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pikapeppa · 3 years

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Garrus Vakarian x f!Shepard: Crick

Hello friends and loved ones: I am dipping my toe into Shakarian fic. Haven’t quite decided yet how much to commit to writing this pairing in detail, so here’s a little oneshot set just after the Horizon mission in ME2. ~2400 words. (Tumblr only for now, but I’ll post on AO3 if I decide to write more.)

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Garrus sighed as he made his way to the main battery room. There was a stiff feeling in the left side of his neck and shoulder when he tilted his head, and he was annoyed by it. It was his own fault, really; he’d fallen asleep at his weapons modification table again last night and woken with this crick in his neck that wouldn’t go away.

It was one of those times when he really wished he could get a proper hammer massage. There was that one place on the Citadel that did real Palavenese massage, the good kind that you really felt vibrating all the way through your carapace into your bones, but Garrus wasn’t sure if Shepard would be ordering them back to the Citadel anytime soon.

It’s just a crick, he reminded himself. It could be so much worse. The fight they’d just gone through on Horizon had been… a tough one, to say the least. Any fight with an unfamiliar new enemy could be unnerving, but seeing that Harbinger thing jumping from body to body during the fight had almost been enough to make Garrus pause.

Almost, but not quite. Archangel never hesitated or missed his shot.

He stepped into the main battery room and took a deep breath, then released it in a satisfied sigh. The air in here smelled like clean plastic and a hint of metal, and he savoured the relaxing smell just as he did every time he stepped into this room after a hard fight.

He flicked on the monitors and cracked the joints in his fingers, then started his usual routine of checking the gun settings – a routine that was more for comfort now than necessity, if he was being totally honest. Cerberus might be a pack of crazies doing their twisted human experiments, but they sure made a mighty fine canon.

He finished up his calibrating routine, and he was just about to move on to studying the Collector particle rifle that Shepard had salvaged when he heard the distinct beep-and-shunk of the door unlocking. A second later, the doors slid open, and Shepard stepped through.

She nodded briskly. “Garrus. Just checking in. You doing okay after that fight?”

“I’m just fine, Shepard,” he assured her. “I was about to start looking at your new toy here, actually.”

“That’s great,” she said. “It looks like a powerful little piece of tech. Something we can turn to our advantage, you think?”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “There’s nothing I find more satisfying than using the enemy’s own weapons against them.”

A small smile crossed her face, just as he’d hoped it would. He hadn’t seen a smile on her face all day, not since the Collectors had gotten away with the population of Horizon’s colony. Kaidan’s angry lecture probably hadn’t helped things, either.

She huffed and leaned an elbow on the weapons mod table. “That’s pretty bloodthirsty of you, Garrus.”

“Bloodthirsty? Me? Never,” he said. “Thirsty for justice, on the other hand…”

She laughed — a husky rolling sound that always reminded him, for some reason, of brandy-filled chocolates. “What a line. Did your time on Omega inspire you to dip your toe into writing noir mystery novels?”

“What if it did?” he said playfully.

“Then I’d tell you stick to your dayjob,” she replied.

It was Garrus’s turn to chuckle. Shepard smiled at him once more, then straightened up and nodded at the particle rifle. “I know you just got started here, but I’m interested to see what you find. Mind if I watch you working for a while?”

“No problem,” he said. “Might ask you to throw up a barrier for your own protection, though. This thing doesn’t use conventional heat sinks. I’m not sure yet if it can even be fully turned off.”

She nodded and cast herself a barrier with a quick clench of her fist, and Garrus got to work studying the Collector rifle. He scanned it to build a schematic and explained the exploded view to Shepard, and she frowned thoughtfully and asked questions about the weapon’s uses and disadvantages, and all the while, as he often did, he wondered what she was really thinking.

By any objective standards, it had been a bad day. They’d just watched most of a human colony get taken away by the Collectors. Her former lieutenant had accused her of crimes against her race right after a really tough fight, and when they’d boarded the Normandy once more, the Illusive Man had told her that he’d actually incited the Collectors to target Horizon.

If Garrus was in Shepard’s place, he’d be vibrating with anger by now. But here she was, watching him dismantle a gun with the calmest look on her face.

A solid half hour later, when he’d finished thoroughly surveying the rifle, he tapped his visor from its analysis mode back into its resting mode and looked at her. “I think that’s about all I’m going to do with this rifle for today. You need me for anything else?”

“Nothing else for now,” she said. “Thanks for the demonstration. I’ll talk to you later.” She stepped back toward the door.

On a sudden whim, he opened his mouth. “Shepard, hang on a second.”

She turned back to him. “What is it?”

He hesitated. Now he was wondering if the question at the tip of his tongue was too personal. He and Shepard were friends, sure, but his question might touch a bit of a sore spot, given what had happened today. If Garrus knew anything about Shepard, it was that she wasn’t much of one for talking about her feelings when missions didn’t go as expected. Not that Garrus was a talky-feely sort of guy, either, but still…

She raised her eyebrows expectantly, and he shook himself. He’d called her to turn around; he had no choice but to ask now. “Are you doing okay?”

Her eyebrows rose higher. “Sorry?”

“This whole Collector business on Horizon,” he clarified. “I know it didn’t go down the way we wanted, and then with the Illusive Man being, you know… illusive.” He lifted his shoulders. “It can’t have been easy.”

Her blue-black eyes crinkled at the corners. “You worrying about me, Vakarian?”

“A little, maybe,” he said. “You’ve only taken a dig at me once today.”

Another smile flashed across her face, but it was gone a second later, smoothed back into her usual businesslike expression. “I’m all right,” she said. “It’s a hit to have lost the colony, but we’ll save the next one. I’ll make sure of it.”

He nodded. “Seeing Kaidan was a bit of a shock, huh?”

She huffed and folded her arms. “It wasn’t ideal, but that’s the way it is. He’s got his mission, and we’ve got ours. We can’t lose our focus over personal feelings.”

Garrus nodded again. Everything she was saying was reasonable and true, and her calm attitude was envious, really. If Garrus was able to keep his calm like Shepard did… well, he’d tried to channel Shepard’s calm while he was on Omega, but it had only gotten him so far. Garrus had never known anyone, human or otherwise, who kept their cool all the time quite the way Shepard did.

And yet, for some reason, he just… he wasn’t sure. Her manner struck him as a little bit off, somehow, like the feeling of the crick in his neck.

She lifted her eyebrows. “Anything else?”

“How do you do it?” he said bluntly.

She blinked. “Do what?”

“Keep it together all the time,” he said. “You never seem uncertain. You always seem to know what you’re doing, even if you can’t possibly know. I have to admit, I envy you,” he admitted. “How is it that you always manage to keep it together?”

She didn’t reply right away. Instead, she just stared at him without speaking, and Garrus started to feel a little awkward. It was hard to tell from the look on her face, but he thought that maybe she was… was she angry? Surprised? Bored, maybe? He couldn’t quite tell. Human expressions were usually easy to interpret, with their fleshy lips stretching and pouting and their eyebrows leaping up and down. But when Shepard was in her ‘commander’ mode, she could be so damned hard to read.

She glanced at the closed door. Then, to his surprise, she walked over to him and sat in his chair.

She raked her long black bangs back from her face and looked up at him. “You want to know my secret?” she said.

“Secret?” he said blankly. “To what?”

“To staying calm all the time,” she said. “Can I tell you my secret?”

“Um, sure,” he said.

She leaned toward him, and he instinctively stooped down a bit to hear her better — a good thing that he did, since her voice was low and conspiratorial when she spoke.

“I cry in the shower,” she said.

His guts twisted in a funny way. “What?”

She leaned back in his chair. “I cry in the shower,” she said. “When something really fucked up happens, I get in the shower at the end of the day and I cry like hell.”

He stared at her wordlessly. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her to say, but it wasn’t this.

A little smile curled the corners of her lips. “What’s wrong? Not the answer you were hoping to hear?”

“It’s — it’s not that,” he said. “I’m just, uh, surprised. You cry in the shower?”

“Yep,” she said. “Not bullshitting you, I promise. This is not a bet with Joker or anything like that.”

He tried to gather his wits. “So… what, you cry in the shower, and then you just… get back to being Commander Malin Shepard, saviour of the Citadel and resident Reaper conspiracist?”

She chuckled. “Exactly. It’s like a purge. Works perfectly every time.”

He nodded slowly, feeling like he needed some time to process this, and Shepard huffed and punched his arm in a friendly manner. “Not so impressed with me anymore, huh?”

That wasn’t the problem. It wasn’t that he was unimpressed. But now he was actually worried about her. In all the time Garrus had known her, he had never once imagined her crying about anything. If what she was telling him was true, though…

Hang on. How often did she cry in the shower, exactly? No, he couldn’t ask that — it would definitely be overstepping.

He scrambled to find a clever reply. “It’s not that,” he said. “Actually, I’m jealous.”

She laughed. “Jealous? Why?” Then her eyebrows rose. “Wait, can turians cry?”

“Sure,” Garrus said. “But we don’t do it often.”

“Is it hard for you to cry?” she asked.

“Well, the turian military doesn’t exactly encourage you to curl up in the corner for a little weeping time,” he said dryly.

She snorted. “Not what I meant. I was more wondering if, uh, since you have deep eye sockets, maybe your tears collect in there somewhere…?”

He flared his mandibles in amusement. “Tears don’t collect in a little reservoir under our eyes or something, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he drawled. “But yeah, we can cry. It just doesn’t happen much. Which leads me to the jealousy,” he added. “You get to sit in your shower crying whenever you feel like it? Forget the private cabin: that’s the real luxury of being the commander.”

She laughed again, more heartily this time, and the husky warmth of her laughter was such that Garrus could almost taste the sweet bite of brandy and bittersweet chocolate. “Well, if you ever want to try it sometime, let me know.”

“Try what?” he said. “Crying in the shower?”

“Yep,” she said. “You can borrow my private shower instead of using the shared showers down here, if you want. The walls are soundproof, so nobody can hear you wailing.”

For a split second, an image flashed across his mind: Shepard’s private shower. No, not just Shepard’s private shower: Shepard’s private shower, with Shepard in it. Shepard naked in the shower — what did her body look like under those clothes, he wondered? — and he, Garrus, joining her in the shower —

Wait. Wait a second. Why was he thinking about that? He shouldn’t be thinking about that. It was Shepard, for crying out loud: his friend and his CO. Who did he think he was, to imagine his human female CO naked in the shower?

He scrambled to get his thoughts back on track. “I’ll, uh, let you know,” he said. “Might have to train my eyes how to cry, it’s been so long.”

She smirked. “Nice try, Vakarian. Something tells me you’re not quite that heartless.”

He chuckled — a little weakly, to be truthful, but Shepard didn’t seem to notice; she was rising from his chair with a smile. “Well, I should go. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” he echoed, and he watched her surreptitiously as she left the room. Once she was gone, he sat in his chair and closed his eyes.

Crying in the shower… he honestly wouldn’t have guessed it. He’d expected her to give him some kind of encouraging advice or bolstering words of wisdom, like the sorts of things she said to the team before they set off on a mission. But somehow, hearing her say she cried in the shower was… interesting. It made him think about her in a different way. He was worried for sure, but also… comforted, somehow, to know that even Shepard got overwhelmed enough to cry. It seemed that under all that heavy N7 armour, she really was a regular person, too.

Under all that heavy N7 armour… A flash of a thought projected itself on his closed eyelids: Shepard stripping off her armour, her slender human fingers raking her sweat-dampened bangs back from her face, the small bare patch at the nape of her neck where her short spiky hair faded into light golden-brown skin…

He snapped open his eyes. Was he drifting off? He must be more tired than he thought. No other reason that he’d keep thinking about Shepard like this.

He rose from his chair and rolled his shoulders, then clicked in his mandibles in annoyance as the crick in his neck announced itself once more. “Really could use a damned massage,” he muttered. Well, he’d just have to suck it up and wait until they got back to the Citadel.

In the meantime, he’d just have to cope with the strange nagging feeling of the crick in his neck.

#garrus vakarian #garrus #shakarian #garrus/shepard #garrus x shepard #garrus x femshep #Fun fact: Garrus is actually my OG videogame husbando from back in the day #but when i first played the ME trilogy i wasn't a writer #so i could not process my feelings like a thirsty madwoman with too many emotions #I AM A WRITER NOW HOWEVER #AND MY FEELINGS CAN ONLY BE PROCESSED BY BARFING THEM ONTO A SCREEN #pikapeppa writes

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officialleehadan · 3 years

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Specimen Hunting

“You know, Sir, I don’t think I actually got your name.”

I look up at Zack, who rubs the back of his head apologetically, looking for all the world like a somewhat-ashamed puppy who got caught eating a pillow.

Then again, thinking back, I think I only got introduced to the soldiers once, and they all call me ‘sir’. The scientists mostly pretend I don’t’ exist, which is honestly easier for all of us. They don’t like that I tell them not to touch anything, and I don’t like it when they touch things.

“Charlie,” I tell him. “Use it if you want. I like it better than ‘sir’ anyway.”

I don’t’ think he’s gonna stop calling me ‘sir’ but it’s worth a try. He surprises me when he just nods and sits next to me. We’re on what I’ve generously termed an ‘away mission’ whereon we go off with a few of the scientists, something tries to eat us, and we all run away.

So far, we haven’t lost anyone else, which I mostly blame on the scientists being a skittish lot, and the surviving soldiers having a reasonably good sense for when something is trying to eat them. Today, I’m escorted by two of my favorites. Zack and Círce. They stay close, stay alert, and don’t bother looking at me when they could be watching the trees instead.

“Charlie,” Zack says to himself, and nods again. “You really don’t like it when we call you ‘sir’, do you?”

“Hate it,” I confess with a sigh. Something moves in the leaves and I whirl on it. Zack, professional that he is, levels his gun on it before I even stop moving. It turns out to be a truly immense tarantula that stands about the height of my knee. They’re not as dangerous as most of what’s on this island, but they’re creepy. Good eating though. “Those are safe to eat.”

“I like crab,,” Zack says without hesitation, and shoots it through the middle. It rattles and clicks, and staggers, but collapses. I wait until it curls up, firmly dead, before I unroll a sack and load it in. Zack doesn’t bother watching me do it. He stands guard. “Ate a lot of those?”

“Everything eats a lot of these, they’re everywhere,” I tell him. Two of the scientists with our group amble over, curious about the gunfire. The lack of screaming must have told them that there wasn’t anything trying to eat them. On this occasion, it was accurate. I eye the head scientist, a man named Carson, who does not appreciate my ‘kill it dead or run away’ approach to his samples. “You can dissect what’s left of the squishy parts, but I’m eating the legs.”

Carson’s face does something indescribable when he realizes I’m referring to the spider, but he’s a city boy from the States, and thinks that eating anything with more than four legs is icky.

I survived on this island for a month with almost no supplies. Turns out that three days is about long enough to get over the ‘it’s icky’ when it comes to strange food.

“Yes sir,” he says reluctantly when I drag the bag of tarantula over to our supplies and leave it there, knotted closed in case it decides it’s not dead. They do that sometimes. “Are there… more such specimens?”

“Haven’t looked.” It’s a good thought, though probably not the way he thinks. Fresh food is valuable, and we’ve been eating processed rations all week. I’m not above hunting whatever isn’t trying to hunt us. And maybe some of what is, if the scorpion-pig, the Tusker we saw a few nights ago, comes around again. “Give me a few minutes. Zack, want to bag dinner for tonight?”

“Is dinner gonna try and eat us?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Sure, Círce! We’re going spider-hunting.”

Círce jogs over. She’s a slight woman who is truly, astonishingly, lethal. She carries a rifle that packs a serious punch, and is widely considered to be the best sniper in the whole team. She’s also Greek, and doesn’t much care about American sensibilities.

“What to I aim at?” she asks without preamble, her rifle over her shoulder and ready to rumble. “Food hunting, sample hunting, or killing it flat?”

“Food hunting,” I tell her, pleased by her aimable approach to the concept of spiders as food. “Aim for the middle bits. Extra points if you get the fangs in he first shot. They’ve got kind of a nasty bite.”

That’s an understatement. They’re as lethal as anything else on the island, they’re just small enough to be prey, not predator. They don’t tend to nest in groups, but the eggs aren’t bad eating either. The babies are pretty scary though. They tend to ball up, so there’s a lot of them in one place.

“No big,” Círce agrees brightly. “Handguns or rifle?”

“Rifle for the adults, sidearm for the babies if we find any.” It’s a risk to leave the scientists, but there are six more soldiers guarding them, and I scouted the area before we setup here. I haven’t heard a doun-doun in hours, the nearest spindle-shell is well up in the rocks, and this area doesn’t have a lot of the nastier giant insects. “Stay alert. We haven’t seen everything around here yet, and we don’t’ want to be surprised.”

Together, we ease through the bushes, wary of the smaller spiders that build their webs here and there. Some are probably toxic, but I didn’t get bit when I was here last, so I have no idea how toxic they are.

The bushes are full of animal trails, made by animals that are mostly bigger than we are. It makes for easy going, and I keep an eye out for the thick sheets of web that marks a tarantula burrow. We find two. One is closer, and it’s empty, so I assume it belongs to the one we just killed. The other isn’t empty, and has a tarantula even bigger than the last one. This one stands around the height of my hip, and watches us balefully from the burrow’s entrance.

“You ready?” I ask Círce, who takes aim confidently. “It’s gonna be fast.”

“I’m fast too,” she said without a hint of doubt. “Zack?”

Zack chucks a stick into the web, just outside the tarantula’s reach. The spider, triggered by the feel of something in its web, lunges out. Círce’s rifle cracks once. The spider collapses to the ground, cored out by her perfect aim. Zack eases closer and shoots it a few more times, just to be sure. Together, they edge onto the web, wary of a second spider inside. Nothing appears, so they each grab a leg of the carcass, and haul it free quickly while I stand guard.

“Right, I say, very pleased indeed by our little hunt. Not bad, considering how much death crawls all over this island. “Let’s get it back to camp. We’re eating well tonight.”

+++

The Monster of the Isle:

He survived once. now they want him to do it again.

Isle of Monsters

Return to the Isle of Monsters

Monsterpedia

Doom in the Distance (Subscriber Only!)

Eight Down

In the Trees (Subscriber Only!)

+++

More Stories!

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bbrandy2002 · 3 years

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Fearless

Chapter 4: See the Lights, See the Party, the Ball Gowns

Book: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairing: Prince/King Liam x MC (Riley Brooks), Drake Walker x OC (Alyssa Devereaux)

Series Premise: Riley Brooks and Alyssa Devereaux became best friends as freshmen at Syracuse University, a borderline-sisterhood that lasts forever after. When Riley meets a handsome prince and is asked to compete for his hand in a mysterious faraway kingdom, she invites Alyssa along for moral support.

What the girls think will be a crazy temporary adventure becomes two sets of happily ever afters … with twice the shenanigans to show for it.

A/N: This series is written in loving collaboration between @bbrandy2002 and @burnsoslow.

Series Warnings: Smut 🍋🍋, language, canon violence (gun violence, bombing, terrorism), drug use, probably more stuff as we think of it. By reading this series, you agree that you are at least 18 years old and are prepared to deal with adult themes.

The girls spent their first morning in Cordonia with their respective sponsors, getting the first glimpses of courtly life and preparing for the Masquerade Ball taking place that evening. As much as they wanted to get out and experience all that this little Mediterranean country had to offer, there was just so much to do and little time to do it.

That morning, while Alyssa worked diligently on learning the steps of the Cordonian Waltz and etiquette with Rashad, Maxwell finally got Riley out of bed in time for a late breakfast. This included meeting his brother, Bertrand, who was none too thrilled with the former waitress from New York. Riley discovered rather quickly that the duke was nothing like the free-spirited Maxwell; if ever there was a picture display of a killjoy, she was sure his scowling face would be plastered dead in the center.

The day kind of went by in a dizzying blur, especially for Riley, who spent most of it either being lectured by Bertrand, or raiding the kitchen for stress snacks with Maxwell. And as far as anyone knew, Liam was still unaware that the quirky, raven-haired beauty he’d met two nights ago and never expected to see again was in his country, in his palace, and was about to come face-to-face with him.

If she didn’t die of anxiety first.

Neither of the girls saw each other until much later that afternoon when they linked up in Riley’s room before heading to the palace's salon for last-minute hair and nail appointments.

Later on in the boutique, Riley sucked in a deep breath and held in her stomach while Alyssa stood behind her, fighting to zip the back of the angel-themed costume she chose for the Masquerade Ball.

Actually, "chose" was a loose description in this case. The ensemble was one of the last two dresses in the palace's boutique, and Maxwell insisted Riley wear it instead of the more provocative red devil attire to make herself more appealing to the King and Queen. The Beaumont sponsee didn’t give two shits at that moment about impressing the monarchs; her major concern was how she would fit that size-four dress over her size-six body.

“What the hell did you eat, Ri? This zipper is not budging an inch," an out-of-breath Alyssa groaned as she attempted to pull the tight fabric closer together.

Steadying her feet firmly to the ground, a jostled-around Riley answered quietly, in a still manner, so as not to undo what little progress her friend had already made, "You know I'm a stress eater. I've experienced many emotions since we left yesterday, and food therapy helps. And your judgment is making me hungry again, so thank you for making it worse."

"I'm not judging you; I'm simply stating a fact: Your ass won’t fit in this dress."

Riley straightened up a little higher, hoping to thin her lean frame out more. "Well, it's gonna have to," she scoffed. "I can't be the only suitor at this ball without the proper attire."

Alyssa tugged harder in frustration. "You know, it might help if I could remove the price tag from the zipper."

"Perhaps." Riley sideways glanced at the two inattentive boutique cashiers before turning her head slightly over her shoulder to acknowledge her best friend in a hushed tone. "But then I wouldn't be able to return it in the morning. $700 for a damn dress is highway robbery, and I won't be a victim to this place's jacked-up prices." She glared back at the fashionably dressed women running the register and hollered out, "You should all be ashamed of yourselves!"

"Shhhh!" Alyssa's face burned with embarrassment while she smiled sheepishly at the bewildered ladies. "Are you crazy? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You mean aside from the usual things that are wrong with me? I'm a nervous wreck, Lyss. Liam still doesn't know that I'm here. I'm about to go wine-and-dine with snobby rich people, while my socially awkward-o-meter is on red alert. And Maxwell's brother didn't like me. How am I supposed to impress Liam, the press, this council, and his parents when my own sponsor hates me?"

"He doesn't hate you," Alyssa replied. "Suck in your stomach a little more ... Rashad told me Duke Beaumont is high-strung and takes all this court business very seriously. If you ask me, give ‘The Brows’ some time. I know he'll love you. And Liam already does!" Alyssa stepped back in delight after tirelessly sliding the last bit of the zipper to the neckline. "Voila! I got it."

Riley stiffly turned toward the full-length mirror -- her insides feeling like they would pop right out of her -- and surveyed the finished product. "Not bad, not bad. A slight muffin top on the sides, and my ass cheeks are packed in tighter than my family around the dessert station at a buffet, but ... I think I can get by with it." Turning to face Alyssa, she lit up with anticipation. "Okay, now it's your turn."

Alyssa plucked the bright red dress off the rack and headed inside one of the many dressing rooms. A moment later, she emerged with a beaming smile on her face and held her arms out to the side to do a show-offish twirl. "So, how do I look?"

"Oh my god, Lyss!" Riley clapped excitedly. "You look so hot in that! That color of red really suits you too. Although, you might want to cover up the girls a little more; I've never seen your boobs look so huge."

"Wha --" Alyssa glanced down at her fully rounded chest, a substantial portion of which was spilling out over the top. She crossed her arms over her breasts in horror. "OH MY GOD! You're right: They're enormous in this thing. I can't go out there like this! They'll be stuffing dollar bills into my cleavage and begging for a lap dance!"

"Well, just ... try to tuck them in," Riley suggested, demonstrating her advice on herself. “You know, the way guys tuck in their junk.”

Alyssa shook her head adamantly, attempting to slide the top of the dress up higher. "I don't think that'll work. It's already extremely tight."

“That’s what he said,” Riley quipped with a snicker, much to the chagrin of her longtime friend, who simply blinked back. “Wow, not even a smile. Come on, Lyss, it’s not that hard.”

Alyssa grinned despite herself, “That’s what she said.”

Riley stepped closer, reaching out to grab a portion of the garment covering Alyssa's bosom, and declared, "Alright, If I can squeeze my fat ass into this dress, you can cram those giant melons into yours. So, get to pushin’, girl.”

-----------

After 10 minutes of stuffing uncooperative breasts into a gown, Alyssa and Riley stepped out of the boutique and made their way to the bottom of the main staircase outside of the ballroom, where Rashad and Maxwell were waiting eagerly for them.

A grim-faced Rashad approached the pair as they neared. “We were beginning to worry about you two. I hope you didn’t have any trouble.” He reached out and greeted Alyssa with a friendly kiss to the cheek as Riley made her way up to Maxwell, who did the same.

“No troubles,” Alyssa assured him, before staring down at her chest to make sure certain parts were still contained inside her dress. “Just some slight wardrobe issues that I think we’ve taken care of.”

Riley frowned, rubbing a soothing hand over her squeezed-in stomach. “Let’s just say we both feel like canned biscuits.”

“And I’m petrified of canned biscuits!” Alyssa shrieked, then spoke in a lower, punier voice in Rashad’s direction. “They make that popping sound that scares the hell out of me.” He nodded sympathetically at her admission, having no clue what canned biscuits were.

Maxwell let out a chuckle. “Either way, you both look awesome! Like two totally righteous peas in a pod and all that jazz.” He peeked over at Riley, who wasn’t appearing too sure of herself, or of anything for that matter, knowing she’d spent most of the day in a subtle panic. While she steadied her breath, he looped his arm through hers and leaned over. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to go in there like the boss you are and knock them all dead. I just know it.”

Riley swallowed thickly, “But Liam --”

“Will be over the moon with excitement to see you again. Do you think I’d go through all the trouble of trying to convince you, and then Alyssa, to come all the way here -- not to mention, facing my brother’s wrath -- if I didn’t believe Liam would want to see you again?” Riley half-shrugged, but Maxwell could tell by the little glimmer of hope he caught in her eyes and the slight curl at the corner of her plush pink lips that she knew it was true. “If he’s not happy about seeing you, I’ll book you on the first flight back to New York, and you can punch me in the gut or something. But I can tell you with certainty: No man goes out with a woman and keeps his friends up most of the night talking about how amazing she was if he doesn’t want to see her again.”

Riley could feel a tinge of pink color her cheeks and looked away for a brief moment, knowing he was right. She was about to see her prince again. Simply knowing how happy Liam was when they parted ways that night made her heart flutter. The blushing suitor peered back at the towering man on her arm and smiled appreciatively. “Thanks, Max.”

As they both stared straight ahead at the set of double doors where Alyssa was making her grand entrance into the ballroom with Rashad, Riley pointed out, “You realize if you had said all that stuff to me this morning and five bloated pounds ago, I wouldn’t have cried to you all day over pints of ice cream, half a sheet cake, and a bag of Mini Snickers?”

Lord Beaumont grinned without looking at her as the orchestral music inside erupted through the newly opened threshold that awaited their crossing. A gleam of anticipation glistened the cobalt hue of his eyes.”That’s our cue. Time to look alive, Twinkle Toes, it’s showtime.”

__________

It felt like a million pairs of eyes bore through Riley when the announcer spoke her name out to the guest in the ballroom. In reality, few paid much attention to the young woman dressed in pure white, from the feathery halo perched above her fancy swept-up hairdo to the tiny heels that sparkled like glittery specks of fairy dust on her feet.

As Maxwell ushered her proudly through the spectacular crowd adorned in the finest silks and chiffons, faces concealed behind extravagant masks similar to hers, and opulent table spreads of gold and crimson, Riley searched the four corners of the room for one particular set of the bluest eyes she’d ever encountered -- she had Liam’s memorized by heart. However, the only ones she recognized came from her smiling best friend, standing casually beside the Lord of Domvallier at the bar, keeping her word to watch out for her. With a subtle grin from Alyssa to convey she had her back, the whirlwind of fear and chaotic thoughts that overwhelmed Riley quickly dissipated into thin air.

Baby steps.

While Maxwell and Riley headed to the center of the ballroom to meet up with Bertrand, across the way, Alyssa ordered a cranberry vodka from the bar. She was wearing red and needed a drink that matched perfectly with the fabric in case of accidental spillage. As the bartender poured her glass, she tore her vigilant gaze from Riley when Rashad’s cell rang. Seconds later, he covered his phone lightly with a palm and lowered it away from his ear to speak with her.

“This is my client in California. Will you be okay for a little bit while I take this out on the balcony?”

Alyssa nodded. “Of course. Take your time. Is there anything I should be doing while you’re gone?”

“Try mingling with the crowd. Get to know the other suitors. The best way to help Riley tonight is to get a feel for the competition. Figure out who you can potentially get on her side and who is going to cause her trouble.”

“With all due respect, this isn’t Survivor.”

Rashad grinned before excusing himself. “We'll see if you still feel that way by the end of the social season.”

What is it with all the Debbie Downers here? He sounds just like -- Before she could finish that thought, a stroke of irony occurred when she caught the denim-clad Drake, standing out like a sore thumb, making his way up to the bar. She quickly spun around on the barstool and hovered over her freshly poured beverage.

Tapping the bar's woodgrain top, Drake called for, “The usual,” before plopping down on the stool next to her. His woodsy scent filled the air and wafted in her direction; she wondered if he’d even recognize her.

Pressing the rim of the glass to her lips to take the first nervous sip of her drink, she wondered why she even cared if he did.

Alyssa set the vodka cranberry down on a cocktail napkin at the same time Drake reached for his tumbler of whiskey. A brush of their hands caused them both to retreat away before he bowed his head respectfully to her.

“I’m sorry, my lady.” Drake was quick to apologize. He never knew which stuck up nobles would have an issue with a commoner’s simple touch.

Alyssa lifted a brow and smirked in response. “So you do have manners?”

He’d recognize that wily voice anywhere. Grumbling, Drake responded. “Aww, hell! Pipsqueak? Is that you?”

“Hello, Sunshine.” She dimpled.

Drake shook his head. “I should have known. Of all the damn people in this room, I still managed to find you.”

“I would call that a very lucky day for you then.” Alyssa lifted her drink and tipped back a gulp. “So what’re you doing here? Don’t you have some royal cows or chickens to herd around or something? Who wears denim and jeans to a fancy ball?”

She would if she could get away with it.

His tight shoulder muscles bounced slightly with disingenuous laughter as his chestnut eyes took in her sultry devilish costume. “I could ask you the same about your own clothes. Suitors are supposed to dress up for these things. Not come as themselves.”

Offended, Alyssa arched back contemptuously. “Are you calling me a devil?”

“If the horns and pitchfork fit.” Drake retorted. He motioned with his glass across the room. “By the way, you see that blazing redhead who just stole your little friend away from Maxwell?” When Alyssa snapped her gaze protectively in that direction, he continued, “That’s Olivia. You might want to check in on … what’s her name again?”

“Riley ...” Her tone was resentful. He knows damn well what her name is.

“Whatever. Just trust me on this, if the two of you know what’s good for ya -- and I’m betting you don’t -- you’ll stay as far away from Olivia and the rest of these social-climbing fuckers as possible.” His mood suddenly shifted as he drained his drink, then slammed it on the bar top, motioning with his hand to the bartender for another.

Alyssa was quick to notice the tension in his jaw and the immense throb of protruding veins in his forearm as he nursed his drink. “What climbed up your ass and died? Why are you even here if you hate everyone so much?

He quickly snapped. “I’m here for Liam!”

“Well, I’m here for Riley!” The two of them glared at each other in a tense showdown that neither was willing to back down from. After a beat, Alyssa’s determination weakened somewhat; confrontations made her jittery.

And with him in particular.

Letting her shoulders slump, Alyssa let out a soft breath as she relaxed. “I’m trying to give her some space … but do I need to go check on Riley?” The question was asked sincerely.

Drake turned his head back, his vision crossing the vast expanse of the room and landing on a perturbed Riley in conversation with Olivia. He scowled, recognizing the expression impressed on her face all too well. “We’re outsiders, Alyssa. You. Me. Riley. That’s the only thing they’ll ever see. It’s the only way they’ll ever treat us.” He shifted to face Alyssa again. “Take that for what you will. If she were my friend … I would.”

_______

Riley shook her head emphatically. “There’s no way I’m supposed to kiss the king’s shoe. That’s weird, creepy, and-and- unsanitary!” She nodded toward a masked couple standing before the seated king who bowed, curtsied, and then exited to the left. “They didn’t kiss his shoe. I think you’re full of shit.”

“Riley, Riley, Riley.” The duchess shook her head with an exasperated tone. “Those people are well-established and highly-regarded members of the court … you’re not. And while I admit it’s a rather unorthodox Cordonian royal custom, it’s part of our tradition that the newest members humble themselves before the king in an act of deep respect and reverence. I’m actually astounded Maxwell never bothered to tell you.” She flipped back a thick curly-q strand of hair that hung over her shoulders. “Do what you want. But don’t say I didn’t try to help you.”

Riley hesitated. “I guess I’ll keep it in mind …?”

“Great!” Olivia wrapped a firm hand around Riley’s wrist and pulled her toward the throne where the king sat. “You’re so lucky that I was here to warn you! Otherwise, you’d have looked utterly ridiculous.”

“Wait! Where are we going? Riley demanded, her feet barely able to keep up with the brisk pace.

“To present you to King Constantine.”

“But I need to wait for my sponsor!” Riley protested. She struggled to break free, but the redhead’s clawlike grip was surprisingly strong.

“Every second counts, Riley. These women have all known Liam for years. The early bird gets the Crown.”

“But I --” Panicked, Riley scoured the room for the Beaumonts and found them standing near the hors d'oeuvres table embroiled in what appeared to be a heated discussion.

“What the fuck?” On the opposite side of the ballroom, Alyssa spotted Olivia hauling Riley across the floor. Before Drake had the chance to warn her this wasn’t good, an enraged Alyssa was already sliding down off the barstool, stampeding off in hot pursuit of finding out what this redheaded troll was doing with her best friend.

And for reasons he couldn’t fully understand, feeling frustrated beyond comprehension, Drake followed right on her heels.

Coming to a screeching halt before the raised dais, Olivia thrust Riley forward, who nearly tripped from the momentum into the bottom step at the sudden stop.

It took every ounce of restraint Riley had not to turn toward the woman who had forcibly dragged her across the room and to stick a pair of size-seven heels straight up her ass. She, however, liked the pretty, sparkly shoes she had on too much to ruin them … and wanted to end the evening outside of a hospital bed. “Asshole,” she muttered almost soundlessly.

“Your Majesty,” Olivia smirked. “I would like to present to you the suitor House Beaumont has chosen. Lady Riley.”

Riley gave her a cursory glare. It was the moment of truth. She plastered on her best smile for the King, who regarded her with a nod.

Just … just do it. “Your Majesty.” Riley dipped into a low curtsy and held it in place for several seconds before contemplating the validity of Olivia’s outlandish claim and swallowing hard. “Here goes nothing.”

Placing both palms on the plush red carpeting that laid at the feet of the King, she lowered herself slowly until her knees rested on the top step.

“What the hell is she doing?” Alyssa questioned as she desperately weaved around a sea of faces, dodging server trays and tables along the way. “And where the hell is Maxwell?”

“I don’t know ...” Drake answered, practically pushing her even more quickly through the crowd, “ … but you better move faster. There’s no damn telling what Olivia told her to do.”

Riley paused briefly, staring at the simple black shoes that almost resembled a shiny boot. She wanted to be kissing Liam right now, not his father’s old fricking foot. Worst vacation ever.

Lowering her head gradually toward Constantine’s shoes, she scrunched up her face and reluctantly puckered up.

Out of nowhere, a body with the vigor of a wild stallion in full sprint barrelled into her side, sending Riley hurling across the dais and causing her to land face-down on the marbled floor below.

"What is the meaning of this?" An enraged Constantine bolted up, his ire focused on Alyssa, hunkered down on all fours at his feet, striving to catch her breath.

Maxwell and Bertrand heard the commotion and came rushing to Riley’s side when they realized it was her sprawled out and jerking on the floor.

"I'm so sorry, Your Majesty," an apologetic Alyssa said as she reached up for the hand Drake was offering. The King's glare at her was nerve-wracking as he waited for an explanation -- until Drake stepped up in front of her, blocking her view of the incensed monarch. "I can explain."

"I hope you can, young lady." Constantine glowered, baffled as to why Drake Walker was still standing between them … and mirroring every movement she made. When she shifted, he shifted. When she moved her arm, he did the same. Was this some type of game?

“Uh … um.” Alyssa's mind raced with excuses. She couldn't very well tell him the truth and make Riley or herself look bad -- she was still a representative of Duchy Domvallier. There was only one thing she could think of to say as she whipped around Drake and pointed at him. "This man pushed me!"

Drake's body stiffened at her accusation. "The hell you talking about?"

She covered her eyes with a hand, pretending to sob. "I was on my way up here to pay my respects to you, sir, when this man ..." she paused to take in a fake stuttering breath, "... came out of nowhere and pushed me from behind. I tried to stop myself from running into anyone, but I couldn't. Too much momentum." Alyssa lowered her hand and stared at a wide-eyed Drake. "I’m just a small person, mister. Why would you do that? Why? What did I ever do to hurt you?"

"I never --"

"Drake?" The King eyed him sternly. "Is this true? Did you push this young woman?"

Drake’s defensive stance was no match for Alyssa’s pleading eyes, begging him to save her from this. “Please,” she mouthed.

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “I … I’m sorry, Sir. Lady Alyssa’s extremely long dress was dragging the floor and I stepped on it. When I lifted my foot off, she ... I don’t know … flung forward. I tried to grab her before she went flying, but she got away, and that must be why she thought I pushed her.” Drake lowered his gaze to Alyssa. “You really shouldn’t shop in the adult section, miss.”

“Is it possible you were mistaken, Lady ... Alyssa?”

She nodded. “Yes, that is surely possible,” she agreed in a rehearsed-sounding tone. “It’s all coming back to me now.”

“Well, then.” Constantine's contented glance drifted to Drake. “It’s good to know you didn’t push an innocent suitor on purpose, Drake. But just know this … I’ll be watching you.”

“Looking forward to it, sir. Thank you, sir.” Drake quickly bowed his head as Constantine returned to his seat to greet the next guest. He grabbed Alyssa’s elbow and rushed her off to the side of the dais.

-----------

Maxwell knelt beside a disheveled Riley, helping her rise to her feet and dusting her off.

“Lady Riley,” a scowling Bertrand glared, “what on earth is the meaning of this? The glory of House Beaumont is on the line tonight, and you’ve already made your first blunder. I told you, Maxwell, this was a mistake.”

Slightly dazed, Riley stumbled while massaging a sore wrist. Inclining her head so she could see him under the halo that drooped over her eyes, she retorted, “I was shoved, Berturd. It’s not like I did this on purpose. And thank you for your concern; I’m fine, by the way.”

“Shoved? By whom?” The three of them turned to see Alyssa and Drake scampering off to a corner. “It was Domvallier’s suitor?” Bertrand asked incredulously. “This is preposterous! It’s beneath Lord Rashad’s character to have his suitor and Drake Walker sabotage ours. I will have to go over there and put an end to this travesty at once.”

“NO!” Riley and Maxwell barked.

"Bertrand. Why don't you let Riley and I handle them while you play damage control with the King? Unless ..." he smirked. " You want me to smooth things over with His Majesty? I have a lot to say about how Twinkle Toes just SAILED through the air at warp speed --"

"Dear God, no, Maxwell! There will be no need for your … input. But, you two, get results from Drake and that suitor. No funny business," he warned.

The two of them nodded in understanding. As soon as Bertrand turned his back and marched away, they both gave a knowing glance to the other before rushing over to Drake and Alyssa, who had just made it to a far corner of the ballroom,

Alyssa yanked her elbow away from his vice-like grasp. “I believe we’re out of the clear; you can let go of me now.”

“Listen. I have to tell you something, ‘cause you need to know it ... “ Drake swallowed thickly, his rounded eyes focused squarely on the woman who’d just thrown him under the bus to King Constantine. He spoke as if he had something caught in his throat, “You--your-- uh -- ”

“And who made these damn shoes, anyway?” Alyssa complained as she hiked up the lower part of her dress and stepped out of her heels. Her already short stature lowered several inches. “They clearly hate short women and feet. Seriously, who thought walking around like a newborn calf was sexy?”

“Alyssa,” Drake tried again to speak through a strained voice, “You need to listen --”

“Hey!” Riley interrupted as she and Maxwell stepped up to them. “Why’d you push me off that stage thingy? And OH MY GOD, ALYSSA! YOUR --” Maxwell slapped a hand over Riley’s mouth, knowing exactly what her big mouth was getting ready to loudly announce.

Her frantic muffled words continued to blabber through his tightly clasped hand.

Alyssa gave him a confused look. “Maxwell, what are you doing?”

“Just stopping her before she told everyone within earshot ...” he paused fleetingly, lowering his gaze from the muddled expression on her face to her chest. “Your bosoms … well, they have emerged.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you before,” a flustered Drake said as Alyssa let out a gasp and looked down. “You’ve been ... exposed … since --” He was quickly cut off again by her tiny wail as she fixed herself and dashed out of the ballroom, mortified, her arms crossed over her chest.

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

Riley tapped lightly on the women’s restroom door. “Lyss? You okay in there?”

“No!” Her pouty voice rang back. “I’m the laughingstock of this entire court.”

Maxwell chuckled, hollering back. “You don’t have to worry about that, Lady Alyssa. I’ve already got that title covered in spades.”

“You two need to get back to the ball,” Drake said gruffly, referring to the girls. “Liam will be arriving any minute.”

“You’re right. There are probably five people in there who still haven’t gotten an up close shot of my breasts.” Alyssa swung the door open, bitterly hitching up the front of her dress as she stepped out, and glared up at Drake as she walked by. “And you let me walk around like that!”

“I did not!” He flushed a deep, dark red. “I told you, that’s why I was standing in front of you, so no one would see … ugh, fuck it. Just -- let’s go, okay?”

A remorseful Riley hugged Alyssa. “I’m so sorry my dumb ass was what caused this to happen to you. Thank you for making sure I didn’t make a fool of myself.”

Alyssa squeezed tighter. “It was way better that it happened to me than you. We can definitely have a good laugh over this by the time I’m, like, 150.” When they let go of one another, she smiled at her friend. “Come on, we have a ball to get back to. And you have a prince to dazzle.”

“Oh, you guys go on ahead. I need a minute to straighten up.”

Drake, Alyssa, and Maxwell headed back inside while Riley spent a few minutes in the bathroom wiping away the dust off her dress and getting her hair back in order as best as she could. Plus, she just needed a moment to herself; it was the first time since she woke up that morning that someone wasn’t hovering over her shoulder or trying to impress someone. There also were some major jitters happening knowing the Prince was arriving at any second.

Stepping out a few minutes later, Riley headed back down the hallway, hopeful she still appeared as presentable as when she arrived earlier.

Dotted along the walls that trailed back to the ballroom were portraits and artwork of kings and queens. Judging by the large periwigs, justaucorps, and stockings over breeches depicted, obviously they were quite old. One particular painting caught her attention enough to halt her steps before she plastered on a naughty grin.

“Ohhhh, what do we have here?” Riley snickered, leaning in closer to get a better glimpse. “I see London, I see France, I see a very hung King without his pants.” She fanned a hand in front of her face and spoke as if she were Scarlett O’Hara herself. “My, my, my, Fabian, I haven’t seen a lot of those, but I do declare, you put all the Yanks I’ve been with to shame. I’d be remiss to not ask if you were generous enough to pass on certain sizable traits, say to … Oh, I don’t know, the current Crown Prince?”

“Frankly, my dear … I don’t think he gave a damn,” a deep voice quipped over her shoulder.

Riley spun around, her body crashing into the portrait and causing it to rattle against the wall and lean heavily. Her face burned red-hot as soon as she heard his voice, even though every ounce of blood in her body seemed to rush to her wobbly feet. Liam reached out, grasping hold of her arms to brace her as she stared back, slack-jawed and weak-kneed, at his half-masked face, smiling warmly. “L-L-Li --”

“My sincerest apologies if I startled you, my lady. Are you okay?”

Her throat was dry, and surely no one in all history had ever been as embarrassed as she was at that moment, but she managed to answer feebly, “I think … I pissed my pants.” They both looked down at the floor simultaneously, relief washing over them that there were no puddles. Riley closed her eyes and let out a heavy breath. “Oh, thank God.”

Liam chuckled, his twinkling blue eyes glued to her flustered face. “You’re just as beautiful as you were that night in New York, Riley Brooks.”

“Wait … you know that it’s me? Are you surprised? Are you upset? Do you think I’m some creepy stalker now? I swear I’ve never even touched a weapon.”

“Really? What happened to your bag of Chinese throwing stars?” Liam teased lightheartedly. Riley tilted her head in confusion. “You remember, the ones you were going to throw at me in the alley outside of your bar --”

“Oh. Yes. Right,” she laughed awkwardly as the memory came to her. “Yeah, I may have embellished the truth there a bit. Twenty-pound hams seem to be more my weapon of choice.” Riley hung her head. Why the hell did I just tell him that? When Bastien cleared his throat and gave Liam a pointed look, Riley knew their time was short. “I know you have to go, but I just need to know something: How did you know I was here? Maxwell tried to get in touch with you and never heard back. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me showing up here.”

“I’ve been quite busy since leaving New York with preparations for the social season and the Masquerade kicking off this evening. But it was Drake who came pounding on my door this morning to fill me in. You can imagine my surprise when he told me that you were here, and, I quote, ‘brought her small aggressive friend with her as guard dog.’”

Riley smirked with a shrug. “Can ya blame a girl? I came to win. Besides, I really like you, Liam.”

He smiled. “I really like you too, Riley. But this isn’t New York. As much as I wish we could just pick up where we left off two nights ago, this entire series of events is set up not just to give me time with my potential matches, but also to give my parents, the Council, and the people of Cordonia time to get to know the future queen. From now on, everyone will be watching you and ... Lady Alyssa.” Liam paused to chuckle and shake his head in amusement. “You actually got your friend to pose as a fake suitor and somehow convinced an honorable and highly dignified member of the court to sponsor her?”

“Yeaaaah, I still don’t know how the hell I did that. I should get extra points for my manipulation skills”

Liam laughed. "I believe you mean, negotiation skills."

Riley nodded. "Yeah, those too."

Already well past the time to make his grand entrance, Bastien approached Liam to give the final warning. Liam acknowledged him and turned back to Riley. “I hope I’ll see you again later tonight, if you’ll save a dance for me. But until then …” He pressed her willing body against the wall, tracing the back of his forefinger along her velvety cheek. “ … just know how very, very, happy I am to have you here, Riley.” His lips were fire and ice when he leaned down to meet her equally fevered ones in a lingering kiss. And she melted right into him.

With that, Liam was whisked away by the head guard and made his way into the ballroom. As a panting Riley brushed her fingertips over the tingling in her bottom lip, she felt so many things all at once: relief that he was happy she was there and already knew everything regarding Alyssa, and that same exhilarating bliss that swept her off her feet two days ago when they shared their time together. But he was abundantly clear, this wasn’t New York anymore, and he still had a duty and obligation to Cordonia regardless of his apparent feelings for her.

Riley let a puff of air and pushed her backside off the wall to return inside. Just as she did this, the crooked frame bearing the likeness of the late King Fabian she admired earlier fell from its hook and crashed to the floor, causing the ancient glass to shatter beside her. With her head shrunken into her shoulders, Riley slowly peeked out one eye and saw the damage. Glancing down one end of the hall to the other to see if anyone saw her, she glanced down at the shards and still fully intact artwork. Normally she would have hightailed it out of there, but she couldn’t help herself from giving her destruction parting words.

“I guess you’re not … hung anymore.”

Then she bolted the hell out of there.

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

Fearless tags: @dcbbw @ao719 @texaskitten30 @janezillow @mskaneko @callmeellabella @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @forthebrokenheartedthings @bebepac @kingliam2019 @amandablink @choiceskatie @annekebbphotography @ofpixelsandscribbles @alyssalauren @mom2000aggie @princessleac1 @kimmiedoo5 @graceful-leah @thegreentwin @gkittylove99 @pink-diamond13 @tinkie1973 @queenrileyrose @zaffrenotes @no-one-u-know @sammie0220 @shanzay44 @yourmajesty09 @bitchloveskcbaseball @kat-tia801 @openheart12 @drakeandkatherine @marshmallowsandfire @masterofbluff @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @msjr0119 @hopelessromanticmonie @sanchita012 @gabesmommie1130 @charlotteg234 @jessiembruno @debramcg1106 @neotericthemis @iaminlovewithtrr @sweetest-marbear @darley1101 @choicesstan650 @shewillreadyou @emkay512 @txemrn @lucy-268 @axwalker @busywoman

#fearless #drake x mc #liam x mc #drake walker #king liam #prince liam #the royal romance #trr #choices fanfiction #liam x riley #drake x alyssa

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lumosandnoxwriting · 3 years

Text

Her Matching Pair of Socks - George Weasley

Title: Her Matching Pair of Socks Pairing: George x Fem!Reader, Adrian Pucey x Fem!Reader (ish, not really) Summary: George will always protect Y/N, even if it means confronting his true feelings . A/N: for the anon who wanted George being overprotective of the reader who was being teased!! The house of the reader is unspecified b/c it truly doesn’t matter but I pictured her as a Hufflepuff as I wrote, please do with that what you will haha. Feedback is always welcome!!! Tags: @feltondarling @pandaxnienke @raerae27 @thefifthweasley

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“George? George?” Y/N asks, waving her hand in front of his face. She giggles as his eyes seem to refocus on the world and he smiles at her. “Were you listening to anything I just said?”

George nods as he searches his brain, trying to see if any part of it retained any of the things Y/N had been talking about just a second ago while he’d been daydreaming. Y/N is magnetic. She has warm eyes, a kind smile and the biggest heart George has ever seen. She draws people in with one look, and once she’s captured them they have no chance of getting away; not that they’d want to. Unfortunately for George this means he rarely gets a moment alone with her, which is something he so desperately craves. Y/N has been the star of George’s thoughts since the first moment they met when she had quite literally saved his ass.

He and Fred had just pulled a prank on a few Slytherins and were running away from Snape. They had split up at some point, and as George ran away he could hear Snape gaining on him. George was sure he was about to be caught when a hand grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him into an empty classroom. Y/N had simply placed her finger over her mouth and winked at him, and as soon as Snape ran by their hiding spot she’d burst out in a fit of giggles. George had never heard anything so beautiful, and he sat there with her for hours, sometimes talking, but mostly just watching her knit. Y/N is sunshine encapsulated, and George could have sat there for days, basking in her rays of light and warmth.

Fred had found him eventually and dragged him back to the Gryffindor common room, and George worried that he’d never see her again. But the next morning at breakfast the hat she had been knitting was sitting in his usual spot waiting for him, and when his eyes met hers across the Hall she winked. From that moment on George has been caught in Y/N’s magnetic field, constantly swirling around her but never quite connecting the way he wants.

“Were you? Then what did I say?” she questions with a grin, one of her eyebrows raising.

George’s heart melts and he leans in closer to her, resting his chin on his hand. “I’m sorry, love. I wasn’t giving you the attention you deserve. Tell me again.”

Y/N rolls her eyes playfully and puts her knitting needles down so she can ruffle George’s hair. “That’s okay, Georgie. It wasn’t that important anyway. What’s on your mind?”

“Just this Transfiguration assignment,” he lies. George isn’t quite sure why he hasn’t shared his true feelings with Y/N, and it’s not as if he hasn’t tried either. There have been quite a few times when his confession was resting on the tip of his tongue, but each time someone ended up being drawn to Y/N and stole her attention away. “McGonagall’s really giving it to us this term.”

“Maybe your assignments would be easier to handle if you didn’t wait until the last minute to do them?” Y/N suggests with a wink.

George’s heart flutters in his chest and he has to take a deep breath to calm himself down. “Ah yes, but if I didn’t leave my homework until the day before it was due then who would sit here with you and keep you company while everyone else is outside soaking up the last of the weekend?” George is sure that anyone Y/N asked for companionship would drop everything to sit with her, and he feels honored that she always chooses him.

“Now how can I argue with that?” she teases, picking her needles up once again.

Watching Y/N knit is one of George’s favorite pastimes. She’s tried to teach him a few times, but he always ends up just creating a big knot of yarn and using the needles as drumsticks. The way her fingers move mesmerizes George to no end and he loves watching whatever she’s making start to take form before his eyes. More often than not whatever she’s making somehow always ends up in George’s possession, not that he’s complaining. So far this school year he’s added two new jumpers, three hats, a scarf and half a dozen pairs of socks to his wardrobe. Every item radiates the same warmth Y/N does, and on days where he can’t have her to himself he puts something on and when he closes his eyes it’s as if she’s right there with him.

“Whatcha makin?” George asks, completely abandoning any attempt at finishing his homework. McGonagall will probably be shocked that he did any of it at all, and he doesn’t want to put her into an early grave by actually finishing it.

“A sweater,” she responds sweetly, not looking up from her work. “And before you ask, no it’s not for you,” she chuckles and gestures towards the skein of yarn she’s using. “Though you may recognize the yarn.”

The yarn Y/N is using is a soft lilac color with glitter interwoven throughout the soft strands and George recognizes it because he’s the one who bought it. He and Fred had ventured into Diagon Alley a few days before Christmas to check out the space they were thinking about opening their joke shop in, and the yarn had caught George’s attention from a window display. He spent quite a bit of money buying every skein the store had, but it was all worth it to him. Lilac is Y/N’s favorite color, and George would do just about anything to see her smile. He gave it to her on the first day back from break a few weeks ago, and he can practically still feel how tightly she had hugged him.

“Does look kinda familiar, I bet a world class bloke gave that to you,” he jokes. Y/N laughs, and it makes George’s stomach feel queasy.

“Best bloke I know anyway,” she compliments with a wink.

George can feel his cheeks heating up, and he’s thankful for the distraction when students start to pour into the Great Hall for dinner. He sighs heavily and starts to pack his homework up, disappointed that his time with Y/N is already coming to an end. “See you in class tomorrow?”

Y/N nods as she stands up, gathering her latest project into her arms. “Most definitely, Georgie.” She leans over and boops him on the nose, before turning away and heading towards her house table.

“Hello lover boy,” Fred greets suddenly.

George jumps, having been too focused on Y/N to notice his brother’s sudden presence. He glares at Fred as he plops into the seat next to George, and he smacks him on the chest. “Screw off.” Suddenly the tables in the Great Hall fill with everything needed for dinner, and George starts piling his plate with food. “You get everything we need?”

Fred nods as he does the same as his brother. “Oh yeah. We’ve got enough Chinese gun powder to level all of England. It’ll be delivered to the store next weekend. We can apperate to Diagon Alley from Hogsmeade to meet the delivery person.”

“Wicked,” George responds, a glint of mischief in his eye. Fred had used the secret passageway into Honeydukes basement to meet a guy who deals with explosives at the Hogshead Inn. They’re starting to put their plans together for their joke shop, and the first step has been to find decent suppliers so they can start producing some stock. “You take care of the other stuff I asked?”

Fred rolls his eyes and hands George a bag from Honeydukes. “Yes, you big softie. I got everything on the list, don’t you worry.”

“Thanks, prat.” George takes the bag from Fred and peers inside to make sure he actually did pick up everything George requested. Y/N’s sweet tooth is one of George’s favorite things about her and he’s always sure to have a stash of her favorites on hand at all times. “Where’s my change?”

Fred grins and pats his pocket. “Consider it my fee so you could spend the day staring at Y/N inside the warm castle, while I tread through a dark underground tunnel.”

“Whatever, drama queen,” George huffs with an eyeroll. He puts the bag down and starts to eat, turning his attention to Y/N. She’s sitting with her friends talking happily, and George can feel his heart rate increase as a smile spreads across his face. But just as quickly as it appears it vanishes, when Adrian Pucey comes up behind Y/N and taps her on the shoulder. He watches her nod as they talk, and when Adrian walks away he looks way too smug with himself.

“That didn’t look good,” Fred comments, nudging George with his elbow.

George shrugs, trying to seem like his stomach isn’t churning with dread. “You know how Y/N is. People like talking to her. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“What did Adrian want yesterday?” George asks Y/N the following evening, trying to sound casual. They’re sitting in the library working on a Potions assignment, and it seems like there has been a never ending stream of people approaching them to speak with Y/N. He’s been dying to ask her about Adrian, but he wanted to wait until they were alone.

Y/N bites her lip as she looks up at George. “He asked me on a date, actually. To Hogsmeade next weekend.”

“Oh,” George says softly. His stomach has dropped into the floor and it feels like he was punched in the chest. “What did you say?”

“I told him that I would think about it.” Y/N gives George a look and there’s an unreadable expression on her face. “Do you think I should say yes?”

The tips of George’s ears feel like they’re on fire, and he has to put his quill down so he can wipe his sweaty palms off on his school trousers. What he wants to say is no, that she should go with him to Hogsmeade instead, and then lean forward and kiss her. But instead he shrugs and says, “If you want to, I guess.”

“Oh, okay,” Y/N responds quietly, twirling a piece of hair around her finger. “Thanks, I guess.”

George refocuses his attention on his homework for once, hoping that the sound of his heart pounding in his chest isn’t audible.

The next day by lunch time word has gotten to George that Y/N agreed to go on a date with Adrian. It makes his chest feel hollow, and he avoids her gaze at all costs. He avoids her in the hallways and when she asks to study with him in the library George brushes her off, claiming that he already has plans with Fred. He can tell that she’s upset, and it breaks George’s heart as he walks away.

He’s never been jealous over Y/N before. Even though he craves her presence and would give anything to spend every moment of every day with her, George has never minded sharing her with others. He’s spent countless hours with Y/N where they never even speak because her attention is captured by other people. Whether it’s people catching her in a casual conversation, or someone who takes a seat with them for a deeper interaction. George has always been content to just sit there and watch her face light up as she talks about whatever topic is at hand. Even if he’s not around Y/N, he loves to watch her from across the room as she talks to people. He finds everything she does absolutely adorable, and Fred often teases him for how hard he swoons.

But the thought of Y/N being alone with Adrian fills his chest with so much jealousy it feels like he’s drowning in it. He knows he has no right to be jealous, he’s never shared his romantic feelings with Y/N, and she isn’t his girlfriend or even a girl he’s casually dated. She’d even asked his opinion on whether she should accept. And instead of doing the smart thing and just telling her how he feels, he’d basically brushed her off.

As much as George wants to avoid Y/N, he’s still stuck in her orbit, so on Wednesday afternoon during break he parts ways with Fred and heads over to Y/N. “Got room for one more?” he asks, grinning down at her. Y/N moves over but doesn’t say anything. George frowns as he sits down. “What’s got you down, clown?”

Y/N cracks the faintest smile before she lets it fall from her features. “Just wasn’t sure you were talking to me is all. You haven’t been around lately.”

“I’m around now,” George points out, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ve just been a bit busy with Fred is all. You’re still my number one girl.” George’s heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest as he raises up one of his pantlegs. “I wouldn’t be rockin’ these bad boys if you weren’t.”

Y/N giggles as she looks at George’s sock, shoving him playfully. It’s neon pink and is truly the most offensive piece of clothing she’s ever seen. The yarn had been left over from a Christmas present she made for a young cousin a few years ago, and Y/N needed to use it up somehow. She originally planned on leaving them in her sock drawer for a few months before donating them to a charity, but the second George saw them he nabbed them from her, and he’s worn them quite a few times sense.

“They look wonderful, Georgie. Though I think it’s best you keep them hidden, they clash terribly with your Gryffindor tie and your fiery hair.” Y/N reaches up and tugs on a strand of George’s hair and he can feel his blood pressure spike.

“Well in that case.” George leans down and rolls up the cuff of both his pant legs, so a few inches of the socks are visible. “How do I look?”

“Ravishing,” Y/N says with a laugh.

It’s the most beautiful sound George has ever heard, and it sends a shiver down his spine. “Bet you wished you kept these for yourself now, don’t ya?”

Before Y/N can respond, one of her other friends swoops in to talk to her about her upcoming date with Adrian, and George sneaks away to avoid the heart break.

“Are you excited for your date?” Y/N’s friend Emily asks as they head towards the entrance to the castle.

Y/N nods happily, letting her eyes scan the crowd of people heading out of the castle. She gets her hopes up when she spots a shock of ginger hair bobbing above the crowd, but they evaporate when the person turns around and it turns out to be Fred. Y/N hasn’t seen George in three days, and his absence has been driving her crazy. She’s friendly with everyone but only has a few true friends, and she considers George to be one of them. She would even consider George to be her best friend, and it feels weird to not have spoken to him in a few days.

“What are you guys going to do?” Emily asks, pulling Y/N’s attention back to the present.

“Just have some butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, hang out, talk. Nothing too super crazy. I don’t really know Adrian that well, so I think it’ll give us a nice chance to get to know each other.”

Y/N had agreed to meet Adrian there, so when her and Emily reach Hogsmeade a few minutes later, she parts from her with a wave and heads right into the pub. She grabs a drink at the bar before settling in at a table in the back corner. When Adrian is 5 minutes late Y/N brushes it off, figuring that he got caught up leaving the castle or lost track of time. When he’s 30 minutes late, Y/N has already ordered another drink, figuring that he’ll be there any minute. And when he doesn’t show up after an hour Y/N decides to throw the towel in and head back to the castle.

Y/N feels emotionally drained as she makes her way back up towards Hogwarts, and she blinks back a few tears. Even though she’s not particularly interested in Adrian romantically, it had felt nice to be asked out and she truly was looking forward to getting to know him more. She always gives anyone who wants it a piece of her day, and Adrian not showing up make her feel as if she’s been taken advantage of. Her plan is to try and forget this ever happened until dinner that evening.

Y/N turns around when she feels something hit her in the back of the head, and when she turns around she can see Adrian, Marcus Flint and Theodore Knott laughing amongst themselves. There’s a piece of balled up parchment on the ground, and Y/N tries to ignore their stares as she leans down to pick it up.

How was the butterbeer? Lonely?

Y/N’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and she quickly turns back into her seat, shoving the piece of parchment into her pocket. She forces her tears away as she tries to get back into the conversation going on around her, unable to stop herself from searching George out in the crowd.

For the next week it seems everywhere she goes Adrian, Marcus and Theo are following a few paces behind. They never directly talk to her, but they talk about her loud enough for her to hear.

“Can’t believe she actually thought I wanted to go out with her!”

“How pathetic. I can’t believe it took her over an hour to realize you weren’t going to show up! What a moron.”

“She’s such a weirdo, no wonder she has no actual friends.”

It doesn’t help that George seems to be avoiding her as well. He doesn’t pass her stupid little notes in class anymore and when their eyes lock across the Great Hall he immediately looks away instead of giving her a cheeky grin. Every time she tries to ask him to come sit with her in the library he turns the other way in the hall before she catches him, and when she catches a peak of him and Fred outside pelting snowballs at Ron, he’s wearing his Gryffindor beanie, instead of one of her knit caps.

She misses George like crazy. He’s one of the only people who doesn’t want something from her. Most people only spend time with Y/N when they need to vent or ask her a question. George is the only person who is content with just sitting there with her in silence while they do their homework, or she knits. She could sit in silence with George for hours and just exist, so having him gone while also being tormented by Adrian and his gang has left Y/N with a deep ache in her chest and a pit of loneliness in her stomach.

Avoiding Y/N has to be the hardest thing George has ever done, and he once spent a week with his Great Aunt Tessie when he was 8. He craves her presence, but the thought of hearing about Adrian endlessly makes his stomach churn. Watching Y/N’s face fall every time he dodged her absolutely broke George’s heart, but he can’t stand to see someone else make her happy.

“You think she’s going to cry?”

George grimaces when he’s brought from his thoughts of Y/N and notices that Adrian and his goons are a few feet in front of him. Most of the school is in the Great Hall having dinner, but George didn’t feel like eating. Y/N had spent most of Transfiguration trying to get George’s attention, and ignoring her has left his stomach queasy.

“Reckon she might with how soft she is. Bet she’s cried herself to sleep every night this week.”

He has no idea who they’re talking about and he figures they’re tormenting some first year who is walking ahead of them. George is a little too far behind them to see who it is, but he decides to follow them anyway, in case he needs to intervene.

“What a stupid girl.”

Adrian’s words cut George deep. How could Y/N be interested in someone like him? George clenches his fist and starts to walk faster to catch up with them. He’s been wanting to smack Adrian and his smug face since the day he asked Y/N out, and this seems like a perfect excuse.

“Will you leave me alone!” Y/N shouts, and George’s blood runs cold. Her voice is shaky, and George knows that if she’s not already crying she will be soon.

Adrian, Marcus and Theodore stop in their tracks and cackle, and the sound makes George even angrier.

“Aw, poor pathetic Y/N has finally managed to stand up for herself. How cute,” Adrian taunts.

Y/N sniffles, and George can feel anger swell up in his chest. “Standing me up wasn’t enough for you, was it? Now you have to torment me about it too? Is that why you asked me out? So you could be mean to me?”

“Why else would someone ask you out? You’re not worth anyone’s time.”

George reaches them then, and he grips is wand tightly in one hand while the other grips the collar of Adrian’s shirt. He pulls him back sharply, causing Marcus and Theodore to take a few steps back as well. George takes one look at Y/N’s tear stained face and lets the anger in his chest consume him completely. “Leave her the fuck alone,” he spits, turning to face Adrian.

“Shove off, Weasley. Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something,” Adrian seethes, squaring up against George.

“Not anymore you prick.” George can hear Y/N crying, and he moves slightly to shield her behind his back. “Now get lost before I make you.” Adrian takes a step forward and George raises his wand, pressing the tip of it to Adrian’s throat. “Unless you want to end up in the Hospital Wing for the next three weeks I suggest you move along.” George’s jaw is clenched, and his voice is deep and dark. George doesn’t move until they disappear down the hall. Only then does he drop his wand and turn around to hug Y/N.

Y/N presses her face into George’s chest and lets out a few more tears. “Thank you, George,” she mumbles.

“Of course, love. I will always be there for you, you know that.” George squeezes her tighter and resists his urge to kiss the top of her head. Instead he rests his chin there, and his eyes flutter closed as he soaks in her warmth. “How long have they been bothering you?” George asks quietly when he starts to feel like himself again.

“Since last Saturday, after Adrian stood me up.” Y/N pulls away from George’s chest so she can look up at him. “How come you’ve been ignoring me, Georgie? I’ve missed you so much.”

George’s heart breaks, and he brings a hand up to wipe away the last few tears from her cheeks. “I’ve missed you too, Y/N. I was being an idiot, like usual.” He takes a deep breath to prepare himself for what he’s about to say. “I’ve liked you Y/N, for as long as I’ve known you. And after Adrian asked you out I got so unbelievably jealous that I couldn’t be around you, I couldn’t hear you talk about your date with him and how excited you were because just the thought of him being alone with you made me want to throw up.”

Y/N bites her lip as she considers what to say next. “You’d do anything for me George, right?”

“Of course, Y/N. Anything,” George confirms, cupping her cheek gently.

“Kiss me,” she breathes.

George hesitates for a second before he leans down and presses their mouths together softly. Their lips move together slowly, and George can feel his head spinning. His knees shake when they pull apart, and when George looks into Y/N’s eyes they shine brighter than the sun.

“Nice sweater,” George compliments as Y/N joins him in that Great Hall that Sunday. She giggles and does a little twirl for him and George feels like he’s soaring through the air.

“Thank you, my boyfriend gave me the yarn I used to make it.” Y/N leans over the table to press a kiss to George’s cheek before taking the seat across from him. She digs around in her bag for a moment before pulling out a pair of socks, knit from the same lilac material as her sweater.

“For me?” George asks, giving her a bright smile. He takes them from her excitedly and kicks off his shoes so he can pull them on.

Y/N laughs as George bring one of his feet up to show off the lilac sock, letting the glitter in the yarn shine. “Of course. What’s a sweater without a pair of matching socks?”

George leans over and kisses Y/N gently. “I’m always down to be your matching pair of socks.”

#George weasley #George Wesley imagine #gw #golden

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joezworld · 3 years

Note

Any headcanons about Ever Ace and the other new A-class Evergreen ships? This totally isn’t just because I love your version of Ever Given and want more of her and her family XD

The following is an excerpt from How to Avoid Huge Ships, Or: I Never Met a Ship I Liked by Capt. John W. Trimmer (National Writers Press, 1982)

Chapter 14: The Emotional State of Ships

For most captains, the emotional state of a seagoing vessel (other than your own, of course) is often seen as irrelevant - after all, who cares if the seven hundred foot tanker about to run over you and your ketch is a nice person or not?

However, like many common beliefs in the marine industry, this is an incorrect one. The mental state of vessels is vital to continued safe navigation.

First, we must mention the obvious: An unhappy ship is a dangerous ship. Think about the last time you drove to the store while upset. Now pretend you weighed several thousand tons and required a mile and a half to stop in an emergency. I imagine your car insurance premiums might be a bit higher, no?

Then we must mention Fleets.

Allow me to explain: While this may be seen as a massively reductive statement, most large vessels (and most living machines for that matter, including commercial aircraft, railway locomotives, and even large dragline cranes) are best viewed as pack animals. When left alone to their own devices (and the growing economic benefits of 'machine autonomy' have meant that more shipping lines are allowing ships to go off by themselves!) vessels will often form a "fleet", as they call them, which substitutes for what we humans would call a joint family.

A fleet may include any number of vessels and relationship combinations, ranging from a number of single vessels who consider themselves siblings, to sets of separate married couples, and even groups of non-monogamous vessels whose conduct would make a Mormon blush. That being said, regardless of type, bonds formed in this manner are extremely strong, and will often overcome any difference between vessels - see the growing trend of former US Pacific Fleet vessels and their former Imperial Japanese Navy spouses!

Now, what does any of this have to do with the continued safety of marine navigation, I hear you ask? Well, let me put it to you in the simplest terms possible:

If you were to wrong me in some way, I might decide to take legal action against you, or I might lick my wounds and walk away. I might even go to the police if the offense were serious enough.

If you were to wrong a ship, and the offense were serious enough, they wouldn't lick their wounds, they wouldn't pursue legal action, and they most certainly would not go to the police. Most ships believe quite strongly in the merits of what could be charitably called 'extrajudicial punishment'. Most ships, if they are in such a relationship, would bring this to the attention of their fleet-mates, at which point you would not have one, but several, maybe even a dozen, extremely large and extremely angry ships going after you.

Of course, any discussion of the often-overlooked subject of Fleets is incomplete without at least a brief mention of the US/Canadian Great Lakes Fleet, which has managed to continuously add to their numbers through a process they call 'Lake-napping'...

-----

April, 2021 - Great Bitter Lake, Suez, Egypt

The Egyptians were insane, Given concluded. Aside from the obvious - where in the name of all that floated was she going to get nine hundred million US Dollars? - they'd actually called their Navy on her, like some kind of Triad enforcer making sure a mark didn't get away without paying.

He was a tiny ship, really - some old design that made its priorities clear, judging from his open-air flying bridge and thick hull, but the massive anti-ship missile pods on his aft deck showed he could punch well above his weight.

She'd tried speaking to him, but they didn't have a language in common - and that was impressive all on its own. From the short, clipped sentences, and badly accented Arabic, he seemed both Eastern European and decidedly unfriendly.

As the sun set on the end of the first week of what might be a very long stay in Egypt, she wondered if the line might abandon her here. The cheap fucks had already been making noise about replacing her with another, bigger ship, but Ace - still in the shipyard, but already proving herself to be just as loud and annoying as any proper 20,000+ TEU ship, bless her - had made enough noise about "not being a rebound date" that their hand had been forced.

Of course, that was all before the Egyptians decided that they wanted nine hundred million dollars, so who knows?

Another ship went by - the backlog still wasn't through, and convoys continued at all hours. This one was one from CMA CGM, and while she couldn't quite catch his name in the dark, she could absolutely catch the scathing French insults being hurled her way as he passed by.

"Je parle français, toi voilier sans hélice." She sniped at him, relishing in the startled yelp that trailed him into the night. The tugboats pulling him along laughed, and he growled at them as he moved further into the lake.

The missile boat looked at her with what might have been admiration, but it didn't stop him from keeping his guns trained on her as he changed his watch position to a spot off of her stern.

She honestly considered running - the mockery she'd get once she left Egypt might be too much.

As the next ship in line approached, she got a ping on one of the company radio frequencies.

Tuning in, her brow furrowed in confusion - now that everyone had satellite internet downlinks, internet chatrooms had become the primary communication method across the fleet. Evergreen Lines ships had all gravitated towards Discord instead of WeChat or Line, but their server had been strangely silent for most of the last week.

Opening the channel, she caught a flash of a call sign - What was Elpida doing out here? Wasn't she on the Australia run?

"Don't say a word, we've got it under control."

"You what? Who's we?"

Elpida swept past , literally - she was breaking the speed limit for this part of the lake, and had probably been doing so in the Canal too - the ropes to her tugs were taut, and judging by the Arabic screaming, they were trying to get her to slow down or at least let go. She was high in the water - her decks empty of containers - what the hell was going on?

Given was too big for the swells to affect her, but the Egyptian Navy ship wasn't, and he yelped in whatever his native language was as he rocked and rolled in Elpida's wake.

Behind her, a distant cry that sounded suspiciously like the word "Now!" rang out, followed by a deafening cacophony of foghorns.

She'd shut down her radar - because what really was the point? - and it took a worrying few seconds for the Furuno system to spin to life and return a clear result.

Or... what might be a clear result.

All hell seemed to be breaking out behind her - the convoy had broken formation and was going in what seemed like every direction possible. At least ten ships were now going berserk behind her.

The Navy ship, by far the smallest vessel out there, (except the tugs, who were fleeing for their lives, it seemed) spun around towards the main shipping lane.

Collision alarms immediately started wailing on the Canal's common channel as a very large blip on the radar screen (Who turned off their AIS transponders in the Canal?) slowly swung towards him.

The Egyptian seemed stunned for a moment - he'd drifted back into Given's range of vision, and his expression ranged between sheer horror and mildly poleaxed - before he calmed himself and stood down the ship bearing down on him.

That calm look lasted for a few minutes, but as the blip got closer and closer his confidence faded. The doors to his missile pods swung open, but his nerve broke before he could fire them, and the water around his stern frothed up into a roiling tempest as he set off at full astern.

It wasn't enough. He'd held his ground for just long enough for the other ship to reach him.

Slowly - this whole event was playing out in breathless slow motion, because nobody was actually that speedy - a bulbous bow, riding high out of the water without a load of containers, ploughed towards him. It was followed by a bowsprit, one that was so huge it looked like it could have been Given's own.

Then came the name: EVER ACE.

Then came the collision.

Ace (?!) didn't so much collide with the Egyptian ship as she drove over him. His low freeboard meant that the impact with her bulbous bow had his far side dipping into the water. Once his deck hit the swells, it acted like a giant scoop, and his keel was to the night sky within a few seconds. He'd been hit at an angle, so once he'd been pushed free, he slowly rolled back up, a much more traumatized and injured vessel than he had been a minute ago. More importantly, the water gushing out of his missile tubes meant that he was no longer a problem.

"Hey!" Ace boomed as her pilothouse drew even with Given. "Best Sea Trials Ever!"

Behind her, another ship - this one laden and looking a lot like Golden - steamed by. "Stop hanging around and get her out of here!"

"That would be my cue." Another voice called from behind her.

"Tex?" He was in Manila!

"Who else would it be?" Texas Triumph, thick Texan accent and all, steamed up. "now let's jus' get you settled up here and we'll blow this joint."

"This is a rescue?!"

"For sure pardner! We've been planning this since those highwaymen said they was keepin' ya here."

"Stop talking and get her out of here!" Golden bellowed from further up the river. It seemed like she was now intimidating some other tugboats from intervening.

"Well, ya heard 'er." Tex said. "Les' go!"

Given had been so distracted by the appearance of so many members of her family that she hadn't even noticed Tex slipping lines through her hawseholes until they went taut and she was yanked from her moorings by Tex steaming out in pursuit of Ace's retreating form.

She just barely managed to get her anchors retracted before Tex really put some power on, and began to pull her across the lake entirely.

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

Later...

The War Zone

Ever Given Escapes Custody Suez Canal Authority claims no responsibility, Egyptian Navy vessel possibly damaged. BY TYLER ROGOWAY April 17, 2021 THE WAR ZONE

📷@mahmou10_ships VIA @SUEZWATCH_EGY

SHARE TYLER ROGOWAY View Tyler Rogoway's Articles @Aviation_Intel Details remain limited at this time, but there was an incident in the Great Bitter Lake. At least one Egyptian Navy vessel has been severely damaged, and MV Ever Given, who had been held in the Great Bitter Lake by the Suez Canal Authority, has now fled the Canal into the Mediterranean Sea.

Again, details are extremely limited, but based on social media reports, marine tracking data, and radio reports, at approximately 11:47 PM Egypt Standard Time (EGY) a disturbance was reported by the Egyptian Navy craft - their identity is still unconfirmed, but images posted to social media seem to indicate that the vessel is a former Soviet Osa-class missile craft. The vessel reported that "A convoy has gone mad" and he was "under attack from multiple vessels".

While a convoy had transited the canal at that time, it is unclear if they were involved in the attack, or if one occurred at all.

We've reached out to Evergreen Lines, The Suez Canal Authority, the Egyptian Navy, and the individual ships believed to be involved, including Ever Given.

We will update this piece as more information comes available.

Contact the author: [email protected]

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#fic #ask response #ever given #the evergreen discord chat is going buck wild with this article #background info #sentient boats #sentient boat headcanon #sentient vehicle headcanon #having sentient boats messes with so many historical events #sentient vehicles

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sapphicmsmarvel · 3 years

Text

JJ: Crossfire Part 1

crossfire masterlist

masterlist

“Are you serious?” You asked as Hotch gave the all clear for you to leave. “You want me to leave in the middle of the biggest freaking case we’ve ever had?”

“Yes, your family has the weekend every year around labor day. You’re clear to go as well as JJ.” Hotch didn’t even look up from the stack of papers on his desk. He handed you the ‘all clear’ then went right back to business. “But Hotch-” “But nothing. We have no leads, Garcia is combing through thousands of known drug lords, it’ll take at least the weekend, that way your eyes and brain have a break.” This time he looked up.

You sighed, “you promise to call us if anything happens? And I mean anything, like Reid finally cracks and breaks another coffee mug or if Morgan-”

“Y/N.” He looked at you and said softly, “go be with your wife. Go see your family.” “I don’t like my family, why do you think barely any were at the wedding?”

“Because it was an out of state wedding.” He deadpanned.

“Why do you think we had it in pennsylvania and not my home state?” He gave you a pointed look, then you held your hands up, “fine, fine, we’ll go. But promise me you will call us with anything?” You pointed a finger at him. Like a parent who caught their son doing something stupid.

“Yes, now go. You and JJ are officially dismissed until Monday.”

“But it’s thursday?” You tilted your head.

“Yes, you can pack, then fly home tonight.”

You nodded then threw up a peace sign and left his office. You ignored the ‘im so done with you’ stare Hotch has perfected when it came to dealing with you. You walked back to your desk to where you saw the team trying not to seem nosey.

“I know you guys were trying to eavesdrop.” You laughed.

JJ looked at you sheepishly. Everyone else avoided your eyes.

“What’d dad call you in for?” Morgan joked.

“JJ and I are officially dismissed until Monday.” You said grabbing your bag to pack things up.

“What? Why?” JJ asked, tilting her head confused.

“Because, my darling, beautiful wife, we are flying home to my home state, to visit my family in our cabin.” You kissed her cheek.

“Your family of like, a million aunts, uncles and cousins?” Her blue eyes were wife. You nodded, “the very one.”

“Hell yeah.” She hopped off your desk, “I’ll go get my things, meet me in five at my office.” Then pecked your cheek and left.

“Try to have fun.” Reid said encouragingly, he even squeezed your shoulder.

“Why wouldn’t you?” Morgan asked.

“Because my family is full of bible thumping, homoephobic jerks.”

“Then why is JJ excited to go?”

“Because she loves cabin life and I wanna go to settle some old scores.” You said, “she likes seeing me being confrontational.”

“Old scores?”

“Finally punching my sister in the face.” You said.

He nodded, “gotcha.”

You said your goodbyes to everyone, went and saw Garcia with JJ. You two left the building.

“You sure you wanna spend a weekend with my family?” You asked, looking at her with puppy dog eyes.

“Yes, I know they’re awful, but I wanna see this cabin my baby grew up in.” She kissed your cheek, “everything will be okay.”

Oh, how you wish that was true

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

The drive up was very scenic, your niece offered to pick you guys up. She had just turned sixteen, excited to be able to drive.

As you two pulled into the driveway, your stomach clenched at all the cars, you were able to identify all of them.

James and Maggie, their three kids, Reggie, Katherine, Nya.

Kevin and Amie, their two kids Fiona and Kevin JR

Esther, and her two kids Wesley and Hudson.

Then Esther, Amie and James' parents, Lilly and Oscar.

And then, Taylor. Your sister. The woman who you dreaded to see.

The racist ones hadn’t arrived yet, thankfully. Neither had your parents, they texted you saying they’d come in tomorrow. But all the others were religious as fuck, Wesley, Hudson and Kevin JR were the ones that didn’t look down on your for your sexuality.

The bar is so low.

“Your sister here?” You asked Matilda as she parked.

“Yeah, she’s probably being an ass as we speak.” You laughed, “sounds about right.”

You all got out. JJ and you grabbed your duffles for the weekend. You knew bringing your gun was you being paranoid. JJ brought hers as well. You also brought your badges.

Maybe to convince your family you actually did something successful despite them being worried no one would hire you because of your sexuality.

“Honey, are you sure?”

“No one is gonna hire you.”

“This isn’t good.” “You’ll find a man some day.”

You shook off the words of your past, then began walking inside. The house was a stone, grand home. With cobble, a grand oak door and huge windows. As well as tall ceilings and all wood work inside.

You subtly watched her as she took in the scene before you guys. How her eyes sparkled under the mountain side sun. Her blue eyes somehow looked brighter under the sun.

How the breeze moved her hair in a way that made you wonder if it was liquid gold.

“This is beautiful.” JJ said in awe as you held the door open for her.

“That’s funny, I was just thinking that about you.” You said following her in.

She looked back at you with an ‘annoyed smile’, as you called it. “Smooth.” She said.

“Almost as smooth as your lips against my skin.” You said pulling her into a kiss.

She gasped and cupped your cheek, she was a smidge shorter, and you loved it. You two pulled away, “is it weird that when I was a kid, I always dreamed of being able to kiss my wife under the threshold of this place?”

“No, it’s not weird at all.” She said as she pulled you down for another kiss. “It’s sweet.” She said between pecks.

Her lips were intoxicating. Her moans were your favorite drink, her featherlight touches buzzed you more than any alcoholic drink ever could. Her smell made you dizzy in the best way.

And to think, those people wanted you to marry a man.

Someone cleared their throat, and you two pulled away. You were met with the faces of all the people whose cars were occupying the driveway.

You refused to hide, “hello.”

“I’m sorry about that.” JJ awkwardly gestured to you, “we usually don’t just…” She trailed off. A. She was lying, you two always spontaneously kissed and B. she was making this more awkward.

Thank God Hudson was there to save the day. “It’s alright! I did the same thing with Jaz.”

“Oh how is she?” You asked. “I haven’t seen her since the wedding.”

“Oh she’s good! Now, come come we have food!” He said and ushered everyone out of the foyer.

You looked over at JJ, you knew you were smiling. Her blush was your favorite color.

You heard champagne bottles opening. You two were in for a storm.

#Jennifer Jareau #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x you #jennifer jareau x y/n #aj cook #jj #jj x reader #jj x you #jj x y/n #jj criminal minds #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x y/n

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jessefandomunited · 4 years

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Secrets

Spencer Reid X Reader

You and Spencer were nervous about getting into a relationship so you decide to hide it from the team.

Me and Spencer had been dating in secret for a while now and we liked it that way. We knew how much everyone would tease us if they knew so we kept quiet. We were also both very nervous about getting things right so we wanted this relationship to be as straight forward , fun and painless as possible. We wanted to be friends first and lovers second and it had been a blast. I think the sneaking around made it a bit more exciting too. I would always smile a bit when someone commented on how happy Reid had been lately. We had always been close at work so our casual debates on the best companion in doctor who and me leaving him random riddles on his desk flew below everyone's radar. None were the wiser, till one day.

“ OMG GUESS WHAT,” Garcia whispered in excitement as I entered into our tech cave. I set my coffee down and asked, “ what what is it?” “ Spencer has a girlfriend,” She almost squealed. My stomach dropped and I stuttered, “ o..oh?” “ YES, so he told Derek he was too busy to go out to dinner with us, well you didn’t know you had probably fallen asleep by the time you got my text if you wanted to go, but while we were there, we saw him in a restaurant with another girl. He was wearing this almost Victorian looking outfit, I've never seen him wear it before and he met this girl who had this long black hair all put up in a bun and this fancy looking dress.” I shook my head trying to look surprised, “ wow I...i never thought this day would come.” I blushed a bit thinking about that night. We liked planning themed nights, for this one I suggested Sherlock as the theme knowing how much he loved the books and I loved the show. Of course I suggested we dressed as Sherlock and Irene Adler. “ You know,” Garcia said cutting into my thoughts, “ I always thought you two would be cute together.” I smiled, “ ehhh we’re buddies, I don’t mind.” “ OMGGGGG I just want to know who she is,” Garcia huffed, “ is she nice is she cool does she make him happy, is she cute?” I chuckled ,” well he has seemed to be in a nicer mood that normal.” “ I know but… oh hello Doctor,” Garcia said making me almost fall out of my chair . Spencer stood there looking a bit nervous and blushing, he looked a me and gently tilted his head out the door, “ a moment .” I nodded and whispered to Garcia as I left, “ ill see if I can get anything out of him.” She gave me a sly smile and a thumbs up.

“ We’ve been compromised,” He said when we were out of earshot. I made a big show of straightening my collar in mock superiority ,” excuse me YOU’VE been compromised, Garcia only noticed you .” His eyes narrowed trying to look angry but I saw a slight smile at his lips, “ oh okay you think that you’re more stealthy than me.” “ No! I know I am, I’m the master of disguise,” I said seriously before bursting out laughing, “ we should lay low tonight, The Good the Bad and the Ugly , my house tonight bring your guns.” I whipped my fingers out of my pockets and fake fired them. He blushed , “ alright.” We quickly hugged and I walked back to the room.

I was setting everything out for movie night when I heard a quick three knocks on my door. I jogged over and opened it to Reid with a bottle of wine and his overnight bag. “ That better have PJ’s in it because I can’t be the only one in them,” I spun around to reveal my doctor who shirt that I stole from him and my plaid pj shorts. “ Don’t worry I did,” He reassured kissing my forehead, “you know I believe I've seen that shirt somewhere before.” I smirked mischievously, “ I cant help what my hand finds when i’m packing my things.” He shook his head fondly and said, “ did you make popcorn?” “ OBVIOUSLY,” I said running into the kitchen to get the popcorn and a couple of wine glasses. I set them on the table as Reid went into my room to change, he was so shy , My phone rang and I picked it up, “ hello.” “ Hey so I have an update on Reid’s mystery girl,” Garcia rambled . “Oh have you,” I said looking out on of my windows. “ YES, so at the restaurant that Reid went to I asked for any reservations for that specific time and I cross checked all the names but one stuck out the name was Irene Adler, can you believe it, they’re using code names, i’m getting so close I can feel it in my bones,” Garcia sighed. I noticed Reid had emerged in a black shirt , Tardis pj pants and his glasses, I put a finger to my lips and smiled knowingly, “ code names wow she must be one smart cookie.” Spencer rolled his eyes and I playfully punched him in the shoulder. “ Yes, i’ll let you know when I get more ,” She said thoughtfully. “ Alright great because I have a bottle of wine with my name on it,” I chuckled. “ Ohhh can I come over,” She begged. My eyes went wide and I bit my lip before saying, “ listen Penelope, you know I love you but remember what I told you about me needing alone time, I don’t get energy from people like you do and these cases have really been wearing me out, but maybe on the weekend okay?” She sighed loudly, “ fine FINE go enjoy yourself, I will do more digging.” I laughed, “ thank you , see you tomorrow, love you.” “ Yeah yeah,” she said then hung up. “ When did you become so masterful at lying,” Spencer asked as I hopped onto the couch next to him. “ Years of pretending my mom said no when I got invited to parties,” I said with a smile, “ now, do you want to know how cleaver she thinks Dr Reid’s new girlfriend is.” “ Oh I already know,” He said pulling me into a hug, “ I know how cleaver and beautiful and cute she is.” He always did this to make me all flustered. I pressed my face into his shirt so I didn’t have to look at him,” no fair, that’s cheating.” “ I am just stating facts it is my favorite thing to do, now are we going to watch the movie,” he asked . “ Obviously,” I said gently sitting myself up so I could grab the remote and hit play then I snuggled back into his arms.

When we started dating he was so nervous, he always was scared of doing the wrong thing, he apologized a lot. Luckily for him I was just as nervous and now look at us! Pros who talk during the entire movie either about random facts or making stupid jokes and have competitions on who can throw more popcorn in their mouth.

We stayed up later than we should have last night, it could have been the wine, it could have been me refusing to let Spencer win against me, but either way we were both at the coffee maker at work. “ Wohh, long night,” Derek asked me. Spencer seemed to naturally look tired all the time so I guess it was more obvious with me. I shrugged, “ I thought wine on a Wednesday was a good idea.” Derek laughed, “ no it is not, so Reid, any update on that girl of yours , when are we going to meet her?” “ Yeah come on,” I chimed in just to see him get a little flustered. He blushed ,grabbed his coffee then just walked out. I shrugged, “ oh well we tried.” Derek sighed, “ I thought you guys were close , you haven't heard anything.” I rolled my eyes, “ you know Spencer, he is a pretty tightly closed book.” He nodded and waved as I walked back to the tech corner. Garcia was typing a bit intensely on her computer. “ Good morning,” I said carefully. She didn’t turn around she simply said, “ I have an update on the mystery girl, it’s in a file on your desk.” I looked over and sure enough there was a case file that said “ Reid’s girlfriend” . I opened up to see my face, I bit my lip, “ how?” “ How, how,” She huffed, “ I decided to track Reid’s phone which is know isn’t necessarily fair but I was curious, and you know what it led to , your apartment complex. So I did some investigating and went to your apartment and I hear two voices in your living room and one sounded oddly like one Doctor Reid.” I sighed, “ we just wanted to make sure it was real before we said anything and Reid didn’t want to be teased by Derek.” “ Well,” She asked. I blushed a little and looked down, “ three months.” “WHAT, HOW how , I don’t understand how you have been keeping this from me for so long,” She gasped, “ I’m enraged you just lied to me!” “ Please it wasn’t anything personal we just didn’t want the extra pressure it’s kind of both of our first real relationship,” I mumbled. “ Noooooo really,” She said shocked. “ Penelope I was in MARCHING BAND in highschool, no one was lining up to date me,” I laughed, “ and in college I was more focused on getting out of college.” She nodded, “ fine….does he make you happy? Is he different outside work?” I smiled, “ I can only give away so many secrets in one day, but yes he makes me very happy hes smart and incredibly handsome, what is there more to ask for.” “ Awww i’m so happy for you two, but mad you hid it, but so happy,” She sighed then hugged me tightly, “ When can I tell everyone.” I rubbed my neck, “ not yet, please.” I knew that wouldn’t last but I wanted to give it a go. “ My lips are so sealed,” Penelope promised. I gave her a side glance then went back to my computer. I texted Spencer, “we have 12 hours of secrecy left Penelope tracked you last night.” “Are you nervous,” he replied. “ A little but , actually meet me in the hall 2 minuets,” I said, I couldn’t text this out.

I leaned on the wall tapping my fingers nervously. “ What is it ,” Spencer asked looking a bit worried. I smiled , “ Spencer I love you, from the moment I joined the BAU, from the moment we became friends, I loved you.” His eyes welled up with tears and his face was bright red , “ I, love you too.” He leaned over and kissed me I wrapped my arms around his neck and then we heard a light cough. We quickly separated and saw Penelope looking sheepish with Hotch, Rossi, Derek , Emily, and JJ all gathered around we were going to say something but they all just smiled, “ congratulations.” We let out a sigh of relief, guess the secrets out.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds

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we-cross-universe-king-relate · 3 years

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Phantom thief akane appearance and weapons:

I think if Akane was a phantom thief I think her appearance wouldn't be what we saw in the Kyoto jail, keep in mind that was her monarch appearance. An example is futaba who was a palace ruler we see her shadow and how it's dressed, when futaba awakens and gains her thief suit she is dressed differently differently from her shadow. I think Akane would have a different appearance from her shadows Now we don't know a lot about her meaning we don't know what her image of rebellion could be (This is due to the fact that we only see her at the start of the okinawa arc and don't see her after the Kyoto arc).

For weapons I see Akane having one of the two

1: fan weapon

2:Cognitive weapon

A fan weapon could symbolize Akane’s sature as an (And yes she is one we've seen her room, her laptop, her backpack even her shadow who is dressed like 1 of the Phantom thieves) otaku. Also we've seen other persona users use a fan as a primary melee weapon (Yukiko Amagi from persona 4).

Another possible candidate is a cognitive weapon similar to the one Akechi used his lazer swords and ray guns. i was thinking of Akane using a cognitive copy of joker as a weapon via one of her handmade plushies:

We don’t know if it was just her shadow’s doing, but her cognition was strong enough to create cognitive copies of the phantom thieves. I was thinking of using a method Is similar to the one in another game called: the world ends with you Specifically one of its characters Shiki misaki who can animate her homemade stuff cat Mr. mew to life and use it as a ferocious clawing beast. Akane could utilize her cognition via her homemade plushy and send it as a cognitive copy of joker to attack enemies.

For a ranged weapon she could have something like a bow or sling something that gives her enough distance from her enemies but still pack enough punch to off them.

#persona 5 #phantom thief akane #akane hasegawa #weapon talk

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amltdaily · 3 years

Link

When A Million Little Things‘ Gary takes matters into his own hands, he really takes matters into his own hands.

We’re referring, of course, to the final moments of the ABC drama’s Season 3 finale, which found Gary drawing Sophie’s lecherous music teacher Peter out onto his front porch, throwing a bag over his head and then bodily moving him back into the house, slamming the door behind them.

The move, coming from the generally affable actuary, was a shocking way to end Season 3 — though series creator DJ Nash tells TVLine that he’s threaded hints through the previous seasons.

“We’ve seen bits of it throughout the series, whether it’s him smashing the painting with Jon or him punching the car and having that guy pull a gun on him,” the executive producer says. “It probably goes back to the anger he feels about his mom leaving him. He definitely wants the world to be just, and it’s not, and I think he tries to line up justice wherever it’s askew.”

When he can’t — such as when Sophie’s complaint of sexual harassment isn’t enough for the police to arrest Peter — “it’s really hard for [Gary] to accept that,” Nash adds.

Elsewhere in the two-hour season-ender:

* Darcy decided to move to Lenox, Mass., so Liam could be close to his dad. After much deliberation, Gary decided to move with her. But when he mentioned that he thought their future involved having a child together, Darcy made it clear that she did not want that. Later, though, she had a change of heart and called Gary, leaving him a voicemail saying that she thought he would make a great dad and maybe they could discuss the possibility. But he was busy when the call came. (See above.)

* Delilah returned from France in time to accompany Sophie to the police station, where she told a detective about what Peter had done to her. She also handed over Layla’s diary as evidence. But the detective sadly told her that it wasn’t enough to arrest Peter, though he thanked her for giving them something with which to start a file on him. Gary got really mad and kicked a garbage can across the room.

* Soon after, Delilah told Eddie that she wanted to move back to France with the kids. Danny and Sophie balked at the news, and Gary lit into Delilah. “I’m so sorry you’re not happy, but you know what? I’m not sure you’re entitled to be,” he said. (And that wasn’t even the meanest part!) The interaction left Delilah sobbing.

* Regina made the tough decision to close Someday, which had been failing in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic and her concussion. Meanwhile, Rome comforted Tyrell after the teen learned that his mother’s deportation stemmed from getting pulled over by police while driving to FedEx his application for a summer program.

* Theo burned his hand on Katherine’s watch; Eddie’s lawyer told him to get photos of the injury so they could use it against Katherine in the custody battle. So Eddie did, but he felt bad about it and later told Katherine that he wouldn’t use the photos against her. Instead, he drew up an agreement for joint custody, in which he can be with Theo without supervision and in which he will take a weekly drug test. If he fails, she gets full custody. “I promise, I will not fail Theo,” he said.

* But that wasn’t all Eddie was up to. He answered a call from a blocked number, thinking it was a telemarketer, but the woman on the other end was crying. “I’m the person who hit you,” she said, apologizing.

* Gary visited his father, who tacitly agreed to give him an alibi for the evening. Then Gary went off and did the bad thing.

Read on as Nash breaks down the packed episode: Eddie’s call, Gary’s premeditated act, the possibility of new romance in Season 4 and more.

TVLINE | I was shocked when we saw what Gary did in that final scene. How in control of himself would you say he is there? Well, he goes to his dad’s and sets up an alibi, so this wasn’t… It appears as though whatever he does behind that door is premeditated.

TVLINE | I want Peter to undergo slow and painful torture, but still, I don’t want Gary to do it. I remember the idea for the last scene came to me much earlier in our season… Elizabeth [Laime], one of our writers, has been very forthcoming about sharing her story, and it led to a beautiful heartbreaking story about Sophie… I had this idea for this scene, and I knew just this one scene could actually be tacked on a bunch of episodes, because it does sort of stand alone. The way we’ve done it with the podcast, it became a piece where Sophie’s commenting on other casualties and the other people who are hurt by what Peter did. But we shot that scene before.

When I got the idea for the scene… I called Elizabeth to go, “Hey, I just want to make sure you’re OK with this story,” and she goes, “I love it.” Because part of what our show is is a bunch of writers talking about their pain and maybe writing different endings, you know? You write the version of your parents’ divorce you wish had happened, or you write the version of losing a friend to suicide. I mean, they all come from very personal places. So, then I talked to James [Roday Rodriguez], he said to me, “What happens on the other side of that door?” … And then he said, “OK. Love it. Where do we find moments of that leading up to it?” He and I talked pretty extensively, because I wanted him to play some subtle moments. Whether it’s something a little more overt like kicking the trash can in a police station, [and] there are other moments that when we get to next season, you’ll realize, oh, did they know here? And those are moments that he and I and the directors found to place.

TVLINE | I was — I’m not suggesting for a second in any way that what Gary went over to do is something people should do. [Laughs]

TVLINE | I will make sure that we leave that part in. So can we talk about the call Eddie gets at the end of the episode? What I love about this show is there’s enough plates spinning that… we can get you to forget about one essential plate, and then we can come back to it. It had been enough time now where people had figured, “Oh, maybe it’s not playing out.” Also, [I had to] decide how much of that call to put in the finale. That call goes on.

TVLINE | With Katherine and Eddie breaking up, you now have two more players that can mix it up with others. Yeah.

TVLINE | And I know you’ve said that Gary and Delilah are not going to be a thing. They will never be a thing!

TVLINE | You’re going to get into season 10 and you’re going to be like, “Remember when I told you they were never going to be a thing? About that…” [Laughs] When that story happens, you’ll be like, ‘Oh, you must not be on the show anymore.”

TVLINE | What I’m getting at is that it feels like we might see a bunch of new faces next season. Is that at all on your radar? Yes. There will be people in their lives, and I’m happy to tip that we’re going to see Katherine — Carter set up a dating profile. Is something happening there? And we’re seeing Eddie, who is single for the first time in a long time, and single for the first time ever in a wheelchair, and we’ll see how he gets the confidence and the courage to go out there again.

TVLINE | Poor Regina with her concussion and her restaurant going south. Tell me there’s some brightness coming her and Rome’s way. Well, I actually think there already is. I think there already is… If you look at where Regina ended last season — with thinking that she had this baby, and this mom changing her mind, and her being devastated — where she ends the next season is with her baby consoling her. So I don’t think that’s sad at all. But she does have to figure out what her next chapter of her life’s going to be, and it’s not going to be easy.

#interview #dj nash #a million little things

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rockhoochie · 4 years

Text

Title: Anything and Everything

Link: On AO3

Square Filled: Tongue Fucking

Pairing: Dean Winchester/YN

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Fingering, Oral Sex (M/F), Tongue Fucking, Squirting, Unprotected Sex (seriously, just be safe), Marijuana, mention of prescription narcotic.

WC: 8,290

Created For @spnkinkbingo

A/N: Well...this escalated quickly! The story is told in alternating POV between Dean and Reader - Reader’s is regular text, Dean’s is italicized. I debated on splitting this into parts due to the word length, but...well, I’m impatient, and I’m really excited to share this with all of you! Plus, I think it flows better if it’s read all in one sitting 😉

This fic is dedicated to @fangirlxwritesx67 - remember that drabble prompt you sent me like, two months ago, that was Dean and reader laying on a comfortable floor, listening to music, and he starts playing with her hair, and they have a first kiss? Well, here’s your drabble 😄 Thank you for the inspiration!

And thank you everyone for reading! Drop me a line, let me know what you think - I love hearing from you ❤ ~Sarah

(’Lay Lady Lay’ music and lyrics © Bob Dylan, 1969)

I set a kettle on the stove to boil.

Thank god Donna has this place, and thank god that we were so close. We’ve been here for days now, nursing our wounds: Sam had a bruised rib and a nasty gash on his torso. Dean had a concussion and a dislocated shoulder. I'd been flung against a wall - I don’t remember much because I'd been knocked out hard, unconscious for hours - but by some miracle managed to come out of it with only a few ugly bruises and a migraine. Not our worst injuries by a longshot, but we’d figured since we had a home base, we may as well take advantage of it. We’d packed up yesterday, planning on heading out this morning, but an incoming snowstorm kept us from venturing out - it was half a day's drive, and even Dean couldn’t deny that the Impala doesn’t handle best on icy roads.

I like it here. It’s so quiet. And dark. No sirens or traffic, no various and questionable motel noises. No glare of city lights marring the night sky. The only light outside is coming from the moon, the only sounds are the ones I make. I look out the window, wondering when the storm will move in - the moon is full, its brightness gleaming off acres of driven snow that glints and glimmers against an indigo sky. Normally, a stillness like this is a warning, a silence this pure a screaming harbinger - but I don’t feel any threat here. No forebodings, no gut-nettling intuitions.

It’s peaceful. I’m peaceful. If I ever leave this life behind me, if I’m lucky enough to dodge all the bullets and claws and teeth and blades, I’ll settle somewhere up here, find a small house on a lake that’s tucked away from the rest of the world. He’d love that. And we could just be, live out our days and years together, work stupid pedestrian jobs to pay stupid everyday bills. I’ll plant a garden and he can restore classic cars while we raise a family and just...live...

The kettle sings and hisses, and outside, snow begins to fall in fat, feathery clusters. I pour the boiling water into a handmade, slightly lopsided clay mug that proudly proclaims “I Love Auntie Donna” in a childish script, dip and drown my tea bag, and shuffle back to my spot in the living room - my little nest in a gorgeous, hand-crafted rocking chair next to the fireplace. Donna told me her grandfather had made it, and every time I look at it, it astounds me that another human being created something so beautiful with his bare hands. Every nitch, nock, and spindle carefully considered and meticulously carved. Some of the stain has faded, and patches of lacquer have dulled, but that only adds to its beauty - you can tell this chair was loved.

The fire I’d built earlier is down to embers. I sit and stare into the blazing coals, sipping chamomile and scrying for answers to questions I don’t know. The room is warm, but I need something over my shoulders, need the weight of something wrapped around me. There’s a flannel draped over the back of the rocking chair...one of Dean’s flannels. And it’s my favorite of his, the dark red one that brings out his freckles and the deep jade of his eyes. I take it and slip my arms through the sleeves. It smells like him...like whiskey and wintergreen, leather and cotton, copper and cordite...

I catch myself before I start to fall too far. I need to pack up these thoughts and put them away where they belong before they start making me hopeful again.

I used to let myself get lost in them, let myself wander through giddy daydreams and float among sultry fantasies...I’d close my eyes at night and pretend Dean was by my side, just an arms reach away. I’d imagine it was his fingers pumping inside of me instead of mine, hear his voice in my head as I made myself come. Or I’d simply think about spending a day with him - walking through a park in autumn, stargazing on a summer night, cuddling and kissing on a rainy spring day. But after a while, when I’d accidentally found myself in love with him, I’d put all those dreams on the shelf; I'd only take them down when I was at my lowest and loneliest, grasping for a reason to keep going. There were a few times I’d thought about telling him, making a move...but Dean Winchester doesn’t need another complication. None of us do.

~*~

The shitty thing about being used to four hours of sleep is that when I actually get the chance for more, my brain doesn’t get on board. I came up here a couple of hours ago and I can’t seem to keep my eyes closed. Just keep staring at the ceiling and thinking about things I shouldn’t...

I love this place. It’s cold outside and the wind’s howlin’, but it’s damn cozy in here. If Hell ever gets a blast of Minnesota weather - and I can pack it in, leave the life - I’m getting a place like this. Hell, I’d build it myself, make it just the way we want it. We could move out here, where it’s almost backcountry, leave all the bad times behind us. It’s gonna be on a lake though - I’ll get a boat and go fishing all the time, teach our kids all the tricks to hooking the big ones...

Jesus, knock it off, Winchester. Like she’d let you screw up her life more than you already have.

YN's moving around downstairs. I should see what she’s up to, see if she’s feelin’ okay or wants any company...nah, I should just leave her alone. She got her bell rung bad the other day and it scared the shit outta me...I kinda lost it and yelled at her like a total asshole. I don’t get why I do that. Gun to my head, I guess it’s cause it seems simpler that way - rather piss her off and keep her from getting too close, instead of admitting out loud how I feel about her and watch her run for the hills.

She was in and out of it for almost two days, and I’d stayed with her as much as I could, at least till Sam would bark at me to eat or sleep. She’d used herself as bait - again- and I fucking hate it when she puts herself in the line of fire like that. I can’t stand it when she gets hurt, and this last time was...pretty bad. But she’s stubborn as hell, can’t be talked out of anything she’s already set her mind to. Actually thought she was gonna punch me when I got in her face, but I escaped with only a “fuck off, Dean”.

And I suppose those are some of the reasons my dumb ass went and fell ass over tea kettle for her - her grit and her style, the way she can dish it as good she takes it, how she handles either a gun or a blade with this almost unnatural grace... one day, I watched her make salt rounds for an hour and it was one of the most spectacular things I’d ever seen - she was in this total zone, her forehead creased in concentration, and lips mouthing the words to a song I can't hear, growling out the cutest “fuck” or “son of a bitch” if she messed up.

She’s the best part of my day - whether it’s seein’ her all cranky and bleary-eyed in the morning, passed out over a pile of books in the library, or bent over a pool table while she hustles townies - I can’t think of a better sight. And her laugh is goddamn music to ears. Her eyes, her smile...her anything and everything keeps me going. I can be two seconds away from checkin’ out, but one look at her reminds me that it's all worth it, worth every drop of blood, sweat, and tears.

Christ, just thinking about her like this is making my dick twitch. Doesn’t help that she laid in this bed the last few days because I can still smell her. Her perfume or soap or whatever she uses is fucking delicious, a mix of spice and spring flowers and brown sugar that sticks to her skin and practically makes my mouth water, makes me wanna taste her…

Fuck, now I’m hard. I think about jerking off for a minute, but instead I think about that time Cas showed up in my car naked and covered with bees and swing my legs off the bed. No sense in just layin’ here, thinkin’ about things that’ll never happen. I grab my duffel and pull out my flask (not much left in there, maybe two or three shots) and some clothes. Gonna check out the room down the hall that’s got one of those old school record players. Maybe some good tunes will calm me down, get my mind off things. Off of her. I turn to leave but then I remember- there’s a little something in my bag I’ve been hangin' on to. I dig through all my crap and find it in the inside pocket. Awesome. Screw consciousness, I’m gettin’ high.

~*~

I hear footfalls against the ceiling - one of them’s awake. It could be Sam, but I know it’s Dean - I know his stride, his tread. And I also know Sam conceded to the pain and downed an extra dose of Percocet, so he’s all but dead to the world for the next six hours.

We all have problems sleeping, each have our lion’s share of blood-and- gore-laden nightmares, but Dean’s always seem worse. They take a bigger toll on him. He wakes up screaming more often, drenched in a cold sweat with his sheets flung from the bed. Sometimes I hear him shouting in the middle of the night and it breaks my fucking heart.

Maybe I’ll go see if he’s alright, if there’s anything I can do for him... I hope he’s not still pissed at me for what happened on the hunt. Sam told me it was just because I’d scared him, because he cares about me, that it’s just easier for Dean to blow up instead of break down. But dammit I wish he’d open up, just a little. There were a couple of nights he and I had spent just hanging out together, nights where whiskey was flowing and secrets were shared...but right when it seemed like he was going to let me in on what was really going on in his head, he’d stopped himself, drained his glass, and said goodnight.

I know what he’s been through. Or rather, I know of what he's been through. It would be sacrilege for me to even try to begin to empathize. I know about things he’s done, his devils and deeds that are unforgivable in most circles but necessary in ours.

Dean is a good man. Everything he’s done has been a labor of love, a sacrifice. I know he doubts himself constantly and I know he hurts, vehemently and deeply. But if he’d just let me in, if I could love him the way he deserves, I’d do anything and everything I could to take all that pain and somehow dull it. Sometimes I can actually get a smile out of him and it’s one of the most marvelous things I’ve ever seen - when the corners of his green eyes crinkle and his teeth peek out from behind those ridiculously perfect lips...god, it’s beautiful. He is beautiful, inside and out and I wish he could see that.

Now I’m wide awake. My tea’s gone cold, and I’ve spent too much time wallowing in these thoughts that shouldn’t be wallowed in, and I’m not quite sure what to do with myself. I glance out a window and watch the now steadily falling snow, listen to the wind whip and whistle through the frigid night air. Sitting here in the dark alone with all of these thoughts has become too lonely. There’s a room upstairs, a little den with a couple of chairs and one of those huge console record players...I’ll grab that book I’ve been meaning to read and hang out in there, let some music fill the quiet and the story busy my brain.

I take my mug to the kitchen, place it in the sink, and pull Dean’s flannel around me tighter. Hopefully, he won’t mind if I borrow it for the night. This way, I can be close to him without ruining things.

Music echoes down the staircase and I recognize the tune as I get closer to its source. Bob Dylan. Nashville Skyline, I think. Dim, golden light beckons me to follow and leads me to a doorway. I look down and find him lying on the floor, with his ankles crossed, and one arm bent behind his head, blowing a plume of smoke toward the ceiling.

“Hey,” I whisper, and he turns his face toward me, looking up at me with mellow eyes and an easygoing smile.

“Hey yourself. Can’t sleep?”

I shake my head. “Thought I’d come in here and check out Donna’s music collection. But I see you had the same idea, so -”

“So? Come on in, stay awhile.” He pats the floor beside him, then holds up the joint fastened between his fingers. “It’d be a lot cooler if you did.”

I should really go, leave him to his own devices, avoid torturing myself. But before reason has any chance to intervene, I find myself lying next to him. He’s more of a drug to me than the smoke I’m sucking through my lips. I want to stay away, I should stay away, but I can’t fucking help myself. So like a good little junkie I give in, tell myself this is no big deal, that I can go back to not thinking about him tomorrow.

~*~

I’m so glad she decided to stay.

I don’t know if it’s the weed or the cold, dark night or what it is, but when I saw her standing there, all I wanted was to just have her near me. Even if all I get to do is hear her voice or just feel her presence next to me...well, I’ll take it. It’s not like this anything new, we’ve hung out like this plenty of times...though it’s times like this when I get so comfortable around her, that I really gotta reign it in and make sure I keep my damn mouth shut. And it never seems to get easier - like right now. She’s humming along to the music, making up her own words here and there and playing air guitar and it’s friggin’ adorable. She really is one in a million and if things were different, I’d hold on to her and never let go.

Somethin’ Sam said a while back pops into my head - somethin’ about finding someone who knows the life - and for a second I think maybe things don’t need to be different. Maybe we could make it work. But then I remember I’m toxic. Even for a hunter I drink too much, have too many fucked up thoughts, done way too many fucked up things. No, she deserves someone good, someone better than me. I can’t even believe she’s stuck around for this long. Sometimes I just look at her and wanna scream, “run”, before she gets hurt. I’ve accepted that I’ll never get the happily ever after but she shouldn’t. She can still get out, have a real life, meet someone who’ll give her everything and make her happy. Never in my life will I be able to give that to anyone - it just ain’t in the cards for me.

Then she looks at me, passes me the joint with this sweet smile, and all those thoughts just fade away. And I wonder - like I wonder almost every night - how her lips would feel against mine.

Sam keeps tellin’ me that I’m an idiot, that she really likes me, that I should go for it. And for a minute, I actually think about it, cause the way she’s lookin’ at me right now is downright incredible - she actually looks happy to be here, with me.

Is she?

Truth is I'm selfish. And a bit of a coward. I'm too afraid to love anyone because I'm too afraid to lose them. Everyone I've ever lost took a piece of me with them and I ain't got much left. If anything ever happened to YN, I’d be done. She’d take the last of me.

I’m feelin’ a little goofy. Not stoned or anything, but definitely running out of fucks to give. Then I glance at her and notice she’s wiggling out of her button-down.. .my button-down. She rolls it up, tucks it beneath her head, and stretches back out on the floor. Her tank top is creeping up over her stomach a little bit, and it’s stretched tight over her tits and she’s got nothin’ on underneath…

I swallow hard and bite down on my lip cause I’m this close to just flat-out telling her I love her.

~*~

Part of me wants to tell Donna she desperately needs to redecorate this room...but the other, the part of me that's stretched out on the floor, listening to classic 33s and getting high with Dean, is perfectly content with the old-school kitsch. The shag carpeting we’re laying on is surprisingly comfortable; The color (what is this, ocher? Chartreuse?) - shouldn’t be allowed to exist, but the long polyester threads sprawling beneath us are soothing in a way. The light is low, flickering from two vintage oil lamps that stand on each end of the console, and casts shadows beneath its warm glow.

Dean looks like he’s about to say something, but the last song has ended and skipped into a static scratch. He hoists himself up to flip the record, and I perch on my elbows and just...admire him. He’s different here. I’ve seen him lounge around the bunker during downtime but tonight he actually seems powered-down, carefree. There's something almost magical about what the calm does to him, how it lifts the weight he carries. His shoulders are relaxed, his movements languid, unhurried and uncalculated, eyes bright and serene. And he looks so fucking good, wearing a well-worn and well-fitting Zeppelin t-shirt that he must've had since before he’d built up his muscle. Softened and faded jeans cover his bowed legs and hang low on his hips, and I don’t think he’s got anything on underneath because I get a glimpse at the cut of his abs and...

I wish I could tell him how amazing he is, how much he makes me smile, how much I love him; I wish I could show him, hold him, kiss him and just love him with everything I have...

The music starts back up and oh my god… he’s dancing. It’s really more of a slow-motion Elvis maneuver, but it’s the closest thing to dancing I’ve ever seen Dean do. Every tick of his hips pulls the fabric of his jeans perfectly across his ass, and I shouldn't be thinking about him this way but he’s just so mesmerizing…

And then he turns and faces me with his best impression of his best Bob Dylan.

Lay lady lay,

Lay across my big brass bed

Lay lady lay,

Lay across my big brass bed...

I throw my head back and laugh, not because he’s being ridiculous, but because he’s being so goddamn perfect. And the joy I thought I’d lost the day I cocked my first shotgun is bubbling up and making me giddy. Or it’s him. Or it could just be the pot. This is a side of him that no one gets to see, not even his brother. I can give him this, a place to let go of it all and just be Dean Winchester for a little while. He’s easy here, content, and he actually seems happy that I decided to stay.

Is he?

He claims his spot beside me again, settling in just a little closer. He's still singing to me and I'm still giggling…

Whatever colors you have in your mind

I show them to you and you see them shine

Lay lady lay

Lay across my big brass bed

Somehow his hand found mine, and he's tracing my knuckles with one calloused fingertip. I take it in mine and glance down at the connection, marveling at how small my hand is in his but how perfectly it fits. His hand is so gentle, warm and solid...it’s hard to believe how often his palm has bled, how many triggers his fingers have pulled, how many bones his fist has shattered.

He shifts, rolls to his side, and gazes down at me while he keeps up his serenade.

Stay lady stay

Stay with your man a while

Until the break of day

Let me see you make him smile

I grin as he brushes my hair from my face, tucks a few strands behind my ear, winds a section around his fingers. Then I see something in his face that’s never been there before - a shade of color reflecting from his eyes that's deep and rich and vibrant…

His clothes are dirty but his, his hands are clean

And you are the best thing that he's ever seen

Stay lady stay

Stay with your man a while

The way he's muttering the lyrics...it’s so sincere, like he means every single word. The warmth of his body is just out of my reach, and the low timbre of his voice begins to resonate through my veins, nestling into a locked corner of my soul.

Why wait any longer for the world to begin

You can have your cake and eat it too

Why wait any longer for the one you love

When he's standing in front of you

He’s still playing with my hair, pushing any stray strands from my face…my eyes flutter closed and his touch becomes something warmer, softer. Delicate, intentional kisses pepper my cheekbones, my temples, my forehead...

Lay lady lay

Lay across my big brass bed

Stay lady stay

Stay while the night is still ahead

I feel his thumb and forefinger catch and tilt my chin, and I open my eyes. He’s so close now, close enough that if I rolled on my side I’d roll into him, that if I lifted my head just an inch...

I long to see you in the morning light

I long to reach for you in the night

Stay lady stay

Stay while the night is still ahead

The silent formation of the last few lyrics are the first thing I feel and then his lips are fully on mine, barely grasped between his and I've never felt something so tender and genuine carry itself with so much force. He's cradling my cheek and his kiss feels tentative, uncertain - but at the same time teeming with need, as though he’s waiting for my approval while praying with everything he’s got that I’ll grant it. So I lean into him, slide my fingers along the short hairs on the back of his neck, and pull him closer.

~*~

Maybe it was the weed, the music, the way the light reflected off her… whatever it was, it just took over. She looked too soft and too damn perfect, layin’ there and smiling that smile. And I thought about the other day when she was lying unconscious on that blood-stained, concrete floor, and the way my guts twisted at the thought of losing her…

I just couldn’t do it anymore.

I couldn't go one more night without telling her exactly how much she means to me. And it was a cheesy way to do it, singing to her like that, but Bob knew all the right things to say.

I actually can't even believe she's kissing me right now, that she pulled me close and wrapped her arms around me. Part of me thinks she's nuts - she's gotta know I got nothing to offer her, that she deserves so much better- better than me, better than this life. I can’t promise her anything - can’t promise a future or comfort... but if she lets me, I can promise to love her, to kiss her with everything I’ve got every chance I get, to hold her close and protect her... even if it’s just for tonight.

She makes a little sound and arches her body into mine. I don’t know how far this is gonna go, but I’ll take my time getting there. This may just be a fluke, a one-time thing. Or maybe it’s not, maybe I’m the luckiest bastard on the fucking planet...either way, I want to savor every second.

I keep the kisses slow, open-mouthed and gentle. But then I feel her tongue slide along my lower lip and I can’t help but slip mine against hers. This feels so good, just kissing her like this, tasting her and feeling her beneath me. She’s running her fingers through my hair, rolling her hips every now and then, sliding her hand down my side and across my back. I kiss her harder, deeper. She’s moving more, breathing faster, making these quiet little whimpers. I break away and look at her, smoothing some of her hair away from her beautiful face. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are half-closed and right at this moment she could ask me to shoot the moon and I’d kill it dead.

Her hand brushes my cheek and she pushes into me, silently begging me to keep going.

“You sure?” I whisper in her ear, kissing the space just behind it.

She nods and mutters “please,” and I move my lips down her neck. Her body trembles when I land on the spot where her neck curves into her shoulder - I give her skin there a little nip and she gasps... fuck, I need to hear that sound over and over. I’m gonna map her entire body, figure out just the right way to touch her. Run my hands over every point, plane and curve, find every spot that makes her moan and quiver and sigh. I wanna drown, lose myself in her. I want her to know that I know how special she is, that I get how lucky I am to be with her tonight, that I understand what she’s giving me. I kneel between her legs, take hold of her wrists, and slowly push her arms above her head.

I need to see and feel and taste every single inch of her and I’m not gonna be quick about it.

~*~

First kisses are usually awkward. Heads bump, teeth collide, hands float and fumble while they try to find a comfortable place to land.

So I don’t know if it’s dumb luck, or just that I’ve practiced this so many times in my mind, but we find a rhythm instantly and we fit, like we’ve known all along exactly how to kiss each other. It’s so perfect that I almost laugh out loud, dumbfounded that I ever thought that we shouldn’t do this. Our kiss is absolute, passionate and all-consuming, and sending every neuron in my brain firing into a tailspin.

I never want to stop kissing him.

My arms are above my head and he's teasing me, softly kneading my breasts over my top, flicking at the stiff peaks of my nipples. I lower my hands to pull at our shirts, to let him know I need to feel his touch on my bare skin, but he gently curls his fingers around my wrists again and guides them back up.

"Let me," he murmurs, sliding his palm down my breastbone, over my stomach and finally beneath my top. “Just... let me…”

Right as he cups my breast and traps my nipple between his fingers he’s kissing me again, swallowing every sound he’s pulling from me. I melt into him, into his kiss, into his touch. He pushes my tank top over my head and then his lips are on my neck, my collarbone, my shoulders. My forearms and fingers are dotted with kisses, along with my hips and navel, and then he’s peeling off my leggings, never once taking his eyes off of me. I’m completely bare beneath him and he’s biting his lower lip, running his hands from each of my ankles to my calves, my knees, my thighs...he looks as though he can’t decide if he wants to ravish me or revere me.

He settles for a smooth, easy assault, touching and kissing me everywhere, lingering whenever I cry out or sigh. I’ve never felt like this, never felt so...worshipped. His fingers and lips glide along my body as though I’m a delicate thing - carefully, thoroughly, and completely. My skin feels taut, chilled and tingling, but my blood is pumping hot and fast beneath. And when his tongue swirls around my nipple, and he takes it between his teeth, I swear to god I’d come right now if he told me to.

I know I’m wet, I can feel it, hot and dripping and my cunt is clenching, clit throbbing with a deep, insistent ache that almost hurts. Dean is everywhere, exploring and marking and claiming, until I hear myself begging, pleading...I need to feel him inside of me. I need him to unravel me, to make me come undone.

~*~

The way she looks right now is so goddamn glorious, she doesn’t seem real. She’s ruddy and glowing, twisting beneath me, chanting my name and begging with kiss-swollen lips. I let my hand slide between her legs, run a finger between her folds and christ - she is so fucking wet. She lifts her knees and spreads wide open for me and I dip just the tip of one finger inside. She ruts forward and I push two fingers all the way into her tight, hot pussy and fucking hell, she feels smoother than silk. I keep it slow, steady, loving the way her eyes roll back when I flick my thumb over her clit, and the way her tongue darts between her parted lips as I twist my fingers inside her cunt, searching for that spot...

Her eyes go wide when I find it, and her neck arches back and her hands fist the carpet. She’s quietly moaning and cursing and pushing herself down, fucking herself on my fingers. I catch her scent and some animal urge takes over me; I pull my fingers from her, bring them to my mouth and suck them clean. She's like fucking nectar and I’ve never tasted anything so good and all I want is more…

I pull my shirt over my head, push my jeans off, press her thighs as far open as she can spread them - god, her pussy is perfect, so pink and slick - and take a long, slow taste. She moans, low and long, breathing out a desperate “fuck, yes…” as she cards her fingers through my hair. And I growl, I fucking growl like a goddamn dog, and drive my tongue into her dripping hole. She hooks one leg over my shoulder and tilts her hips and I grab on to her ass and hold her up. I lick her deep, thrusting and flicking and swirling my tongue, filling my mouth with the flavor of her, then I peer up at her and...My. Fucking. God, she’s a vision. She’s shaking, twitching and gasping when my nose bumps her clit...

I slip my tongue from her cunt, ease her down and spread her open with my fingers, lapping at her folds, her entrance, her clit. Then I take that sensitive little bud between my lips and suck and holy shit, the fucking sound she makes...I gotta make her come. I need to see it, feel it, hear it.

But first I drag my mouth up her body, stopping to nip at her neck before landing on her lips. She licks into my mouth instantly, sucks at my lower lip, pushes her tongue against mine and I can tell she’s about to lose her mind.

~*~

I'd been in more than one motel room next to Dean's. And I'd always rolled my eyes, convinced that whatever girl he'd brought back with him was just putting on a show, playing porn star with their over-the-top wailing.

They weren't screaming loud enough.

“Can you taste yourself, baby?” he purrs between kisses, "You taste how fuckin' delectable your pussy is? So hot and sweet...” and I moan into his mouth. He slips his fingers back inside and curls them, nudging my sweet spot. “Want you come, YN…wanna make you fall apart..."

I'm biting my lip to keep from crying out too loudly, stifling the urge to scream because the pleasure he's giving me is so complete and consuming. I swear he knows my body better than I do. He's found places on me and inside of me that feel like they've never been touched until tonight. I'd thought maybe I was hypersensitive, so eager and thrilled that this was finally happening, but no - everything he does is deliberate. He finds a spot and knows whether to bite or kiss, push or pull, grind or slide, when to do it all at once or not at all. Every touch, every stroke sparks my nerves and ignites my cells and I'm down to my last fragments of control. I am utterly at his mercy, reduced to a writhing, wanton mess as his fingers slide inside of me, hitting my g-spot with incredible marksmanship. Then his lips land on my clit again, and...oh God. Oh my fucking god…

It starts in my belly, a molten heat simmering in my core, wavering a scant wavelength away from a fever pitch. It’s hot and thrumming and growing in speed and intensity until it can't be contained anymore. It bolts through me, hot and hard like an electric current and I go rigid as I come, the torrents of bliss saturating every molecule of my body. And then Dean is up on his knees, three fingers deep in my sodden cunt, his other hand laying flat on my lower stomach and muttering "Come on baby,...let go…let go for me…" Either I'm still coming or I'm coming again, hard and completely, and a quiet pull snaps from someplace deep inside... I completely shatter, so stunned with the sensation that I open my mouth in a silent scream as my cum splashes against his hand.

~*~

I tuck back down between her legs and softly lap at the stray drops sticking to her thighs. I’m about to go crazy - I’m hungry, starving for her, and I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking hard in my life.

I lay beside her, trace shapes on her collarbone, and watch her as she comes down - the way her tits rise and fall with every breath, the way her throat flexes when she swallows, the way the lamplight dances off her sweat-sheened skin. Her eyes are closed, mouth slightly opened, and her tongue sneaks out every now and then across her lips. Of all the ways I’ve ever seen YN, this has to be the absolute, bar-none best. She’s like a living statue or a painting, some kind of work of art. A goddamn masterpiece.

I don’t want to stop touching her. Right now, I don’t even think I could. She shudders and opens her eyes when I gently trace a wet finger along her cheek. Then she grabs my wrist, pulls my hand to her mouth, and wraps her lips around the fingers I used to fuck her. She sucks and licks, and all I can do is groan as my fingers slide along her tongue. I gotta distract myself or I’m gonna shoot off right now like a teenager…

I take my fingers back and move to hover over her, and catch her lips in mine again. Kissing her is so...it just feels right. Like hers are the only lips I ever need to kiss again. If this is all we do for the rest of the night - hell, for the rest of our lives, I’d be one hundred percent happy. But as we kiss, she starts to whimper, moan...and then I feel her fingertips skitter down my torso and brush against my cock. And I can’t help it, I grunt out a “fuck, YN” and chase her touch. She drags her thumb, then her palm against the tip of my dick, smears precome around my shaft then wraps me in her fingers. I bite my lip and rock into her fist while she strokes me, trying like hell not to lose it any time she gives the slightest squeeze. I can feel her breath on my face and I’m starting to fall into the rhythm, getting lost in her touch and the heat of her body beneath me…

Then in the flash of a second, she hooks a leg around my waist, shifts her weight and turns, and has me on my back. She's straddling me, and I watch her slick pussy drag along my cock while my hands slide up her thighs and grip her hips. My eyes wander, slowly, up her body, marveling at her shape and color and just the mere sight of her swaying over me. My eyes meet hers and then...I'm trapped. Hypnotized. Being here with this woman is like nothing I've ever seen or felt before, and there's some part of me that knows I'll never feel this way about anyone ever again.

~*~

My gaze meets his and I'm struck...with exactly what, I don't know. It's thrilling and terrifying at the same time but most of all it's certain; This is exactly where I'm meant to be, astride this beautiful man who’s lying beneath me, stripped of all his layers, and I can feel the moment he surrenders. His mind and his body, his control and his chaos, his pleasure and his pain, all together unfettered and unfurled.

Potent and fervent primal desire sets in and overtakes me; I want to claim him, feel his skin between my teeth, taste the salt of his sweat.

I shift to my knees, slot myself between his open legs and lean forward, pressing myself against the solid heat of his bare chest, and catch his lips in a quick but ravenous kiss. He tries to chase it but I pull away, letting one hand slide up his sternum, splaying my fingers over his throat. I fist his hard, dripping cock in my free hand and stroke. He breathes out my name with a curse and his head hits the floor as my mouth latches on to his neck.

Releasing my hold on him, my lips move from his neck to his collarbone, down and across his chest, following the blueprint of bruises, scratches, and scars until my nose brushes against the thatch of dark hair between his legs.

I flatten my tongue and lick his thick cock from base to tip, then take just the crown between my lips and gently suck. The taste of his precome fills my mouth and he moans and trembles, exhaling a long, deeply held breath as he laces his fingers in my hair. I take him all the way then, as far as I can, until I feel him hit the back of my throat. I hold him there and swallow, let him feel the soft flex around his shaft. I slide up and down slowly, stroking the inches that can’t slide down my throat with one hand, and cup his balls in the other. He whimpers, high-pitched and desperate, and the mere sound of that sends drops of arousal trickling down my thighs while my cunt clenches and quivers. His grip on my head tightens and I keep steady, caressing and taking him deep, and let the tip of one finger press against his perineum.

His body tenses and I peer up at him - the muscles of his abs are twitching, his neck is arched back, the tendons there strained and taut, jaw clenched, and teeth bared...he’s holding back, trying not to come. He hisses out a breath and gently tugs my hair, urging me to let him slip from my mouth. “Fuck, YN”, he breathes, and I walk my hands alongside of him, gliding my body against his and brush his lips with a gossamer kiss.

We both breathe hard, panting, fingers tangling in each other’s hair, hips rolling, hearts racing. His hard, thick length is sliding against the soaked lips of my pussy, the head of his cock nudging my throbbing clit. I look into the dark forest of his eyes, he places his hand on my cheek and suddenly there’s a surge - a swift and commanding energy that surrounds us, tangible and unconditional.

Our gaze locks as I raise my hips. He grips his cock, lines up at my entrance, and I sink down slowly, relishing every inch that stretches me open, my moan echoing his until I’m completely filled with him.

~*~

It’s almost too much.

She’s so warm, so wet, and so fucking tight...I swear I blackout for a second. It’s taking everything I got to hold on, and every ounce of control I can muster when she starts to move.

She’s groaning and sighing, and the way she’s breathing my name is like a siren’s song. I let her set the pace, tilt my hips to push into her as she rides me, find her hand and lace my fingers through hers. She fucks me slow, lets her head fall back and lays her free hand on my chest. Reaching up, I slide my hand between her tits, pinch and tug one nipple between my thumb and forefinger, and she lets out the most beautiful cry I’ve ever heard. And that sound wakes up the damn animal in me and I thrust into her, as deep as I can. I want her to fucking explode, feel her cunt throbbing tight around my dick and soaking me with her cum.

She pulls her hand from mine and moves it between her legs. I pinch her nipple again and she gasps as her body trembles, and I know she’s getting close. “Gonna come for me, YN?” I snarl, and she stills - her head falls back again and her fingers work faster, and I’m so caught up in her that I just start babbling. “Fuck yeah, YN, fucking come all over my cock…that’s my girl...” I pound into her faster as she gets tighter and wetter and then I feel it, her walls clenching and her cum dripping, her body finally going rigid as her orgasm tears through her.

I slow down and ease her through it, trace my fingertips over the curves of her glowing body and take in how absolutely stunning she is right now - her hair all mussed and tangled, her skin flushed pink, her lips bright red and swollen. Her eyes open and she grins down at me, the lazy roll of her hips picking up speed and I just...fucking...can't anymore.

I throw my arms around her and pull her against me, kissing her sweet lips as I roll us over. She arches into me, takes my face in her hands and purrs "...want it all inside me...I wanna feel your cum dripping from my cunt…" and holy goddamn shit, I'm gonna give her everything she wants.

She raises her knees and hooks her legs around mine, digs her heels into the back of my thighs, squeezes the walls of her pussy around me and I’m gone - all I feel is her silky wet heat, and all I can smell and taste is her sex and I drive in, fast and steady until I can’t hang on anymore. I let go and my world stops, every living fiber of my being at a standstill as I come with a shout. I thrust hard and deep and spill every drop inside of her, pumping her full as she fingers herself to another climax.

I rest my forehead against hers as we both catch our breath. She curls one hand around my waist and the other around the back of my shoulder, raking her fingernails gently along the base of my scalp. I kiss her, soft and quick, and pull out of her, rolling on to my back while I gather her in my arms.

I glance out the window. The snow’s still falling and the sun’ll start rising soon. The record is long over and skipping, and YN grips me tighter and shivers. “Hey, sweetheart...let me up,” I say, kissing her forehead. She groans but lets me go and I sit up, lean down to kiss her again and hop to my feet. I lift the needle off the record and find a quilt that’s tossed over one of the chairs. YN's curled on her side, and I can hardly wait to get back to her. I cover us both, pull her close, and I stare at her until I just can't keep my eyes open anymore. We drift off in each other’s arms and the last thought I think is a little prayer - that this is how I’ll fall asleep every night for the rest of my life.

~*~

I can’t remember who said it first. All I know is that it was suddenly there, as though it always had been, free falling from our lips as we moved and moaned and came together.

We’d awoken several times, one of us roused by a kiss or touch from the other, neither of us willing nor able to let it end without making love one more time.

The storm has finally passed. Sunshine beams across an azure sky and reflects with blinding brilliance off acres of freshly fallen snow. I peek out the kitchen window and catch a glimpse of Sam standing near the garage, up to his knees in icy white powder.

I set a kettle on the stove to boil.

“Look like we ain’t goin' anywhere any time soon,” Dean says, coming up behind me and circling his arms around me. He moves my hair away from my neck and nips at the exposed skin.

I lean against him and cover his clasped hands with mine. “Can’t say I’m all that disappointed.”

He hums and kisses my cheek, then moves his hands to rest on the swell of my belly.

“Your old man's gonna teach you how to make the best snowballs, kid. Knock your Uncle Sammy right off his ass.”

I giggle and spin around, draping my arms over Dean’s shoulders. “Big talk coming from the man who got a black eye during last year’s snowball fight.”

“That was a fluke. She had an unfair advantage.”

"She's less than half your size!”

“Exactly.”

The door opens and Sam trudges in, shaking and stomping the snow from his legs, laughing as he's nearly knocked over by a whirling, bright pink dervish of weatherproof polyester.

Our daughter runs over to us, cheeks rosy and nose runny from the cold, her apple-green eyes as big as sledding saucers.

“Mommy, Daddy, guess what?! We had a snowball fight and I won!”

“Ho ho! That’s my awesome little girl!” Dean cheers, scooping her up in his arms and swinging her through the air. He rests her on his hip, and they trade an Eskimo kiss. “Let’s go tell your Auntie Eileen and your baby cousin all about how you kicked your Uncle Sammy’s a - uh, butt.”

He sets her down and helps her unlace her boots while she tosses her hat and mittens to the floor. “Yeah, I kicked his ass!” she beams, and the three supposed adults in the room have to bite back their laughter.

“Yep,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Definitely a Winchester. No two ways...”

Once she's out of her boots and winter overall, she runs to Sam, grabs his thumb with her small hand and pulls him through the kitchen. Her tiny footsteps pelt up the stairs, layered with gleeful giggles. Then, with all the vivacity of her five years, she shrieks in triumph, “I beat you again, Uncle Sammy! I win again!”

Dean grins wide, pulls me back into his arms, and catches my lips in a kiss that teems with the same intense passion as the first one he ever gave me. And in seconds I’m melting, into his kiss, into him... into memories of a snowstorm and shag carpeting, the smoke of purple kush and the flicker of oil lamp flames, the pedal steel guitar riff of Lay Lady Lay and Dean’s hip-swaying serenade...

He breaks away, brushes a section of my hair away from my brow and tucks it behind my ear. Then he looks into my eyes with unwavering conviction and repeats the promise he’s made me every day since he took my hand in his - a promise that's as simple as it is complex, selfish yet altruistic, sometimes dubious but always definite, and anything and everything in between:

“I love you, YN.”

~Fin

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#dean x reader #dean x reader smut #dean winchester fanfiction #spn kink bingo 2020 #spn fan fic #spn fanfiction #18+ only

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sheerfreesia007 · 4 years

Text

The Woman Next Door Pt. 9

Title: The Woman Next Door Pt. 9

Fandom: American Assassin

Pairing: Mitch Rapp x Reader

Author: @sheerfreesia007

Words: 2,186

Warnings: Attempted Rape, Fighting, Violence, Injuries to male and female, cursing, choking (a woman is held down at the back of her neck I don’t know if that would be considered choking but I’m putting it here anyway just in case!)

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711, @fioccodineveautunnale, @phoenixhalliwell, @synystersilenceinblacknwhite, @linkpk88

Author Notes: Chapter 9 of the mitch fic for Mitchtober hosted by @writingsbychlo. This one is has a fair bit of violence in it so be warned. Hurley makes another appearance and Mitch is the protector. Feedback is always welcomed.

Gif Credit: Pinterest

The rhythmic pounding of his fists against the punching bag created a quiet lull in his apartment. Mitch stood shirtless in front of the punching bag throwing jabs and punches. It was late in the night and he still didn’t feel as if he could sleep so he continued to the punch at the bag. Sweat slid down the side of his face and he swiped at it quickly. The apartment floor was quiet, no one else seemed to be awake at this time.

It had only been two hours ago that Mitch had left her apartment saying that he couldn’t stay over because he had a briefing meeting early the next morning. And since he left her company something was keeping him up. He sighed softly as he jabbed at the bag again and watched it move slightly with the force he put behind his jab. As the bag came to a stand still he heard soft footsteps outside his door. He frowned and moved to the door peering through the peephole. He didn’t see anything and when he turned his head to the door he couldn’t hear any more movement outside.

Rolling his shoulders he turned back to the punching bag with the intent to continue punching at it when he heard a muffled thud outside his apartment door. Frowning again he slid the chain lock off his apartment door and unlocked the master lock on the door and slid the door open quietly. He waited a moment before he heard a loud crash come from somewhere closer to the elevator. Slipping silently out of his apartment he stalked silently down the hallway looking for the source of the noise.

Suddenly screaming sounded out in the empty hallway and Mitch ran towards the elevator still trying to find the source of the commotion. When he got closer to her apartment door his blood ran cold in his veins. Her front door was broken off its hinges, it hung haphazardly in the doorframe and Mitch quickly pushed it open to find her.

As he quickly made his way down the hallway that ran the length of the apartment he heard loud grunting and struggling coming from her bedroom. He rushed towards the door and stood in the doorway feeling as if his body was autopilot. All he knew was to help her and get her to safety. Everything else was erased from his mind and his sole purpose and goal was to find her and get her to safety.

When his eyes focused on the scene in front of him he felt the air leave his lungs. She was laying on top of her bed on her stomach a larger man was hovering over her holding her down onto the bed by the back of her neck as his other hand tried to undo his jeans. SHe was bucking and struggling trying to get him off of her back but the man was using all of his weight against her. Mitch could see that the man had a split lip, large scratches around his eyes and there were some bruises blossoming on his jaw most likely all from her fighting back.

“I’m gonna make you pay for what you did bitch.” spat the man and it pulled Mitch from his silent surveillance of the situation.

“Hey!” he shouted loudly and the man jerked away from her quickly and she whipped her head over to look at him. Mitch watched as she scrambled over her bed quickly and over the side grabbing her cell phone. The man stood to his full height which was a few inches taller than Mitch and advanced with an ugly sneer on his face.

“Who the fuck are you?” asked the man darkly as he swung and Mitch dodged the punch easily before connecting his own fist with the man’s ribs. The two of them fought each other and exited her bedroom. As he was shoved out the room by the man Mitch could hear her speaking with the police on her cell phone telling them what was going on.

Mitch grunted as he was shoved to the floor by the man who continued to step up to him and kicked his leg out catching Mitch in the stomach. Standing quickly from the floor Mitch lunged forward and tackled the man to the floor. He quickly straddled the man and his fists flew at the man as he imagined what he would’ve done to her if he hadn’t come in time. The image of him holding her down onto the bed by her neck replayed in his head and rage boiled and burned inside of him. He was grunting loudly as his fists swung.

“Mitch.” came an awed voice but Mitch ignored it as he continued to punch the man below him. “Oh my god! Mitch stop!” came the voice again but this time it sounded worried and horrified. “Stop Mitch! Enough!”

The voice finally filtered into his head as slender hands wrapped around the wrist that he rose to slam down into the man’s face again. He whipped his head to see her staring at him with wide eyes. He immediately stopped trying to land another punch to the man and stood quickly wrapping her in his arms tightly. She wailed softly and wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his shoulder.

Mitch held her tightly against him and turned her so that her back was to the unconscious man on her floor. His eyes darted down to the man and saw that his face was a bloody mess and he knew instantly that he had gone overboard but he didn’t regret one bit. Not if it saved her from his evil doing. Pulling a little bit away from her his bloodied hands cupped the sides of her face and stared into her tearful eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly before his eyes darted around her face. She had a gash running through one of her eyebrows, a dark bruise forming on her cheekbone and her opposite eye was swelling slightly. “Fuck look at you.” he gasped out softly.

“I’ll be alright. He didn’t-” she began but then started to cry and Mitch gently pulled her back into his arms. Her hands came up around his shoulders and clutched him there as she sobbed into his chest. “You stopped him.” she cried loudly into his chest and Mitch nuzzled his face into her neck.

“I’ll alway protect you. Always.” he promised solemnly in the quiet room. Mitch could hear the loud wailing sirens of the police cars as they sped through the city streets. Mitch heard loud footsteps and his eyes darted up to see Hurley in the doorway.

“You okay?” Hurley asked as his eyes took in the scene around him.

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure he’s the rapist they’ve been looking for.” Mitch said firmly and Hurley nodded his head as he walked into the apartment not touching anything. Mitch held her tighter against him when he heard the hurried footsteps of the police as they burst into the apartment with their guns drawn. With a quick look around the room they lowered their guns and holstered them in their cases.

“We’re going to need to ask some questions.” one of the officers said looking at Mitch as he hugged her tighter.

“Of course. She’s injured, we need an EMT.” Mitch said easily as he slowly released her and she turned to look over at the officers. The grimace on their faces showed that her injuries had only gotten worse since Mitch had last seen them.

The EMT’s came into the apartment soon after the officers cleared the apartment and they took away the man who Mitch had beaten. He was still alive thankfully so Mitch wouldn’t have to answer why he had killed a man in her apartment. And luckily the man was in fact the serial rapist that the police had been looking for. He was identified by a custom tattoo on his lower calf and was quickly taken into custody on his way to the hospital.

The officers stayed with Mitch as the EMT’s looked over her injuries talking to her about what happened. She refused to go to the hospital against the EMT’s advice and while Mitch didn’t agree with her he wasn’t going to push her to go to the hospital. Detectives and the crime scene investigators were the next to arrive and they collected her clothes she was wearing when he attacked her and any other evidence that they could off her body.

It was a long few hours of questioning and finally as the sun was slowly creeping up over the horizon and filling her apartment the detectives were satisfied with everything. Mitch stayed by her side and Hurley didn’t stray very far wanting to keep an eye on her. She was shivering as she stood next to him leaning back against the counter behind them. Mitch wrapped a loose arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side silently. She turned into his body and rested the side of her head against his naked chest.

“Alright we’ve got everything that we need to put him away. We might need you to testify against him once court starts getting going but that’s a ways away right now. He’s going away for a very long time so try to ease your mind as much as you can. If you need any help and guidance here’s a number for our victim’s advocate department they will be able to help you.” said the detective as he handed Mitch a card with a number on it. Mitch nodded his head in thanks and the detective left her apartment with a nod of his head.

“C’mon sweetheart, let’s go pack you a bag of your stuff.” Mitch said softly as he turned his head to her. She looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows and he saw the raw stitches that the EMT’s had given her for the gash through her eyebrow. “You’re not staying here. Your door is broken and we don’t know how long it’ll take to get it fixed. Plus you went through something horrible tonight. You shouldn’t be alone.” Mitch said as he slid his hands onto her shoulders and gazed down at her. “You’re going to stay with me until everything is fixed.”

“Good idea Rapp. I’ll let Irene know that you’re taking a few personal days.” Hurley said confidently as he nodded his head. Mitch nodded his head in thanks as Hurley left the apartment. Leaving her to her bedroom he left her standing in the hallway not knowing if she would want to enter her bedroom right now after what had happened. He opened her closet and pulled out her luggage that she kept stored in there before opening the two bags and quickly pulled clothes from her drawers and closet and piled them into the bags. When he was done he grabbed the two bags and met her in the hallway, she held a smaller bag in her hands and he could see that it held toiletries that she would need while she stayed with him. He nodded his head and let her walk ahead of him out of her apartment. Mitch managed to shut her door as much as he could without breaking it further. He knew he would have to talk to the landlord and find out how he could help protect her things as the door was fixed. But right now he wanted to get her into his own apartment and let her sleep, she had to be tired after everything that happened.

When they walked into his apartment he walked to his bedroom and set her bags down next to the bed. When he turned around he saw her standing in his doorway hugging her arms around her body looking around quietly. She looked so lost that Mitch felt the unwavering urge to protect her. He stepped over to her and wrapped his arms completely around her and pulled her in close. She buried her face in his chest once again and he could feel her body trembling.

“C’mon you need to sleep.” he said softly against her hair.

“Can you lay with me? I don’t think I could sleep alone.” she whispered quietly. Mitch felt his heart clench in his chest, amazed that she still wanted to be around him after he almost killed a man for her. “Please.” she pleaded and he could hear the quiet fear in her tone.

“Of course,” he said quietly. Moving her to the bed he laid her down and then crawled in next to her pulling the blanket up around the two of them. She snuggled in close to his body and Mitch once again wrapped her up in his arms pulling her close. She pressed a soft kiss to his chest and the two of them fell quiet letting the stillness of his apartment lull them into a shallow sleep.

#my writing #mitchtober #mitch rapp #mitch rapp x reader #american assassin

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hyperpsychomaniac · 3 years

Text

Who Says You Can't Go Home - Chapter 5

Darkwing Duck (90s series) fanfiction

Sequel to my recent fanfic The Other Side of Me

Summary: Down on his luck, the Negaverse Launchpad crashes at Launchpad’s parents looking for help. Launchpad, who has avoided visiting his family since he started working with Darkwing, returns in a panic to ensure his double isn’t causing trouble. And then it gets awkward.

Chapter 1

***

“Why aren’t the rivets with the rivet gun?”

“Because they’re fasteners. Not a tool. And you think you’ve got it hard? I think he’s arranged the sealants by… viscosity?”

“Viva what?” Launchpad slammed the doors to the tool cupboard he’d been riffling through, and moved onto the next. Despite the organisation of their parents’ hanger, finding the right parts they needed, without leaving anything behind and as quickly as possible, proved a challenge. “And what ever happened to using chewing gum?”

“Wrong viscosity. Hurry it up. We’ve got to get out there, rivet back up the strut, seal the wing and let the sealant dry…”

“It can dry as we tow it. This would be easier if we could just bring it straight back and fix it in the hanger.”

“Do you want to explain what happened?”

Launchpad gritted his teeth. “Finally, fasteners! And no, I don’t.” He jammed his hand into the box containing the right sized rivets, and pulled out a fistful. A couple bounced out and found their way into nearby containers. He stepped back and pushed the rivets around in his hands, counting to make sure he had enough along with a couple spares. “I wish you’d never convinced me to fly through that damned canyon.”

“You flew where?!”

Launchpad spun around and threw himself back into the cupboard, slamming the doors closed behind him. The entire thing rocked under the impact of his weight. Inside, the clatter of hundreds of airborne fasteners bounced around and off the metal walls. The rivets he’d held scattered across the floor.

Ripcord McQuack’s gaze trailed one of the unfortunate rivets across the floor, then snapped back up to Launchpad. “You went to… the canyon?”

Loopey sidled up beside him. “Told you. Deja vu.”

“Launchpad! Answer me!”

“I… yes?” What else was he supposed to say?

Ripcord’s chest heaved. “I told you kids you were never allowed to fly there.”

“Dad, calm down,” said Loopey. “We’re not kids anymore, remember?”

“Then how come I find you two riffling through everything like a couple teenagers and creating a mess?”

Launchpad exchanged a look with his sister.

“Launchpad!”

“Why am I the one getting yelled at? We just had a… minor…”

Ripcord looked around the hanger. “Loopey, where is your plane?”

“At the bottom of the canyon. Its fine,” she said quickly. “We’re just going to have to tow it out.”

“You’re here for five minutes and you take your sister…”

Loopey pushed past her brother. “Launchpad didn’t take me anywhere. I’ve been to the canyon before. You know, when I come and visit and go out flying by myself and decide where I’m going like an adult is supposed to?”

Ripcord swallowed hard. “You’ve… Launchpad could’ve, you could’ve… don’t you think I told you not to go there for a reason?”

“Yes, but what reason?” Loopey threw her arms out wide. Launchpad let her talk. She was getting through to Dad a lot better than he would’ve. He was taking her more seriously too. Launchpad should’ve been mad but he just wanted this to be over. “You’ve told us not to go there, but you have never, ever, told us why. We’re adults now. If you don’t want us to do something just tell us the reason. We’ll listen to you. But you can’t expect us to do what you say, with no explanation.”

“Okay, fine, I’m overreacting. Just tell me what happened.”

“I broke a strut on the canyon wall. We figured we…”

Ripcord paled. “What?”

Launchpad wasn’t letting Loopey get in trouble for this one. He stepped up and put a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Dad, it’s not her fault. I got too close on top of her; she didn’t have room to move.”

“You were right on top of each other? What the hell were you doing in there?”

Launchpad swallowed. “Racing.”

Ripcord squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “You have no idea how stupid that was. Anything goes wrong in there and there is nothing you can do…”

“That’s not true. Loopey landed the plane just fine, and…”

“Enough! Just forget it. If you’re going to act like children, you’re both bloody grounded.”

Launchpad rolled his eyes. “You can’t actually ground us anymore.”

“Want to bet? I’m not talking about sending you to your rooms. I mean literally. These are mine and your mother’s planes. We decide who flys them. And for the rest of this visit that doesn’t include either of you.” Ripcord stomped over to the jeep and began rearranging the tools the siblings had already haphazardly packed. “Don’t worry about your mess. I’ll clean it up myself.”

Launchpad felt heat rise in his cheeks, but he kept his beak firmly shut. He was way too old to be grounded. But arguing would just make him sound even more childish. He was done with that for this visit.

Beside him, Loopey folded her arms across her chest. She also looked a little flushed. “What the actual heck? We’ve all flown in tight spaces plenty of times before, done dangerous stunts... And I thought I’d never have to hear another grounded pun again.”

Launchpad watched his father rifle through the jeep with his back to his kids. He was going to go get that plane all by himself. However bad he was reacting, that wasn’t his fault. And however innocent it had been, racing through that spot had been pretty dumb. “I’ll go out with him. It’s kind of my fault.”

“Not completely.”

“I know,” he smiled at his sister faintly. “Speed demon. Go on, don’t worry about this. I should spend some time with him anyway.”

“Thanks, big brother. Good luck.”

Launchpad sidled over to his father. “Dad, I’ll come with you. You’re going to need help.”

Ripcord straightened, rubbed at the corner of his eye, then turned to face his son. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? You want to fly like a maniac, that’s your business. But when you’re flying with someone else you’ve got a responsibility for them too, especially if they’re family.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Do you want my help or not?”

Ripcord swallowed. “It’s going to be a long drive. Sure you want to spend that amount of time with me?”

That look in his father’s eye. It was trying to be anger, but there was something deeper, more desperate. He’d definitely put this off way too long. “Yeah, Dad.”

***

The jeep bounced and rattled across the dirt track as they started the trek out to the canyon. Ripcord drove, one hand on the steering wheel. He was the first to break the silence. “I should probably let you know, Gosalyn was mucking around with… Launchpad… she hit her head. She’s okay!” he said quickly, when Launchpad jerked up from his slouch in the passenger seat. “I’m pretty sure her dad can take care of her. Just thought you should know.”

Launchpad huffed. “It wouldn’t be the first time she’s done it. What did Launchpad do?”

Ripcord shrugged. “Whatever it was he felt pretty bad about it. He wouldn’t have meant to hurt her. Kids… stuff happens… it’s not his fault.”

“As long as she’s okay.”

“You really care about those two, don’t you?”

Launchpad groaned. “We’re not dating!”

Ripcord smirked. “I know. I think your mother does too. But can you blame her? You’ve been so secretive.” The smirk slipped from his beak. “Me and your Mom, we’re sorry for lying to you. It’s just that we haven’t seen you in so long. And you’ll talk to your Mom on the phone. But you always seem to manage to hang up before I get there. And, well, I kind of wanted to talk to you about something anyway and I wanted to do it in person.”

“I’m not trying to avoid you. It’s just… complicated…”

Ripcord glanced across at him, and Launchpad dropped his gaze to his lap. His father smiled faintly. “It’s okay. I’ve got a pretty good idea what’s going on.”

“I’m pretty sure you don’t.” How was he supposed to tell his parents about Darkwing Duck? He had to tell them something. But he hadn’t talked to DW about this, so he didn’t even know what would be okay to share. He didn’t want to put his friend in a spot. He had his secret identify for a reason.

“Launchpad, I get, it really, I…” Ripcord huffed. “Okay. You don’t think it was weird for us having a guy that looked exactly like you crash onto our doorstep, bleeding and begging for help?”

The Negaverse Launchpad. It was certainly a safer topic. “Yeah, what happened to him?”

“He crashed in here with a broken arm, near exhaustion. Told us, once he’d woken up, that he’d gotten involved with air pirates. He was a bit of a mess. When he woke up he was throwing punches at doctors and I thought I was going to have to sit on him or something. Until your mother calmed him down. I guess he didn’t expect us to take him to a hospital and all that attention actually scared him. Since he left Saint Canard he’s just been butting around, not knowing what to do with himself. He didn’t just come to us because he was hurt. He was at the end of his rope and he needed someplace where he’d feel safe, with people he knew he could trust.”

Launchpad had set him up with a plane but then he’d left him to his own devices. Those two weeks they’d spent together, his double had been an wreck for most of it, as he’d progressively worked up the courage to tell him more stuff about Negaduck. He’d only started to pull himself out of it once the plane had started to come together. It had been naive to assume he’d be alright out here by himself. “I told him to stay away from Saint Canard. I guess he thought he had no place else he could turn. Guess I didn’t help him as much as I thought.”

“Son, he can’t stop talking about how much you helped him and how you made him that aeroplane. Its weird, one moment he’s trying to fight your mother’s plants, and then he’s getting all excited about that scrap heap you built. You helped him plenty. But he was on our doorstep, hurt… I think, at that point, seeing him like that, we…” he gulped, then shook himself a little. “We thought of you. We just went into full blown parenting mode. But after, well, we started asking questions. He told us about the Negaverse.”

Launchpad nodded. “And Negaduck?”

Ripcord’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Oh, yeah. And Negaduck. I tell you, if I ever get my hands on that manipulative piece of work…”

“Dad, do not mess with Negaduck.”

“You’d know, wouldn’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Follow what I’m saying here. Launchpad explained where he came from. That he’s your twin from another universe. He told us he works for Negaduck, and that Negaduck is the twin of Darkwing Duck, you know, infamous vigilante from Saint Canard.”

“Yeah…”

Ripcord sighed. “He had to explain how you guys met. Launchpad, I know you’ve been flying a plane for Darkwing Duck.”

It was everything he’d been trying to figure out how to explain and he hadn’t known how to tell his father and then it was just… done… over… and… he still didn’t know if too much had been revealed. Launchpad sunk into his seat and put his face in his hands.

“That’s why you haven’t come to visit, isn’t it? Look, I get some of its got to be secret stuff. But if this Darkwing Duck has been bullying you, or…”

“Wait, wait,” Launchpad jerked up in his seat. “He only told you that I worked for Darkwing… that’s it?”

“That you were his pilot. I think he caught on pretty quickly that we actually had no idea that’s what you were doing. So, yeah, that’s all he said. And I get that there’s identities that need to remain secret, assuming you even know that…”

Some of the tension left Launchpad’s shoulders. The Negaverse Launchpad had to tell them something. He should’ve figured that. But it looked like he’d been smart enough to keep Drake out of it. His parents knew about Darkwing Duck. They just didn’t know he was also living with the guy and doing his groceries.

“Launchpad, look at me.” His father grabbed him by the shoulder, his fingers digging in, and the jeep rumbled to a halt. “You don’t have to share everything about this. It’d be the same if you were working for the government, or any other place where there might be confidentiality agreements, or… we don’t expect that of you. But I just want to know one thing.”

Launchpad put his hand over his father’s, if only to loosen his grip. “Sure, Dad.”

“The whole Negaverse thing, there’s parallels to it.”

“You mean how everyone’s opposite?”

Ripcord shook his head. “No. Not opposites. I see a lot of you in that other Launchpad. I think you did as well. And, I guess that’s why I’m worried. You and Launchpad. Negaduck and Darkwing. You’ve both worked for them. But, some of the stories Launchpad has told me about Negaduck…”

“He told them to me as well. I know.”

“I just want to know if Darkwing has ever hurt you. Because if he has I’ll pack up my shotgun right now and…”

“What? No…” Launchpad pulled back. “he’s not Negaduck.”

“He hasn’t forbid you to come see us? Or just made you feel that you can’t? Or threatened to hurt you if you reveal to much about him, or… anything, Launchpad, you just have to tell us.”

“Dad, I said no!” said Launchpad, a growl creeping into his voice. “DW’s a good guy, and besides, he’s my friend. He’s difficult, and he’s got an ego, but he’d never do anything like that.”

“Then why haven’t you said anything about working with him before?”

“He never told me I couldn’t. I just… I never brought it up properly with him.” Launchpad slumped back in his seat as he heard his own words. Yeah, DW was difficult. And any conversation about him telling his parents anything would result in DW stressing out, probably overreacting a bit, but… he would eventually come around. And he would’ve told him exactly how much information he was comfortable for his sidekick to share. He’d never actually stopped him. In fact, every time his mother had called, Drake had always pushed Launchpad to talk to her.

“Oh. Okay.” Ripcord put the jeep in gear and pulled off. After a few moments, he spoke again. “It’s alright if you don’t want to talk to your dad about what you’re doing anymore. But, we’re still proud of you, okay? Even without the superhero sidekick stuff. Drake and Gosalyn… being a single parent is tough. The fact you’re helping Drake around the house, and being there for Gosalyn, not a lot of people would do that. And after how bad the other Launchpad hurt you,” he reached out, and gently squeezed Launchpad arm, “to still go and help him when no one else would, that took a lot of guts.”

Launchpad rested his head against the window, unable to look at his father, and watched the rocks and withered trees rumble by. Sure, he’d been there for Drake, and Gosalyn, and the other Launchpad. But he hadn’t tried hard enough to just do something as simple as have a difficult conversation with DW, so they could get their story straight, and he could come see his Mom and Dad.

“I just… wish I didn’t have to lie to you to see you. I miss you.”

Launchpad squeezed his eyes shut tight.

***

The doctor arrived within half an hour, pronounced Gosalyn ‘mostly fine’, and then told them to keep an eye on her and not let her nap until it was evening. Then Mrs McQuack pulled Launchpad aside and asked him what had really happened. He told her the truth. About the potato gun anyway. He wasn’t really lying, leaving out Negaduck. Negaduck hadn’t had anything to do with what happened to Gosalyn.

Birdie patted him on the shoulder and told him he needed to ‘be careful with that thing’, especially if he was playing with a kid, and that maybe it was best if he left it alone until the Mallards left. Heck, she’d been angrier about her stinking rose bushes. But that was probably more to do with the mood he’d been in at the time.

Truth be told, Launchpad had expected everyone’s reaction to what he’d done to Gosalyn to be much worse. Even Drake, though he’d been shooting him glares all day, had eventually left him alone in front of the television with his daughter. Although, Launchpad was pretty sure that was because he’d finally got stressed out sitting with his daughter most of the day, and couldn’t take watching the cartoons she’d pronounced were the only sure fire way to keep her awake.

It was the longest, most stressful afternoon of Launchpad’s life. And not because Gosalyn kept trying to bully him into bringing her snacks. Negaduck’s ultimatum hung in his mind like heavy fog. It wasn’t that he was conflicted about the choice he had made. He just wasn’t sure he was strong enough to pull it off.

Launchpad tapped his foot on the ground; he needed a cigarette. Mrs McQuack had been trying to get him to cut down and the one he usually had in the morning had lately been enough, but not today. Besides, he’d left them all in a heap outside his shack after Gosalyn had startled him.

“You’re as bad as Launchpad.”

“I am Launchpad.”

“No, I mean the real one. You’re shaking the whole sofa.”

“I’m keeping you awake.”

“Hello, that’s what the cartoons are for?” Gosalyn waved at the television.

“This drivel? It’s unrealistic. You hit a cat with a hammer it doesn’t make little stars, it just…” Launchpad folded his arms with a harrumph.

Gosalyn leaned forward to check no one was in the next room, then lowered her voice. “You’re worried about Negaduck. We should tell Dad.”

“We can’t. Don’t worry. I’m going to take care of it.” Launchpad stood to his feet. It was nearing sundown; Negaduck’s decision time. But first, he was going to collect some tools from the hanger. He’d give Negaduck his decision alright, and he was going to make it bloody clear.

Gosalyn glared up at him. “I should come with you. But I still feel a little dizzy so it might not be a good idea. Just be careful. If you get hurt, I’m going to be mad. And if you take too long, I’m telling Dad. I don’t care what I promised.”

Launchpad waited for a second. “Aren’t you going to ask what I’m going to do?”

“Is what you’re going to do appropriate to tell a kid… oh, are you going to hit him with a bat or something, or just punch his face in? Or, you know, worse?”

Launchpad huffed and rolled his eyes. “I meant about… he asked me to join him. He wants me to kill your dad. Which I already tried to do once.”

“But you were different then. And you told me that story…”

“I could’ve been lying.”

“I don’t think you’re smart enough to make up a story like that.”

“I…” Launchpad’s shoulders sagged. “Aw, kid. You know how many faces I’ve smashed in for calling me stupid?”

Gosalyn stood up on the sofa so she could look him in the eye. “I know he’s hurt you. But you can still beat him.”

Launchpad swallowed hard. Damn this kid. “How do you know that?”

Gosalyn grabbed him by the collar. “I know because you’re Launchpad McQuack! And you’re not going to let anybody hurt your family!” Her beak was pressed almost to his, and she glared into his eyes so earnestly, almost angrily.

Launchpad’s gaze hardened. “Cover for me? They won’t be suspicious. I do this sometimes; wander off at night.”

“I’ve got your back.”

“Good on ya, kiddo.”

Launchpad made his way over to the McQuack’s hanger. A crowbar was always a good go-to. But maybe he should find something bigger, and sharper. You never knew with Negaduck. Sometimes it didn’t matter what weapon you had.

Inside, the lights were on. Launchpad made his way straight to the tool board. At first, he’d found the place nauseatingly tidy. But after helping the McQuack’s out with some repairs, he had to admit, it was nice to be able to find stuff. That would’ve been the last thing he needed today, stressing about digging through tools when he just wanted to grab what he wanted and go deal with Negaduck.

There was the ping of metal on metal. Launchpad spun around and brandished the crowbar.

“Oh, Launchpad, sorry, I thought you realised I was in here.” Loopey sat on the floor, surrounded by a half dozen containers filled with bolts and fasteners. The noise had just been her pegging a bolt into one of the half filled containers, and it was absolutely ridiculous that it had startled him. He really was on edge. She jumped to her feet, picked her way amongst the containers, and came over to him. “I was hoping we’d get a chance to chat.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Loopey frowned at the crowbar. “Now, what are you doing with that?”

“Er…” He’d almost forgotten that most people in this dimension didn’t routinely carry around weapons, and here he was waving a crowbar in the McQuack’s daughter’s face. Still, most people in both dimensions wouldn’t bounce right up to him when he had a weapon in hand. “Um… was going to knock some… heads off flowers. Sometimes I need to blow off steam.”

“Ah,” said Loopey, as if that had been a perfectly rational answer. “Just don’t mess with anything in Mom’s garden.”

Launchpad winced. “Yeah, I’ll only make that mistake once.”

She had her arms folded, looking at him, trying to figure him out. She seemed far too calm. His own sister would’ve been swinging her fist in his face, just like the last time he’d seen her.

“You burned your planes? For him.”

He’d caught her fist. Laughed.

“I am so glad Mom and Dad aren’t here to see what you’ve become.”

“They were weak. Negaduck isn’t.” And then he’d thrown that punch right back.

Loopey lightly brushed his sleeve. “Hey, you okay?”

Launchpad shook himself. He had to deal with Negaduck. But he wanted to talk to Loopey. It was just like what he’d felt with Gosalyn; he wanted to connect with her. It wouldn’t make up for anything with his own sister. But, shit. He missed her. “Er… what are you doing in here anyway?” Launchpad waved the crowbar towards the containers.

“Launchpad crashed into the cupboard, typical, and messed them all up. But he’s out with Dad and…” Loopey rubbed at her arm. “We crashed one of the planes. They’re out there now to bring it in… and… well, Dad seemed a bit upset. I didn’t want to leave this for him to clean up. So, you got a spunky little sister over in this Negaverse place?”

One who hated him so much he’d never be able to speak to her, like this, again. “We haven’t spoken in years.”

“Oh. What about your parents?”

Rougher around the edges then the McQuacks he’d spent the last two months with. Still good people, by Negaverse standards. He and his sister would’ve never hit each other like that when they’d been alive. You only fought if you’d both agreed you were sparring, because a family had to have some way to blow off steam when they were pissed at each other. Other people? Fine. If you knew you needed to smack them one you just did it. But not family. They were your backup, your protection. You treated them with some respect. “They’re dead.”

Loopey winced. “Oh, did this Negaduck guy…?”

Launchpad shook his head. “Nothing to do with him. The Negaverse is just a rough place.” And he’d actually been angry with them, just for not being tough enough to take on the air pirates that had challenged them for their air space. It had been ridiculously immature of him, and he’d figured that out, as he got older, before he even left the Negaverse. When things had come to a head, two planes had taken down nearly a dozen pirate fighter planes between them, until the pirates finally shot down the Negaverse’s Ripcord McQuack. And then Birdie McQuack had flown her plane straight into the main engine of the pirate airship and brought the whole thing down with her. What his parents had done had been borderline legendary.

But they were still dead. And Launchpad had decided that was because they hadn’t been strong enough. Despite how much they relied on and protected each other, when they’d been outnumbered, it wasn’t enough. Allying in yourself to just anyone, no matter how much you trusted them, was not enough. You needed to ally yourself to someone strong. Like the guy who had singlehandedly brought the chaotic and dangerous Negaverse to its knees and declared himself its ruler.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re Mom and Dad didn’t even know me. But they’ve been everything I needed right now. Them and your brother…” Launchpad gulped at the lump that had risen to his throat. Negaduck hadn’t given him the safety he’d been looking for. How he’d treated him had been a poor exchange for his protection. Then he’d come over here. And the McQuacks may not have had the strength he thought he needed, but they’d given him what Negaduck never had and didn’t ask for anything in return. Apart from refraining from ripping up their garden.

Now Negaduck was here to take that all away from him. Launchpad’s fist tightened around the crowbar.

“They’re pretty great, aren’t they? Look, if you want to talk some more, you don’t have to go assault plants. You could help me, er…” Loopey’s shoulders slumped. “Sort fasteners.”

Launchpad forced a smile. “Raincheck?”

“Pft. Coward.” Loopey blinked as she caught herself. “Um, sorry. I talk like this to my brother all the time. You realise this is very confusing, right?”

At least he wasn’t the only one getting mixed up feelings about his actual family mixed in with the ones he was starting to develop for this one. “Yeah, I get it. But we can talk later. I really just need to… blow off some steam.”

“Later.”

The Gator was parked outside. Launchpad swung himself in, grabbed the seatbelt, then let it slide back as he remembered he wasn’t riding with Mr McQuack. He put the machine in drive and tore down the hill as fast as he could.

They might not be his family. But he was attached. And for once, that no longer felt like a weakness. If only he’d worked that out back in the Negaverse with Gosalyn, and with his sister. He may have blown his chances back home, but he would not fail this time.

Negaduck was going to pay.

***

Chapter 6

#darkwing #darkwing duck #darkwing fanfiction #darkwing duck fanfiction #launchpad #negalaunchpad #nega launchpad #launchpad mcquack #negaduck #dwd #dwd91 #darkwing duck 1991 #disney ducks

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creativeskullcreations · 3 years

Text

Outside chapter 18: Confrontation in the Street

Getting to the end of the fic soon. But we've still got some stuff to wrap up, first. ;) After all, it's not like Stacy and Scout made a clean getaway...

Stacy groaned as she stared at the computer monitor, lines of numbers and symbols filling the screen. "This was just working, like, five seconds ago..." She rubbed at her forehead, trying to spot where she had screwed up the code, comparing it to her handwritten notes, as well as the copy on her phone. It al matched, and none of it was working. She let her head fall against the desk.

"Why did I decide to be a programmer?" She bemoaned. Her desk-mate, Chell, reached over and patted her back in sympathy. Stacy then sat back up and went back to combing over the code, searching out and fixing all the little mistakes. By the time lunch came around, she had managed to get it to work better, but not to where it needed to be.

Grabbing her lunch from her bag, she dug into the sandwich while some others in the office left to go somewhere else. With the office sufficiently emptied, Scout climbed out of the bag and onto the desk in order to grab some food.

Chell watched this with some small fascination, while Stacy kept one eye on her mute coworker. As far as she could tell, the other woman thought Scout was some sort of an advanced V-Pet or something, and she wasn't looking to dissuade that notion.

Chell tapped her flesh arm. "It's taking your chips." She signed when Stacy turned to look at her.

"Yeah, she does that." She replied, not even looking as Scout climbed back down into the the bag, mouth full of chips. "At least she doesn't leave crumbs."

"It's weird that you let it do that." She frowned. "Is it not possible to leave it home?"

"Nope, not possible." She turned back to her computer, shoving the rest of her food in her mouth so she could type. Chell turned back to her own monitor, taking the action to mean the conversation was over. At least she tried.

The time after lunch was spent fixing up more of her code, comparing it against Chell's to make sure they would work well together. They did not, which meant more tweaking until they did. Codes saved, with a promise to test them together again tomorrow, and they were soon able to pack up and go home.

On her way out to her truck, Stacy spotted an unmarked white van with tinted windows sitting across the street. She stared at it for a second, wondering why it looked familiar. She was sure that she'd seen it somewhere...

She shrugged the feeling off and got in her truck, starting the drive back home. It probably just hung out in front of the building a lot, and that's why it looked familiar. She'd ask Scout or Chell about if they'd seen it later.

Unnoticed, the white van followed at a distance.

---------

Setting up for DnD night was always tough, and Stacy preferred when it wasn't at her house for that reason. But they were on a rotation, so she had to deal with getting out the wine glasses, soda, cooking the pizza, and making sure the table was set up. Well, Will did the table part, after she accidentally crushed a plate with her prosthetic.

Scout balanced on her Host's head, flopped over and peering down as she pulled the pizza from the oven. The others were already gathered around the table, setting up character sheets and maps. She could hear them talking in there, chatting and having fun as Mason and Will tried to initiate a fight between their characters.

Stacy could feel it as Scout turned to watch them, glancing between the group and her closet-room. It was obvious she wanted to join them, though Stacy wasn't sure why. It was usually a loud affair, and Scout didn't like loud events, unless it was a TV show or video-game.

"You can stay and watch, you know." She told the Puppet, who startled. "Nobody would mind it really."

"Hmm." More looking, and then the weight on her head disappeared, and Stacy sighed.

'Maybe it's a good thing she doesn't want to join. It'll keep the questions down at least.' She sliced up the pizza and turned off the oven, plating some up for herself. "Okay everyone, pizza's done! Come get some before it all disappears!"

The three other adults rushed into the kitchen, piling up as much pizza as they could onto their plates. They all chattered excitedly about the session as they went back to the table. Stacy turned just in time to see Scout grabbing a slice, crawling away with it in her mouth like some sort of tiny cryptid. It was adorably hilarious, and she wished she could've gotten it on video.

They all got settled in, and Lisa started going over her notes while Stacy looked back over her character sheet. She needed a refresher from the last session she was a part of, as she'd had to skip a couple due to work.

"Okay, so the party is heading through a giant Dwarven fortress, deep underground." Lisa told them. "Marigold's been carried around by Nutbuster-"

"The Nutbuster." Mason corrected. He'd worked too hard on her character for Lisa to ignore part of her title.

"Right..." She sighed. "So she's been carrying Marigold around, and protecting her during her hibernation."

"Cool." Stacy put the sheet down and put her figure with the others. She was glad that her character hadn't died, at least.

"Okay, so..."

Lisa described the ancient Dwarven ruin they were in, searching for an orb that could tell the future for the King. He needed it to find out where the dragons that kept roasting his kingdom were, and when and where they would strike next. If they could get it without dying, of course.

As they delved deep inside the ruin, avoiding traps and defeating enemies, Scout watched from the doorway. It looked like just one big game of pretend, and from how Stacy had described it that's basically what it was. As Scout watched them, she felt she preferred video-games better. Much less imagination needed for those.

A noise at the backdoor made her pause, however. The Hosts didn't seem to have heard it, so with a sigh Scout decided to go check it out. 'Maybe one of the guys downstairs got loose.' She figured she could just call the others for help, as she Jumped to the kitchen. Looking around, everything was where it had been before, and the basement door was still closed.

The backdoor was ajar, though.

Scout just sighed, Jumping over to close it back up. "Creepy old house..." She muttered. She turned around to go back

-----

A door slammed in the kitchen, making everyone look up from their game. "Did Scout just fail to sneak outside again?" Will asked, looking around for the wayward Puppet.

"She'd better not have." Stacy muttered, then blinked. "I think she's unconscious actually."

A pause, and then the couple raced to the windows. Mason and Lisa looked on in confusion and growing worry. They stood up and followed as Stacy paled, then raced outside and towards a white van.

"You!" She growled out as the two caught up to her, Mason grabbing her flesh arm to hold her back. For a moment, the dark clothed figure didn't move, staying still halfway in the van. Slowly the figure leaned back out, pulling along with them Riley, of all Puppets, holding an unconscious Scout in her grasp.

"I wouldn't get any closer if I were you." She told them, as Stacy struggled to pull away from Mason. "Or you won't like what I'll do."

"You let her go right now! Or I'll punch you into next week you Muppet reject! I'm gonna-!" She shut up when Riley's Host pulled a pistol out and aimed it at her. A second later, it aimed the gun at Scout. instead as Riley grinned under her mask.

"I'd watch that mouth if you want to remain among the living. I shoot her and you'll be the one dying." Riley warned her, and Stacy felt her mouth go dry.

'Oh... I never considered who's life was tied to who's...' "What do you want?" She ground out. 'Keep her talking. Will just needs a few more minutes...'

"Why, both of you, or course. You're coming with me, for better or for worse." Her Host took a step back, and Riley gestured to the vehicle with her free hand. "So be a good Host and get into the van. And don't try to escape, there's no way that you can."

Stacy didn't know what to do, and had no real plan. But, she still yanked her arm out of Mason's grip and took a step towards the Puppet scientist. A second later a gunshot rang out and the Host dropped to one knee, blood splattering out from the leg. A look behind them showed Will on the porch, rifle to his shoulder as he glared at the Puppet.

"Don't hit Scout!" Stacy yelled as Riley yanked her Host to it's feet and dove into the van. Stacy made a run for it but Riley closed the door as another Puppet in the driver's seat floored it, peeling out of their street. Stacy barely managed to dive out of the way as it raced past her, ending up on the ground.

She stared after the vehicle as it vanished around a corner, tears gathering in her eyes as the others approached to make sure she was okay. She buried her face in her arms, and choked back a sob. 'Please no! I don't want to go back!'

----

The group gathered in the living, sitting silent. Stacy couldn't keep her eyes off the window, staring down the road Riley's van had gone as though that might make it reappear. Will, meanwhile, was gathering supplies.

"We need a plan!" He announced, slapping down a notebook and some pens. "Stacy, what do you know about that studio?"

"Uh." She blinked several times, wiping at her face as she tried to remember. "Uh, it was almost burnt down a while back, but there wasn't any sign of fire damage inside."

"Fire! Excellent weapon!" He scribbled 'Burn place DOWN! bring gas' "Anything else?"

"Um..." She thought back to what she'd seen. "No other Host was ever... awake. All of them were just puppeteered around by the Puppets."

"So nobody on the inside that could help us..." Lisa sighed.

"No, probably not..."

"By the way, you never told us how you... "woke up". How did that happen, anyways?" Mason asked, leaning forward in his chair.

"I... don't really know." She shrugged. "I took some Xanax before I went inside, and then did what I guess everyone else who goes in there did, and then I woke up a while later to Scout panicking about it."

"Took some... how long did it take before you woke up?" Will asked.

"I don't know, actually. It was afternoon when I went inside, but nighttime by the time we got out."

"Xanax has a sort of sedative function to it." Will muttered. "It probably circumvented the effects of the spell, tricking it into think that was the normal state of your mind."

"And then when it wore off, the spell broke." Stacy thought about it. 'But wouldn't that have also worked for Anthony? Unless Mortimer's just stronger than Scout is...'

"Okay, but how does that help us? Do we just pump weed or coke into the building?" Lisa asked.

"No, we take it ourselves and break in!" Will explained, and everyone looked shocked.

"Dude, I love ya, you're my best friend, but I don't love you that much." Mason told him. "I'm not looking to get my soul sucked. Could hurt my chances for the afterlife."

"Okay wow, first of all fuck you." Will deadpanned. "Second of all, Stacy's life and soul are already at stake!" He gestured towards his girlfriend, who looked like she was trying very hard to not look distraught.

"Is it really though? That Puppet could have been lying when she said Stacy would die if Scout did." Lisa pointed out. "Also, we don't even know if brain altering chemicals will actually work against the spell. Maybe it didn't work on her cause her great grandma was into voodoo."

"Rude. But also true." Stacy admitted, still sounding on the verge of tears. "I really don't know why I didn't stay a zombie. Maybe it was just luck."

"But we really don't have any other ideas." Will said. "Unless you think we can just storm the place?"

"Not... not really, no." She admitted. "They may just be puppets, but there's a lot of them. We'd be overwhelmed in an instant."

Silence, and then Mason sighed and stood up, taking the notebook from Will. "Okay then. Here's the plan..."

#outside #hello puppets #fanfiction #stacy stein #riley ruckus #scout #lisa montgomery #mason kamiya #will carson

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leverage-ot3 · 4 years

Text

notable moments from The Tap Out Job

leverage 2.02

Jack: Somebody drugged his water. It's an old boxing trick. He couldn't defend himself, and... He's still in the hospital.

that’s fucked

- - - - -

Eliot: It's not a cockfight. All right? Let me show you something, Hardison. Come here. Can I borrow you? (puts a gentle hand on Parker’s hip, guiding her to the open space behind the couch) All right. Square up. Remember what I showed you?

(Hardison and Parker square up)

Hardison: Are you...

Eliot: There's three phases to an MMA--to an MMA fight, okay? One, striking. (Parker punches Hardison in the face) Nice. Next is grappling, the takedown. (Parker grabs Hardison and throws him on the floor) Exactly. All right. The third one is jujitsu. Okay, try to isolate a joint. (Parker gets Hardison in a hold) That's good. That's a textbook armbar, Parker. Put some pressure on there.

Parker: Like this?

Eliot: There you go. Or you can go for a choke hold.

Hardison: She got to be choking me. (tries to get away)

Eliot: Remember that thing that I showed you?

Parker: Oh, yeah. The choke.

Eliot: Lock that in. All right. You don't have to hold the arm. See, that's a triangle choke. That's nasty. Puts pressure on his carotid artery, and the guy will submit by tap out.

Hardison (tapping the ground): Eliot, I'm tapping! I'm tapping!

Eliot: These fights are won by inches, I'm telling you.

Hardison: I can't breathe!

Eliot: All about leverage.

Sophie: Yeah, it looks really painful.

Hardison: It is painful!

Nate: No TV deal, you said, huh? Hardison, what are this guy's other interests, this Rucker guy?

Hardison: Seriously, you ask me a question right now...

Sophie: I'll take that. Yeah, rotary club, golf membership.

Nate: Golf, huh?

Hardison: Help me!

Sophie: Yeah. I mean, this guy's like a 1950s sitcom character. He plays a weekly game with the local businessmen. In fact, last year, he won the club championship.

Nate: Did he? Hmm.

Hardison: Let me go!

Nate: I guess it's...

Hardison: She's killing me!

Nate: …it's time to hit the links.

Hardison: I'm cool. Just let me go real quick.

eliot canonically teaches parker how to fight in his spare time and I LOVE THAT

fucking CHAOTIC OT3 + parker is having a great time while hardison is dying

ALSO can we just for a minute appreciate how when she puts him in a chokehold she was wrapping her legs around his neck, which basically had his head in her crotch area and !!! it wasn’t sexualized at al !!! literally A N Y other show would have sexualized it even just a little bit but not leverage. never leverage.

- - - - -

I love it when they fuck with peoples gear (like with the baseballs or hockey pucks or in this instance the golf balls)

- - - - -

parker playing with the golf club covers

- - - - -

literally EVERY con has nate being an asshole (this one was one of the more annoying ones tho)

- - - - -

hi I am but a simple bi and eliot in that grey hoodie was VERY attractive

- - - - -

Room Service: Room service. Can I help you?

Sophie: Yeah, no, I can't eat this. I'm sorry?

Everything on my plate is yellow.

Room Service: It's chicken-fried steak.

Sophie: It's what? Chicken-fried steak?

Room Service: Yes.

Sophie: No, let me just tell you, all right. Meat should never be used as an adjective.

~ a little while late ~

Sophie: I'm starving.

Parker: I found these in the minibar. (throws her a bag)

Sophie: "Pork Rinds"? How do you peel a pig? (throws it back)

- - - - -

Hardison: Got it. See, Online video websites, they track viewer hits by IP Address, so the trick is to just spoof a bunch of IPs, then write a script that lets you browse the video page via the proxy list and...

- - - - -

Sophie: Well, this guy, he just--he give me the creeps.

Eliot: We've gone up against rougher dudes than this before.

Sophie: I know. But it's this whole treating people as commodities. This whole barbaric sport.

Eliot: Hey, don't lump these guys in with Rucker. All right, he's not what the sport's about.

Sophie: Eliot, this "sport" is about two guys beating the crap out of each other.

Eliot: MMA fighters act with more respect than any other athlete I've seen.

Sophie: Yeah, they're "Braveheart," I get it.

Eliot: No, you don't. These guys don't fight because they like hurting other people, all right. They fight to gain some sort of control over their opponents, over their environment, over their lives. Have you seen this town? Huh? The farms are drying up. The only stores are bail bondsmen and pawn shops, and there's nothing they can do about it. So, yeah, they get in the ring and try not to let it all suffocate them. (a beat, he smiles) And it's about two guys beating the crap out of each other. (she smiles back)

- - - - -

eliot is wearing a green flannel in this one and it looks very nice and comfy

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Rucker: Well, bottom line is, you need good product. What event are you here to produce?

[Interior Van]

Hardison: On it. There's a tractor pull in grand island, a livestock show in council bluffs, white people doing other white things…

pls keep calling out white people pls we deserve it lmfao

- - - - -

Director (in car looking at his phone): Come on! Come on! Give me something! Come on! Is this gonna take long?

Nate (through window): No. Two shakes. Are you in a hurry?

Director: Even half a bar... what? Yes. Hurry. Does anyone in this backwater hellhole know what that means?

Nate: You're a director, right? What was your name again?

Director: What? It's Laurence. Todd Laurence.

Nate: Todd, well, listen, Mr. Laurence. See, I wrote a script...

Director: Huh?

Nate: Yeah. It's about a limo driver who solves mysteries till his wife leaves him for --

Director: For the love of god!

Nate: ...the best part: The feed store manager. Right? His wife…

Director: Yeah...?

Nate: Tramp...

Director: Hey, hee-haw, move the car! Okay

- - - - -

parker in leather pants, a bright yellow ‘I heart Nebraska’ tshirt and weird hat, eating a corn dog? ,,,a look I guess

- - - - -

Hardison (showing passes): So, I'm Todd Laurence? (girls flock to Hardison) Ladies, please, look. For the last time, I am not the tailback for the cornhuskers. Go! I don't even know what a cornhusker is.

- - - - -

Rucker: And all you need is a product?

Sophie: Well, that's what they are: Products. You get the girls with Trianna, you get the boys with MMA. And there's always another fresh-faced princess ready to go through the singing/dancing mill in Florida. Occasionally, we let one be a lesbian, keeps the press on their toes

- - - - -

Hardison: What? What? W-what was I supposed to do? It was cousin Jimmy.

Sophie: He's right. We couldn't have planned for that.

Hardison: Look, you know what I can do? I can re-task a satellite, I can get a level 3 NSA clearance, but I can't hack a hick

- - - - -

Eliot: All right, it doesn't matter. What do we do now?

Parker: We can move the Howorth.

Eliot: We're not moving the Howorths. All right? This is their home. That means something to people here.

Sophie: Yeah, we can't babysit them forever.

Nate: We've taken out bigger players than this. You know, there's got to be some way, something we can...

Eliot: No, no! I take the dive.

Sophie: You sure?

Hardison: Give me some time, okay? I've found some funny business in Rucker's accounts. I can move some things.

Eliot: Forget the fact that we just got beat by Barney Fife, all right? This is the right move. Tactically it's the right move. You all know that. (walks away)

none of them want to see eliot hurt more than he needs to or see him go down like that and I cry

alec ‘give me five minutes I will do literally anything for eliot’ hardison

- - - - -

Sophie: Hey. Listen, you-you don't have to do this, you know. Nate's gonna come up with something.

Eliot: I'm losing a fight, Sophie. I'm not diving on a grenade. I'll be all right.

Sophie: Yeah, I know. I'm not talking physically.

Eliot: I think my ego can handle it.

Sophie: Look, you told me that it's about control, about knowing that you're never gonna be the victim. And that's what keeps you going, right?

Eliot: You think I'm upset 'cause I got to let this guy kick my ass? I learned a long time ago, you can't control the violence. I can take the punishment. That's what I do. What I need to control is not out there. (touches his chest) It's here. Always.

(Sophie smiles and walks away)

- - - - -

hardison holds eliots face before he fights I never noticed that before

+ eliot’s hair is curly when it’s wet/when he’s sweaty. this means he blowdries his hair on a regular basis. eliot, as a part of taking control of himself and his life after moreau took interest in self care and taking care of his hair in this essay I will-

- - - - -

one thing I love about this is that eliot doesn’t have a six pack (see this commentary I made with a few lovely additions by my mutuals)

- - - - -

Jack: Where's Rucker?

Hardison: Oh, the Iowa State Police just got a tip that a fugitive is headed into their jurisdiction. And I'm pretty sure crossing state lines with a bag full of cash won't look too good.

Parker: Especially when they find the little surprise in his trunk.

[Flashback, Pawn Shop]

Parker: I need guns. (dumping money on counter) $6,000 worth. And one of those.

LMFAO THERE WAS A TUBA TOO

- - - - -

Doctor (examining Eliot): You took a hell of a pounding. We should get you a CT scan. You could have internal bleeding.

Jack: You let yourself get hammered like that on purpose? That's a hell of a lot of punishment to take.

Sophie: That's what he does.

- - - - -

eliot held the rope up for parker to step under when they were getting out of the ring

- - - - -

Sophie (to Parker): Pork rind? They're actually pretty good. (parker shakes her head and rubs her stomach) You sure?

sophie nO

#leverage #leverage 2.02 #leverage 2x02 #the tap out job #the tap-out job #leverage season 2 #season 2 #notable moments #mine

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