on this device too?”

“Of course!” Anne answered. “I’ve got all the best tunes — stuff to dance to, stuff you can sing along with, stuff to listen to as you think about how far you are from home and regret your life choices —”

“Do you have anything by Eurythmics? Or Talking Heads?”

Anne stared at Ford blankly.

“Or do you prefer classical? The Planets by Holst, maybe?”

“Uh, I’ve got All Star by Smash Mouth —”

“Mention that song again and you’re dead to me,” Ford growled.

There was an awkward pause, and then Ford sighed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be surprised that we appreciate different aspects of human culture. You’re young, and I… left my dimension a very long time ago.”

“That’s, um — that’s too bad,” Anne stammered, not really knowing what to say. “Uh… do you want to keep looking at pictures?” she finally asked.

Ford didn’t say no, so she opened a new album. “Here’s some of me and Sprig, and of some wildlife we saw the other day — oh, and here’s where I tried to teach Sprig how to use the camera! You can tell because it’s all blurry and —”

“Wait!” Ford interrupted. “Go back! To the one with the caterpillar — er, the cat-erpillar, rather!”

“This one?” Anne pulled up a picture of a black, orange, and red cat-erpillar glimpsed from across a meadow.

“That’s it! See the flame pattern, and those prominent tufts on the neck? That’s the endangered Sunburst Mountain Cat-erpillar!”

“Whoa, are you like a conservation expert?” Sprig asked, springing onto the couch. “Do you need to capture it and get it to breed with others of its kind to save the species?”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” Ford told them. “I need a sample of its chrysalis for my own use — and ideally I won’t seriously harm any specimens, but you never know!”

Noticing Anne and Sprig’s mildly horrified looks, he went on: “Let me explain. For years now, I’ve planning a mission to a very dangerous dimension, of which the atmosphere is contaminated with just about every pollutant imaginable. There will be zero margin for error on this mission, but if I inhale too many of those pollutants, they’ll almost certainly hamper my performance. So for the past few weeks, I’ve been searching for a solution…”

He pulled a carefully rolled-up piece of paper from his pocket, and spread it out in his lap to reveal a detailed scientific drawing of the cat-erpillar and its cocoon, along with a sketch of a mountain with wisps of smoke emanating from the peak.

“Every generation of the Sunburst Mountain Cat-erpillar pupates near volcanic vents, and as a result, they’ve evolved so that their chrysalides absorb and break down a wide variety of toxins. I learned of their existence shortly after coming to your world, and I’ve been trying to track one down ever since in the hope that harvesting some of that chrysalis material would help me design an air filter to get around that pollution problem — but unfortunately, the location of Sunburst Mountain has been lost to time, since those vents are dormant most of the year. The whole time I’ve been here in the valley, I’ve just been stumbling around blindly without glimpsing hide nor hair of any of the right cat-erpillar species.”

He flipped his paper over, and pulled out a pen. “The period of vent activity should only last another week or two this year, and at this rate I’m probably going to miss it — but if you could tell me where you saw that specimen the other day, then I’d have my best lead yet!”

“Cool!” Sprig exclaimed, at the same time that Anne spoke up:

“I gotta admit, tracking down a lost volcano sounds like loads of fun, but… cat-erpillars are a lot more dangerous than they look. Sprig can tell you about the Domino Two incident — did not end well for anyone, except maybe Domino Two herself.”

“Oh, I know how to handle myself, don’t worry! I’ve conquered many foes more deadly than a mere —”

They were interrupted by a yelp as Hop Pop jumped straight up, slamming into the ceiling.

“Darn it, Ford, I know you mean us no harm, but every time I walk by here I think there’s an owl perched on our couch and my heart skips a beat!” He rubbed his head, and began collecting the books he’d dropped.

Sprig snapped his fingers. “That’s it, an owl! I knew he reminded me of something predatory!”

“What?” Ford scowled. “I do not look like an owl!”

“Uh, except you kinda do!” Polly chimed in, bouncing into the living room behind Hop Pop. “There’s your big wide eyes, and the way your eyebrows jump up and your head whirls right around whenever you hear something behind you — oh, and the way your cloak billows behind you like giant wings!”

“You’ve got to be joking! I —”

“Such a majestic and terrifying creature!” Polly went on, tugging on Ford’s cloak. “You are the swift and deadly hunter I wish to emulate! Will you teach me your ways?”

Ford’s mouth opened and then closed, at a loss for words, but Anne cut in.

“Hey, that’s enough. Owls are supposed to be wise, remember? Ford set his face on fire less than five minutes after we met him. I think that instantly disqualifies him from owl resemblance.”

Ford just shook his head as Anne and Hop Pop cackled.

“And did you see how he slept on the couch last night?” Sprig added. “His face was buried in a whole stack of pillows and his feet were practically out the window! No majestic old owl would sleep like that!”

“I still want to see him in action, though,” Polly declared. “What do you hunt, old man? Tell me so that I may watch you and learn your ways of stealth and dismemberment!”

“I’m not planning to dismember any endangered species if I can avoid it,” Ford corrected her. “But you’re welcome to come with me anyways. The more eyes who know this area, the better!”

“Ooh, can we take Bessie?” Sprig asked. “Anne can drive us!”

Hop Pop’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. I’ve got errands to run, and I’m not sure how I feel about letting you all run off without a chaperone…”

Ford stifled a laugh. “Hopediah, I’ve earned degrees in everything from cryptobiology to quantum physics — I’m basically the best chaperone these kids could hope for. Think of it as an educational outing!”

“Oh, well why didn’t you say so? That’s fine, then — just be sure to be back before nightfall!”

“Woo-hoo!” Anne cheered. “Time for an adventure with the weird hobo scientist from outer space that we adopted!”

“Adventure! Adventure! Adventure!” Sprig and Polly chanted. Anne joined in almost immediately, and after a moment, Ford did too.

***

“Okay, I think this is where we saw it,” Anne announced as Bessie the snail slowed to a halt at the edge of a clearing. The meadow was dotted with patches of mud, and seemed devoid of any life besides a lone chickfly that squawked and flew off as the gang dismounted.

“It looks… swampier than last time,” Sprig mused. “Did it rain over here or something?”

Ford knelt down in front of one of the patches of exposed mud, removing his glove to run a finger along the edge. “If anything, it looks like a creature tore up the grass at the surface while hunting here, revealing the damp earth underneath.”

“But these claw markings are huge! Whatever made them must be bigger than me!” Anne shuddered. “Ford, do you know why everything is so giant here?”

“Not for sure, but I can certainly speculate!” Ford’s face lit up. “For one thing, my preliminary scans have shown that there’s more oxygen in the atmosphere of this dimension than there is in the environment either you or I would’ve came from, which paleontology suggests may allow for life to grow larger.”

“Ugh, forget I asked,” Anne muttered, but Sprig bounded over to Ford’s side, eyes wide.

“Wow, really? If you and Anne keep breathing our air, will you get bigger too?”

“Not necessarily due to the oxygen concentrations,” Ford told him, “but that’s not the only difference between our dimensions! Gravity is slightly weaker here too, which most importantly means that it’ll be easier for the skeletons of megafauna to support their body mass, but also could cause Anne and I to pick up a few extra millimeters when our spinal columns expand. The effect should be subtle, but less weight pressing our vertebrae together means we’ll stand a little taller.”

“You’re not a majestic owlish hunter after all,” Polly groaned. “You’re just a nerd.”

“He’s a brave adventurer and he knows all about everything!” Sprig told her. “I want to be just like him when I grow up!”

“Two nerds,” Polly grumbled.

“Hey, guys?” Anne poked Sprig in the shoulder with a stick. “There’s something coming this way, and it’s kinda… on fire?”

“Where?” Ford leapt to his feet. “Is it a cat-erpillar?”

“No, it’s more like… an amorphous blob.” Anne pointed towards the creature, which had made its way almost halfway across the clearing. “I’d stay back, in case it explodes in our faces… oh, or you could just walk right up to it! That too!”

“Would you look at that!” Ford exclaimed, kneeling at the creature’s side. “I hadn’t expected to find any cryptozoological oddities I was familiar with here!”

“Cryptozoological?” Sprig tilted his head. “I thought that stuff was all bogus.”

“As in, like, cryptids?” Anne asked. “I saw a Moss-Man here once, does that count?”

Ford plucked a twig from the ground and placed it in the palm of his hand, which he then slowly extended towards the anomaly. The mass of its body seemed to be concentrated in a blob of mud that spilled across the ground with a radius of about half a foot and a height of about five inches at its highest point, from which several plumes of glowing green gas extended.

Two small, dark eyes blinked within the largest plume, and a muddy tendril extended from the creature’s base. For a moment, the mud began to pool in Ford’s hand, but then it pulled the twig back to its main body with a sudden slurp, leaving almost no dirt or moisture behind whatsoever. The twig vanished inside the muddy blob, and the creature gurgled in satisfaction.

Ford ran a hand through the fiery-looking plumes and Anne cringed, but he didn’t get burned. The creature’s flickering eyes widened as it responded with some semblance of a purr, apparently eager for more petting.

“Fascinating! I’ve encountered Scampfires back home, but I think this individual might be better referred to as a ‘Swampfire!’ Although technically speaking, there doesn’t seem to be any actual fire involved — I suspect it’s fueled by phosphorus and hydrocarbon compounds from that muddy blob of biomass, which undergo some form chemiluminescence to produce light without a substantial amount of heat.”

“Is it dangerous?” Polly asked. “Or will it help us on our quest?”

“Neither, I think,” Ford replied. “It seems perfectly content to just ooze along here and keep absorbing plant matter while we head on our way — although, I should really get a quick sketch first!” He pulled out a pen and notebook, adjusted his sitting position, and set to work.

“What happened to finding the cat-erpillar?” Anne groaned. “I thought that was some critically vital mission or something!”

“Oh, it is!” Ford told her. “But it’s not every day one gets to discover and catalog a new anomaly! You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if Swampfires exist in my dimension too, but are endangered due to habitat loss… Humanity really needs to do a better job of preserving wetlands and all the biodiversity they contain…”

Sprig peered over Ford’s shoulder at his work — a set of simple drawings, cartoonish yet detailed enough to capture all the details of the Swampfire’s form in multiple poses. “Wow! You drew that so fast!”

“Thank you, I’ve been doing this for quite a while! Now, Swampy, if you could hold that pose for just a moment…”

Swampy, naturally, chose that moment to bolt, darting back between the trees with surprising speed as its lights dimmed.

“Drat. Well, what I’ve got down here is still better than nothing —”

“Hey, guys?” Anne asked. “Is it just me, or did a really big shadow just pass over us?”

In unison, the four of them looked up. Above, a massive shape blocked out the sun — a shape with wide eyes, a pointed beak, and long, silently flapping wings.

“Scatter!” Ford shouted as the owl dove towards the clearing, and the children bolted as its talons raked the ground.

***

End notes:

Thanks for reading, feedback/reblogs are appreciated as always!

This was very fun to write, as fics with Ford often are, because I got to use him as an excuse to ramble about science! Since Sprig showed an interest in science in “Family Shrub,” I figured he’d be pretty inquisitive, and look up to the whole adventurer-scientist deal Ford has going on.

Swampy the Swampfire, also known as the best character I’ve ever written about, is based partly off the Scampfires from Journal 3, and partly off of the “will-o-the-wisp” ghost lights, which are believed to be a result of gases produced in wetlands by decaying plants. (The endangered due to habitat loss detail Ford mentions isn’t a joke, either — according to Wikipedia, will-o-the-wisp sightings are rarer nowadays, and it’s probably because wetlands keep getting destroyed. We need to save the Swampfires!)

#amphibia #gravity falls #stanford pines #anne boonchuy #sprig plantar #polly plantar #fic: ford in amphibia #rosalia writes fic

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moonlightmadnessreviews · 4 years

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Don’t Look Now

You know what the air feels like towards the end of September? Where it’s breezy, but not enough to cool you down or whip your hair into your face? That’s what this night was like. I’d left work much later than usual, so even on this summer night, I’d already missed the sunset. There wasn’t a trace of the pinks and purples in the sky that people sit out on their porch to enjoy. Parking spots for paralegals were lined up about 10 or so rows behind that of the lawyers, meaning I had quite a walk back to my car. The parking spots sat in front of a line of thick, tall trees. They looked like bodyguards standing watch over the varying vehicles. I usually didn’t mind the walk back to my car but on this particularly cool night, I’d noticed the light closest to my spot was out. As I saw this, my eyes followed the post downward catching sight of some shattered glass. Instantly, something just didn’t feel right to me.

My pace quickened and I fumbled inside my bag searching for my keys. Reaching my old Volvo, my fingers finally felt something familiar. Just then I heard a rustling coming from the tree line. I scanned the tree line, unable to tell exactly where the sound had originated, but I could hear what sounded like footsteps, and they were growing louder. My hands were shaking and I could feel the blood pumping harder with each passing moment. I was trying to keep my breath steady and I could feel sweat beginning to bead up on my forehead. As I finally pulled my keys out, I heard the sound again but this time there was no confusion as to the source. The sound was coming from just beyond my Volvo, only a few yards in front of me. I stared into the tree line and heard a loud, phlegm filled cackle. Having been startled, my nervous hands lost their grip and dropped my keys. I bent down quickly and searched for them as I now heard the sound of something exiting the tree line.

Nerves made 3 seconds feel more like 3 hours and the sprint from behind my car to the door seem like a marathon. My heart was in my throat and I felt like I could hardly breathe as I unlocked the door. Praying my car old car would start, I jammed the key into the cylinder and turned. Nothing. Looking back I know how typical it all sounds; A young lady fearing for her life gets stuck in a car that won’t start up. But in the moment all I could do was slam my fist into the steering wheel, my eyes welling up with tears. Again and again I turned the key, growing more hysterical with each attempt. I could have tried it 100 times in all, but once I finally heard the engine turn over I almost wished it hadn’t. As my lights came on, they shone on the image of a hooded man. He had what looked to be a hammer or an axe in his hand. I could feel the screams already forming in my throat as he began approaching the car. His strides were long and calculated. His form, now free of the flood of light from my car, was a tall silhouette. The screams made their way out of my throat as he began banging on the glass and flashes of light blinded me as I tried to push my body away from the window.

I screamed until I was sure I would pass out. “The locks! Kim lock the God damn-“ I thought to myself, just as the door swung open. A gloved hand reached inside and grabbed at my wrist, squeezing hard enough for me to hear the leather creaking. My lungs could hardly take in air quickly enough and as I grew lightheaded, my scream grew weaker, dying down in volume. This meant it was just quiet enough for me to hear a familiar sound. Laughter. But this wasn’t the cackle I’d heard earlier. It was a very familiar laugh in fact. I was still seeing stars from the flashes of light, but I could hear just fine, if not better than normal due to my heightened awareness in the moment. “Happy Anniversary babe!” shouted my husband. Scott was laughing and holding back tears, unlike myself who was letting the tears flow freely at this point. My entire body felt locked up and tense in a strange combination of fear, confusion and anger. “I wish you could have seen your face! Wait, you can, but you’ll just have to wait for the Polaroids to develop!” He stopped to catch his breath, and then continued. “Kim that was so much better than I’d even imagined it would be. How did you not recognize me when the lights came on?”, he said through loud chortles.

I had been so wrapped up in the case I was assisting on that I’d completely forgotten our 2 year wedding anniversary. Through my tears I finally managed to put together a somewhat coherent string of words. “Scott how the hell?... The lights!... How long where you in the trees Scott?” This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for. He was so excited to give me the details of his plan that he stood with his feet shoulder width apart, knees bent and hands out in front of him as though he was going to pitch one of his movie ideas to a studio executive. “Okay so once you called me to say you’d be late, I figured we wouldn’t be going out to dinner. I thought I’d drive to the florist and come down to surprise you instead. I wound up parking in the client parking just in front of the building, so as I walked back to your car, I noticed the lights by the tree line and the gravel. I started trying to shoot out the closest lights with a couple of stones and then I just waited behind the trees. I couldn’t have been out here for more than… 20 minutes? I’m not sure, it may have been closer to 45 minutes but it was worth it in the end. Oh! The Polaroids are developed! Here! Take a look!”

My husband Scott was a jerk. Don’t get me wrong, I love him, but being my husband, he knew just how to get under my skin. Scott worked in special effects and had worked on a number of horror movies, as if that were a surprise. He and his brothers were raised on Romero, Carpenter, and King, whereas I was raised on Disney movies. He’d tried to get me to watch some movies with him when we’d first started dating and seeing how I reacted to each scare with an ear piercing scream, he quickly realized he could make a game out of this. It really did bring him great pleasure to see me frightened, no matter how mad I’d get at him afterwards.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t tell that these tricks didn’t amuse me, he simply didn’t care. On one occasion, he’d placed a fake head in the pantry. The material this severed head was wrapped in looked just like human skin and the blood that oozed out of the mouth sent me stumbling backwards into the wine rack. Having also spilled my coffee all over the floor, a laughing Scott cleaned up, made me pancakes and began brewing another cup of coffee. Scott would put effort into apologizing to me after each of these pranks, but he eventually grew to learn it was better keeping his distance afterwards, unless he wanted to resemble the prop head in the pantry. As mad as I could get, the apologies were simple, but appreciated. The downside was that Scott felt he could get away with this behavior, leading to worse pranks as time went on. If he’d hide in the laundry room with a creepy mask on, he’d cook me salmon for dinner. On one occasion he’d sent me a video of a puppy, along with a caption that read “Did you hear the cute little noise it made at the end? Turn the sound up!” 15 Seconds into the video, the face of a demon popped onto the screen and let out a scream nearly as loud as my own. That earned him a night on the couch, but I ended up with a brand new purse.

People say that you shouldn’t accept behavior simply because you’ve grown accustomed to it. Over time though, Scott’s behavior began to wear me down, and it was showing. I was tired of this routine, so I decided it was time to have some fun of my own. We were now nearing the end of September and going into Scott’s favorite time of year: The Halloween Season. Fox Hills was a small town, so the costume shops were already opening up. I bought some glow in the dark fangs, a white wig to cover up my big brown curls, and some prop intestines to cover with some of Scott’s homemade prop blood. I’d left everything wrapped in a white dress and stuck it under our bed. I had a leg up on Scott since every now and then I would be long gone by the time he’d wake up for work. Slowly shimmying my way out of bed, I grabbed my “Scare Kit” and crept into the garage. I made sure to unscrew the lightbulb that hung just over Scott’s pickup to help give me just enough cover, then, once my costume was on and I was sufficiently covered in fake blood, I climbed into the bed of his truck. When I finally heard Scott making his way down the hall and into the garage, I tried to be as quiet as possible. I knew that if I gave myself away, there would be no way of me getting a second chance at this.

The light switch flicked on and off 2 or 3 times and I could hear Scott’s confusion manifesting itself in the pauses between each try. With a frustrated huff, he made his way over to the old Ford. As the doors unlocked with a loud KA-THUNK, I loaded my mouth up with fake blood. The stuff tasted horrible and I grimaced as I accidentally swallowed some. The old Ford’s engine turned over and that was my cue. I slammed my hands against the glass just behind Scott’s head and let out a scream worthy of a banshee as I spewed the fake blood from my mouth. The look on his face as he saw me in his rear-view mirror was exactly what I’d dreamt of. He let out a scream I didn’t even think he was capable of and punched the horn of his pickup so hard I was surprised the airbags didn’t deploy. I’m sure I lost some of my hearing in that moment but once the horn finally died off, I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically!

I’d done it! I’d gotten him back for all those times he’d nearly made me wet myself! Once Scott realized what was going on, he couldn’t help but join in my laughter, as nervous as his sounded in comparison. “Kim I could kill you right now!” he screamed. “What goes around comes around.” I said, waving the fake intestines at him. He stepped out of the cab and grabbed my face in his hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of you babe. Despite the heart attack I’m in the middle of, I have to admit, you did good.” My cheeks were nearly numb from how hard I was smiling when I saw a look come across Scott’s face. My smile quickly began to fade as I realized just what that look meant. “You do know this means war right?” said my husband. “With Halloween just around the corner, who knows when I could enact my revenge.” Scott’s evil grin curled up at the edges, but softened a bit when he saw the dread on my face. What had I opened myself up to? How could he possibly do any worse than what I’ve been through in the past? Seeing I was already worried, he kissed my forehead and wished me a good day as I climbed out of the truck and headed back in the house for a shower.

Surprisingly, the next few nights went by without incident. Scott was being extra sweet which only made me grow more and more paranoid. The days turned to weeks and I got more uneasy as the time passed. One night I’d come home to boxes of chocolate waiting for me and Scott laughed as he saw me check each one for bugs or some other kind of rancid trick. A few nights later he took me to the movies and when his truck suddenly broke down on him on a long dark stretch of road, it took him nearly an hour to convince me that his brother’s weren’t going to pop out of the trees with chainsaws. After that night I realized that Scott had switched up his tactics this time and was getting a kick out of seeing just how paranoid and on edge I was, so I decided to let it go and just relax.

It was Halloween night and my phone rang as I was sitting home alone on the couch.

“Hey babe, I’m sorry I’m calling you so last minute but I’m going to be stuck here on set a little later than I’d anticipated.” said Scott, his voice sounding genuinely disappointed.

“That’s fine. I get it. The food will be in the fridge so feel free to make yourself a plate whenever you get in.” I was disappointed of course, but this wasn’t the first call like this I’d gotten during our marriage. “What do you want me to do with the bottle of wine you bought for tonight though?” I asked.

“Enjoy it. I don’t know when I’ll be home so take it as a sign of my most sincere apologies. I love you Kimmy.”

“I love you, too. Just try not to wake me when you get home. Bye.” I hung up, disappointed to have movie night ruined but not disappointed enough to keep me from opening the bottle of wine. I decided I’d catch up on a few shows I had lingering on my DVR, and let all the stress from my latest case wash away with the night. Now truth be told, I wasn’t really much of a drinker. In fact, I only ever drank if Scott and I were heading out to dinner. Well into the night, I was on my third glass of Merlot and began feeling a little buzzed and more than a little tired. I’d figured I’d hop into the shower to complete my night of relaxation and then head straight to bed.

Pulling the shower curtain aside, I let the water run for a couple minutes. A nice hot shower always helped me to relax for bed and the last few drops of wine certainly helped. In our shower was a beautifully framed window made out of thick frosted glass. I always loved the way it looked on nights like this, the moonlight adding an otherworldly glow to it. Not wanting to fill the bathroom with steam, my showers were usually on the warmer side, I cracked the window open an inch or two at the top. I undressed and stepped into the tub, sure to let my feet settle as I was feeling somewhat off balance from the wine. I began to shampoo my hair and laughed to myself a bit as I closed my eyes. I had a habit of shutting them as tight as I could to avoid blinding myself, but I would often speed through working the shampoo in and rinsing it out so I could open them back up as quickly as possible. This only got worse after I’d watched “Pyscho” with Scott for the first time. It had obviously left an impression on me.

I could feel a cool breeze making its way in through the top of the window, only to be stopped dead in its tracks by the steam. The blue moonlight was shining through the window and my eyes, blurred by the running water and wine of the evening, were taking in its beauty. I continued washing off, my dark skin glowing and taking on the look of polished obsidian as the moon shone through the frosted glass. Then, ever so subtly, I noticed the light wasn’t shining through as brilliantly as it had just moments before. “It’s only a passing cloud Kim. No need to start getting yourself all spooked,” I reassured myself. “Just a big passing, autumn cloud.” But there hadn’t been any clouds in the sky just a moment ago, had there? “Just a cloud Kim. Nothing but a cloud.” I said to myself, feeling more confident this time. I smirked at the thought of myself getting all spooked over nothing.

It was the sound of rustling leaves that shattered my confidence. Rustling leaves and the sound of footsteps approaching my window. A cloud couldn’t make that sound, now could it? Hesitantly, I began to turn my head towards the frosted glass window. My head was moving so slowly, I was sure I could hear my neck creaking like an old wooden door. When my eyes finally fell upon the window, I could make out the outline of a tall man. His lanky figure was accentuated by the backlighting of the moon. He stood there like a statue, cold and stoic, with fewer than 10 feet between us. I heard the rustling again and tried to steady myself as, through my opaque shield, I could see him closing the gap between us. As statue-esque as he’d been just moments before, his strides were long and graceful now. He moved with ease and, though I could hear the crunching of leaves as he approached, he seemed to be floating.

I felt myself wanting to back away but my body simply wouldn’t let me. “Don’t move a muscle Kim. He might ignore you if you can only manage to stay still.” I said this to myself as if I wasn’t already aware that he could see me thought the frosted glass, if only in distorted shapes. The figure had made it to within a few feet of my window now and I could see it examining me through the glass, it’s head tilting in childlike curiosity. Now I was the one as still as a statue, frozen in fear. With every ounce of will I could muster, I managed to reach behind me and move the shower curtain aside. Though I was sure no man as tall as he was could make his way through the 2 inch opening at the top of the window, I would lock the door to the bathroom from the outside, just to be sure. With the curtain out of the way, the lights from the bathroom were now illuminating his features. Though distorted through the glass, I could make out stringy hair framing his face. I could hear a popping and cracking sound as its willowy chin moved from one side to another, as though adjusting its jaw. His head was tilting back and forth now and I was positive he had a better view of me that I of him. I grimaced and covered myself up.

Then I noticed the large dark circles around his eyes. My God it looked as though he hadn’t slept in ages. The man seemed to be so tired the dark circles around his eyes drooped down onto his cheeks. Could this be some bum wandering through back yards, hoping to steal some food from an unlocked house? Or could he be looking for more than just a meal? God his eyes… his eyes seemed wrong. How I wished I could just run out of here but his eyes had cemented me in place. The dark bags around them seemed to grow bigger, taking up half his face. They just seemed wrong, unnatural. Oh God. Those were his eyes. Just as his eyes had grown to cover his face, I saw the dark circles disappear as he blinked, the pale face becoming featureless only for the great big circles to reappear again and stare at me. Over the sound of the shower, the water still beating down on the porcelain, I could hear the horrible sound of him breathing. He sounded sickly, his breath shaking as he inhaled. His exhale sounded just as labored, the air whistling as it exited his lungs. I finally managed to take a few steps out of the tub when I let out a deafening scream.

I’d been startled when the figure slammed his hands against my window. “Go away!”, I screamed, this time my voice not just in my head. “Go away! My husband will be home any minute!” I was lying. “He’ll be home any minute and he carries a shotgun with him in his truck!” Another lie. I just wanted to scare him off, to get him to back away and run back into the woods or wherever it was he’d come from. I was crouched down on the floor now, hiding behind the tub. As I reached in to turn the water off, I glanced up at the hand that had slammed against the window. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I saw a hand nearly the size of my head pressed firmly against the window. A pale shriveled palm adorned with 3 long slim fingers was groping at the glass, almost as though it was trying to grab at it. Almost as though it was trying to grab at me! What the hell was this thing? Where had it come from? I could see what looked like a mouth on the end of each finger. Each one was opening and closing as you’d imagine a leeches mouth to do when it grabs hold of your skin. “I swear to God my husband will kill you when he gets home! Leave me alone! Just leave, Please!” My voice was becoming horse from screaming. I was still crouched on the floor of the bathroom when it now pressed its face against the glass, the big black eyes staring in and blinking, its jaw moving from side to side.

With nothing between its sickly skin and the glass, I could make out the nightmarish features even clearer now. One feature in particular made me wish I could somehow tear my eyes away. As it adjusted its jaw from side to side, I could see what look like lips folding back. Snarling. They revealed a set of teeth who’s size was only rivaled by those big black eyes. A regular set of teeth this size would have been disturbing, but this thing had a mouth as inhuman as its hands. It had rows of teeth, overlapping one another. But they weren’t sharp, not like a sharks teeth. They looked almost human, though this thing was far from it. They were big and yellowed, flat at the bottom which made them look more like cleavers than serrated knives. The further it’s lips drew back, the more rows were exposed, and just then it began making an awful sound. It was like a tree full of cicadas. The teeth began to chitter, crashing into one another violently enough to be heard. Every now and then it would take a sickly breath in and start chittering its teeth together again, sometimes they’d even click against the glass. All at once, it stopped. It was motionless. It took another deep breath and its attention seemed to be drawn upwards above its head. It looked at the opening at the top of the window and its hand, with its long leech like fingers, began making it’s way through.

It’s fingers were wrapped in a thin, slimy skin. It was thin enough to make out purple and red veins running the length of its appendage. The leach like mouths at the tip of its fingers opened and closed as though begging for food. Each one was lined with needle like teeth, much different from the ones in it’s mouth. There was a sickly yellow puss oozing from each fingertip and a foul stench beginning to fill the room, something like a corpse left to decay in a hot room. I gagged as the smell grew fiercer. The chittering started up again and I could hear the beast’s sickly breathing, but there was a different tone to it this time. It was more like the sound of a rabid dog who got a hold of a scent it was quite enjoying. The breathing was accompanied by a slurping sound, like it was trying to keep from drooling all over itself.

I don’t know if it was the fear finally mounting and pushing me or if it was the smell making me nauseous enough I could feel myself swallowing vomit back down my throat, but I jumped to my feet and slammed the window shut, managing to just miss the leach like fingers reaching for me. The beast let out an unnatural shriek, a strange combination of a howl and the shrill cry of a banshee as if coming from two different creatures. Its hand flailed around in pain while I backed up, the figure still howling from behind the window. I began backing up, not even bothering to grab a towel, I had far more to worry about. As my hand grasped the doorknob, the figure began to bash its face against the window. It battered the window again and again, cracks forming in the thick frosted glass. Should this thing break into my home, would anyone come to help me? With the beast shrieking like a wild animal caught in a trap, someone had to have heard it, right?

I turned to run and heard a crash of shattering glass behind me. As I ran through the hall leading to my bedroom, I could hear glass crunching under its feet. The chittering started again, the sick, ragged breathing, the slurping noise. My wet feet fought for grip against the cold hard tiles, slapping with each step. I made it to my room, slammed the door behind me and hid between my wall and bed. I could hear heavy footsteps approaching, the ragged breathing and cicada’s chittering. I grabbed my pillow from the bed as I sat against the wall, my heart beating in my ears. It was all I could hear. The silence was all I could hear. With my face buried in my pillow, I realized I could no longer hear the breathing, or the footsteps. Was it right outside, simply toying with me or had it gone? Would it try to sneak in through the windows which sit just above my head? As I turned to look out the window, I was half expecting to see that face staring back at me, clearer this time.

The sound of the rattling door knob shot through the dark and silent room like a shot gun blast. It wasn’t about to let me leave this room. I screamed, hands and face digging deeper into the pillow. The figure threw its body against the door, each thud ringing louder than the last. I could feel my tears and spit soaking into the pillow case, but I couldn’t tear my face out of it. In that moment, it was like a shield to me, and I wasn’t letting go but my heart stopped within the next second. Two cold hands grabbed at me, digging into my shoulders. They shook me violently back and forth, and through my screams, I could hear a familiar voice.

“Kim! Kim relax! Kim, God damn it, what the hell is wrong with you?” It was trying to fool me! I refused to open my eyes.

“Kim, please, calm down. You need to stop screaming. What happened to the window?” It couldn’t be Scott, It couldn’t be! But as the hands brought me closer to the voice, I could finally make out my husband’s face through my waterlogged eyes. That thing couldn’t have been Scott- the body, the hands – they didn’t match up. It hadn’t been him. But how could I attempt to explain anything to him… How could I explain it to myself?

Attempting to gather my thoughts, I felt the words get lodged in my throat. The look in Scott’s eyes told me it hadn’t been him and he wasn’t just playing dumb. No level of special effects prowess could bring that nightmare to life.

“Scott… there was… I was in the shower… It was through the window… The sound was…”

I looked up. I was frozen in place. The chittering, that disgusting chorus of bugs filled the room. My eyes locked on Scott’s, I could just make out a figure crawling on the ceiling above him. With a beastly shriek, the figure dropped down. My head slammed into the wall behind me and my vision grew blurry. Scott’s screams were the last thing I heard before everything went black.

November 3rd , Fox Hills, NY-

A Fox Hills woman is being questioned by authorities in the suspected butchering of her husband on Halloween night. Kimberly Allen, 28, was found naked and laying in a pool of her husband Scott Allen’s blood. Mr. Allen, 30, was found dismembered from what looked to be repeated blows from a cleaver, which is yet to be recovered. Mrs. Allen was found unconscious from what is suspected to be a self-inflicted blow to the head, a blow authorities suspect she carried out to help support her story of an intruder. First responders made it to the scene after a concerned neighbor called in what they suspected to be a domestic dispute. The caller, who wishes to remain anonymous, say they called the Fox Hill’s Sherrif’s Department after hearing Mrs. Allen’s screams and what sounded like shattering glass. They did say Scott could be heard yelling shortly after, but exactly what was said is unclear. Mrs. Allen is sticking to her claim that there was no such dispute and Mr. Allen was attacked by an intruder, the true culprit of the attacks on her and her husband, and has in fact asked for higher security outside of her cell. No foreign finger or foot prints have been found at the scene and no other arrests have been made.

They’ve moved me to the Fox Hills Psychiatric Center. As I sit here now, crying through interrogation after interrogation, all I can do is wonder why. Why didn’t it take me? Was it the sirens? Did the first responders scare it off somehow? I don’t know if anyone will ever believe me. Despite his jokes and cruel pranks, my Scott was a good man. The figure though, that otherworldly abomination, is still out there and I would be foolish to think it won’t find me again somehow. I got lucky that night, as sick as that sounds, but next time, that may not be the case. Next time there may not be sirens or concerned neighbors to scare it off. Thankfully, the authorities have taken my one request seriously. Just this morning, they added another guard outside the door of my room, and two guards just outside the frosted glass window that sits above my bed.

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