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readychilledwine · 2 months

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Small World Pt 2

Summary - After discovering you and Azriel share much more than a mating bond, your relationship grows stronger as tensions between you and your aunt seem to grow higher.

Warnings - implied emotional and mental abuse, second child syndrome in a not good way, we find out Nyx is an asshole, unrequited love, slight smut, use of daddy

A/n - a potentially cliff hanger ending because I haven't decided 100% how this ends

Peep Part 1 Here 💙

Azriel stared at the dress box sitting on Rhysand's desk and nicely folded Illyrian leathers. He couldn't remember the last time he had worn them. The last time he had used a siphon. The leathers were fitted for 7, something Azriel immediately knew would no longer work.

His powers after removing the precious stones had gone wild. His shadows were different now. They were more aware, able to span wider distances, and able to recruit more shadows into his network to join them.

He had spent 5 years alone meditating and learning even more control over them, over what they could do, over how deadly they actually could be.

7 siphons would not be enough.

And he didn't understand how Rhysand did not see that.

He finally spoke, gesturing to the box. "What is this?"

Rhys was settled in his chair, trying to maintain his composure as Cassian stood near the bookshelf to mediate if needed. "We're going to the Court of Nightmares. My daughter's engagement has spread like wildfire, and dear Keir wants to host a party in her honor."

A breathy chuckle left Azriel's lips before he could stop it. "So my fiancée will be dressed like a goddess while I am in leathers at a party to mock us?"

Cassian shifted slightly. "We've always worn leathers to Hewn City, Az. It's to honor our heritage." Rhys just inclined his head to Cassian and nodded. "Y/n wears leathers."

"She has never worn a single set in the 2 years we've been together. There isn't even a set in her closet."

"There's several sets in her closet here," Rhys said quietly. "All set up for pink siphons. 14 of them." Cassian and Azriel couldn't help their chuckles. "Imagine a blonde Illyrian with pink siphons, Azriel, its quite the sight." Rhys smiled fondly, eyes glimmering with pride despite everything. "She's-" he looked up, searching for the perfect word for his daughter. "She's my everything. And I've done a horrible job showing her that."

Azriel sucked in a deep breath. "I won't mediate this, Rhys. This is a you two thing. Not an us three thing."

Azriel knew now why you were estranged from your family. Nyx was their golden child. Constantly praised, admired, in the spotlight. He was, and still is, their reminder of how they had almost died to pass along their love. He could do no wrong, never be wrong, and was treated as such.

You, on the other hand, were the second child. The significantly younger one Nyx learned to plant blame on and watch as you were scolded and seen as "the problem" as you had told him you were now addressed as in Hewn City and Illyria. You had been raised by Ness more than Feyre and Rhys, passed off to them until your powers bloomed at 16, and suddenly your father found you interesting again. With a lack of a spymaster, he exploited you, forcing you to touch people and feel their emotions, when they lied, their stories. Forcing you to live trauma over and over of females clipped in the mountains, of tortured traitors in dungeons, of Nesta's dark phase.

You locked your powers so far away one day, so deep inside you that even you hardly could access them unless you actually wanted to. It had been just before your 18th birthday that happened. And then the fight that sealed the casket happened. Rhys had verbally lashed you. Attacked you for refusing to let him use your "one worth" to keeping his family and court safe.

Your father had said he saw you as useless, and everyone else just stood by watching.

Like they had with Nesta.

Only you were just a child. Not a head strong warrior, a goddess in fae form.

You packed the basics and spent the night on the streets in a dark alley.

Even if you and Rhys magically fixed things, even if you forgave but not forgot, Azriel would never. How you were raised, how you've been treated, it forever will taint his vision of Rhys, Feyre, and Nyx. The abuse they unleashed on you, they'd never make up for.

Rhys nodded, eyes glancing to the doorway as footsteps approached. "I would never ask you to fix my relationship with her when I need to fix my relationship with you as well. I just need you to know I love her. That she will always be my girl."

"You have an odd way of showing her your lo-"

The door opened, and you stepped in, immediately going to Azriel's side and eyeing the box. "Dad. Cassian." You opened the lid and nodded. "Well. At least it's sparkly."

Rhys cocked his head. "You don't like it?"

Azriel watched as you paused. The bond flared with conflicting emotions. Anger, hurt, longing. How long had it been since Rhys held you? Since he told you he loved you without you having to earn it. "No, I like it. I just know what this means. You never give me nice things unless Hewn City is involved." The last sentence trailed off quietly, and pain flooded the bond.

Rhys looked down, nodding as he scratched the stubble growing on his face. "I am sorry. I just-"

"Please don't. You never mean it." You grabbed the box. "I will wear it and find jewelry." You turned to Azriel. "Elain would like to speak with you. She said something about a garden you two planned together and how I'll never understand the love you two share. How it breaks bonds and shakes worlds."

The relationship between you and Azriel had been messy since dinner two weeks ago. You two had your first fight over, of course, Elain and her rekindled love, lust, whichever felt appropriate at the moment for Azriel. He ignored the constant letters, the random headache powders, the message coded flowers.

He had reached out to Lucien, asking the male what had happened. According to the new Lord of Day, Elain and he had tried for 5 years, but the damage had been done. Lucien didn't trust Elain, Elain spent most of their time comparing the two of them, and nothing Lucien gave her was enough. He had been the one to reject the bond, and after 7 years, he had found himself heavily involved in a relationship with a now fully fae Vassa and Jurian.

Rhys and Cassian both gave him gentle looks of concern as he held your hand, preventing you from walking away. He stared Rhys in the eyes, doing something he felt Rhysand had never done to prove a point. "I'd rather go home with you, so if you were planning on winnowing, we might as well go together." He picked you.

They watched as all tension left your body, as security eased into your face. "Then let's go home." Azriel grabbed the leathers, nodding to Rhys and Cassian before following you.

Azriel's elbow locked around your neck, hand squeezing your hip as he pinned you below him and continued taking you from behind. You both had no interest in heading to Hewn City, so you had distracted him, walking into your shared bedroom in just a pretty blue silk night gown offering to give your body to him for what he had done, the message he had sent.

You were supposed to be getting ready, but instead, Azriel was growling above you, pumping into you carelessly. Your toes curled at how deep he was hitting, at how good he felt, how good he felt every time. "So close," you whispered. "So fucking close-" You were moaning his name when the knock on the door came.

A shadow rushed to him, curling his ear as he paused. "It's Elain," he muttered. "She's relentless." You whined below him, hips wiggling to get friction back. "Baby,"

"Please," you begged. "It's been weeks, I've been so good, please, daddy."

Azriel felt his cock twitch at the use of the name. He'd longed for a moment to erase the memory of what happened, and you had just given it to him. He felt you moving your hips, doing the best you could while pinned to the mattress to fuck yourself on his cock.

You were his focus, the rest of the world melting away as he heard your moans turning into screams of his name. You sounded so pretty coming for him, crying for him, begging for more for less for everything as oversensitivity took over. You especially looked pretty dripping his seed when he pulled out of you. Once again, he had chosen you.

You two laid there, holding each other until claws came for both of you. Scratching angerly as your mental shields and causing you to bury your head into Azriel's chest. "We need to get ready unless you want him showing up here next," Azriel played with your hair, scratching your scalp lightly. "Let's see how many siphons I blow through."

After 2 sets of siphons being destroyed, you were currently dragging Azriel down the streets of Velaris and to your brother and father's tailor. You knew she'd be able to fit and dress him in seconds and that he'd look every bit handsome as he deserved. You were pissed when you saw he had been gifted Illyrian leathers and not a suit. Your father was out of touch with Azriel. With you.

"Helena," you smiled at the older female. "We need help."

Azriel felt stiff. Staring at the doors of Heen City as a shocked page boy ran to inform Rhys and Feyre of the late arrival. You two were about to upstage them in their own court. The guests of honor arriving late and being introduced after the Lord and his Lady.

You would have upstaged them by yourself anyway, though. Azriel admired you one more time. Rhys had picked well, though you both would never admit it. The dress had a see-through bodice of black lace and floral applicates with thin straps. It led to a satin skirt that was tight and then flared out to your hips. The left leg had a high slit, showing the toned beautiful skin Azriel was begging to cover in his kisses. You had picked a simple necklace, a single tear drop shaped sapphire with matching earring and a matching bracelet. Your ring sat on manicured nails painted a soft shade of pink to white coffin head tips. Heels graced your feet, the red underside flashing when you walked. "Gods, you are stunning," he finally whispered out in a hoarse voice.

"And all yours," you looked at him, adjusting the lapel of his jacket. "Forever." Your mask slipped on as the doors opened, a collective gasp ringing through the room over who was on your arm followed by whispers.

Azriel knew this song and dance, walking you into one thousand eyes staring and gawking. He hated seeing you like this as you were ushered to the dance floor. The first dance of the night had been delayed, and the fae were restless.

Once you were centered on the floor, you turned facing him, eyes cold and distant as you disassociated from this place. He placed a hand on your hip, leaving his other to his side where both of your sat.

It was unfair of Feyre and Rhysand to expect you to do this traditional waltz, but you followed Azriel's steps as the music began, that first note echoing in your bones and soul. Your parents had claimed your first dance with your mate. The first true dance you two would ever share, and it had to be done in front of hundreds of fae who spat your direction when the Lord and Lady were busy.

Azriel had decided he hated this side of you. He was studying you like a project. You were a different female down here. Cold, uncaring, forced into this role of the High Lord's daughter.

Did these fae know you took far too much creamer in your coffee?

That you were afraid of storms?

That you only ate fruit pastries because you found chocolate too bitter?

You were Rhysand through and through with that mask on. But inside, inside Azriel knew you carried the very light of what your grandfather built. You were a true dreamer, and you could rattle the very stars themselves if your father would just give you the chance.

If Rhysand would just believe in you.

Azriel decided in that moment what the answer to your happiness was. He'd take you tonight and you two would leave.

Fuck expectations.

Fuck the rules.

Fuck your family.

Azriel would pick you for the third time today, and you two would leave.

He just had to get you through this visit at Hewn City first, and as he watched Elain shatter a champagne flute in her hands, he knew that was going to be a mission all on its own.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish

Azriel-

@elle4404

Small World Taglist-

@amara-moonlight @iimichie @acourtofbatboydreams @justasillylittlegoofyguy @janesalvarerelochanarcheron @hungryforbatboys @sidthedollface2 @hunt1bryce

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x feysands daughter!reader #az x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster

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invisiblestringmm · 6 months

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chapter two

cut open my heart, right at the scar

chapter index

author: thank you for staying. feedback will be greatly appreciated!

warnings: soft smut, alcohol mention, drinking, anxiety mention.

word count: 2.571k

Some people call it faith, a few others call it manifestation. It could be a mix of both — after all, what could be more powerful than an innocent child wishing for something every night as if her life hangs on it?

You didn’t know if the stars and the whole cosmos were aligned precisely to make your daughter happy, but you felt wretched knowing that her happiness meant some tough times ahead for you; all this time, she never had what she wanted the most because you’ve been keeping it from her.

For a good motive, though.

Knowing you so well, practically as if you shared the same brain, it didn’t take much for Willow to discover what was wrong when she was determined to investigate a little. It began when you called up the office to inform them you’d be working from home due to a sudden heavy cold, then Willow found out that Lily was staying at your parent’s for the next two days; usually, the time she stayed when something was up and you needed time isolated. Then, you ignored her text messages, and also her calls when she decided to insist a bit more, knowing you’d shut off from everyone.

But you couldn’t ignore the banging on your front door.

Willow groaned when she found you still in your pyjamas, dark circles around your usually sparkly eyes, and your hair up in a messy bun. She had her brows furrowed and a large paper bag from your favourite bakery in her hand, you sighed knowing what was probably in it and how much you needed it along with a bottle of red wine - once you were done with work.

“I’ve stalked a little,” she confessed, stepping into your flat once you opened the door a bit more, giving her space. “What are the odds?”

“There aren’t any, it’s called karma and I fully accept my punishment,” you went straight to the point as you threw yourself on the sofa after grabbing the paper bag from Willow’s hands; the freshly baked chocolate muffins and croissants inside relieved your nerves only for a second.

“Don’t say that, Y/n. We both know you had your reasons,” she rubbed your back, making an effort to reassure you the minute she noticed your eyes glistening with tears. Willow had been there through it all, from the night you met Mason.

FOUR YEARS AGO

The loud music and the bright lights were annoying, to say the least. Still, you were in such a great mood that you couldn’t stop your hips from perfectly moving right and left, to the sound of every beat, and you were having fun. It was Willow’s birthday and, as a sucker for birthdays, your mission was to have the greatest time and make sure your group of friends had a blast too. In your little world, you poured champagne into your best friend’s mouth and allowed her to pour it into yours too, but you knew Willow’s reflexes weren’t the best when sober so why would they be when she was already wasted?

“Fuuuuck!” The black slipper dress was glued to your body, but you couldn’t hold a loud laugh as Willow followed you. “Fuck, fuck! Whatever, fuck! Let’s go get another drink.”

The thin line between carefree and careless was already there, even more so when you were bold enough to ask for tequila, after shamelessly flirting with the bartender and a few other guys around, and returned to your booth with one bottle in each hand, knowing the group would want some shots. Almost stumbling on the last step that gave you access to the booth, sitting on the burgundy leather sofa, you frowned when a towel was given to you. Looking up, you found that cute guy who you’d been staring at, holding it for you and that big smile that made the corner of his eyes wrinkle flashing at you.

“I thought you might need this, Miss Champagne.”

“How thoughtful of you to help me with my champagne problems…?”

“Mason.” He winked and your heart skipped a beat. How pathetic, swooning for a guy you just met. At a club, and completely drunk.

Mason was a cute name, but right now you could only think of how it’d sound if he made you moan it. You didn’t know, but he thought about that multiple times since you walked into the booth next to the one he shared with his friends and watched you, he thought of how those hips would move on top of his instead of moving to the beat of each song that filled the place. He thought how badly he wanted to just hold it and make you help move them for him. You were fun, your energy matched his and he was looking for an escape. And, on top of that, you were breathtakingly gorgeous and couldn’t care less for who he was when he told you, and you stated that the only athletes you cared about were swimmers-Italians, to be more specific.

As the night went on and Willow was now forming a line of boys to kiss - twenty, to match her age - you wanted to go and stop her but you knew you wouldn’t be able. Instead, you switched the first guy for one of Mason’s friends and begged him to kiss your friend so good she wouldn’t want any other. Declan was on for the mission and they disappeared together after the kiss.

You danced together, shared a few more shots of tequila and when Mason asked if you wanted to go to his place, there was no point playing difficult, you both wanted the same thing: fuck each other senseless. He got you all naked before you could even reach the stairs.

“You’re wearing too many clothes, Masey.” You pouted, making him giggle at the nickname. Mentally, he was already fucking you and you could tell that by the way he looked at you. “And you’re perfect just like that, I don’t want you wearing nothing but the adorable flush on your cheeks while you’re here or I might have to punish you.”

“Hm? I think I’ll put my clothes back on, then.” On your tiptoes, you reached for his lips and brushed them with yours, his warm minted breath making you close your eyes and let out a low and hoarse moan that only worked as an incentive for Mason to grab your thighs and carry you into the living room, straight to his large dark sofa. “Too many clothes, Mason.”

He nodded and quickly got rid of the navy blue Nike hoodie and the basic white shirt at once, leaving his bare chest exposed. Your mouth watered as your eyes wandered through his body, noticing how beautifully sculpted it was, all in the right places. But what caught your attention, innocently for the first time of the night, was the bulge under his faded blue jeans. You gulped.

“Like what you see?” Mason grinned and you quickly nodded, reaching out to unbutton his jeans. He softly slapped your hand. “Why so eager, baby?” The pet name made you moan, along with the tip of his fingers touching your nipples, then between your boobs and making the dangerous way to your lower stomach.

“Mason…” You felt your pussy clench around nothing and he gave you another grin as he made himself comfortable on the sofa and you watched his head disappear between your legs.

You felt his breath against your pussy, making your eyes roll and your back arch. “Such a beautiful pussy, I bet it tastes so good.” Mason pressed his lips against your inner thigh as his fingers now played with your juices, teasing you, making your whole body shiver and crave his touch. It felt like you were about to lose your fucking mind when he circled your clit with his thumb and his warm tongue played with your folds. Mason’s moans while eating your pussy were heavenly, he knew what he was doing and enjoyed it, but you craved for more.

“Mason, please,” You whimpered and your eyes met. Those big, brown eyes met yours and he lifted his hea, the sight of his lips wet from your juices making you bite your lower lip as hard as you could.

“Say it.”

“I need your cock inside me, now. I need you to fuck me.”

And he did, each thrust harder and deeper than the previous as Mason devoured you. Your sweat mixed with his, your moans, and the way he fucked you was something else. When his thrusts started to become sloppy and his breathing heavier, Mason quickly flipped you so you could ride him and your only goal was to make that man cum so hard he’d forget his name.

“You take me so well, Y/n. Such a good girl.” You felt your pussy clench around him when he praised you. Leaning your body forward, you held his jaw with your hand and let it slowly slip to his throat. Mason just nodded and you grinned, finally squeezing it softly, making him moan louder.

“You gonna cum for me, Mason?” He nodded again, holding your hips steady as he now moved his hips up again at his own clumsy pace. “Then look at me when you do it and while I cum all over your cock.”

He repeatedly moaned your name, his grunts only encouraging you to squeeze his throat a bit harder, letting it go when a final loud grunt parted his lips and he came, followed by you, with your body finally crashing onto his.

“That was fucking great.” Mason giggled and you nodded in return, giggling too as you rolled to the side.

“For drunk sex, it was.” Looking down at his body once again, to appreciate the view next to you, you instantly frowned when you noticed his uncovered and still-hard cock. “Mason, I thought you were wearing a condom?”

PRESENT DAY

The streetlights softly brightened your living room in the most soothing yet nearly depressing way; Willow was gone for a few hours, leaving you and your memories to yourself. During the day, you didn’t talk much about your current situation and what you’d do - if you’d do anything or just let things happen, and go with the flow, but still with some sort of control over the whole thing. Your thoughts were everywhere but also focused on two people: Lily and Mason. You knew that, eventually, you’d find yourself in this situation - it was painful, it made it hard to even breathe, and you never really prepared for it because deep down you spent four years hoping it would take lots and lots of years for Mason to be in your life again, as unfair as it was to Lily. And being unfair to your own daughter was, by far, the most disgusting thing you could do in life. She brought you nothing but love and joy.

Willow would often say that before being a mum, you were a human being. A woman who had been hurt by a man, and then you had to raise this man’s child. But you knew you couldn’t use this excuse anymore, it was time to face the consequences of keeping Lily hidden from her father and his family, and above all, stop punishing your daughter for your poor choices in life.

Your phone buzzed with a text from Jaz asking if the plans you had for Saturday were still up, and you apologised saying that you had the flu, but that Lily was more than allowed to go and you’d talk to your mum to arrange everything. After another lie to protect yourself, since there was no flu, you thought that maybe opening a bottle of white wine would help you through what it would be a long night awake, alone with your own thoughts and desperate attempts to minimise all the collateral damage that would find its way into your life once you revealed the truth. First to your daughter, then you’d have to hunt Mason Mount again.

His reaction was what frightened you the most. What would he do? What would he say?

Would he take Lily from you?

Would he hate Lily and reject her?

Every question that crossed your mind blurred your sight, made your heart clench and felt like a stab right through your heart.

You would never let him take Lily from you, but the thought of him rejecting her was just as painful, because that little girl was something else and she deserved the whole world. She deserved a daddy that would be entirely devoted to her, just like yours had been since the day you were born.

Already feeling your body welcoming the familiar floating sensation caused by the wine, you allowed yourself to stalk Mason a little - something you hadn’t done in the longest time. It didn’t surprise you that he still looked pretty much the same. Everytime you caught his face on TV, you avoided looking too much because it hurt and bothered you deeply, but now, scrolling through his pictures you noticed that his smile was still the same and the wrinkles around his eyes was something Lily had inherited. The soft redness on his nose too. Lily had a lot of him, even if you knew so little about Mason, despite sharing a life with him.

The Instagram “message” button burned under your finger, but you went back to scrolling through his pictures, because what exactly would you say?

“Hi, remember me? That day I went to your house and you shoved me off, I was going to tell you I was carrying your child so I’ve decided to hide her from you for a period of four years”.

Gosh, what a fucked up situation you were in. Besides, what was the chance he’d actually reply?

Liking one of his pictures was subtle, he wouldn’t notice. One like amongst the millions he was getting post World Cup. You’d let the universe decide if things should run its natural course or you’d have to put yourself in a situation you’ve lived before: ringing his doorbell and telling him the biggest news of his life, but four years later, and pray for the best outcome there could be of this situation. You wondered what your family would say, what his family would say, how everyone would treat you after but you couldn’t expect much. You were hiding a child from her own right to have both sides of her family whilst growing up, despite your personal reasons.

What would the media say, if it ever came to that?

“Heavens, I think I’m gonna vomit…” You mumbled, the combination of alcohol and thoughts of your daughter’s precious face in the media, on gossip websites, made some tears fall freely down your cheeks. You still forced a large gulp of wine, to ease the anxiety that was creeping in. Half of the bottle was gone.

You fucked up, greatly and badly.

With tears still wetting your cheeks, looking absolutely pathetic, you frowned at the notification that popped on your screen.

Mason Mount was officially back into your life.

In fact, he never really left. You had the most special part of him with you, and you could only hope he’d see it the exact same way.

#mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagine #mason mount fluff #mason mount x reader #mason mount series #invisible string mm | chapter two

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st4rg1rl-16 · 3 months

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━━ ✶✶˖° 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘 | 𝗡𝟰𝗦.

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴(𝘀) ━ 2019 to 2023!f1 grid x driver!female oc

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ━ lewis responds to what arabella said in drive to survive starting a little rivalry between them

𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 ━ 2019, 31st march

𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ━ manama, bahrein

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ━ angst because bella tries to push everyone away, lewis being confusing and cursing

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 ━ not an accurate description of a race (i don't really know how to write that so this will do) btw seb is not going to be in the grid until 2021 bc you know we need that seat for bella but he will appear so don't worry

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ━ @namgification @louvrepool @d3kstar @omgsuperstarg @whoselly @yl90

• — need for speed’s masterlist

HER leg, clad in the red race suit, moved up and down. She bit the inside of her left cheek and played with the sleeve of her shirt. She was in her garage sitting on a bench that she had found, her car surrounded by her mechanics was not far from her.

She looked around her: this was definitely different from Formula Two.

Today was her second race in Formula One and for some reason she was nervous unlike the first one in which she felt nothing but excitement and adrenaline. Yesterday she qualified in fifth place so she had a good chance of winning or at least getting on the podium which was good news but the spaniard couldn't help but self-sabotage and think that she wasn't going to win.

Her anxiety began to take hold in her stomach and she couldn't help but think about her teammate. Last night they had confessed their feelings to each other and between kisses and whispers they fell asleep, which was special for her but when Arabella opened her eyes and quietly slipped out of the room to get ready to go to the circuit, reality crashed into her, giving her a slap all over the face.

Now she was in a relationship? –They hadn’t come to anything since they didn’t had time to talk but let's leave it at that– with her teammate which, according to the small print of their contract, was strictly prohibited so if they were discovered they could be fired in addition to the fact that it would be a scandal, they would call her everything and they would surely believe that it would be a point in favor of why there should be no women in Formula One and she knew that, unfortunately, Charles, just because he was a man, would not come out as badly as her.

She covered her face with her hands trying to block out the light and took in as much air as her lungs would allow before releasing it again. She had to talk to Charles and make things clear, but first she had to forget about that and focus on her career.

She called herself a fool in the four languages she knew. She was supposed to be smart, she had to think things through, know in advance all the possible scenarios that could arise as a result of her actions. She couldn't make mistakes, she was in the spotlight of thousands of people. She was Arabella Torres, the girl who had make it to Formula One at just eighteen years old and who was causing a sensation in the world of sports. She couldn't allow herself to make mistakes, not after everything she had suffered to get to where she was now, not after everything she had said. She couldn't make a fool of herself like that.

She would be a shame to her family, her friends and most of all to the women around the world that she represented. She wanted to make history and change it, she wanted to be the one who made the path easier for others but she couldn't do it if two months after debuting she was caught with her partner's tongue down her throat.

"Fuck," she cursed in a whisper in spanish, removing her hands from her face. Some leather moccasins were present in her field of vision, she looked up, meeting Alexander, her man of the radio, looking at her cautiously.

“You seem worried, are you okay?” The man, who was in his fifties and reminded her of her grandfather, asked.

She shook her head, releasing a sigh that she didn't know she contained. She faked a small smile "I'm a little nervous about starting in fifth position."

“You'll do well, I'm sure” He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave her a couple of pats as a sign of support “Who knows, maybe you'll win this race.”

"I wish" her smile changed to a real one, winning would definitely make her day better.

The half brit half italian smiled back, tightening his grip on her shoulder before letting go and pointing to his ears. “Don't worry, I'll be with you.”

She smiled tenderly before opening her mouth to answer him but she was interrupted when she heard one of the mechanics say Charles' name, then she heard the others greet him as well. Immediately her leg resumed moving up and down on her spot.

Mierda. Shit.

A couple of minutes later the green-eyed man was walking towards her offering her a smile that she could swear was worth a million euros. She reciprocated timidly and lowered her gaze when he finally reached her side.

For his part, Charles felt that at any moment he was going to throw up butterflies. He took advantage of the fact that she diverted her gaze to the ground to observe her better, the sleeves of her race suit were tied to her waist, leaving her fireproof shirt that hugged her body to view, highlighting her figure, her dark hair was tied in a low ponytail, she was not wearing makeup, leaving seeing circles under her eyes that confirmed that what happened last night hadn’t been a dream and that it had actually happened.

“You left without saying anything” He leaned towards her and whispered so that no one else would hear him.

She felt how her cheeks began to heat up and how the feeling of guilt began to settle in her chest “I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep so I went to my room. I didn't want to wake you up” She lifted her right leg and bent it, drawing it toward her body and then placed her chin on against her knee so she could see him better. She furrowed his eyebrows “Are you angry?”.

He shook his head slightly earning a sigh of relief from her to which he laughed extending his arm to gently caress her back. It was true, he wasn't angry but he would have liked to wake up with her in his arms.

“You start in fifth position, how do you feel?”.

“I think I will get on the podium”.

“Oh, yeah?” He smiled, raising both eyebrows in a mocking tone to which she smiled amused “Do you think you'll beat me? I have the pole”.

She liked talking to Charles, he made her feel calm and helped her escape from her tedious reality. The monegasque, apart from being handsome and a good driver, was also a good person. He was the type of person who looked for a way to make you feel good and comfortable, that he adapted to the person with whom he had a conversation, taking into account what to talk about and what not to talk about. That was one of the things she liked about him.

“Mmmh, you'll see, Leclerc” She wrapped her fingers in the laces of her shoe and nodded, smiling at him mockingly, playing along.

The boy stared at her for a few seconds without saying anything, his gaze traveled quickly from her eyes to her lips and back again before leaning towards her again to speak in a low voice “You don't know how much I want to kiss you right now”.

"Charles!" She reprimanded him in a whisper, placing her hand on the boy's face and pushing his head back. She laughed because she thought it was funny but she tried to hide it "We shouldn't talk about that in public."

He rolled his eyes regretfully “Right.”

An applause was heard, drawing the attention of both, Arabella hurriedly released the monegasque's head when she saw Mattia Binotto approaching them at a quick pace.

“Good morning, guys!” A big smile covered the lips of the man with glasses “I hope you slept well because today we need you to have energy”.

They both shared a look and smiled slightly.

Wow, so sneaky.

“Charles, you are in pole position which is fantastic. I'm proud” He praised the boy who smiled and responded with a thank you. His gaze shifted to the girl, who shrank in her place somewhat nervously "And you, Arabella, are doing so well Fifth position in your second race! Great, simply great”.

“Thank you very much, sir,” She smiled politely. She felt the tension expelling from her body little by little.

He pushed up his left sleeve revealing a watch that looked like it was worth quite a bit of money and looked at it before covering it again "Well, I'm pretty busy today and since I won't be able to talk to you the rest of the day I wanted to wish you both luck” They both let out a thank you again, this time in unison making him laugh “By the way, I know you both want to win but whatever happens we will be happy and proud. See you guys”.

And without further ado he left, leaving them alone again.

“He was acting a little strange, don't you think?” With a frown and looking in the direction where the team principal had disappeared.

“A little, yes” He played it off, taking his phone out of his pocket to look at the time.

It was already eleven thirty in the morning.

“What are you going to do until lunch?” He locked the phone and returned it to his pocket while he mentally reviewed his agenda.

“I have a couple of interviews for a DAZN Spain. What about you?”.

"I don't know yet, I'll look for Emma and ask her" He shrugged and looked around the workshop in case he saw the publicist near her. When he confirmed that the woman wasn’t there, he turned to his team mate “Do you want to eat together?".

"Sure" She agreed before her own publicist approached her. She nodded when she told her that it was time for the interviews and she got up from the red metal bench, looked at the boy and raised her head in dismissal "I'll send you a text when I'm done."

He gave her a thumbs up, smiling at her, and stood up too, ready to go to his part of the garage and find his publicist.

Arabella looked at Elvira, her publicist, trying to look for any sign that she suspected something about the two drivers but the black-haired woman was too absorbed in her phone. She wrinkled her nose looking away from her trying not to be caught staring.

“Well, Albert Fabrega will interview you. It won't be anything out of the ordinary: he'll ask you how the car feels, if you think you'll win, he'll talk about your position in the standings and little else” She finally took her gaze off the phone, taking her index finger to her black-rimmed glasses, pushing them towards her face.

“Okay, and then?” She accepted the bottle of water that a Ferrari assistant offered her, thanked him with a smile when he walked next to her with an umbrella in his hand ready to cover her from the scorching sun.

“You'll talk to the DAZN Spain team for a while and ehm….” She looked again at the electronic device in her hands “There are some rich fans who have access to the paddock, you will take a couple of photos with them and you will sign whatever they want you to sign, then you can go to eat. You will met Charles for lunch, right?”.

“Yes” She began to unscrew the cap of the bottle and then take a good sip. She laughed "Do you know that the other day a girl asked me to sign her boobs?".

"Ew" Elvira made a disgusted face before waving her right hand "I'm so glad I'm not famous sometimes, anyway I think it's good that you go to lunch with Charles, so we can know where you are. I'll make sure Lando stays away from you, I don't want you two to start playing again” She looked at her accusingly over her glasses and she laughed guiltily, knowing she was referring to when she and the McLaren driver got together on Friday, playing tag and by accident they broke a sign.

They spent half an hour apologizing to Red Bull for tearing in half a poster with Pierre's face, who didn’t hesitate to make a dramatic scene about the situation.

But what could they do, after all they were just children.

“I THINK I have a good chance of getting on the podium today, I'm starting fifth so...” She shrugged, giving the camera a toothless smile. Her right hand held the microphone they had given her while her left held her body against the railing that separated the drivers from the press.

The journalist nodded “And what about your rivalry with Hamilton? As you said in Drive to Survive, you will do everything possible to beat him”.

That wasn't in the plan. She bit the inside of her cheek and swayed slightly wrapping her right foot around her left leg. “Yes, I said that but I don't have any rivalry with Hamilton other than, well, the typical one on the track that I have with all the drivers”.

“Don't you know what Hamilton has said about you?” The question left her frozen and for a moment she was worried but quickly composed herself and denied, looking out of the corner of her eye at her publicist and manager, who looked at her just as confused as she was before taking out their phones. The interviewer approached her, handing her his phone; it showed an article from the spanish newspaper Marca which about her and the champion.

She read the headline "Hamilton makes it clear that he is not worried about Torres" and she frowned as she watched the Mercedes driver's words being recited more quietly.

"I don't think she's a rival for me."

“Do you have anything to say about that?” Because she had tucked the microphone under her arm so she could grab the phone, the journalist brought his own microphone closer to her face. She opened her mouth to respond but nothing came out. "In the Melbourne GP you didn't get close to him, finishing in eighth place when he was second. Do you think you'll beat him today?".

She glanced at Elvira and Nicholas again, who shook their heads but she ignored them. “He can say whatever he wants. I'm not going to say that I'm going to beat him today because no one, much less me, knows what's going to happen today, but if I don't beat him today I know that one day I will. Maybe not today or tomorrow but one day I will and rest assured I will take the title from him.”

A smile was planted on the man's lips when he heard her. “Thank you, Arabella. That's all”.

“Thanks to you” She gave him a small smile that didn’t hide her annoyance and, after extending the microphone to the sound people, she turned around and walked away from there. In a second her publicist, her manager, the assistant with the umbrella and the Netflix team were at her side struggling to keep up with her.

Both adults looked at each other while the poor assistant was sweating profusely trying to hide it from the sun.

“Arabella...” She raised a hand stopping the woman, who with her mouth open looked at the girl's manager.

"I don't want to talk now, Elvira” She growled, heading to her room, ignoring everyone she found in her way. When she got to her room she locked herself in, putting the latch on, slamming the door in the faces of both adults.

The blonde knocked on the door. "Bells, don't lock yourself in. Talk to me”.

She was pissed off, very pissed off. One of her idols had underestimated her in public and she didn't understand why. Lewis seemed to be kind and good, she hadn't had the luck –or, now, misfortune– to talk to him yet but still the champion never failed to give her a smile when their eyes met. Was it all for appearances?.

She clenched her jaw, feeling how the tears of rage and frustration began to accumulate in her eyes, pushing against each other eagerly to slide down her cheeks. She swallowed and let her knees give way, causing her back to slide against the door until she was sitting on the floor.

It wasn't the first time they talked bad about her, it wasn't the first time someone was condescending towards her but damn, when he was one of the people you admire most in the world, it definitely hurt more than anything.

The sound of a notification rang from her pocket, she wanted to ignore it but she knew that it was most likely Charles looking for her to eat. Swallowing her tears, she took the phone out of her pocket and looked at the time, there were less than two hours left until the race, she had to go eat.

A single notification occupied the screen confirming her suspicions upon seeing the Monegasque's name.

She smiled though her smile warped into a pout as she felt a sob run down her throat. She suddenly felt worthless and that she didn't deserve anything that was happening to her. She closed her eyes tightly, smashing the palm of her hand against her mouth, trying to silence the sob. She wasn't going to cry, she didn't want to cry, she couldn't cry. She had to be strong.

“Ma belle?” She heard a knock on the door and then she could hear the boy's shy voice. She shook her head, she didn't want to be seen like that, much less for Charles to see her like that. My beautiful.

She stood up, leaving the phone on the floor and hurried to grab the box of clinex that she had in the television cabinet. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt before walking to the door and bent down to pick up the phone, opening the camera app and looking at herself on the screen. She was more or less presentable.

"Bella, please," she heard him speak again, this time with a pleading tone “Can I come in?".

She took a breath in and out before faking a smile and opening the door, finding Nick, Elvira, and Charles behind it. The three of them were looking at her with concern.

“Well, are we going to eat or what?” She smiled wider before leaving the room and passing between them ready to head to Ferrari's cafeteria.

The three looked at each other and Nicholas let out a sigh, running a hand over his face before looking at the boy dressed in red. "Go to her, she won't want to talk to us."

The driver nodded before starting to run in the direction of the girl. When he was close to her he wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her up, making her stop. "Hey, what just happened there?".

"Nothing, I got angry, I calmed down and that's it" Charles frowned in denial when he saw her smile that could be seen for miles that was false, he was beginning to get annoyed with her "everything is fine" attitude.

“I was in my room when you arrived, you were going like the devil was chasing you. I also heard the door slam. Don't lie to me, Arabella” The false smile that was on her lips fell to the ground as soon as she heard him, she looked around them. Some of the staff watched them talk.

She gently released herself from his grasp. “It's not a good idea to talk here, Charles.”

"I don't give a shit," It surprised her because, to be honest, since she knew him she hadn’t seen him like this, much less heard him curse. He continued, "You can't throw a fit, worry everyone, worry me, and then act like nothing happened. That's not how things work, Arabella.”

She looked at him in silence, he was right but she wasn't going to give that to him. She didn't like to talk about her feelings, much less when they were bad ones.

Charles looked at her too, waiting for her to say something, anything. He wanted her to open up to him, to trust him with her feelings like she had done last night, she wanted him to know that he was there for her.

"See you on the podium," She then told him in a serious tone, after she turned around and disappeared.

SITTING in her car she felt like a king although the looks of the mechanics around her made her feel like she was a bomb about to explode. They looked at her, talked and even were cautious around her.

Apparently the word had spread..

She glued her gaze to the halo that surrounded her, the famous phrase "I feel the need, the need for speed" was printed in white letters. She clenched her jaw when she saw the cameras pointed in her direction, she knew that tomorrow people would be talking about her face.

Her tight jaw that highlighted her features and her intense gaze fixed on her halo would be something to talk about the next day. Some would say she looked attractive, other would would criticize her.

Fuck them.

Nicholas approached her with her helmet and the balaclava in her hands. He held them out to her and she took them. She looked at her helmet and with her index finger caressed the black 9 that stood out among the red and white.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw how the six foot man squatted next to her car to get a better look at her. "Good luck, speed. We are with you.”

The smallest smile of hers was present at her nickname and she raised her gloved hand formed into a fist, soon she felt the man's fist collide with hers.

“Arabella, you're out in five!” She heard someone shout and nodded, putting on her balaclava, someone helped her put on her hans and her helmet. She closed her eyes as she quickly crossed herself.

She pursed her lips thinking about her family. It had only been twenty minutes since she had called her mother to talk to them and say her goodbyes, something she always did before a race since she had that accident. She said goodbye to them in case she didn't leave the track alive, her parents weren't happy about it but she needed it, she needed to tell them that she loved them just in case she couldn't tell them again in person.

She watched as Charles' car pulled out of his garage as the lead car passed in front of them. She felt a small sting in her chest, she pressed her lips together knowing well that it was her fault. They hadn't spoken again since their "argument", they hadn't even eaten together like they had talked about in the morning.

She felt bad for pushing him away but she couldn't help it, she was like that despite herself.

Her jaw clenched again when she saw the black and white car pass by. She was going to win or at least get on the podium so she could shut up the Brit. She was willing to make her life in that race hell. She was going to make him fight for first place.

She watched as the flag in front of her lowered and hurriedly stepped on the accelerator to leave the garage. She followed Bottas being followed by Verstappen.

She took a deep breath, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. Well, here we go.

“Arabella?” She heard Alexander's voice on the radio “Can you hear me?”.

"I hear you," she replied without taking her eyes off the end of Valtteri's car.

She swallowed and lowered the visor of her helmet. The silence embraced her completely, the only thing she could hear was her own breathing. And then every red light turned green in a blink.

Lights out and away we go!

She tried to overtake Bottas but the Red Bull driver tried the same with her. She clicked her tongue when she felt the Dutchman's car pull up to hers.

"Get him off or you'll crash." She heard the man in her ears and she opened her eyes obviously, she wanted to respond with a sarcastic comment but knowing that the communication was being recorded she decided to remain silent.

“Copy” she tried to get away from him but in less than a second Verstappen was already next to her again. She cursed under her breath.

It seems that Verstappen is not making it easy for Torres.

“Not today, Max. Not today, damn it”.

“Carlos is trying to pass, take advantage of it and pass Verstappen” she nodded to herself and prepared to accelerate, she watched as Carlos made space to the left of the Red Bull car, causing the three cars to be stuck together, covering the entire road. When on the 33rd she saw that Sainz was trying to pass, she stuck to him, leaving Arabella alone, she pressed the accelerator and drove away from them “Very good, Bella!”.

She quickly passed Bottas. Her eyes fell on the other Mercedes not far from her Ferrari. Her right corner rose and she tilted her chin down decisively.

And Arabella passes Valtteri, thus remaining in P4. Will she get through to Hamilton?

She suddenly began to lose control of her car making her panic “I'm losing control!”

She felt how the car spun around on itself “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

She turned the wheel trying to get the car back on track, praying that neither Verstappen nor Sainz would approach her and take her in front of her.

She wasn't ready to die.

She's losing control! Verstappen approaches her with Grosjean close, that could end very badly.

She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and, swerving, managed to turn around and get the vehicle back on track. She sighed, her eyes so wide it seemed like they were going to pop out of it's sockets.

"Arabella, are you okay?!" She heard several voices coming from the radio, she distinguished Alexander's and Mattias's, she also thought she heard Nick in the distance.

"I'm fine," she confirmed and the sea of red polo shirts sighed with relief in the Ferrari garage. "I'm going to overtake Magnussen."

"Copy"

While she was losing control of the car, Hamilton had managed to pass the Haas driver and was now trying to pass the other Ferrari in the lead.

She approached the black and gold car applying a tactic similar to the one the Dutchman had applied with her, approaching from his left on the curve trying to intimidate him.

"Press as much as you can" she heard commotion from Alexander's side and frowned.

"What's happening?."

"It's Charles." Her heart skipped a beat and she immediately thought the worst. Worry filled her body.

"What happened to him? Is he okay?"

"He had a problem and he had to box, he will be out in a second. It's okay, don't worry, you keep going like this and we'll see if we can get you up to p2" he tried to distract her from the topic of her teammate.

"He doesn't get tired," she warned and the man nodded, watching her car from her screen.

"Keep pushing, you're going to pass through the pit exit in no time. Take advantage of the fact that Charles is going out and pass him."

"Okay"

She followed the instructions given to her and continued alongside the Haas car until they passed the pit exit. She calmed down when she saw the other Ferrari approaching to enter the track again.

Between the two red cars they caged the danish and Arabella took the opportunity to overtake. With her right hand she greeted her teammate, earning a return greeting before losing sight of him.

They quickly left the black car behind and were left alone, looking for Lewis.

And the two Ferraris are going wheel to wheel after Leclerc's problem! They are fighting for p2, what a show Ferrari is giving us today! .

She smiled competitively and accelerated trying to overtake her teammate but he also overtook although he couldn't overtake too much because apparently the problem he had had before had taken its toll on the car and it was difficult for him to do the overtake.

"P2 Arabella, you're up on the podium!" She heard the British man's shout and laughed in disbelief. Had the race already finished?.

"Good job, guys," she congratulated those who were listening to her from the garage with a smile on her face. She parked the car in the second space and took a deep breath before getting out.

She heard the screams of the fans in the stands and soon saw a sea of red polo shirts approaching her with screams. She was turned around and she was enveloped in a hug, she immediately knew it was Charles as she felt another hoof rest against hers.

"You've done it!" She heard him say, "I'm very proud of you, ma belle."

She smiled under the helmet before feeling multiple hands touch her back, arms, and helmet.

She raised her visor and saw her staff. Someone helped her take off her hans and she quickly took off her helmet and balaclava. Her hair flew loose, freeing herself from the hair band that fell to the floor when she tore off her balaclava.

The shouts of the tifosi among the stands increased when she saw her face revealed and she once again felt like a king on top of the world.

Her ear-to-ear smile shivered as she watched the winner approach her. She looked at him suspiciously as she raised her hand in front of her body. Lewis gave him a small smile. “Congratulations, you did good.”

She raised an eyebrow, looking down at her hand and accepting it in hers.

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christinesficrecs · 5 months

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I love ALL of these fics but if they are a bit "too classic" for you, definitely read Mating Habits and The Dating Game. 🩷

Things To Do On The Dates You Aren't Having by lielabell | 5.5K | Mature

"So are we dating now or what?" Stiles asks the third time he finds himself doing the obligatory postcoital cuddling with a certain sour wolf.

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In Which Stiles: is accosted by unhappy witches, becomes friends with fire demons, is rescued by darkly handsome wizards, discovers hidden inner depths, is introduced to princes, and finds true love. Though not necessarily in that order.

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Derek is not stupid. He gets why Stiles puts up with him. It’s clear every time Stiles looks at him, the spicy scent of lust and arousal Stiles’s body can’t help but put off. It doesn’t surprise him. Not at all. Derek knows what he looks like, knows that his face and his body are more than enough to compensate for his shitty personality. Stiles wants him more than he is annoyed by him. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s not anything to be amazed over, nothing to write home about. Stiles isn’t the first– and most likely won’t be the last– hormone soaked teen who has panted over Derek.

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It’s dark out, no moon tonight. Just clouds and a bitter, cold wind that rips right through you as you move from shadow to shadow. You’re hunting, because you are always hunting, and tonight’s prey is the best kind: not too smart, not too old, and worth enough to keep you in the black for the better part of a year.

Nine Times Out Of Ten by lielabell | 4.6K | Explicit

Nine times out of ten, Stiles is the one being pushed back on the bed with his head tilted back to expose his neck. Nine times out of ten, Stiles's legs are the ones that are spread, his hands are the ones that grip the sheets. Nine times out of ten, Stiles gasps and moans and arches up into Derek's touch, Stiles's thighs grip at Derek's hips; Stiles’s feet lock together behind Derek's back. Nine times out of ten, Stiles takes and takes and takes and loves every single second of it.

But the tenth time . . .

The tenth time is different.

Mating Habits of the Domesticated North American Werewolf by lielabell | 35.4K | Mature

Derek doesn’t do pining. He doesn’t. So when it becomes clear that Stiles is much more interested in having Derek as a new best friend than a boyfriend, he puts on his big boy pants and makes it fucking work. He becomes the best goddamn friend a spastic teenager could ever hope to have.

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Derek doesn't exactly understand how he ended up as a contestant on a dating show. He knows that it started with a lot of whiskey and a late night phone call to his sister and mockery. Lots and lots of mockery, because Laura never lets anything go, no matter how old she gets.

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Stiles has stopped saying "I love you." Derek wants to know why.

I Like My Coffee Like I Like My Men by lielabell | 2K

Seriously, sometimes Stiles thinks that the man is a plant by the owner, who is a hippie, through and through, but just business savvy enough to pay someone hot to sit on the premises and brood up a storm like a modern day James Dean, clicking away at his computer in his leather jacket with that pensive look on his face.

Upon My Skin by lielabell | 6.2K | Mature

"I smell blood." Derek draws in a breath through his nose, frowning like it's going out of style. "And ink and--" his voice trails off and his eyes widen slightly. "Let me see it," he demands, crossing the space between them and tugging at the hem of Stiles's shirt.

#sterek fics #sterek #ficrecs #fanfic writers #sterek fandom #author spotlight #lielabell #author appreciation

288 notes · View notes

photo1030 · 15 days

Text

Leather and Lace - Chapter 22: To Pick a Lock

Summary: The gang discovers a one of your "talents" and puts it to good use.

*This amazing images comes from one of my faves, @papaue00

*Thank you to @readingcoco for beta reading for me! You are amazing!

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter - TBD, but there are a handful of future chapters that were posted ahead of time

“Explain to me how this happens.”

You stand in front of Arthur, arms extended out as far from your body as possible as you shake out a mud-crusted shirt of his, cautiously squinting as bits of dirt fly through the air in front of your wrinkled-up nose. “Do you literally lay down and roll in mud to get your clothes this dirty?”

“Sometimes,” the man in question shrugs. “Other times we draw straws to see who stands in the middle while the other fellers throw dirt at him.” He snickers as he makes a whipping motion with his arm.

All you can do is give him an exasperated look as your arms drop down in defeat in front of you.

“See, when you say dumb things like that, I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

Arthur playfully shakes his eyebrows at you as his arm shoots out, snaking around your waist to quickly pin you to his chest, causing you to giggle and squirm as he plants a few teasing kisses along the side of your neck. Standing a few feet away, Abigail can only shake her head at your flirtatious nonsense.

It’s a brisk fall afternoon, and the sun hangs in the sky like a dollop of golden yellow paint dropped on a canvas of grays and purples. Arthur is helping you with laundry. He’s bored and hovering over you as a means of distracting himself, wanting nothing more than to take you back to your shared tent for something more stimulating. But Ms. Grimshaw is keeping a keen eye on you to make sure you get your chores done.

With the year well into the fall now, daylight is limited as is the time available to get things done along with it. So rather than dragging you off, Arthur figures it would be best to help out in order to get your work done faster. And by “help”, he means carrying the baskets for you and keeping you company while you wash and hang alongside Abigail. You don’t mind, really. Arthur doesn’t get to spend as much time with you as he’d like and rarely does he ever have “nothing to do”. So you will accept his company in any manner you can get it.

The sound of thunderous hoofbeats echoes into the new camp, causing your small group to lift their collective heads towards the path. A few of the men had gone out earlier this morning and it appears the commotion is a sign of their imminent arrival. Excitable voices carry through the air, wound up and hollering about something. It doesn’t take long before you eventually hear a loud metallic banging sound, coupled with shouts of frustration.

“What in god's name is all the noise?” huffs Abigail, craning her neck in the direction of the racket to try and see through the maze of tents and wagons.

“Who knows.” You toss the newly folded shirt in your hands into the basket at Arthur’s feet with a sigh. “But we should probably look into it before someone ends up losing an eye or a finger,” you snort back with a lofty eye-roll.

Arthur can only chuckle as he follows after you like a puppy as you head over to investigate. It warms his heart how you’ve taken to looking after everyone in the several months that you’ve been with the gang, becoming more and more like Grimshaw everyday—in a good way, of course.

You, Abigail, and Arthur amble into the common area, and see Bill, Javier and Micah standing over a table, their attention acutely focused on something set upon its surface, as the rest of the gang jostle to make room for Dutch.

As you get closer and peer around Bill’s massive trunk of a torso, you realize that the boys have come back to camp with an ornate travel chest. A pounding noise ricochets within your skull, grating against your nerves as Bill beats the lock with a rock in a hopeless attempt to get it open.

“What’d you all find out there?” questions Arthur, striking a match across the tabletop and lighting the cigarette that precariously hangs from his plump lips. You and Arthur exchange a cynical glance before he curiously eyes the chest then looks to Javier for more details.

“Found ourselves a fancy box!” quips Javier, his nimble fingers coming up to rub his chin as he watches Bill intently. “And where there’s a fancy box-”

“-There’s even fancier things inside,” finishes Micah with a smirk, his hands twitching by his gun belt as he too anxiously awaits the trunk’s unveiling.

You try not to chortle as you watch Arthur roll his eyes with trademark skepticism, thumbs coming to rest in his gunbelt as he shifts his weight from hip to hip.

“So why ya beatin’ the damn thing?” Arthur’s head cocks to the side, amused as he watches Bill get more and more frustrated by the second, his face turning red and flustered with each striking blow. You defensively step back from Bill, holding your hands up in front of you to make sure you don't get caught in the swing of his burly arm.

“Tryin’ to get this damn thing open, Morgan!” grunts Bill. “We were in town and saw this rich-looking coach unattended. Seemed like their own fault, so we started digging around inside and found it. Didn’t have time to crack the thing open so we just grabbed it and took off before anyone noticed.”

“Stop banging away at it!” you scold, grabbing Bill’s beefy forearm before he can make another strike. “See that gold leafing along the surface? This is an expensive piece.” You loosen your grip to run your fingertips along the gilding, tracing the fine craftwork with a feather-light touch. “You can sell this trunk alone for $30 to the fence.”

Bill halts immediately, a bit shocked when he feels your soft hand on him. But he’s also now stumped at how to proceed in opening the chest and looking to you for the answer. Poor Bill, always in a battle between brains and brawn, and unfortunately for him there is only ever going to be one winner.

A motherly sigh escapes your lips as you shake your head sweetly at Bill. “As usual, all this needs is a little ‘woman’s finesse’,” you purr sweetly. You reach over to Abigail and pluck a hairpin out from her bun, setting yourself down at the table with the box laid out in front of you. The crowd watches silently as your hands rest upon the chest, and you start to wiggle the pin around inside the lock. Within a minute, the lock pops open with a simple and gracefully little clicking sound.

“There, now. All yours.” You turn the box towards the group of waiting men, with a satisfied smile on your face. They all look at you, stunned as to what just happened, but then quickly begin to dig into the mysterious case. And they are not disappointed. Inside they find cash, jewelry, bonds and other precious mementos belonging to the previous owner. You lean forward with your chin resting in your hand, watching as they excitedly pull items out to admire.

Bill plucks something out of the box and hands it to you. “Here you go, Y/N. There’s your cut.”

Accepting the glittering item from his meaty bear-paw, you roll it in your hand, instantly realizing it’s a broach. He gives you an earnest smile, proud of himself for landing such a score. Bill is always such a beast of a man, not graceful in the slightest. But he does always try to be gentle around you, at least.

“Why, thank you, Sir,” you grin in return, admiring the beautiful jade-green stone that nests in a filigree of polished silver.

“Where did you learn how to do that, Y/N?” asks Abigail as she, too, begins to curiously finger through the jewelry inside.

“I have friends who taught me when I was in Rosewood.”

“How do you have friends that know how to pick locks?” asks Javier incredulously, shaking his head in disbelief. “I mean, before meeting us, that is.” He gives you his suave smile and a wink.

A demure little grin pops across your face, relishing the idea that you can still surprise these people, even after all these months. Your chin coquettishly dips to your shoulder.

“Never you mind, Javier. A woman needs a little mystery.”

“Wait a minute, you never said you knew how to pick a lock!” Arthur turns his attention from the stack of cash in front of him to face you now, fully realizing what you’ve just said.

“You never asked,” you reply plainly with a simple shrug.

Micah lets out a patronizing little huff. “Maybe you should be doing a little more talking at night in your tent, cowpoke,” teases Micah.

“Maybe you shouldn’t concern yourself with what’s happening in my tent at night,” Arthur shoots back with a glare.

“Hold on,” Dutch interjects with annoyance, his hands raised in the air to silence everyone as he acutely directs his attention towards you. “Are you saying you can do this with any lock?”

You shrug again. “I don’t know if I’d say any lock,” your voice somewhat uncertain under Dutch’s intense gaze, ”but probably.”

“Why the hell am I just hearing this now?!” Dutch huffs, planting his hands onto his hips. But before you can answer him, you see an idea forming in that deceptive mind of his, coiling like fog creeping through the valley in the morning. “Ho, ho, have I got an idea, gentleman,” he smirks, tapping his ringed finger against his mustached lips.

“There’s a bank over in Red Rock that I’ve been eyein’. But I’m told it's next to the law office— strategically placed there to ward off robberies. Any attempt on it would have to be quiet. No shooting, no explosions of any kind.” Dutch shakes his finger at you. “If we can get her in there, into that vault-”

“Now, hold on a minute, Dutch. Y/N ain’t ready for anything like that,” Arthur cuts in, his hand waving firmly against the very idea of it. You watch his handsome face immediately turning into a deep, disapproving scowl.

“Well, she’s gonna have to be ready sometime,” argues Dutch. “I ain’t about to let a resource like her go to waste.” He counters as he waves his hand in your direction. “Besides, you’ll be there, too Arthur, and we all know you ain’t gonna let anything happen to her”.

Dutch is right about that. Arthur would sooner take a bullet himself than put you in harm’s way. But still, the very idea of you being in danger sets his stomach turning. It’s the thing that he’s dreaded the most ever since you met, let alone started your relationship. He can’t fathom intentionally endangering you, yet he doesn’t want to disobey Dutch, either. The conflict is apparent on Arthur’s chiseled face as his eyes skip to the treeline, trying to find a suitable excuse to get you out of it. But all Dutch needs to do is shoot Arthur that glare to put him back in his place.

When satisfied that Arthur’s silence means that he has succumbed to his will yet again, Dutch turns back to you. “You continue to amaze me, Miss Y/L/N.” His voice floats with that smooth, silky tone he uses when he needs to seduce people into doing his bidding, even against their better judgment. Like a snake that lures its prey, the man can be almost hypnotic when he needs to be. But you’ve never felt directly threatened by Dutch…until now.

A slight chill dances up your spine as you stare at him with your large doe-eyes, an animal trapped by a hunter. And all you can do is sit there mutely as they all begin to discuss how to best use your newly-discovered “talent”.

—-------------------------------------------------------

The crisp autumn breeze caresses your face, lifting the rogue strands of hair from your cold cheeks as you find yourself standing on the edge of the street. Across the way is the large green building that will be your target. It is adorned with black window-shutters and trim and looms ominously over you. A large sign hangs above the entry doors: Red Rock Savings and Loan. The letters leer at you in an almost mocking and intimidating way. You try in vain to swallow, your mouth dry as the desert. Fingers betray a slight shake as you fidget with your hair and nervously smooth out the skirt of your emerald green dress for the third time in the last five minutes.

You are going to be on your own for the first part of Dutch’s plan. You take a deep breath, slowly letting it out through trembling lips in an attempt to quell the butterflies in your stomach, going over the scheme one last time in your head. Your palms are sweaty, even in the chill air, and you continually wipe them along your hips, before absentmindedly playing with your hair yet again.

And then it dawns on you: you are not sure if you can do this. What if Arthur is right and you really aren’t ready? You’ve never done anything like this before in your life. You’ve listened to the wild escapades of your fellow gang members but have never actively participated yourself. The most you’ve ever done is act as a decoy, never actually getting your own hands dirty. This will be your first act at truly committing a crime.

What if something goes wrong? Will you have the where-with-all to know what to do? Could you ever defend yourself if something needed to be done? Arthur and the others will be there to protect you, but what if you are a liability to them? What if they need you to help them? You know how to shoot a gun, as you’ve hunted with Arthur and Charles plenty of times. But to point a gun at a person, to look them in the eye as you pull the trigger, that is something else entirely. If the nightmares and restless nights that Arthur has, ones that he pretends don’t happen, are any indication, the weight of taking someone else’s life leaves a heavy burden on one’s soul. Are you ready for that?

But as you stand there in the street, you eventually force yourself to steel your nerves with a slow deep breath. Closing your eyes, focusing on how your heart beats in your chest, the monotonous thumping echoes in your ears. You are part of the notorious Van Der Linde gang, you tell yourself. You are Arthur Morgan’s woman. And it is about damn time that you act like it.

Your life before joining the gang, before meeting Arthur, had always been at the mercy of others, being subservient to the demands of men and your class. You have always done what was right and proper, falling in line with other people’s expectations and look where it got you: family name in tatters, your father gone, assaulted by the men who killed him, and left destitute by the high society that had pretended to care.

But you are past that now. No need to hide in the shadows, no need to take anyone’s bullshit anymore. If joining Dutch Van Der Linde’s gang has taught you anything, it’s that. Running with a gang allows you to be free to do as you please and you do not have to answer to anyone.

You need to pull from the strength of your new family, as they are counting on you. Arthur is counting on you. No turning back now. And with a grin of determination on your lips, you lift your chin, shaking off the last bit of nervous energy, and get into character to boldly stride over to the bank.

You pull open the heavy wooden door, gliding confidently through the opening. Remembering all of Hosea’s training, your sparkling eyes take-in the scene as you stand at the threshold: Large room, main exit behind you, hallway towards the back that must lead to the vault and safes. You can’t tell if there is a second exit or not. (Arthur says ‘Always gotta know how you can get in and get out.’) Three tellers to your right, a ring of desks with other bank personnel to your left. All in all, with customers, you have twelve people to account for.

The bank lobby is fairly large to accommodate a town of this size. You look up to see the clock about to strike 4:00 in the afternoon, a time strategically picked so that there is money in the vault from a full day’s transactions, and close enough to the encroaching nightfall to cover the escape that will eventually come.

You stride over to the first available teller who comfortably sits behind the counter, your heels confidently clicking on the floorboards as you move.The squat, bespectacled man looks up from his newspaper as you approach his counter.

“How may I help you today, Miss?” He is a mousey little man, very bookish and unassuming in his worn tan suit. His hazel eyes are made to appear larger by the bottle lenses of his glasses as he blinks expectantly at you.

“I would like to talk to someone about opening an account here,” you inform him in your most authoritative tone. “My husband and I recently arrived in this area and are in need of getting our affairs in order.”

He looks past you into the lobby. “And where is your husband? Will we be waiting for him to assist you?” he asks.

A slow, deliberate inhale gets pulled through your nose in aggravation. You bite your tongue and give a forced smile. “Sir, I will have you know that I do not need my husband with me to handle our finances. I know quite well how to manage our money, as we have quite a bit of it thanks to me.”

The teller shrinks back a bit at your angry, snapping comments which are now causing a bit of a scene amongst the small crowd within the lobby.

“My husband is occupied elsewhere, making arrangements to have our cattle moved to our new ranch and does not have time for such things,” you continue. “He handles the labor, I handle the business. But, if you do not want to help me, simply because I am a woman, then I can certainly take my business and my money elsewhere.” Your eyes burn into the teller, making his insides cringe.

“Excuse me.” You hear a nervous throat clearing as a man in a tailored black suit interrupts the conversation and steps up beside you at the counter. “I couldn’t help but overhear the commotion. By all means, we will be more than happy to assist you with your money, Madame.” He sweeps his arm out towards one of the desks on the other side of the room and encourages you to follow him to sit. “Mr. Ferris,” he hisses back at the teller. “Stop badgering the customers! If the lady wants to open an account to secure her money here, then by all means, let’s assist her.”

The poor teller’s eyes shoot open. “Oh, I’m so sorry, miss, I…I didn’t mean anything by it,” he stammers, adjusting his thick glasses on his nose. “I’m sorry if I offended you. It’s just-”

“It’s just that you don’t see many women with such influence, I assume. Well, Mr. Ferris, you’d be surprised at what a woman can do.” And with an indignant flourish of your skirt, you spin on your heels to follow the other banker as he pulls out a chair for you to sit at his desk. Once he is sure you are comfortably seated, the banker fixes his tie and smooths his hand over his hair before taking a seat across from you.

“I apologize, Mrs…” he leans towards you, eyebrows raised expectantly for the proper introduction.

“Callahan. Mrs. Callahan,” you reply with yet another forced smile.

“Ah, yes. Mrs. Callahan,” the banker confirms the name to himself, trying to work out if he recognizes it from affluent society circles. “So,” he clears his throat, “you need to set up an account with our bank, is that what I am understanding?”

“Yes, that’s right.” And you proceed to spin your web of lies about how you and your cattleman husband have traveled across the state to find a new ranch for your burgeoning cattle business that has grown two-fold in the past year. With new property in the process of being purchased, your husband is securing the land and overseeing the move of the herd, while you are here in town to get your affairs in order: banking setup, food and provisions acquired, things of that nature.

You smugly watch the banker’s face grow more and more interested at the prospect of such a prosperous new client, as he eagerly takes notes as you speak. You lay it on thick, too, casually bragging about your fictitious husband’s endeavors, with a nonchalant wave of your dainty hand, but not so much as to be too unbelievable, just as the socialites and high-born used to do back east.

It is amusing to you how easily you are able to slip back into the social lifestyle that you were so readily willing to leave behind. It’s always a matter of presentation and flourish, a constant upkeep of appearances. It’s that ‘cat and mouse’ game that you never cared for. You never thought you were that good at it, but it seems to be rather advantageous for you now. It is amazing to watch how eager and greedy people are, wanting to get a part of something that they themselves do not possess. Basically, you feed Mr. Bagby the life of one of the families you had known. You change the topic from “real estate” to “cattle” but it’s the same setup, the same panache. And just as enticing to the banker.

“Well, that sounds just fine. All well and good!” he replies excitedly. “We can certainly take care of you, Mrs. Callahan. My name is Mr. Bagby. Raymond Bagby. And if there is anything you or your husband need, well you just be sure and let me know.” His eyes light up at the idea of such a wealthy new prospect coming into town that he can latch his greedy fingers onto.

“Thank you, Mr. Bagby.” You give him a smug, self-satisfied little grin. “I do appreciate th-“

Suddenly, the doors to the bank are flung open and a handful of men with bandannas around their faces storm in. The small crowd of people gasp at the sight, with one of the older women stifling a scream. You jump in your chair at the loud commotion, your hand shooting to your chest.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is a robbery,” one of the men announces, his low gravelly voice commanding over the crowd of cowering townsfolk. He is broad and tall, with a leather trench coat that hangs off his frame perfectly. He brandishes a large pistol in each black gloved hand while a shotgun hangs conveniently across his wide back. “I highly suggest you keep quiet and cooperate and this will be over shortly.” He carries himself with a bravado and swagger, one that instantly lets everyone know that he is not to be questioned. His stony gaze passes over the collective group, alert to any minute movement.

Your eyes shift to the employees and patrons as they cower in fear. The look of horror skips across their faces as the realization that they could die right here and now settles into their scattered minds.

“Everyone, down on their knees. Now!” another burly man shouts, his shotgun prominently displayed across his body. A few shrieks of panic echo through the room, but everyone quickly complies.

“Everything will be alright, miss,” Mr. Bagby whispers to you, patting your hand in a feeble attempt to comfort you. “Just do as they say and you’ll be fine.”

You nod your head in understanding, averting your fearful eyes to the ground as you crouch down to the floor with the others.

The man who is apparently the ringleader of this event walks into the back where the vault is, his movement seems to glide in a way that belies a man of his stature, his calmness about such a thing almost unsettling. He points his gun at the row of tellers he passes before disappearing down the short hallway towards the safe. Meanwhile, the rest of his group stands at attention in his absence. One man wearing a dark gray hat and jacket stands guard at the door with his revolver at the ready, watching for any incomers. Two others survey the room, making sure no one tries anything stupid.

Until finally, the other large man with the shotgun lets his eyes land on you, sitting hunched up uneasily on the floor.

“Well well, ain’t you pretty!” He strides over and leans down to get a better look at you. “Maybe you should keep my friend in the back company, hmm? He’s been awfully lonely lately,” he chuckles with a sickeningly sweet voice.

“I’d rather die!” you spit out stubbornly, pitching a heated glare at the man.

“Oh, that can be arranged, ma’am. I guarantee.” He reaches down and roughly grabs your arm, abruptly yanking you to your feet. You try to push against his burly chest, but the man is simply no match for you as he towers over your height.

“Leave her be, you animal!” shouts Mr. Bagby.

The robber seems more amused than anything at the empty threat, saying nothing but simply turns and points his shotgun at Mr. Bagby, the barrel inches from his face. A gasp of alarm escapes your lips, your heart leaping into your throat, as you are terrified that this is the moment when shots will start to be fired.

“Please, don’t!” you shout in a panic, eyes blazing with a newfound fear in them as they dart back and forth between the two men.

All color drains from the banker’s thin face as his beady eyes slowly move from the end of the barrel up to you, and then back to the robber before he settles down into submission.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” chuckles the robber in smug satisfaction. He then proceeds to drag you across the room behind him as you desperately try to pry his thick fingers from your bicep.

“I got a little something for you, my friend!” he announces as you make your way towards the vault room. The man kicks the door open with his heavy muddy boot and heaves you through the doorway before slamming the door closed behind you.

You stumble into the room, recovering from the violent shove, and straighten up to come face to face with the other robber who watches you with the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen in your life. A smile begins to form on your lips.

“Is Bill always that handsy with women?” you ask.

Arthur pulls down his bandanna, exposing his face as he chuckles. “No. Actually, I think he’s afraid of ‘em, to be honest”.

You’d be lying if you said that Arthur’s raw masculinity doesn’t excite you right now. The adrenaline that is pumping through your body is exhilarating, causing your whole body to tingle with electricity. And seeing Arthur calm and collected as if this were just another chore back at camp is an amazing thing to witness.

It is hard not to stare at his thick muscled arms as he works over the surface of the grand safe. His face carries such intensity, making the green and amber flecks that ring his blue irises even more pronounced as if he were possessed by something otherworldly. Were it not for the group of innocent bystanders in the other room, the desire to reach out and touch him would consume you.

But no time for that now. A quick shake to your head to refocus and you quickly walk to the back wall where the row of heavy safes are. Arthur works on the dial combination of the larger vault, while you pull a few pins out of your wristlet and begin picking the locks of the smaller, personal safes. Your heart beats loudly in your ears as your fingers work over the cool metal, knowing that the law could be upon you at any moment.

Not a word is spoken between you and Arthur as you focus on your work, the only sounds in the room besides your nervous breathing are the gentle tinkling of the metal locks being forced open and the soft creaking of their door hinges. You manage to get four of the coffers open quickly with little issue. They are filled with cash and coins, jewelry, bonds and deeds, all of which get dumped into a large leather saddle bag.

Arthur keeps track of the time as you work, periodically checking his pocket watch. He is always mindful not to get too greedy on these jobs. Best to stick to the timeline and get what you can, rather than push your luck and risk getting caught. The plan is to be in and out in fifteen minutes before the bank is due to close. ‘Live to fight another day’, as they say. And keeping a mental note in his head, Arthur determines that you’ve been here long enough.

Deciding that the two of you have collected more than enough, Arthur adjusts the contents of the overstuffed saddle bag before he ties it shut. Smirking at you, Arthur pulls his bandanna back up over his face.

“Ya done good, girl,” he praises as he hoists the saddle bags over his broad shoulders. “You ready to finish this?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Your voice is a quaking whisper, filled with nervous energy as the realization suddenly hits you that you still have to make it out of the bank, yet. Robbing the bank is one thing. Getting away with it is something else, entirely.

“Alright, then. Remember, just act natural, we’ll do the rest,” he nods to you, placing a comforting hand on your arm as you give Arthur a tentative smile in return. The look of nervous fear on your face is not much of an act, but of true feelings, to be honest. Your eyes rim with the slightest bit of moisture as your lashes begin to flutter with anxiety. Arthur quickly notices how your chest begins to rapidly float up and down and your fingers fidget against your palms.

“Hey,” he pulls his mask down again, stepping up closer to you until you can feel his body heat radiating off of him. His eyes are like the ocean, endless and all encompassing as he stands over you. “Remember our deal? You look out for me and I’ll look out for you. Got it?” His voice is low and calm, centering you before you get too lost in your thoughts of doubt or hesitation, for it is hesitation that will derail any best-laid plan.

The cool feeling of Arthur’s leather gloves against your tender skin as his heavy hand cups your face settles your nerves. And the worry begins to ebb away, knowing that you will be as safe as you can be with him. Arthur won’t ever let anything happen to you. And it is within this commanding, yet calming aura that the outlaw carries within himself that you can find a sense of peace.

A quick, sharp breath gets pushed past your pink lips as your head gives a short nod in confirmation. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Good girl.” He winks as he pulls the bandanna up again.

This is it, the grand finale. If you and Arthur can get the gang out of the bank in one piece, you’re gold.

Arthur abruptly opens the door again and roughly shoves you through it back towards the lobby for the last bit of the show.

“Sit down!” he yells, tossing you to the floor in a heap into the middle of the room. “Goddamn useless woman!” You say nothing in return, hiding your face in what appears to be fear.

Arthur then turns his attention back to the room of nervous onlookers and fellow thieves. “Thank you kindly, people, for your cooperation. Sit still and quiet and no one will get hurt,” he announces with an all too casual tone. As his dusty boots carry him across the room, he strikes one of the cowering men in the face with the butt of his gun to make his point.

“If anyone even thinks about leaving to go get the law, we’ve got a shooter on that rooftop over there.” Arthur points his gloved finger through the window. “He’ll drop you dead the minute you open that door.”

And just as quickly as it had begun, the group of bank robbers swiftly ducks out of the building without so much as a creaking floorboard in their wake.

The group of you sit there on the floor of the bank, stunned and quiet, each looking at the door in case the thieves should decide to come back. After about five minutes, you are the one to break the stifling and tenuous silence.

“Are you all going to just sit there and let them rob us?!” you demand, scanning the faces of the patrons. You are quite the actress. If only Hosea could see you right now, how proud he would be.

No one moves out of sheer fear, staring at you with the eyes of terrified lambs as if you are crazy-talking. ‘Good Lord, these people are ripe for the picking’ you think to yourself.

“Who’s ‘us’? You don’t have any money here, yet. Remember?” one of the women in attendance hisses at you. “Keep your mouth shut, or else you’ll get people shot!”

But you disregard her warning. “Go get the sheriff!” you screech at the man laying next to you, who just stares back at you with a dumbfounded expression plastered across his face. “Go!” you reiterate, waving your hand towards the door. With no one else stepping forward, you seize the opportunity to take control of the situation, hoping to draw the lawmen towards the bank and not out looking for the gang, buying them more time.

The poor man startles at the sound of your shrill voice and sprints to his feet as if he’s not sure if he is more afraid of the robbers or you. He trips over himself as he quickly makes his way across the room. He cautiously ducks his head as he opens the door, mindful of the shooter you were all warned about. Everyone else waits with paralyzing apprehension. When no shots are fired, the man proceeds to stumble out the door.

Now that the tension is broken, the people are abuzz with activity. Loud, nervous chatter fills the lobby as one of the women rushes to the man Arthur had struck in the face earlier. Within a few moments, the local sheriff and a handful of lawmen come barreling in through the bank doors.

“Alright everyone, calm down. We’ll get to the bottom of this,” the sheriff declares, trying to assess the situation. “Carl, take a few men and post them on either end of the town. If those sons-a-bitches are still here, they won’t get too far.”

The sheriff proceeds to get statements from everyone in attendance and eventually makes his way to you.

“This one, Sheriff,” Mr. Bagby points at you as his agitated body ambles to stand next to you. “This lady was tossed in with that heathen.”

“Is that so?” The sheriff eyes you up and down.

“This is Mrs. Callahan, Sheriff,” Mr. Bagby nervously prattles on. “This here is Sheriff Langston, our top lawman, Ma’am.” You extend your arm to shake hands at the introduction. The sheriff is an average height, medium build, but nothing too impressive. He is clean-cut and neat, obviously taking his position of authority very seriously.

“Are you alright, ma’am? Did they hurt you in any way?”

“No, no I’m fine,” you huff in an exasperated tone. “They just shoved me around, is all.”

“Any idea who they are? Where they may be headed? Did they say anything to you?” the lawman presses.

“How would I know?! I wasn’t exactly paying that close attention,” you snap in annoyance at the barrage of questions. “They were filthy, I can tell you that much. The big one had red mud caked all over his boots.”

“Red mud?” Langston ponders, turning to look at one of the deputies.

“Yes, red mud. Why?” Your eyebrows furrow in exaggerated agitation.

The sheriff’s face twists up, lips pursed in thought for a moment as if piecing something together in his mind. “We have caves outside the western side of town. They’re covered in red clay. Would make a perfect hideout for a group of outlaws.”

“Not far from the rail line, too,” agrees the deputy. “That could be their way out, Frank.”

The sheriff nods in agreement. “Head on over there, see what you come up with.” The sheriff turns back to you with a self-satisfied smile. “Thank you, ma’am. You may have just led us right to those bastards.” (More like led them in the exact opposite direction of those bastards. And your heart settles a bit knowing that the law has taken your bait.)

“Good! Serves them right, attacking innocent people like that,” you snap with disdain dripping from your words like rainwater. A silent prayer of thanks rolls in your mind that not only does the sheriff not suspect you as an accomplice, but you have led them away from your friends, and more importantly Arthur.

Sheriff Langston looks you over, contemplating what to do with you next. “It’s getting dark soon. It won’t be safe for you to be walking around unchaperoned, especially since you’re a witness to a crime. These thieves may be looking for you.” His lips get pulled in slightly as he tentatively bites down in thought. “I don’t know what your plans are, ma’am, but you should stay here in town where I can keep an eye on you.”

“Oh, I doubt that’s necessary,” you brush him off with a nonchalant wave, standing as if to take your leave.

“‘Fraid I’m going to have to insist, ma’am.” The lawman moves to block you from the door, his hands held up and halting you where you stand. “We’ll escort you to the hotel for safe keeping. The owner there is a friend of mine. In fact, I’ll keep an eye on you myself, at least until your husband arrives, that is. It’s the least I could do after everything you’ve been through.”

You can’t help but notice how his dark eyes cast over your form with a slight hint of a smile on his lips as he speaks. It’s slight, almost imperceptible, but you've seen that look in a man’s eyes before and a boulder drops on your stomach, making you slightly nauseous.

Shit. This was not part of the plan. And you have to be careful with how you handle this, as you are all on your own to do it. You expected to be questioned by the law, making sure that they have no information or lead to the gang, and then released. You are supposed to meet Arthur by the garden wall alongside the mill by nightfall. If you don’t show up, he’ll worry. And then God knows what he’ll do.

“Alright, then. If you think that’s what’s best, Sheriff,” you reply with your best fake smile, hoping that the sheriff will take your uneasiness as a reaction to the robbery and not your reluctance to stay. You can’t seem too eager to leave. If the sheriff gets even an inkling that you were in on the job, he’d hang you for sure. A cold sweat begins to mist across your chest under the silk layers of your dress as your fingertips start to tingle and go numb.

And so you concede to go along with whatever he suggests, playing the “innocent victim” as best as you can.

—----------------------------------

By the time everything is said and done at the bank, night has begun to drape its shadowy blanket upon the town. The moon casts its milky all-knowing eye over you and Sheriff Langston as you head down the steps of the bank together. Using a lantern to guide you, the sheriff's hand catches your elbow and leads you down the street and over to the hotel. You go along amicably, as to not rouse suspicion, and all the while, the sheriff babbles on and on with small talk in a feeble attempt at light flirtation.

Arriving at the modest hotel, the lawman checks you in, the hotel owner assigning you a room with a nod. You graciously accept the key and quickly bid the sheriff goodnight.

“Oh no, I’m going to have to stay with you while you’re here,” Langston asserts smoothly, leaving no room for argument.

“I’m sorry, you’re what?” you sputter, eyes shooting open to your hairline in shock at his brazenness.

“What if someone tries to break in on you? No, I’ll feel much better if I have eyes on you at all times.”

“I’m sure you would,” you mumble. Desperately trying to mask your frustration, you turn and head up the stairs with the man in tow behind you. You only make it up to the third step before you feel his hand on your lower back. Your skin shudders at the touch of the sheriff’s fingertips, and you try not to bristle too much because of it. If Arthur were to see this, he’d surely plant his fist into the man’s face. And in the depths of your ever-tightening chest, you are not sure if that would be a bad thing or not.

The hotel room is simple, but pleasant. But you have no designs on staying long. Your eyes skip about to take inventory of your surroundings, trying to devise a plan on getting the hell out of here before the sheriff gets too comfortable. You stand in the middle of the room, hands continuously turning over each other with a white-knuckled grip.

Sheriff Langston must sense your apprehension, though. He studies you out of the corners of his eyes as he sets about the room to light the oil lamps, their amber glow quickly illuminating the space. “Can I get you anything while we’re here, miss?” he asks you in an attempt to put you at ease while in his presence.

“Missus,” you pointedly remind him. “Mrs. Callahan.” You shoot him a stern look, giving him that unspoken warning that you are not ignorant and know exactly what it is that he’s hoping for.

Langston smiles with faux innocence. “Right. Mrs. Callahan.”

“I’d love some hot coffee, please. If you don’t mind, Sheriff.”

“Sure. I’ll have the kitchen send some up.” He opens the door and steps out into the hall but your hopes plummet when instead of going down to get it himself, Sheriff Langston yells down the stairs to have coffee brought up for you. Damn. You were hoping to get him out of the room, giving you time to go out the window or something. The icy reality settles over you that this man will not be letting you out of his sight.

After about ten minutes, one of the hotel maids arrives at the door with a tray with a steaming pot and two cups prettily displayed upon an embroidered linen. The sheriff takes the tray from the woman with a nod of thanks and places it down on the table in the middle of the room to allow you to fix yourself a cup.

“There we are. This should do the trick,” he grins at you.

You offer a small smile in appreciation and float towards the table, careful to place yourself on the opposite side of him. Sheriff Langston circles around, striding over to the window located on the wall behind you. The fact that his dark gaze cascades over your backside as he passes is not lost on you, either. The sheriff casually pulls back the curtain with his two fingers, looking out into the street for any activity.

“Do you like cream or sugar in your coffee, Sheriff?” you ask sweetly.

“Just a bit of sugar, ma’am. I like sweet things.” The words purr from his lips with a slow and unsettling drawl.

“Of course, you do,” you reply with just the hint of sarcasm. Turning your back as you set out the two cups, your fingers pull a small vial of nightshade out of your cleavage. You thank the heavens that you thought to bring it and discreetly pour its contents into his cup. Adding the steaming dark liquid from the coffee pot overtop, you plunk a sugar cube in and sir until the contents are finely mixed. A gratified grin dusts your lips as you tap the silver spoon along the cup's porcelain edge.

You turn around and stride across the floor, skirts swishing around your feet and hand the sheriff his cup with a demure little smile before sipping from your own. “How long do we have to wait here?”

“Until sunup,” Langston quips. “By then, I’ll check in with the boys and see if they tracked down that gang.” His eyes rake over you again as he sips from his cup, that same cold and uneasy feeling washing over you as your mind jolts to the knife Javier gave you that is tucked into your high-lace shoe.

“Don’t you worry, ma’am, I’ll catch ‘em. I don’t abide by that sort of thing in my town. They think they can walk in here and rob me right under my nose and get away with it?” he scoffs.

“They robbed the bank, not you,” you remind him.

“Same difference.” Sheriff Langston offers a dismissive wave at your seemingly irrelevant point. “Either way, they ain’t getting away with it, mark my words. I'll shoot first and ask questions later if it comes to it.” He cocks his head just slightly, reaching up to remove his hat and tossing it on the bed behind you. “Not in my town.”

You nod in understanding and wander over to the balcony doors for some fresh air and to put some much-needed distance between the two of you. You step out onto the landing that overlooks the street below, trying to get away from the sheriff's incessant staring. You are desperately hoping the nightshade kicks in before this sheriff gets bolder with his obvious interest in you. The sheriff is not a large man, such as Arthur or Bill, but he is still larger than you and your mind begins to search for ways to defend yourself if necessary. With your hands resting on the railing, you look out over the side and anxiously sigh.

While lost in your thoughts, your gaze falls to the shadows of the mercantile building across the street. Smoldering in the dark there, you notice the red pin-point glow of a cigarette end. Squinting to get a better look, you see a figure cloaked in the darkness, and softly smile as you instantly recognize the silhouette of the broad shoulders that you know so well. The silvery moonlight highlights the edges of that familiar worn gambler’s hat and your anxiety instantly melts. A wave of relief washes over you and you suddenly feel more emboldened, knowing that your beloved is mere feet from you should you need him. You are not alone. You never were.

Knowing the sheriff is behind you, you carefully lift your hands slightly off the rail and flatly cross them in front of you, a signal to Arthur not to come for you as it’s not safe for him. But he’s seen you and knows that you’re okay, at least for now. So he’ll wait, watching vigilantly over you until he can get you out of town safely.

—-------------------------------

A few hours go by, and you quietly collect yourself to head out of the room. The sheriff sits slumped over in a chair, the white coffee cup laying precariously on the floor next to him, deposited there by the hand that dangles limply above it. He’ll be knocked-out for a bit, with a nasty headache when he wakes, but you’ll be long gone by then.

The sun is nowhere close to being up yet. The whole hotel is dark with the inhabitants slumbering quietly in their rooms, the occasional snoring to be heard behind closed doors. Creeping down the stairs, you move slowly and carefully as your feet pad soundlessly upon the wooden steps. You glide imperceptibly past the front desk where the clerk is sleeping with his feet propped up on the wood, passed out in a deep slumber. Just a few more feet and you are able to slink out the front door with no one the wiser.

You cautiously step out into the street, looking both directions for any signs of life. Everything is dark and empty, not even a stray dog out at this time of night. The faint sounds of the night owls in the trees is the only thing to indicate that time has not stopped altogether. With a sigh of relief, you begin to head down the road towards the edge of town. Since no one is awake and out yet, you should be able to walk right out without even being noticed. The only witnesses to your escape are the shimmering stars above as they hang in the ink-black sky.

And it doesn’t take too long before you hear the melodic beat of a horse’s hooves behind you and that familiar voice that you are waiting to hear.

“You lost, pretty lady?”

The gravelly voice floats in the air like a tether to anchor yourself to. You close your eyes and release a slow exhale of gratitude, knowing that you are indeed safe now. Your flower-petal lips turn up into a soft and comforted smile at the very thought of your protective cowboy being a mere breath’s distance from you.

“Nope.” A contented sigh escapes your chest. “I know exactly where I need to be.”

You slowly turn around and look up at the handsome rider as he leans out on the saddlehorn. Even in the dark, you can see Arthur’s beautiful eyes as the moonlight shines down and casts his body in a silvery backlight, the edge catching upon his face.

“I could use a ride, though.” Your whole face radiantly lights up at your statement as the two of you stand quiet for a moment, taking each other in.

A sense of deep pride fills you as one thought rings prominently in your mind above all others: ‘I did it.’

**ok I know this isn’t my best work. Writer’s block is a cruel bitch. But, this is meant to be a turning point in my reader’s/oc’s development. Things will get harder from here, as we will get into the game story now, with the events of Blackwater coming up.

Tag List: @rivetingrosie4 @bimbo-dollz @pine4pple-b0i @redwritr @kuri-chans-blog @queer-sadie-adler @joelmillerswifey @gimmethosedaddymilkers @pcotarelo @delilah-grimes @maemortem @wistfulwisteriawitch @lilacxxdreams @mentallyillfrogs @absolutegeek @spurz @sophiaj650 @uniqueclodzinevoid @lookingformaurice @pawoui @randomidk-123 @yyiikes @eddiemetalheadmunson @twola @kmartkiddieisle @red-dead-simp @regwishesshehadmagic @rhehr241 @earwen-x @akariver75 @djennty @nervousmumbling @xliliths @unbotheredbeeeee @onnetonprinsessa @kittiowolf210 @ezrynn @suhiss @arthurmargon @codnerd1999 @queer-sadie-adler @alice-vanderlinde @sweetandstoned21 @j4llyf7sh @spooky631 @m0r4rx @ilovrxats @i-69-urmom @ddbluesie @ivuravix @nervousmumbling @sickvictorianangel @tirededuxhours @ezzythereal1 @chloepluto1306 @ivys-valentine @spiritcatcherxo @lea-khena @brccklynbaby1 @foundynnel @readingcoco @carmelamontezlikr @ultraporcelainpig @sofiaa-xcx @namesaretomainstream @miphy @cookiesandcreaminthetardis @loveheartabby @daisybvck

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know. There are a few that would not let me link, so I apologize if this doesn’t ping some people.

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #photo1030

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

Text

sister-in-law | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader one shot

pairing: boyfriend!carmy x fem!reader

word count: 5.2k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, tooth rotting fluff, talks of marriage, marijuana usage, long term relationship

summary: set two years after the ending of ‘make my heart surrender.’ you and carmy have settled into a comfortable rhythm between creating something spectacular with the bear and exploring your relationship. now that you’ve been together for a while now, sugar asks you a very important question… while you’re both violently high.

a/n: this is a fun and silly little idea i had after discovering two year old videos of me and my best friend 60 minutes after taking an edible.

It’s not often that you get dressed up, but you don’t want Natalie to think that you’re a total slob. You’re mostly in comfy clothes at home, then kitchen clothes here at the restaurant so it’s a welcomed change up from the status quo. Every now and then you get dressed up for a date night with Carmy, but most date nights you’re so tired that you prefer to stay in.

After slipping on the wrap dress you found at the back of your shared closet with Carmy, you run your fingers through your hair making sure that it isn’t too messy from a full morning and afternoon’s worth of work. You notice that your hair falls in soft waves from being twisted into a bun earlier that morning, so you smooth out a few stray hairs that look a little too messy. You slip on your leather jacket, as it’s getting chillier at night, and make your way out of the bathroom.

If you didn’t know how hard Gary worked to keep everything clean, you’d have your hesitations about changing in the staff restroom. While most of the restaurant had gotten a face lift during the remodel, the staff restroom was one of the remaining parts of The Bear’s past. You pass through the kitchen one more time, your pristine white sneakers clean only because you never wear them here, heading right to Carmy’s office.

He’s got his head buried in some paperwork, a pen in his mouth as his eyes scan over the legal jargon that runs all through the first page. A stray curl frames his face perfectly, earning a smile from you as his focus remains unbroken.

“You still cool with me taking the car tonight?” you ask your boyfriend, causing Carmy to look up from the new lease agreement he has yet to sign.

“Woah,” he sounds, raising his eyebrows as he checks you out. He’s not used to seeing you like this – let alone in a dress.

He wonders for a moment if he forgot an anniversary of some sort, panic beginning to set in.

“What’s uh-, what’s going on?” he stammers, caught completely off guard by how good you look.

You chuckle, knowing he’s only a little tongue tied because he hasn’t seen you in a dress in a while, “I’m heading to your sister’s, remember? For dinner. We talked about this last night.”

“Shhhhhhit,” he swears, hanging on to the first syllable. He tosses the lease agreement down on his desk in defeat, turning in his chair towards you. “I-, I just talked to Sugar earlier today. She didn’t say anything about dinner plans.” He pauses, swearing under his breath again. “Will you tell her I’m sorry? It must’ve slipped my mind and I’ve got to stay a little longer till Syd gets in.”

“Oh don’t worry about it, babe. You weren’t invited anyways,” you reply casually, letting him off the hook.

Or at least you think it’s going to let him off the hook.

You watch as his facial expressions move from panic to pure confusion. Carmy’s racking his brain for any kind of recollection, searching for any recollection of the conversation you’re referencing. Between training new line cooks and working overtime so that Sydney could take a vacation, his brain is fried and he has no idea what you’re talking about.

You giggle again, stepping into his office, “I take it you don’t remember the conversation we had before we went to bed last night?”

Truthfully, you suspected he might’ve been half asleep when you’d curled up to him and let him know that you and his sister had plans tonight. He’d been working so hard at the restaurant lately that you’re not surprised he’s reached this level of burnout.

“Baby, Nat invited me over for dinner tonight. We’re gonna hang out… catch up a little,” you explain pivoting to the whole ‘you’re not invited part.’ “If it makes you feel any better, Pete’s not invited either.”

You search his facial expressions, looking for any kind of familiarity, but it seems your words have only caused him more confusion.

“Wait, let me get this straight,” he says, trying to put all the pieces together.

“You’re going over to my sister’s?” he repeats back to you.

“Uh huh.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Without me,” he emphasizes.

“That is correct.”

He takes a beat, before finally coming to his conclusion.

“You and my sister have plans together without me?”

You laugh at how surprised he sounds.

“Jeez, Carm. You’d think after knowing her for two years we’d be able to have a conversation without you, babe,” you joke with him.

But he still looks like he’s trying to solve a calculus equation.

“Don’t worry. I’ll try my best to steer clear of any embarrassing stories,” you reassure him, hoping to put his mind at ease. “And let her know that calling you a ‘soft shitty bitch’ in front of me is not your favorite.”

He laughs dryly, still trying his best to wrap his head around the fact that you and his sister are hanging out. It’s not that it’s a wildly radical concept for him to stomach, but between your relationship and the restaurant, you and Natalie had only spent a handful of times solo over the last two years (which was precisely the point she’d made when she called you the other day). You’d told her that you had a night off and appreciated the invitation for some quality time.

“We’re kicking out Pete too. Maybe… you could give him a call,” you suggest, cautiously. You’re not even sure why you suggest it, considering the look he sends you that says, ‘not likely but nice try.’

“Or not,” you conclude, taking the option off the table as soon as you see the look on Carmy’s face. “You stickin’ around here tonight?”

“Just till Syd gets in,” Carmy replies. And considering how fried his brain feels, he could really use the night off.

“Okay, well I’m gonna head home and feed Aioli before I head over to Sugar’s,” you tell him, in reference to the cat you both rescued just shortly after you moved in together. “See ya at home?”

“Sure,” Carmy replies, pressing his lips against yours in a gentle, goodbye kiss.

He’s not sure whether he feels relieved that he doesn’t have to go to dinner with you, or nervous about the fact that you and Sugar are hanging out without him. What did you have in common with his sister? What the hell were you going to talk about and why did he care?

Sydney comes in a little later and she and Carmy catch up about her time off, things at the restaurant, the progress of their recently hired new line cooks. Before he knows it, she’s practically kicking him out of their restaurant, insisting that he get a head start on his night off.

Carmy’s not sure whether it's the progressively chillier air, or the fact that the days are getting shorter that’s got him in his head. While he entertains the thought of going home, opening a window before he lights a few up, and crashing on the couch early, he’s not sure he’s ready to go home yet. With his plaid coat to keep him warm, Carmy enjoys a leisurely walk to a meeting instead.

He doesn’t feel he needs them as much as he used to, but Carmy still likes to go at least once a week. You’ve joined him a few times and while he appreciates the support, he likes that it feels like a place that’s just his. That’s just for him. It’s almost been three years since Mikey died and while the pain isn’t as sharp, it continues to shapeshift. He likes having the outlet – whether he wants to stand up and talk about it or not. It’s a place he doesn’t have to be anyone – not chef, not a business owner, not a partner – but just some fucked up kid with a dead brother and anxiety.

Across town, you sit at the Berzatto kitchen table, flipping through old photo albums as Natalie finishes assembling dinner. You’re not sure how you got on the topic, but she’s telling you about her soulcycle class and running a successful campaign of trying to get you to come with her.

“There’s one near River North and everything,” she says, glowing with her own excitement.

“No, yeah, we should definitely go sometime,” you reply, as she’s just taken out the casserole dish of eggplant parm out of the oven

“I know your work schedule is sporadic. Why don’t I send you the schedule and you can just let me know which one you’d like to go to?” Natalie suggests, hopefully.

You agree, half to placate her and half because you’re genuinely curious about this ‘spin class’ that she can’t stop raving about.

“Oh my god. Look at you guys!” you guys, pausing the minute you see a photo of all the Berzatto children.

Mikey must have been a teenager in this one. He’s got a young, and exceptionally blonde, Carmy hoisted up over his shoulders, while Natalie glaring into the camera lens, a popsicle in her hands.

“Oh my god… I haven’t seen this one in forever,” she says, glancing over at the photo album page you’ve held up to show her.

“There was a heatwave,” she begins to recall fondly. “And Uncle Jimmy had set up a sprinkler in the yard for us so that we could play in some water. Mom always hated community pools and refused to let us join one.”

“Carmy is so blonde. And the bowl cut?” you laugh, running your fingertips over the photo.

Natalie nods in agreement, “Yeah not the best look for him when the curls came in. He and I were both very blonde when we were younger… but Mikey… he always had that tall dark and handsome look from the get go.

You take a beat, listening to her talk about Mikey. You turn the page of the photo book, your eyes scanning over a few new photographs. There’s one of Mikey in a tux that’s so 90’s it’s painful. He stands with a stunning redhead, her corsage matching his tie. There’s a younger Carmy in the background of the photo as well and suddenly, there’s a bittersweet feeling in your belly.

“I wish I could've met him,” you finally say out loud. “Mikey,”

“Yeah,” Sugar says sadly. She rests her back against the kitchen counter, her glass of wine still in her hands.

“He would’ve really liked you,” she offers up, sympathetically. “Actually, he probably would’ve hit on you just to push Carmy’s buttons a little.”

“Oh really?” you ask, a light chuckle escaping your lips.

“Carmy didn’t date a lot. I mean… he hasn’t dated a lot… really till you. And Mikey on the other hand never had any trouble in that department, which I think only made him more eager to be Carmy’s wingman. Even when his methods were… questionable,” she replies, remembering her complicated older brother.

“Is this your mom?” you ask, pointing to the middle-aged woman in the photo.

“Yeah,” Sugar nods. “I know. She looks so different.”

You’re quiet for a moment. You’d only met the Berzatto matriarch once in the last two years you’d been living in Chicago, and it had gone less than swimmingly. Natalie and Pete had invited everyone over for dinner, and it hadn’t taken long for Carmy and his mother to get into it, leading to an early exit for you and him.

“Carmy never really talks about her…” you trail off, shooting Natalie a look.

“He-,” she starts, not sure how she wants to explain it. On one hand, while she can understand why Carmy keeps his distance, she resents him for not trying. “He had the least time with Dad… and then Mom, in her right mind. I’ve been thinking a lot about that actually… now that Pete and I are trying to get pregnant.”

You understand. But it’s tough to hear the sadness in Natalie’s voice as well, especially since she’s worked so hard to accept the relationship she'll never have with her own mother.

“Anyways, uh… I think the eggplant parm is ready,” Natalie says, changing the subject. She nods you over to the kitchen counter, prompting you to close the photo book, and follow her into the kitchen.

By the time his meeting ends, the sun has almost set. Carmy makes his way out of the church, pausing at the bottom of the steps to pull out his phone. He’s not sure why, but he’s still not ready to go home just yet. The restaurant’s really taken off, which means he and Syd have been able to hire more line cooks, and he’s not needed every single day, day in and day out. While it’s great that they’ve grown so much, Carmy finds it a harder adjustment than he expected. He’s always had a complicated relationship with rest – with sitting still.

After furiously entering in his passcode, he types up a quick text to Richie.

Carmy: Yo. I got the night off. Up for a drink?

He sees the three dots at the bottom of his message with Richie and anticipates his reply. In a matter of seconds, a reply pops up on his screen.

Richie: No can do, cuz. I got Ava tonight.

Carmy knows that Richie’s fought hard to get more time with Ava. He’s been spending more time with her during the weekdays too, now that the staff that made up The Bear wasn’t made up of five people anymore. Everyone seemed to be experiencing shifts these days.

Carmy: Another time.

Carmy moves his thumbs over a few different screens, opening up a previous message that Syd’s sent him.

Carmy: How’s everything going?

Sydney: All good, chef. Enjoy your night off.

It’s a strange feeling – not being needed every single shift at the restaurant. He knew it meant that they’d made huge progress – had come so far from where they started – but Carmy was still adjusting to this new rhythm of… not shitty and maybe sort of a legit spot. They had, after all, taken home the James Beard “Best New Restaurant” award last year.

Carmy thinks about it for a moment. He could go back in, see if they needed help around the kitchen, but he knows he’d just be in the fucking way. He huffs out a stubborn puff of air as your words echo in his head:

We’re kicking Pete out too. Maybe… you could give him a call.

He shakes in his head in disbelief, not sure what possesses him as he thinks to himself, what the hell?

His fingers hover over Pete’s name in his contact list, before he finally just bites the bullet and clicks on the contact. He’s really started to warm up to Pete over the years, but it’s not like they’re hanging out or grabbing drinks by themselves or anything. It’s mostly family gatherings, little text message exchanges here and there, hanging out at the restaurant.

Carmy waits as the phone rings: once, twice, three times. It’s on the fourth ring that Pete finally picks up.

“Hey, Carm. What’s going on?” Pete greets. It’s so chipper that Carmy has to fight his impulse to throw his phone in front of a moving car.

“Yo! Uh… you want to grab a drink?” Carmy asks, cutting right to the chase.

Pete, completely caught off guard by his brother-in-law’s ask, rushes to answer.

“Oh yeah! Definitely. I’m just uh-, leaving the Y downtown. Shootin’ some hoops. With the boys,” he replies, trying a little too hard to sound cool. Carmy’s not sure if he’s oversharing out of surprise, or if Pete is really just this much of a nerd.

“Where you at?”

“Uh… River North. All-Family meeting,” Carmy answers.

“Cool cool cool,” Pete nods. “Why don’t uh-, why don’t I come meet you up there?”

“Sure, yeah. I’ll uh-, see you soon.”

They discuss details and Pete’s eager to throw out a place that Carmy will think is cool. Carmy’s not sure what he’s in for, or why he called in the first place, but he’s already set the ball in motion.

Before taking off, he shoots you a quick text message:

Meeting up with Pete. How’s it going?

You’re mid-bite as you receive Carmy’s text message, almost spitting out your food as you read what he’s sent you.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Sugar asks, concerned.

“Carmy called Pete,” you say, still in shock. The two of you exchanged glances. “They’re gonna grab a drink. I mean, I kind of suggested earlier thinking there was no way in hell but-.”

Sugar rolls her eyes, “Well great. Looks like Hell’s frozen over. I won’t be surprised if the two of them bring on the end of the world.”

You laugh in response because it’s funny, and because you know that she’s deflecting – trying not to get her hopes that this could be a good thing.

It’s not till you finish eating dinner that it hits you that Carmy really took your advice and is probably with Pete right now. You send over a quick text, because you can’t help yourself from checking in.

You: How’s it going? You haven’t punched Pete in the face yet, I hope.

Carmy: All good.

You roll your eyes at his short reply, before your phone powers off.

“Shit, my phone’s dead. Mind if I charge it?” you ask.

“Of course,” Natalie replies. “Here, I’ll go plug it in for you.”

“Thanks,” you say back, handing her your phone.

She gets up out of her seat, making her way back to the kitchen where there’s a charger. You hear her slide something over, and the sound of plates being put into the sink before she says,

“Fucking-, Jesus Christ. What a fucking loser!”

“What?” you call to her, not sure what she’s talking about.

Natalie returns to you, a small pack in her hands and a look on her face like she can’t wait to tell you a secret.

“Pete’s been really stressed out at work,” she begins, on the verge of laughter. “So I told him to pick up a thing of CBD gummies.”

“Okay….”

“Only he’s a fucking idiot and…” she continues, before handing you the package that she’s had in her hands. “... clearly doesn’t understand the difference between CBD and THC.”

You examine the packaging and, in Pete’s defense, the letters that read THC are small. You laugh, turning the package over in your hands.

Weed gummies. Pete accidentally bought weed gummies.

“I gave him specific instructions on what to look for and where to-,” she says with an eye roll. As annoyed as she is with Pete, she also finds it endearing that he’s this much of a goody-two-shoes.

“I’ll have him go back to the dispensary and exchange them tomorrow.”

You take a beat, not sure if you should say what’s in your head. Weed is legal in Illinois after all and he DID get them from a dispensary. You figure the worst thing she can do is say ‘no’ and think that you’re weird.

“Okay but,” you begin deviously, pausing for dramatic effect. “What if you didn’t?”

“Didn’t…?” she pauses, eyeing you suspiciously.

A smile creeps up on her face as the corners of her lips curl upwards.

You shrug, “I think we deserve to let loose a little.”

Sugar waits, thinking it over. Really, she’s just looking for a reason to say no, and she can’t find one.

“Okay, yeah. Why the fuck not?”

“Do you feel like maybe it’s possible that we could… sink into the couch?” you ask, as the edible has officially hit.

Natalie lets out a loud laugh, “YES! Yes, that’s exactly how I feel right now.”

“Like somehow our bodies will liquify and we’ll be a part of this couch for the rest of eternity.”

You sit side by side, feeling your bodies sink into the couch, relaxing into it. Damn, you haven’t felt this relaxed in a while and you can only imagine Sugar hasn’t either. Between carrying the weight of parenting everyone in the Berzatto family, you’re just glad that you two can blow off some steam together.

“Okay, I want to ask you something,” Natalie says, turning her whole body to you. It feels like she’s turning towards you in slow motion and she definitely knows the edible has hit.

“Hm?” you hum in response, turning just your head towards her.

“It’s a very serious question.”

Only she can’t keep a straight face and the harder she works to be serious, the more the two of you laugh.

“I’m not convinced this is serious,” you point out through a fit of giggles.

“No, it is, I swear! Just-. Hold on.”

When Sugar finally collects herself, she has a very serious look on her face for a moment as she stares you down. Your eyes watch as she grabs your hands in hers, following with eight words you’re not expecting her to ask.

“Are you and Carmen going to get married?”

“Wh-,” you start, unable to finish your sentence before bursting into another fit of laughter. It’s not that the concept is all that funny, but you are high after all. “Wh-, what-? Woah! Where did that come from?”

“No, I’m serious!” she demands, before lowering her voice to a whisper.

“You said that.”

“Okay, well I mean it! Listen, listen, listen.”

You’re listening.

“I mean, what’s the hold up? You moved your whole life here and it’s been two years! You’ve got to at least be talking about it right?”

You shrug casually, “Yeah, I know we’ve been dating for a while but-.”

Surprised by the hesitation she can hear in your voice, Sugar pauses.

“Wait-, do you not think that Carmy’s-?” she begins to ask.

“Oh my god, no!” you cut her off, eager to squash any notion that Carmy isn’t the one for you. “No, that's not it at all.”

“Carmine…” you trail off, tickled by the nickname you’ve heard Richie use on more than one occasion. “... is the love of my life.”

“Aw.”

“Yeah… I guess we just haven’t really talked about… marriage… all that much.”

“Well, why not?” Sugar practically exclaims, startling you with her overenthusiastic rally. “You guys are fucking perfect for each other! You’ve been dating for long enough!”

“We’re just not in a rush, I guess!” you reply, with a shrug.

“That’s such bullshit,” she argues, wondering if she needs to have a few words with her little brother.

“No! No, it’s not, I swear. Let me explain,” you justify, sending her a ‘just hear me out’ kind of look.

You clear your throat, trying your best to be serious, even though you feel you may be melting into the couch at this point. Sugar waits for your explanation, unconvinced that this isn’t all Carmy’s fault.

“Would you think I was cheesy… if I said we’re not-, well at least I’m not in a hurry…” you begin, letting the words fall out of your mouth as you finish your sentence with, “...because I know we have forever?”

“Aw, no it’s-,” Sugar starts, before breaking into another fit of giggles. “Well yeah it’s totally super cheesy but it’s also… really sweet.”

You share a genuine moment of love and appreciation – for each other, for Carmy, for the fact that someone loves her little brother this damn much – before bursting out into laughter again.

“Oh shit,” Sugar hisses, feeling her phone go off. She sits up, reaching for her phone that’s somehow fallen on the floor. The caller ID reads ‘Carmy,’ and she swears again.

“Speak of the devil,” she mutters, answering the phone. You cover your mouth, trying your best to be quiet.

“Hellooo?”

You hear him ask if you’re still with her.

“Uh, yeah, what’s up?” Sugar asks back, doing her best to sound sober.

“Her phone’s off and I got-. Will you just put my girlfriend on, please?” Carmy asks. Sugar simultaneously finds it annoying and also sweet that he sounds worried about you.

“It’s Carmy,” she whispers to you, handing you the phone.

In a sing-song voice she teases you, “Someone is in trouble.”

You take the phone, mouthing back, ‘no i’m not.’

“Hello?” you answer, immediately hearing the worry in his voice.

“Hey, I’ve been trying to call you but your phone’s off. Everything okay?” he asks, concerned.

“Oh shit,” you swear. “Yeah, I’m sorry. My phone died right after you texted me about going to meet up with Pete. It’s been charging on the kitchen counter.”

“Okay,” Carmy sighs, relieved.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you, babe. But um yeah, no,” you reassure, your facade quickly slipping. You know you sound less sober by the minute. “Everything is… very cool. Very cool beansssss.”

Natalie laughs at your explanation, slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle the laugh.

Carmy pauses, noticing something different about the way your voice sounds.

No. It can’t be.

This is the last possible thing that could happen this evening. Tonight was supposed to be about you and his sister bonding and probably talking shit about him.

He can’t believe he’s going to ask you this.

“Are you… are you high right now?” he asks, in pure disbelief as the words leave his mouth.

You and Natalie shoot a ‘busted’ look to each other as you reply, “Um yeah. High on life. And also a gummy.”

Carmy chuckles at your juvenile response, “Okay, well, I’m glad you two are having fun. Promise me you won’t drive home?”

“Mhm,” you hum in response. “I’ll just uber home. To you, Carmy-Bear. The love of my life.”

“Wow, you really are high,” he comments, still trying to wrap his head around it.

Carmy chuckles at his new title. It’s not the first time he’s heard you call him that, but it seems out of place considering. It makes him wonder what kind of trouble you and Sugar have gotten into this evening.

“She’s fine, Carmen. She’s in good hands!” Sugar yells, loud enough so that he can hear it through the phone.

“Will you turn your phone back on though? I was a little worried there when I couldn't get a hold of you.”

“You were worried about me?” you ask, softly, his words affecting you even more now that you’re blasted.

“Awwww he loves you,” Sugar says softly.

“I know it’s pretty fuckin’ great,” you agree with a giggle.

“You’re ready to go? Okay, yeah, we can-,” you can hear Carmy say. He pauses and you can hear him exchange a few words with someone else. “Don’t worry about getting a car back, sweetheart. Pete’s gonna drive me back and uh, I’ll take you home.”

“My hero,” you swoon playfully, eliciting another fit of giggles from Sugar.

“Sweetheart, will you please tell Sugar that I’m coming to get you?” he asks, almost as if he’s talking to a child.

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now!”

You pretend to cover up the speaker of the phone before saying, “Um, so, Buzz Killington on the line here wants me to tell you that I’m not allowed to drive home and he’s gonna come pick me up right now.”

“Oh, you’re no fun, Carmy!” she shouts back to him.

“Babe, will you just put Sugar back on the phone?”

“Fine,” you scowl, handing the phone back to Natalie. “Sugar, my dad would like to talk to you.”

Carmy’s not sure how he has somehow found himself in a situation where he is the only adult in the metaphorical room as he hears your comment, dodging strange looks from Pete.

“Fucking christ, Bear. Relax,” Sugar sighs out, annoyed with her little brother as she takes the phone back. “Sounds like he needs a gummy too.”

“Sugar are you-, are you high too?” he asks, much more surprised to find out that she also seems to have had a gummy.

“Yep. See ya soon, little brother. Byeeeee,” she says, before hanging up on him.

Carmy’s surprised to discover that his sister has just hung up on him. He’s not sure whether he’s annoyed with the two of you, shocked that you’re both high, or humored by it all. At least he can stop worrying about you.

“What’s uh-, what’s goin’ on?” Pete asks, having witnessed that more-than-strange interaction with you, Sugar, and Carmy on the phone.

Carmy lets out an amused chuckle before saying, “They’re high right now.”

It feels like a second and also three years later that Carmy and Pete come home, bursting through the front door. You and Sugar are still on the couch gossiping, barely paying attention to the Bravo TV show she’s put on in the background.

Natalie offers to pack you guys up some leftovers, which Pete assists with, until you’re all standing in the doorway of Nat and Pete’s home.

“So how exactly did this happen again?” Carmy questions, hesitantly. He’s almost too afraid to learn the answer.

“Because my goody-two-shoes of a husband doesn’t know the fucking difference between THC and CBD,” she says, glaring at Pete.

“Ohhhh no wonder they asked me for an ID,” Pete replies, his eyes widening.

“You ready to go?” Carmy asks you, and you nod with a stupid lovesick smile on your face.

You say your goodbyes and Natalie brings you in for one more hug.

“And you’re still going to come with me to my soulcycle class right?” she asks with a very serious look on her face.

“Yes, yes. Absolutely. I will, I promise.”

“Awww okay. Thanks for coming over. I can’t wait for you to be my sister-in-law,” Natalie gushes, as she hugs you goodbye.

“Woahhhh, okay. Uh, let’s get you home,” Carmy interjects, practically dragging you out of the door.

Carmy ushers you to the car, and before you know it, you’re on the way home.

“Do I even want to ask?” Carmy asks, sending an amused look your way.

“No,” you giggle in response, resting your head on your shoulder. You’re sleepy as you cozy up to him. “What’d you and Pete talk about?”

He shrugs. They had kept the conversation pretty surface level. Pete had tried really hard to connect with Carmy over being a self-proclaimed foodie.

“Best way to cook a steak.”

“Laaaaaame,” you reply.

Carmy waits a beat, a soft smile on his face as he looks back over at you.

“Sugar’s a bad influence on you,” he teases playfully, and you groan in response, shaking your head.

“Mmmm did you ever think that I'm a bad influence on her?” you challenge, your tone light.

“Okay, bad influence,” he chuckles. Let’s get you home and into bed because we both have to be up in the morning.”

“Fffffffuck,” you shout, earning an amused laugh from Carmy.

Halfway through the drive home, you fall asleep on his shoulder. Carmy looks over at you once more, a warmth filling his belly as he sees you passed out. He wonders what Sugar meant earlier, by calling you her sister-in-law. There’s no way she could know, right? He’d barely talked about it with you – let alone his sister.

But Natalie’s always been ahead of him – always had the words for his feelings long before ever he had. And he’s been thinking about it: your relationship, marrying you, making it forever, legally. There’s no way she could know, right? That he’d taken a curious gander at engagement rings the other day. That he’d been cutting onions before dinner service and thinking about how he’d propose to you. That when you’d fall asleep before him, he’d lay there, wondering how the hell he got so lucky and how it’s humanly possible that you’re his.

Maybe, he’d just have to start thinking about keeping you, officially.

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #make my heart surrender #jeremy allen white #sugar berzatto #natalie 'sugar' berzatto

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celinin-archive · 27 days

Text

Exclusive, Celestino Vietti: “I want to become like Bagnaia”

The interview to the Piemontese: “My future? On track, maybe in MotoGP, but no hurry. Valentino Rossi? He gives me the energy to win the Moto2 title”

“Look at how young Pecco was... I also was so much younger, I remember already looking at him with the desire to be like him”. In front of the pictures of his past, Celestino Vietti Ramus finds himself in front of a photo from 2013, with Bagnaia in the san Carlo Team Italia leathers.

Near him, two kids, one of them daydreaming of emulating the path of his fellow countryman Pecco: “I won the entrance to the paddock of the Misano GP thanks to a contest: I had to colour the livery of Pecco’s bike. My drawing was terrible...” remembers Celestino today. “I could have never known that a couple of years later I would have joined Bagnaia in the VR46 Riders Academy. He’s always been a model for me, we come from the same province, I took his same route”.

The goal of the twenty years old, today, is completing the work: Vietti is leader of the same Moto2 that Bagnaia won in 2018, with the same Made in Tavullia team, before getting to MotoGP. The big stage, where “Celin” would be able to find himself at ease, him who finds himself comfortable in his Coassolo – holiday destination for people from Turin – like in Tavullia, away from his family that he hasn’t seen in a couple of months. “Maybe this is the longest period I’ve been away from them, but I feel good here too. Who goes away from home young adapts better to places and situations. And it has also been my choice, I’ve been chasing a dream. But home is always home, and I miss my family”.

The World Championship makes you grow up fast, but if you add to it being away from home... “Yes, you grow up. You discover a lot of things, you have to make do: i lived the first period with enthusiasm, because everything was new. Now, when I get back from races, the first thing to do is the washing, and then getting everything in order. I’m a bit the “housewife” (laughs)”.

Are you a tidy person?

“No, and actually in the team me and Niccolò Antonelli compensate each other... but independence is important: you have your experiences, you learn a bit how to manage yourself, you learn how what seemed taken for granted, actually isn’t. And home is always home”.

But now you have your own house, in Tavullia.

“I bought a house, and I know that doing so at twenty isn’t common. I did it thinking and calculating that in the next years I will be here, I will train here. Let’s say, it’s an investment. Moving hasn’t been hard, in the end it’s been just a few meters”.

How is your typical day?

“The most difficult ones are those after travelling back from a race: doing the washing, grocery shopping, maybe going to the business consultant or something like that. And you also train a lot”

Then, how FP results suggest, waking up is always a delicate moment...

“(laughs) Let’s say that in FPs I find myself in bigger difficulties when I’m not immediately okay: I’m still ‘machine-like’, I’m working on it”.

You’re a race animal instead.

“Making a lot of consecutive laps helps me, because lap after lap I can shave a lot of little things working on my riding. During the race you can study your opponents better, that are maybe more explosive during FPs”.

You started with 70 points won from the 75 available in the first three GPs, then you went down. What happened?

“Maybe it comes from my ‘little’ explosivity. And in GPs outside of Europe, everybody goes in a bit blind sighted”.

But emerging when everybody is in blind sighted is a sign of talent.

“Maybe it is”.

Did being the rider to beat condition you or is it a pure mediatic suggestion?

“I don’t feel it a lot, even if I feel more watched and followed. The problem, for me, is dealing with difficult moments knowing I’m leading the Championship. In FPs I often told myself ‘no, I can’t be in this position’. I tend to blame myself when things don’t go well”.

Does Valentino Rossi’s advice remain the same, “always believe in it a bit more”?

“Yes, Vale motivates me. And above all else gives good advice. He watched me from the side track in Portimao, he asks a lot of question in general, he inquires. And then he still trains with us, and he’s always fast”.

Did you imagine being so high up in your second year of Moto2 already?

“No, I was picturing more difficulties. I was expecting the first podium and the first victory, yes, but not in the first attempt in Qatar”

Who’s the first rival for the title?

“Aron Canet, who’s my opposite: he’s super fast from the first lap of the weekend. He hasn’t won yet, but he’s good. Ogura always takes something home. And Chantra surprised me”.

How do you win a world Championship?

“Always getting to the finish line. Thing I didn’t do in Austin, where I also tried to manage a bit. Bad mistake”.

How do you position yourself in from of the new duality between Enea Bastianini and Pecco Bagnaia in MotoGP?

“it’s nice to see italians in front, in Le Mans we saw an exciting battle, unfortunately in didn’t finish under the chequered flag. I’m a bit on Bagnaia’s side, I’ll admit it”

What does he represent for you?

“He’s a great MotoGP rider, I saw him riding and ‘hitting like a blacksmith’ again also on the GP22, and it’s a sight for the eyes. Pecco has always been a model, he brought our territory in the bike world, he won a title, he is in MotoGP on the official Ducati. It’s impossible not to dream about following his steps”

You had another model-rider, in your family.

“My big brother Doriano started riding minibikes, and imagine if I, being much more vivacious than him (to not say something else), would settle for watching him. I’m happy for where he is, with Aprilia in the CIV’s superbike, even if the injury before the championship hasn’t helped him”.

Doriano and Celestino: will you be the third generation in the family business of repairing agricultural machines or will the rider career bring you somewhere else?

“He already works with dad: me and Doriano went to the same mechanic school in Turin. I also would like to carry on dad’s work, my uncles’, my grandpa’s. I admire Doriano because he works during the day and then he trains. It’s hard, he’s told me so, but he doesn’t want to stop. I think of him when I have some problem, maybe a lot of commitments, or I miss home, because I live a life I like, I’m lucky. And when I leave for a GP, I always do it willing, because I know that transforming a passion in your job is not for everyone”.

So you see yourself World Champion and then in the family business?

“That’s the plan, I’d hate to interrupt everything that my family has created”.

How far is MotoGP?

“It depends on how much we grow, and I don’t use the plural casually, because this is a grow path we take all together. With the Team Mooney-VR46 we win and we lose as if we were only one person. Saying all this, I wouldn’t want to make a too rushed transition, I’d like to get some satisfaction in Moto2 and to be ready for the moment of the jump”.

Do the rumours that picture you close to the top class influence you?

“No, I’m able to stay calm. When I hear people talking about certain possibilities, I think about it a bit, but I doesn’t interest me at races. And above all else I don’t change my way of doing things”.

2020 was the year of passing the maturità, 2021 accompanied you to buying a house: what is the big goal of 2022?

“Staying where I am now, until the end”.

Like Bagnaia did, some time ago, another torinese who left home as a teenager to move to Tavullia and carch a dream. Celestino Vietti Ramus has been ready to receive that baton for almost ten years. Since than picture with his role model...

#y: 2020 #interview

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lunafoster · 1 year

Text

Dead talking

Fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of a dead character(s), mentions of Kaz’s trauma, mentions of reader being small, mentions of life in the streets (if you squint), not beta read, English is not my first language (sorry).

Word count: 500+

A knock was heard from the door and he replied almost in autopilot.

“What business?”

The girl came in with a wary look, taking her time to observe the room before her eyes landed on him. She looked small, fragile, her hands shaking as she took a few steps towards him.

“I’m here for the job?” She questioned more than stated, “I’ve heard you needed someone who could provide you with unreachable information.”

“And what do you have to offer, miss…?” He trailed off, waiting for her to give him a name.

“I’m what one would call a witch,” she said, looking away for a second before meeting his eyes fiercely, as if daring him to question her.

“Grisha? What kind?” He ignored the fact that she hadn’t answered his implied question.

“Not exactly that…” she searched for the right words under his hard gaze, “just a witch.”

“How so? What kind of witch are you, then?” He looked skeptical, not trusting the woman -the girl- at all.

“I read cards, bones. Sometimes act as a medium. I- I can communicate with spirits, sir,” she wasn’t boasting, and her body language told him she was speaking the truth -or what she believed was the truth.

“Which means you know more about everyone than what they tell you, am I right?” He raised an eyebrow as she nodded shakily.

“Show me, then.”

She carefully approached his desk, sitting herself on the chair in front of it and extending a hand towards him.

Kaz stared at her hand for a couple of seconds. He took it into his own, swallowing a shudder at the contact of her skin against the leather of his gloves.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she took a deep breath in. When she spoke, it sounded like multiple voices where exiting her throat.

“Rietveld, Kaz Rietveld. We know him. We know his brother. Jordie? Yes, Jordie,” he swallowed at the mention of his brother’s name, but willed himself to keep holding onto her hand even if the waters were rising to his waist.

“What happened?” The question sounded like it was hers, with her voice more prominent among the others.

“The Queen’s Plague,” that was his brother’s voice, unmistakable even after all these years.

He didn’t want to hear more, the waters up to his throat, almost drowning him. Kaz let go of her hand.

“That’s enough,” and he berated himself for sounding so shaken up.

When she looked at him again, her gaze was soft and her smile was sad. His own hardened at that and he coughed a couple of times to calm the tide around him.

“Your abilities will be helpful in the future,” he decided. After all, who didn’t want someone who was able to discover information only the dead had access to?

She smiled more openly now, but it fell from her face as soon as it appeared.

“Will I have a place to stay, then?” She asked, voice full of hope.

Dirtyhands had taken notice of her ripped and old clothes when she entered his office, her state proving the lack of a single good meal in her body.

“You will,” Kaz assured her, “as long as you pledge your loyalty to the Dregs and run by me all the information you reunite by the end of each day.”

“Of course, Mr. Brekker.”

“Kaz.”

“Kaz,” she repeated with a gentle smile.

#kaz brekker #shadow and bone #the crows #the dregs #six of crows #kaz brekker x reader #platonic #female reader #witch #medium #spirits #dead!jordie #kaz brekker imagine #six of crows x reader #shadow and bone x reader #grishaverse

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momentofch-aos · 1 year

Text

in light of the new Secret Invasion Trailer dropping tonight, and my full on clowning, I've had a thought. so....

m's marvel thought of the day

Samuel L. Jackson has spoken about how Fury is suffering following the death of Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff. Probably because he doesn't have the power or influence to help people anymore, his mission is thrown off.

He's talking with Maria.

"SHIELD is gone, the Original Six are half dead and the other half retired or off world. Everything I had, all. the good we strived for is gone."

"Then we create something new, something better. We can't just sit on our asses Nick." Maria counters.

"We've never done this before."

"Then we ask for help."

cuts to a shady boardroom somewhere

"So you're asking us to save your asses."

Camera pans to Daisy, stood in a leather jacket, arms crossed. Across the table sits Fury and Hill. *crowds go wild*

"We're asking for your help Johnson."

"And why should we." Daisy counters, raising an eyebrow.

"Coulson brought you, a unknown force, into SHIELD when he saw the good you could do. I believe that is still your mission, is it not?" She nods. "We need to make something new. Something bigger than SHIELD. Something that stretches wider, protects the universes not just the Earth. You also have experience in that."

"We do, but..."

Hill cuts her off. "And you have your team. Including you with superhuman earthquake powers and someone who Fury and I believe would be very useful. An original SHIELD founder and Chief on your team. The man who was killed for discovering Hydra within SHIELD over 50 years before anyone else."

Camera shot moves to Daniel Sousa who is sat studying the folder that Fury handed him.

He looks up at Daisy, some kind of silent communication between the two of them. Shutting the folder, he sits forward in his seat.

"First question." Fury nods his go ahead. "What are you calling it?"

*musical sting - Agents of SWORD logo card*

#secret invasion #nick fury #maria hill #daisy johnson #daniel sousa #i will die on this hill #agents of shield #marvel #fanfic #headcannon #leave me alone #I dont care if its unrealisitic i need it #aos #ac #dousy #agents of sword #ignore the fact sword already exists #agents of s.h.i.e.l..d.

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bluebellhairpin · 27 days

Text

Thorin Oakenshield X Fem!Reader

Summary; With the dragon Smaug gone, you discover what remains - or, more accurately, what has been taken away.

Warnings; Thorin has the dragon-sickness and is generally an asshole. Implied non-canon character death. Reader is female-body-coded, uses she/her pronouns, and is Human.

Listening to; 'Burn' from Hamilton - "Your sentences border on senseless... They don't get to know what I said... You forfeit all rights to my heart."

Part 12 || Part 14

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Everything was burning. Homes, buildings and lives. People.

It hurt that all you could do was watch, with the stone cold underneath you, and the wind making your tears feel like ice carving a river down your face. It was an ironic contrast, especially since your chest burned hot and ached with every breath.

You wondered why it still hurt. You felt calm, despite the distress before you, and you had rested enough from the fight with Smaug for your heart to have settled. But your chest hurt. Your lungs burnt with each breath and your throat was dry. You’d noticed before, how it seemed the closer to Erebor you got the worse it became. But you dared not bring it up, and now you couldn’t - Oin was will Kili, no one else would have answers like he would.

You were feeling so close to being sick - like properly throwing-up sick - because of what was happening both to the burning Laketown and Thorin. Oh, your dearest Thorin.

What was becoming of the Dwarf you once loved? You could only hope that he would get better now that the dragon had fled. Somehow you knew that hope was founded on shaky grounds.

You stared ahead, watching the distant walls of flames flicker like candles along a mantle place. You saw smoke rise into the dark night sky, glowing orange with embers. The dragon’s silhouette constantly swooped up and down, high then low.

With each pass Smaug made on the town you thought of your friends, Fili, Kili, Oin, and Bofur, and even Bard and his family. You hoped this would not be the pass to kill your friends, and at the end of each you waited - as if you would have felt it, but it never came. Only for the apprehension and hope to return once more with another path Smaug made.

You would’ve prayed they would make it out safely, if only you knew who to pray to.

The minutes felt like hours, and the hours seemed to drag on forever. As the stars passed overhead, and the very first signs of day drew near, a new kind of movement went across the town.

With a startled gasp, a pain in your chest sparked and you stumbled to your feet.

Beside you, Bilbo, who had yet to turn away unlike most of your other companions, likewise saw the shift - even if he didn’t feel it, or notice it in you.

“You saw that?” he asked, turning between you and the town. “The dragon, it fell.”

“The dragon died.” you said, fingers tight over the leather and furs over your heart.

“The black arrow. The Lords of Dale have finished what was started many years ago.” Then the burning, the aches, it all stopped. A peace which you thought would never return did - and it was like you were blessed with a whole new body.

“The dragon is gone!” Golin said, stepping forward on quite nimble feet to take a proper look at the scene before him.

“But the damage is done.” Dwalin lingered just behind you, scowling at the flames that still burnt.

“And now it’s dead word will spread. Those with good intent and bad will be swarming to the mountain.” you added. “I do not think a dragon is the worst thing we will see before we can finally call Erebor home again.”

Enjoyed this chapter so far? Read the rest now over on Archive of Our Own! (Chapter Twelve Continues Here!)

Feel free to leave kudos, comments or a reblog if you're enjoying the story so far - especially now we're so close to the end. Remember to support your favorite writers! If you liked reading it, reblog it <3

#the girl who knew the end #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin x you #the hobbit x reader #tolkien x reader #the hobbit x you

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suguwuus · 2 months

Note

HI AL! Having connor date a fem!shy!reader, you can choose the cabin, would be so so cute if you could write that! Like, him being absurdedly clingy and sending her kisses or making as if they were strangers to flirt with her bc she's adorable and the whole camp being kind of like, "We get it connor- you love her, can we eat in peace/practice now" and reader being a tomato half the time but smiling at his antics. it would be amazing if you could!!

grips table this is the first time i'll write in this format so tell me if it's okay or wtv 😁☝ also the reader is a child of hephaestus !! happy (late) valentine's babes also this is so fucking LONG i hope this makes up for the inactivity and tardiness

— clingy connor is the only correct connor sorry guys i just know he likes you just being around or vice versa. even if you're doing something else that he's not involved in, as long as he's in your presence he's happy.

"what do you think, y/n?" "it looks good! although i think you missed a part of the formula here. not that i memorized it exactly, it just looks...less than what i feel it usually is."

"you feel? haha, alright, let me—what's he doing here?" your half-sibling raised a brow at connor who stood behind you as you scanned some notes and formulas scribbled across blueprints that your half-sibling laid out for you.

connor waved. you shrugged and said, "he wanted to come with me, is it okay if he stays?"

your sibling gave him a skeptical look, but eventually agreed. for the next 15 minutes he just stood there while you worked, asking questions like "what does this part do" and "what's this symbol" to occasionally break the silence.

when you talked technical with your siblings, he nodded like he understood, when he actually didn't. he was satisfied with just hearing you speak confidently about something you were passionate about—your machines.

when you were done, you walked out of the cabin and he bid your half-sibling goodbye, leaving a few candies on her work desk to be nice. "that was fun! i love you, you're so cool." practically bouncing on his feet as you walked, he kissed your head and you felt your face burn up, feeling the eyes of your half-sibling on you.

— he follows you around like a puppy sometimes, it's really cute. he provides moral support too, if that helps. it's like having a cheerleader.

"go on," he murmured as he nudged the small of your back. the little present in your hands, a device that you yourself crafted for clarisse la rue, rested on a bed of straw inside a wooden case. it was multipurpose, serving as a pen, a swiss army knife, a lighter, a comb, a grappling hook, and a double-ended dagger of sorts. you didn't even know you had the abilities to make something like that, but in the end it was worth it. beautiful with designs around the handle with celestial bronze and leather, you hoped she'd at least appreciate it.

a few years ago clarisse had saved you in a monster attack while in the mortal world, and only now did you discover that it was her who took action. just in time, because she had gotten you on her team for capture the flag tonight and it gave you the perfect opportunity to approach her.

you squeezed the box with your fingers and went down to the training grounds, where clarisse was fighting with a practice dummy. she hacked away at its limbs and dislocated its jaw, showing off how much of a fighter she was. you swallowed and got closer.

you looked back to see connor, watching from a distance, and he made another gesture to get a little closer. you cleared your throat. "excuse me...clarisse? i wanted to, uh, give you something for that little accident at an amusement park a few years ago..."

it ended up going smoothly, with her even loving your gift so much she offered to give you extra dessert privileges that night in exchange for hers. every once in a while you'd see connor some distance behind her, giving you thumbs-ups and nodding.

when you were done, you walked back to connor slightly shaking, but with a smile on your face.

he pumped his fist in the air as soon as you were out of clarisse's line of sight. "good! that's my girl. told you she'd love it!" he clapped.

you chuckled softly. "i did it...!"

"YOU DID IT!" he repeated, louder this time, throwing his arms up and celebrating with you. "let's go swim, hm? you deserve a good cool-off." knowing how much you loved refreshing yourself in the lake, you smiled and nodded as he took your hand, already undoing the cargo vest you had over your camp shirt to prepare you for your dip in the lake.

— connor being the type to speak up for you for little things as well!! what a gentleman. he likes doing things for you, watching you get all warm and averting people's eyes. it's all lighthearted, he just likes to show off how much he loves you by doing things for you.

your eyes kept darting to the pillow next to some camper's legs. lou ellen was telling a story at the campfire—and she was damn good at it. she had everyone's attention, including the camper who had the old pillow you wanted so badly to hug.

"holy hades," connor whispered in awe as lou ellen continued to narrate. you weren't paying attention, so you hummed in inquiry. "she said she almost got jumped by the international police! man, i should ask for some tips—" he was shushed by the person sitting in front of him and he rolled his eyes, scrunching up his face. "what's the matter, baby?" he asked you.

"it's nothing," you murmured, tearing your eyes off the pillow, no matter how desperately you wanted to sit more comfortably. it wasn't worth bothering another person.

he nudged you. "hey."

"it's nothing!"

but he caught how your eyes flit to the camper's legs. he pointed at it and looked at you as if asking a question, and you mumbled something in affirmation. before you could stop him, he was reaching over and shaking the camper's shoulder. "mind if i take this? thanks." it was easy for him; all the camper did was nod and the pillow was placed in your lap.

"thanks," you mumbled as connor put his arm around you, now that you were both comfortable enough to listen to lou ellen. you held the pillow, rough with age and not even fluffy but a soft surface nonetheless, snuggling up to him.

"anything for you. 'excuse me, she asked for no pickles!'"

— he's sooooo corny sometimes ew !! blowing you kisses and holding your hand and playing with your hair etc, he loves seeing your reactions so much.

"y'did great today, sweetie. the forges are well-loved." he kissed the tip of your nose as he held your tired hands in his. you two were curled up on your bunk while your other siblings either napped or were busy with their own things.

you scrunched up your nose, feeling a sneeze coming on, and he laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest that pressed aainst your shoulder. he continued to massage your hands, but you pulled away to sneeze. "bless you, y/n." he handed you a tissue.

you sighed as he continued to knead the tired joints in your hands, reliving the tension. without realizing it, you started to get used to the feeling of his own calloused fingers on your skin. you stared, mesmerized as he continued to do you a favor.

"psst." you looked up to lock eyes with him. his face split into a big grin, the one that always made your stomach flutter, and you quickly looked away, biting back a giddy smile. "what?" he asked, almost sounding hurt. "i'm not doing anything?"

"you're making me...you're so flirty!" you whispered, looking around to make sure no one was watching how lovey-dovey he was being. no one was, but you feared if he started tickling you, it would cause an explosion of one of your little machines under your bunk or something.

"and? i'm always flirty," he said proudly. you prodded him to move over to the corner so he would be able to hide out of sight. despite that, he still managed to pull you close, caging you between his arms and resting his head on your shoulder as he continued to massage your hands. one of your siblings passed by and made a gagging motion.

you sat there for a while, savoring the feeling of him against you while you murmured some ideas for your next project. he would nod and reply, half-absentmindedly but you swore you could feel his gaze slowly bore into you and spread like a warm blanket. or maybe that was your blush creeping up your neck.

you only had about three more minutes of this before one of connor's half siblings came storming into your cabin. "you," he snapped his fingers at connor. "mr d. knows what you did." he seemed dead serious and connor's smile dropped. "and you," he pointed at you. "is he glued to you or something? damn."

"i...do a lot of things, what did he find out?"

"he knows, connor."

"oh shit, okay," he stood up, but not before making a big show of giving you a tight hug and a very, very enthusiastic kiss on the mouth. you barely had time to react and when he pulled away you were wide-eyed and hot. "see you around, babe!" shoving his sibling out the door, he blew kisses and waved goodbye.

babe? you felt like sinking into your mattress at the mere thought of it. at the same time, though, you were thrilled, loving his not-so-little gestures. your half siblings grinned from their places. "babe?" "that is so corny!" "have a good day, babe." "did you eat lunch yet, babe?"

you pulled your makeshift curtains closed and hid in your bunk.

— he's all over you. finds it so cute when you're working and you make that focusing face. he loves watching you put things together or disassemble them—doesn't matter, it's you he's looking at anyway.

he found it so cute. your pursed lips, how still your irises stayed still in precision as you worked. it was like you even conditioned your breathing to be a certain way as to not disturb your hands too much. you didn't mind the grime that built on your fingers, and he found you so beautiful whenever the fire cast an orange glow on your face. and he made sure to tell you everything on his mind.

after his 4th comment on how your craftsmanship blew his mind or how impressed he was with how you could even visualize these kinds of things, you could barely focus, feeling like hiding in the nearest crate, away from his teasing eyes. of course, you liked it, loved it, even, but his little remarks were too much!! he's too coy!!

as soon as you went to the table he was sitting by, looking for a certain tool and holding your reference sheet, you caught him smiling at you. when you turned to him he reached over and pushed a stray lock of hair out of your eyes and chuckled.

you slowly turned your head to the side, looking away and muttering a slow but thorough curse, making connor laugh, a voice among the clanging and crackles of the forge.

"you gotta loosen up, you know, baby? it's just me." he didn't take his eyes off you when he rubbed your hands and smiled up at you almost tauntingly.

"no, it's not, but go ahead and make out if you wish," nyssa peeked over from her table and called out to you two.

no words left you, but to match your burning face one of the hearths behind you roared with flames.

— everyone is so fed up and connor just finds it amusing because he's a menace like that. you secretly find it amusing, too, because you find some reactions funny like the kids who find it gross. but connor likes to go and make it worse, just so the kids have something to laugh at. the older campers though? not so much. they'll groan and roll their eyes as connor smothers you with kisses, telling you two to get a room. and you do exactly that.

#HOOOO BOY #babe stoppp #LMAOOO #connor stoll #pjo #connor stoll x reader #pjo x reader #pjo oneshots #— suguwuu's posts

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padfootagain · 1 year

Text

A Quiet Birthday

Hi everyone! Today is my birthday! I’m turning 28 today, getting closer closer to the dreaded thirties…

And as I am a very self-indulgent person, I’ve written a little something (and as I was born during spring, I’ve set this in this time of the year too)! I’ve asked you which character you preferred for this cute one-shot and you’ve voted for Caspian! So… here is a very cute birthday evening spent with our favourite Narnian.

****

Pairing: Caspian x reader

Warnings: None. Just fluff. Fluffiness everywhere. So much so, you might get cavities… It did take a… more… heated turn towards the end though. But nothing explicit, don’t worry, just some flirting.

Summary: You spend an uneventful, quiet, and quite wonderful evening with Caspian for your birthday.

Word count: 1724

Caspian had asked you what you wanted for your birthday. A ball? A party? A picnic with your friends?

Instead, he was quite taken aback when you answered, a shy smile on your lips and something terribly soft in your tone.

“I’d rather just spend a quiet evening with you, Caspian.”

The king didn’t think it possible to fall more in love with you, but he did, at that moment, staring into your infinite eyes, listening to your tender words that melted his heart…

It was the first time you would celebrate your birthday together. A ball was expected to celebrate the birthday of the new Queen of Narnia, but Caspian easily bent to your wishes, and he pushed back the ball to take place a week later.

After all, it was your day. He would do as you pleased.

He cleared his schedule for the evening, asked for a picnic to be prepared and told you to find him by the gardens, under this old oak tree you loved so much, the one you took refuge under in the summer, protected by its shade.

You were overexcited all day at the idea of spending the evening with your husband, just the two of you. It was a warm evening, twilight already painting the sky with gold and red. Warm breeze, quiet, peaceful evening of Spring. And when you crossed the gardens to find Caspian, you were almost running in your hurry to see him.

You knew he was quite surprised when you told him you didn’t want anything special for your birthday, only to see him. But then again, it was the truth. He was all you truly needed. All you truly wanted…

Your heart skipped a beat when you caught sight of him, standing right there, under the oak, long brown coat embroidered with glimmering golden threads, puffing shirt and dark pants, leather boots, hair moving with the wind…

He was so handsome, bathed in twilight…

“Good evening, my love,” he grinned at you as you approached. “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you!” your smile matched his as you hurried to join him.

You discovered the picnic he had prepared, the comfortable blanket laid in the grass…

“This is for me?” you asked, excitement making your eyes glimmer.

“Of course, it is!” Caspian laughed. “Oh no, wait… actually, I think it is for Trumpkin and I. We are having a romantic evening, you see…”

You laughed as well.

“Should I be worried.”

“Tremendously so. His… enthusiasm is thrilling.”

You were still laughing when you sat down together, side by side, on the blanket. You noticed how Caspian shifted closer to you, the fondness in his smile, the glint in his eyes as he stared at you as if he couldn’t look away, as if you were too precious for him to break the spell. And you knew you adored him just the same…

He leaned closer to drop a sweet kiss on your temple, making your smile broaden, even though you didn’t think it possible, before he would turn towards the two baskets filled with food.

“I’ve asked the kitchens to prepare a nice picnic for us. Only your favourites, of course,” he added with a wink.

“You do know how to bribe me, huh?” you joked, making him laugh.

“How do you think I’ve earned your love? I am well aware you married me in the sole purpose of having unlimited access to the Royal Kitchens.”

Both of you were still laughing when you leaned over to kiss his lips. It was a little messy, your smiles getting in the way, but you didn’t care. It was sweet, tender, perfect…

You started eating while the sun was setting, falling beyond the horizon, the sky becoming velvety and dark. But lamps were alit all around the gardens, the kind where you could take your time and enjoy the young night together. He told you about his day, and you told him about yours; while the sky lit up with the Castle, stars matching candlelight. A quiet, relaxed conversation, but you didn’t feel like the royal couple of Narnia, but as Caspian and Y/N. Just you, without the rest of the world. Everything you wanted…

Caspian seemed a little worried after a while though, you wondered why. When you asked him, he tried to change the topic of the conversation, but you didn’t let him.

“I… I was simply wondering…”

His voice was hesitant now, lacking some of its usual confidence. You frowned harder at the sound.

“Is this enough?”

You tilted your head a little, unable to understand what he meant.

“I mean… tonight,” he went on. “Is this evening enough for your birthday?”

You looked at him as if he had gone mad, and it made him smile even though his doubt was still there.

“Of course, it is! Are you… are you not spending a pleasant evening with me?”

It was his turn to shake his head as if you had lost your mind for speaking such ridiculous words.

“This is perfect to me,” he answered. “As long as I can spend time with you, I am happy.”

“Then why are you asking this?”

“It is your birthday. You… you should feel special today. Is this enough to make you feel this way? We could have organized a ball, or an evening with all your friends…”

But you chuckled, still looking at him as if he was being silly.

“I do feel special tonight. You make me feel special.”

He smiled, raising his fingers to your cheek.

“I want you to feel this way. To feel… how wonderful you are. How happy I am thanks to you. I want you to know that.”

“I know. You make me feel this way.”

You reached out for his hand, and he let you enlace your fingers together.

“I love you,” you breathed, voice a little shy but firm nonetheless. “As long as I have you, I do not want anything else.”

He smiled again, gesture filled with love, and when he leaned closer to kiss you, his feelings for you were evident, held between his lips and yours.

He kept on kissing your face and neck when your lips finally parted, making your heart beat faster, your breath get caught in your throat.

“I love you,” he whispered against your ear.

You gently pushed him away, just enough for the two of you to look at each other once more.

“This evening is perfect, Caspian. This is everything I wanted.”

“Good,” he nodded, his grin back on his face. “But then again, we are still missing a few things.”

“What could that be? I have you. You are all I need.”

He tried to hide the way his cheeks reddened at your words, how his heart expanded with love, but he failed quite miserably. He turned to the side anyway, reaching for the gift he had prepared for you.

“Happy birthday, my darling,” he grinned, clearly proud of his gift, and it made you only more excited to open it.

You hurried to tear the paper apart, but you frowned at the sight of a map of Narnia. You noticed that two locations near the sea had been circled, but you didn’t know why.

“It is a beautiful… map…” you commented, quite taken aback.

Caspian chuckled by your side.

“I’m not offering you a map, if it is what you believe.”

“But… this… is a map… And you gifted it to me. It was even wrapped in…”

He pointed at the two circled locations before you could finish.

“I am taking three weeks away from Cair Paravel.”

You turned to him with eyes wide open.

“Really? But… what do you mean?”

“I mean that we will leave for three weeks. Just the two of us.”

You grinned, excitement shining in your eyes again.

“You asking me to spend some time with me tonight… it reminded me that we have not had much time to spend together since our wedding,” Caspian explained. “Outside of our evenings together… and nights…” he added, a flirtatious edge to his voice that made you giggle a little. “I have been busy with my duties, and you have had so much to do with your new position… I reckon that it is time for us to have a few weeks to spend only together, and to focus on us again. What do you think?”

“Caspian! This… this is perfect…”

“I also have a second gift, more… traditional, but I must admit that I am quite excited at the idea of traveling with you for three weeks.”

“But how did you manage this with all your responsibilities and…”

“It took quite a lot of planning. But there is no need for you to worry about all this. All will be fine.”

“When are we leaving.”

“In two weeks.”

You let out an excited squeal, launching yourself into his arms, making him explode with a bright wave of laughter as you almost toppled him over.

“You sound excited as well,” he teased.

“You cannot imagine how much! This is going to be amazing! We will explore, and go for adventures…”

“I was thinking more about a quiet honeymoon-like vacation but…”

“I need to bring my sword! You can train me again!” you clapped your hands together in joy, making Caspian laugh fondly at you.

“If you wish. Anything you want, my darling.”

“Caspian, my love, thank you!”

“I do have another gift for you,” he mumbled as you pressed your lips to his. “Do you not want it?”

“I do. But later. Now… I have something else in mind.”

You gave him a suggestive look, and Caspian raised an endeared eyebrow.

“Really? Do you, now?”

You nodded.

“And I reckon that this activity requires us to leave this beautiful picnic behind and to… go to our chambers.”

Caspian gave you a smile filled with tentation, and when he leaned closer to whisper into your ear, his voice was deeper, huskier… and terribly dangerous.

“This sounds like an amazing activity, my love. We should go then. I have a few ideas for the night myself.”

“Do you?” you asked back, your breathing a mess and your heart ready to explode.

You gasped when he pressed a passionate kiss against your throat.

“I do, indeed,” he confirmed in the same dark tone. “If I am to be honest… I do not plan on letting you sleep tonight, my love. Would that be a satisfying night for your birthday, darling?”

You nodded, running your fingers in his smooth hair.

“Quite satisfying… yes.”

He helped you up, and you hurried back to the Castle and… well… let’s say that Caspian was a man of his word…

***********

Taglist : @reg-arcturus-black @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader

#caspian #caspian x you #caspian x y/n #caspian x reader #caspian fanfic #king caspian #caspian fanfiction #caspian oneshot #narnia #narnia fanfic #narnia imagine #narnia fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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ladylamrian · 2 months

Text

Fantastic Beasts ✨️

Female Main Character: Alex

Pairing: F!MC × Nik Ryder

Summary: Alex discovers another side of the supernatural world.

Word counting: 3.4K

Rating: General (Fantasy, Fun, Fluff, Magic)

With Harry Potter Hogwarts references added

Warnings: none

-> -> -> Full Masterlist here <- <- <-

Thank you so much to anyone who takes the time to read, like, comment, or reblog my stories/fanfics. It means so much to me! Please inform me if you would like to be added/removed from my new Tag List.

Taglist: @infactnoimmasitinthemiddle ; @lilyoffandoms ; @liviusofpella ; @secretaryunpaid ; @blackcatkita ; @dutifullynuttywitch ; @rosepetals1 ; @mxdanni ; @peonierose ; @hopelessromantic1352 ; @jdstar88 ; @mariemarieohcontrary ; @stars-are-within-me ; @artbyalz ; @choicesficwriterscreations ; @choicesmonthlychallenge for Choices March Challenge (Prompt: Nature, Animals, Awakening)

Thanking @secretaryunpaid for edit beneath

Author's note: An old fanfic rewritten and expanded ✨️🦄🧚🏼‍♀️

After Nik led his girlfriend, Alex carefully through the dark woods, he finally removed the blindfold from her eyes. She gasped at the beauty in front of her. The fields were glade-green and the sound of chirping birds filled the air. Bees are murmuring in that strange cult hum and flit from flower to flower, surfing the short spaces as they go. The bayou was always so special for Nik, but this time he led Alex somewhere else, near the bayou. Mother nature is beautiful, but her eyes were focused on something else.

"Whaaa?! Are these...?"

"Welcome to the beautiful side of the supernatural and magical world, rookie. Forget your fears, nightmares and welcome this great side of this world.", Nik wispered and gently brushed her hair to the side while she got surprised of the sight in front of her.

Trotting towards them were a dozen of the most bizarre creatures Alex has ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with steel-coloured beaks and large, brilliantly golden eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly-looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of them were held in the vast hands of a young man, who came jogging after the beasts.

"Nik!! How are you, my friend?"

"Hey Anton, I'm fine and you don't mind if I brought Alex along? She's new in this supernatural and magical world and didn't had the oppurtunity to explore the beautiful parts.", he introduced her to his friend.

Alex slowly stepped closer towards one of the majestic creatures and tried to touch one, but it quickly backed away.

"Are these Griffins?"

"No, Hippogriffs, but they're very similar to the Griffin with the horse rear replacing the lion rear. And that's Anton, my client and a good friend. A few years ago I helped him to track down the missing pegasi which were held captured by the Blight Brothers in Arizona."

"It was a dangerous mission, but you pulled it off. Nik, because of you not only the pegasi, also many other magical creatures were saved and gained back their freedom. I will never forget that.", the friend thanked the young nighthunter.

After hearing what Anton said, Alex gave her boyfriend a sweet smile, showing him how proud she felt. He shyly glanced back at her with a crooked smile on his face. Who knew that a young man giving the bad-boy-vibes with a dark past could be so golden at the same time? His heart, so pure and still he didn't like to show it and kept it hidden from the world. Risking his life to save others... Somehow she felt very grateful to call that man her boyfriend.

"Ummm, well, shall we head a little further to show Alex a few other species?"

"Wait, I want to pet this Hippogriff first before we go. Can I?", she gazed with pleading eyes. The friend immediately agreed.

"Sure. When humans approach Hippogriffs, a proper etiquette must be maintained to avoid danger. Hippogriffs were intensely proud creatures, and an individual must show proper respect by bowing to them, and waiting for them to bow in return before approaching. Eye contact should be maintained at all times, without a single blink. The Hippogriff should be allowed to make the first move. If offended, it might attack. Hippogriffs were tameable, but only by experts in their care like me. I'm a wizard. Although, Hippogriffs could also be fiercely loyal and protective of those who had earned their trust."

"Eeeek, I'm getting Harry Potter vibes from you right now. Nik, your befriended with a wizard which is soooo cool!!! Anton, can you do magic? Are you from Hogwarts?"

Nik chuckled because of the loud excitement of his girlfriend, while Anton got nervous and so did the Hippogriffs, but he quickly managed to calm them down.

"Raahhh!", one of the creatures answered in response.

"I can only do a little magic, because my main job is to take care of these creatures and no, I'm not from Hogwarts. Whatever that is."

"You're really doing a great job, Anton. Uuuhhh, but do I really have to bow to touch them?"

"Don't worry, these ones were well tamed by me. Just pet them, I'll hold them."

Again, she stretched her arm and placed her palm on one of the Hippogriff's feathers while Anton held it near her for support. She softly stroked the creature which stayed calm now and gave her a curious look. Even Nik decides to give it a try to pet it now.

"An amazing creature. Hey rook, you likin' it?"

"I love it, Nik. And I want to see more. Pleeeeeeease?"

Her puppy eyes and one "Please" already melted his heart and he asked his friend to give both of them a tour. The three of them walked further with the gigantic Hippogriffs following right behind until they reached the fields and the tiny house of Nik's friend. In the backyard of the wooden house, he showed them, the magical creatures, he has been protecting and taking care of before releasing them. Even keeping a close eye on them was important when the creatures were in the wilderness. To prevent any danger and to appear quickly for any rescue or help. Some magical animals even decided to visit Anton more often or even stayed with him, especially the way he gently cared about them.

"Anton, the bound between you and the magical animals... it's... it's amazing. Damn, it's outstanding!! And you're not even a fae which are already naturally bound with nature."

"Right said, Anton is the best!!", a mysterious voice answered.

Alex quickly turned around and realized that one of the Hippogriffs just... talked??

"Uhh, can Hippogriffs talk?"

"Uhhh, no. That was just a series of high-pitched whistling or piping notes like eagles always do. Hippogriffs are partly eagle as you can see."

"No, I... I heard real words coming from that bronze colored Hippogriff."

"Is that girl talking about me, Ash?", she heard the bronze colored creature answer again.

"I don't think so. Come on, let's eat something. I'm hungry.", the gray colored hippogriff talked now.

The gray colored beeing pulled at the long chains Anton was holding which were attached to it's thick leather collar and signaled him something. The young man immediatly gave in and got led by the Hippogriffs to see what they wanted. The wizard friend recommended Nik to show Alex a little bit around on his own. Nik's always welcome to his home. Then Anton left the two alone.

"I think Ash was hungry."

"Who's Ash?", Nik asked her.

"That's the name of the gray Hippogriff."

"Okaaaay, I don't remember Anton mentioning the name at all. Well, wanna see the pegasi next?"

She excitedly nodded and both of them were headed towards a field where beautiful winged horses enjoyed the fresh grass of the season and some of them even flew around. Before Alex could let out an excited shriek, Nik quickly covered her mouth with his palm.

"Shhh, we don't wanna scare them. Pegasi are mild-tempered, docile animals, unlike unicorns. A herd of Pegasi used to live in the Bayou, but now they're just a few of them. Since they're imbued with magic from heads to hooves, Pegasi are sometimes poached and sold to collectors or killed to be used for parts in spells."

"That's so sad, I'm glad you went to that mission in Arizona to save them. They're so beautiful and such majestic creatures, Nik. You know, I learned that Pegasus isn't a type of creature, it's actually the name of the winged white stallion from Greek mythology and while Pegasus was one specific creature, his name has often been used as a defining term for winged horses in general. Also, his role was to bring thunderbolts to Zeus."

"Damn, you're good. I love it when you speak intelligent stuff."

"Thanks. Just imagine that one day a pegasus will bring you your arrows."

"That would actually be cool, my intelligent girl."

"Oh Nik, I love it when you call me intelligent."

"Then why did you sometimes played the dumbass last year?"

His girlfriend gave him a playful nudge and he lets out a warm laugh after teasing her.

"But no, really, I like it when you praise me. You even once said that I'm powerful and strong. Like I'm no helpless princess anymore, waiting for her knight in shining armour or prince charming to come for rescue. And what you also said about the faes. That the faes need worship to the ground I walk on. But seriously, that line sounded very cheesy."

But Alex quickly realized that Nik's focus was somewhere else and followed his gaze. A white pegasus carefully trotted towards him. That majestic white stallion got carefully closer, but still watched the two of them from a safe distance. A crystalline droplet appeared out of nowhere and floated in the air beside the creature's eye.

By touching the tear, everything around Alex faded away and she find herself in an animalistic body. Having hooves instead if feet, gigantic feathery wings and the body of a horse. She saw a vision about the creature's past Everything in the perspective of the creature. The night had fallen already.

"Neeigh!"

Tied up with a rope, the pegasus was captured in a small cage in a dark room, seeking for food, fresh water and freedom like many other creatures around . Some of them are also the pegasi from it's own herd. The Blight Brothers have captured the pegasi after it left Anton's backyard to go for a flight.

"Don't worry pegasi of my herd, stallions and mares, I will find a way out of here.", it promised it's pegasi companions.

"We won't get free. I've been captured here for almost a week now."

The pegasi turned it's attention away from it's own herd and focused on the unicorn calling out. She was a beautiful mare, had white fur, a sparkly pink mane and a horn on the top of her head.

"My name is Sunburst, the leader of the pegasi herd in the bayou of New Orleans and I won't let any human steal our freedom from us."

"And as an leader you're still befriended with one human called Anton?! My name is Moonlight and I'm telling you, all humans are the same and..."

Their conversation got cut as a blond haired man suddenly began opening the cages and freeing all the captured animals in a hurry.

"Okay, time for everyone to escape before Scourge and the Blight Brothers catch us. Hurry off, to your beloved freedom!! Anton's going to be happy 'bout this."

"But... Isn't he working with the Blight Brothers?", the female unicorn wondered herself.

A feeling of happiness and hope appeared. One by one the young man released every creature from their cages and they immediately flew or ran towards their beloved freedom. When the last creature got freed, Sunburst, the pegasi leader suddenly discovered several men, the Blight Brothers appearing towards the human.

"You're a traitor, Carl Drogo!!", one of the men yelled at the animal rescuer.

"I'm not Carl Drogo, you bastards! I'm Nik Ryder, a nighthunter and your biggest nightmare!!"

As the Blight Brothers attack, the nighthunter kept fighting, threw punches and shot arrow after arrow to keep the bruisers distracted until the last creature made it's safe escape. But they're too many of them and they slowly began surrounding the bleeding hunter.

"Damn...", Nik silently cursed as he realized that he was in trouble. All the bruisers against him. He was alone.

But then... Sunburst, the pegasi leader came into action. Flying above the dangerous bruisers, it kicked and stomped with it's hooves to buy the hunter enough time to escape before leaving Arizona for good. And it worked!! While the animal kept the bad guys busy, Nik quickly took his chance to escape while looking after the winged horse. Making sure that it escaped too because he wouldn't allow it if it got captured again. And it worked!! Flying across the nightsky with the rest of it's herd, the leader of the pegasi hoped that the rest of the creatures and the mysterious nighthunter will be on their way back home too. Safely.

Then the memory of the underground trading ring dissipates around Alex like a mist and she found herself back in the woods in her own body. Without knowing, she was leaning against Nik. The white pegasi which the two of them were watching was already gone.

"Hey, what's the matter?", Nik, her boyfriend got worried and gently touched her cheek and leaned to make eye-contact.

"Aww, the pegasi is gone. And I couldn't even pet it, Nik."

"They're very shy, so it's gonna be very hard to pet one or even find one. I'm surprised that this one even dared to come that close to us. Well never mind, I can show you other cool creatures if you'd like. Maybe a tiny jackalope or some pixies?"

"How about unicorns?"

Sudden silence hang between them. After a moment he began to speak, but this time his voice heavy, jaws clenched and eyes drowned in her's.

"The hell!! I'm not even letting you near a unicorn, rook. They're dangerous and not like the ones from My Little Pony where everything is sparkle, glitter and rainbow. Unicorns are territorial and they attack whoever comes in their near unlike pegasi, rook."

"Not all are like that..."

"Oh yeah, met one before?!"

"Uhhh maybeeee..."

"Wait what?!! Where? When? Whyyy?"

"Uhhh, last month. But she was a friendly one and she even talked with me, relax. I guess beeing partly fae gives me the abbility to talk with animals and understand them. Isn't that cool?"

Without words, Nik gripped Alex softly by her wrist and pulled her with him through the dark woods, back from where they came from.

"Heyyyy, where are you taking me?!!"

"Headin' home."

"If you want to go home then leave, I want to explore..."

"Rookie, no."

"Rookie, yes!!"

"You never listen."

"You don't understand. Look how great this day begun and now you ruined the whole mood, Nik."

Gggrrll...

The girl bumped into Nik when he suddenly stopped walking after hearing a strange noise. Both of them got alert. A skeletal creature slinked out from behind the bushes and began hissing at the young couple. Nik protectively stood infront of her.

"Nik, what is that?!"

"Shhh, don't worry. These creatures have canine skeletons and are covered with moss or vines. They can be killed if their skulls or spines are destroyed."

"What do we do? You didn't brought your weapons along. How are we...?"

"You run, I'll handle."

"No way, Nik!! Not that again. Seriously?"

Nik tried to calm her down and pushed her away from danger, towards safety as the skeletal creature appeared closer.

"Gggrrll...", the skeletal creature aggressivly snarled.

Time seemed to slow down as it jumped in the air towards the young nighthunter and landed on him. Both crashed on the ground, the creature above the Nik who desperatly tried to escape its grip

"Gggrrll..."

The creature ready to strike...

"Nik!!", Alex panicked.

Without knowing, Alex stretched her arm, showed her palms where a light blast appeared and hit the moss creature hard. First the wood monster hestitated, then it decided to leave Nik and... to hunt his girlfriend down instead. This time, it lets a powerful shriek out while desperatly tried to signal her to run away.

"Ggggrrr..."

"Come here you freaky monster!!! You don't scare me at all. Let him go!"

Before the moss creature could reach her, Nik quickly leaped on the creature, preventing it from getting near her and at the same time letting out several strong whistles by pressing the tips of his thumb and forefinger together up against the tip of his tongue.

"Phhwwwht!"

While Alex got confused why Nik suddenly began to whistle, a majestic falcon appeared from the sky and flew towards Nik and the moss creature. It somehow began to help Nik by peeking angrily on the creature's skulls.

"Kack-kack-kack!"

Both struggling, while Nik and the falcon tried to fight it, but the monster kept biting and snapping to release itself from the hold. Alex had to do something quick before Nik gets more injured, the monster's claws made him already bleeding.

"Run, can't... hold... longer!", Nik desperatly begged her, but she decided to stay.

Alex remembered what had she learned in the fae realm and began to concentrate. Closing her eyes, she pictured a crystalline blade, radiant with golden light. Her fingers abruptly curled around the smooth, glassy warmth of a handle! After a while, as she opened her chocolate-brown eyes, she discovered to see a long, slender blade of light gleaming in her palm! She held her magical weapon with confidence and immediately knew what to do.

Swinging the weapon up and without losing more time, she sprinted towards the monster. With enough strenght while keeping a safer distance towards Nik and the mysterious falcon, she finally brought her sword down. Slashing through the creature's neck with a blow so hard, that the blade bit through the dirty ground.

"Hyyaaa!!"

The moss creature's body crumpled, twitching beneath her sword. Then, she picked up it's snapping head and blew it's glowing eyes like candles, and it's body fell still.

"Damn, that was hot.", Nik got impressed by his girlfriend.

Letting the creature go and letting her golden sword disappear with magic, the girl quickly hurried over to Nik who was still lying on the ground. Alex gently helped her boyfriend on his feet and assisted him to walk while the mysterious falcon flew away.

"I'm fine, it's just a little blood. Are you okay? Why didn't you ran away when I told...?"

"Because we're a team, remember? You told me that last year when I wasn't listening to you, right? And you're not fine, you're hurt! Let's get you somewhere safe. We are not far from Anton his house, right?"

"Yeah. And I'm fine, thanks."

The injured hunter gave her sly smile after she reminded him that they were a team.

"Nik, what was that before?? You whistled and then a falcon came... Uhh, how did...?? That was cool! Awesome!! That... That was... How???!!!!!", she couldn't believe what she just saw and asked him.

After a little silence, Nik finally spoke in a nervous tone while his eyes faced the ground as both of them were strolling towards the wizard's house.

"The thing is... The falcon and I share story. A past. When I was still living in Elijah's house in the woods, I found it. It was a tiny chick. Near it's nest I discovered two dead falcons, it's parents. And well..."

"Oh Nik...", she placed a hand on his shoulder for support. Afterall Nik his birthparents also died when he was a tiny child, so that little falcon chick reminded Nik of himself.

"Soooo yeah, I kinda raised the falcon. I named it, fed it, taught a few tricks and took care of it. Poor little fella' lost it's parents like I did, so I had to something. So just like Elijah took me, I took this falcon. Alex, you're the very first one I'm sharing this. And please don't share this embarrasing story to anyone, especially not Katy."

"But it's not embarrasing, it's heroic. You're a hero, Nik. A protector. But I see... You don't want your tough guy act be ruined, huh? Oh my Nik, you're such a hidden softie and I love you.", she giggled and pinched his cheek with love.

"Ouch. Hey?"

"You're welcome, dear. By the way, what name did you even gave your falcon pet."

"It's not my pet, rook. It's a free living creature, a friend and well... I named it... I named it Arrow."

"Arrow? Just like the arrows of your crossbow??"

"Arrow. Because this bird flies really fast just like a shooting arrow. Like really really fast, rook."

"I see. Not bad actually, Nik. Definitly better than any nicknames you give. Or should I say Nik-names??", she giggled while Nik rolled his eyes after hearing that bad joke.

"Stop it, rook.", he grinned.

"Fine... Oh hey, Nik!!"

"Hmm?"

"Since I met your wizard friend today, I was wondering... What Hogwarts house would you like to belong to?"

"What kind of question is that? From where did you got that idea?"

"Just answer!! I'm curious to know."

"Well, I don't know. Never thought about that. Would a Gryffindor suit me?"

"Oh definitly, but I actually see you more as a Ravenclaw because you know a lot of things."

"Me? Ravenclaw? You think I'm intelligent??", Nik surprised by Alex's opinion, so she decided to explain it more.

Nik Ryder was indeed a very brave man with enough strenght and courage. Life made him tough, but he also showed his knowledge and intelligence. Several times he came up with new ideas, suggested what to do next and got into the leader role very well without noticing. By staying loyal to his companions and thinking about every next step, he lead his friends through adventures. He was the one and only who found out about Alex's missing father, her mysterious benefactor and that she was fae royalty instead of an ordinary human. Mysteries and puzzles solved all thanks to him, she explained.

"So yes, these are the reasons why I think a Ravenclaw would suit you too. Means I have a very clever boyfriend.", she praised.

"Oh yeah? Thanks, my dear girlfriend. And you're definitly a Hufflepuff.", he winked.

Thanking @secretaryunpaid for this beautiful and magical edit above. -> Full view here , when you scroll down beneath to find the monster and hippogriff <-

So credits to @jamespotterthefirst , for these beautiful templates which she created and I was allowed to use for my MC and LI. I also made some changes with the colors and added my own edits/pictures.

#choices #playchoices #choices nightbound #nightbound #nik ryder #fantasy #magic #choices fanfiction #choices fanfic #choicesmonthlychallenge #cfwc #fmc x nik ryder #nik ryder x fmc #fluff

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