#i’m just saying he could pick frank up effortlessly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

melis-writes · 2 years

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Hey, Mel

Hope you’re doing okay! 💝

I’ve got an idea for a prompt here:

Tony has to pick up Elvira’s friend, who has a huge crush on him but she always acts like she hates his guts. They have a huge argument in the car, and then well…things get a bit steamy ;)

The prompt could begin with the following line:

“What the hell are you doing here, Tony?”.

Thank you for the prompt suggestion, lovely!! I hope you have an incredible week. 🥰🙏🏻 I had maybe a little too much fun writing this steamy, argumentative prompt. 😛😏

Clutching your purse with one hand and brushing aside the stray strands of your hair swept across your face from the wind, you make your way out of the Babylon Club and past the ever growing line of guests waiting to get in.

Letting out a deep breath to relax from the sweaty and stuffed ambience of the club to fresh evening air, you’re barely even able to walk towards the parking lot before you let out a loud gasp and stumble back.

With his foot on the gas pedal revving up his red Corvette Stingray sports car, Tony doesn’t waste anytime in immediately driving the car right up to you which catches you completely off guard.

“What the hell are you doing here, Tony?” You scowl, almost tripping back over your six-inch heels to see Frank Lopez’s favourite Miami druglord giving you his signature shit-eating grin.

“Where you goin’ so fast without me baby?” Tony taps his fingers against his leather steering wheel.

“Somewhere where you’re not making a scene, that’s where.” You roll your eyes, just about to turn on your heel when Tony honks his car.

Freezing in your tracks and noticing people are starting to look over from the entrance of the Babylon and to you both, you immediately spin back around and glare at Tony. “Seriously?”

“What you so mad for?” Tony throws his hands up in surrender, gesturing to the passenger seat next to him. “Elvira said to pick you up, you know. Don’t act like you ain’t know I was coming, baby.”

“Does Elvira know you call me ‘baby?’” Refusing to make an even bigger embarrassment of yourself from Tony’s theatrics, you swat Tony’s hand away from the car door and pull it open yourself.

“Sure.” Tony grins, shrugging his shoulders. “Ya wanna tell her yourself?”

“Uh huh.” You mumble sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you take your seat. “You could have called me beforehand or something.”

“Yeah, imma call the lady who never picks up her phone. Ey—” Tony takes your purse, carelessly tossing it to the backseat. “Just put that in the back and relax, eh? First time you in my new car.”

Your eyes widen to see your purse flying into the backseat but you press your lips down together, crossing your arms. “Just take me home already, I don’t care.”

“Yeah, yeah, you know I’m gonna.” Unphased by your show of attitude, Tony begins to reverse his car out of the parking lot with his usual, reckless style of speedy driving.

“Your car isn’t going to last long—” you grunt, quickly putting on your seatbelt, “if you keep driving like a maniac.”

“Ey, what’s your problem man?” Tony smirks, stepping on the gas again as he hits the road. “I come say hello, I pick you up, you hate me already. No hi for me?” Tony reaches into the collar of his red Hawaiian shirt, undoing a few more buttons to expose his chest.

“What’s my problem?” You scoff, pointing at your chest. “Do you see yourself? Everybody was looking at us!”

“Yeah? I don’t blame them.” Tony grips his steering wheel, drifting his car over the road effortlessly. “They see me and you—they like.”

“There is no me and you, Tony.” You sigh loudly to get the point across, turning your head away from him.

“Glad you say that,” Tony playfully nudges you with his elbow, “that’s why you tell Manny you like me, huh?”

“What?” You blink, facing Tony again almost instantly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tony laughs, nodding. “Manny say you like me.”

“Manny’s making shit up, then.” You narrow your eyes. “I didn’t tell him a thing.”

“No, you didn’t.” Tony winks at you, stopping at a red light. “I heard it on the phone.”

“Shut up, Tony.” Your cheeks flare bright red in blush as you brush him off. “That’s not even remotely what I said.”

“Then why you tell Manny ‘Tony cute’ like that? Huh?” Tony snickers, wrapping his free arm around your shoulders and pulling you in closer to him. “I like that. I wanna hear you say it again.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You mutter, refusing to give into his antics. “I was drunk.”

“Drunk, huh?” Tony’s not buying it as he steps on the gas on full force, driving over a speedbump like nothing. “Come on, say it again.”

“Why don’t you stop the car—” you shove Tony’s arm off of you, “and just let me out so I can get a cab home instead, huh?”

“Why? Because I tease you like this?” Tony chuckles, licking over his lips. “Yeah, yeah—” he playfully pinches your cheek, “see, cheeks are red. Oh you blushing.”

“Stop the car.” You reach your hand over to grab the steering wheel.

“Ah, ah,” Tony grabs your hand with his, lacing his fingers with you. “I’mma stop the car but not in the middle of the road—you crazy? Or I drive you crazy?”

“God.” You groan, rubbing your temples in annoyance. “Just pull over somewhere already!”

“Aight, aight! What you gotta get so feisty for, man?” Tony takes a turn down into a neighborhood, “happy now? See, imma park here.” Tony swerves towards the sidewalk, slamming on the breaks abdruptly.

“My God, Tony!” You exclaim, fuming as you face him. “Do you do this shit on purpose to me?!”

“To get you like this?” Tony winks, “oh yeah. You gonna get outta the car now and walk in shoes like that?”

“Maybe, what’s it to you?” You quickly unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Then imma drive down the neighborhood until you give up.” Playfulness flashes in Tony’s eyes. “Then you gonna get back in here and Elvira gonna ask why you so late. You gonna tell her you were busy doing what?”

Your eyes dart to Tony’s chest, watching his fingers adorned with gold and ruby encrusted rings playing with the chains adorning over his collarbones.

Even the peek of chest hair and Tony’s relaxed, flirty demeanour does nothing but prove further to you that you can ignore his teasing all you want—you can pretend you haven’t thought of taking your best friend’s man to your bed before, but your body can’t deny it for long.

Before the two of you are even aware of what’s going on, the last thing you tell yourself is, ‘fuck it’ before you find yourself cupping Tony’s cheeks and pulling him into a rough kiss.

As if Tony’s been waiting for you to make such a move all night, he doesn’t hesitate in moving his body closer to yours and eagerly kissing you back.

Your eyes flutter shut as you feel Tony’s lips crush over yours—tasting faint whiskey and Cuban cigars over his mouth you know you’ll never forget.

“Now you talkin’ to me, baby—” Tony parts his lips apart from yours just to catch his breath before he wraps his arms around your waist tightly and pulls you over to the driver’s seat.

Clutching your hands over Tony’s shoulders and digging your fingernails in, you straddle his lap in a hurry and let Tony’s tongue slowly snake around yours.

You moan into Tony’s mouth, finding his curious and needy hands squeezing at your breasts through your skin tight, little black dress before they roam down to your ass.

Your stillettos fall off your feet as you press your thighs against Tony’s, insisting to take out all your sexual frustration on him tonight with all his flirting and forwardness.

One hand in your hair to pull you onto him and one on the side of his car seat to recline it almost all the way back, you feel Tony’s growing erection pressing up against your stomach.

You groan before you pull away from the heated kiss, a string of spit from Tony and your mouth parting.

Tony’s hands remain up your dress, squeezing your thighs as he looks at you expectantly. “What ya gonna tell Elvira?”

“I’m not gonna tell Elvira shit.” You breathe out shakily, pulling down the straps of your dress off your shoulders to let your breasts spill free. “And neither are you.”

Tony’s eyes widen in amusement as he throws off his leather belt and unzips his trousers with a smirk over his lips. “That’s what I like, baby.”

#Tony Montana fanfic #Scarface au #Tony Montana #scarface smut prompts #scarface smut #tony montana x reader

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 2 years

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Okay, I’ve been writing tonight about the new season’s lineup announcement because I’d been waiting weeks to do that, but here’s my wrap-up of what just ended. Spoilers for the Taskmaster season 14 finale:

- It snuck up on me a bit, but I think when I look back on this with a little perspective, Dara O’Briain is going to be among my favourite ever Taskmaster contestants. He was everything I want in that show. Competitive, good at it, and prone to losing his mind. You don’t get all three in one person much. You get competitive and losing their minds, of course, but normally, the mind losing makes a contestant less successful. Even someone like Ed Gamble, who did win, fucked up a lot. Stats aside (I support the Jack Bernhardt project in principle because I support anyone who gathers lots of numbers about things that do not matter, but really, there are lots of good reasons why even the best “points per task” system is not a good way to compare contestants from different seasons, because the style of judging varies so much), Dara O’Briain was a stronger contestant overall than Ed Gamble, and than almost everyone they’ve ever had. They’ve had effortlessly good contestants before, like Liza Tarbuck. Noel Fielding, whom I’m convinced was far more competitive than he ostensibly let on, but he didn’t wear his competitiveness on his sleeve the way Dara did.

- Having said that stuff about stats, I have to admit I went to the Forbidden Website briefly tonight and thre’s some good stuff on Jack Bernhardt’s Twitter, based on tonight’s results.

- I’ve said before that the Dara O’Briain/John Kearns dynamic, as a sort of popular kid at school who really wants to win this gym class game/unathletic kid who got put on their team and is just trying to not fuck up so badly that said popular kid gets mad at them, is my favourite storyline of this season. That was perfectly encapsulated by John asking Dara if he had “Frank Sinatra” eyes and Dara saying “Shut up”. I laughed so hard. Classic Taskmaster moment.

- Joint losers was a hilarious way to end this season. I of course was counting points in my head throughout the finale to see if Sarah would pull ahead of Dara (thought it didn’t matter, since in the end she didn’t come close), but I wasn’t paying too much attention to how close it was at the bottom. When they first announced that there was a tie there, I thought it would be John and Munya. But it wasn’t! Early in the season – too early, really – I announced my support for Munya Chawawa as the winner, and he did, in fact, manage to not come last!

- Even if they did not end up being the joint losers, if John and Munya don’t get some sort of television show together after this, then I don’t know what the fuck we’re even doing here.

- The sports team I coach has a lot of athletes from various bits of the Middle East and Northern Africa, and a couple from Central Africa, but this whole season had really made me wish I had just one from Zimbabwe, or even anywhere else in that area, so I could run Munya’s claims by them. It would be funny if it turned out that like 1.5 of them were actually somehow true.

- God, Fern Brady is perfect. She did remain tired throughout the whole season. We know that, because the final task was partly from their first day of filming and partly from their last day of filming, and she was tired in both. Most tired contestant in Taskmaster history.

- The grape task! The NZ grape task! But with more loopholes, unless NZ had loopholes we never saw. I think they picked the perfect things to bring over from NZ this season – grape task, sabotage, milk jug task. They’re absolutely right, that’s the best of it. Well, that and the diss tracks, but Fern had that covered without the producers even planning for it.

- Going into the season, the only one I didn’t know relatively well was John Kearns. I did know that he was supposed to be a big comedian’s comedian, that he’s all over the festival circuit and won all the Edinburgh awards, and all the comedians who talked about this lineup said we should all watch out for the great John Kearns. All I’d seen him do was die during a Catsdown Dictionary Corner bit in a way that comedians rarely die on panel shows, that’s not normally a tough crowd, but his stuff really did not work there. However, I have to admit that the comedians were right. The Edinburgh awards people were right. Fucking brilliant. Hilarious on Taskmaster, but in a way that you can see how that can translate to any setting. By watching the way he stares at Greg for exactly the right amount of time before breaking, I think I can see how his timing on stage would take an audience apart. I get it now. I have been converted to the doctrine of lauding John Kearns.

- Seriously, have I mentioned how fucking awesome Dara was on there?

- I think another thing that will endure, even once some time passes and I have perspective, is that fucking theatre task. Sarah’s play was brilliant. Dara’s play was brilliant. Fern’s play would have been awesome on any other season, competing against anything but Sarah and Dara’s plays. Dara’s performance of John’s play was genuinely, unironically, beautiful. Someone needs to give him some acting work now that his old job has run out. Also Munya was there.

That song task might go down in history too. Not even Munya fucked that one up. Everyone was genuinely brilliant.

- I love that Sarah Millican went on the panel show that’s meant to separate the persona from the person, bring out the human behind it and show us who they really are, and what we learned is that Sarah Millican really is exactly who she plays on stage. Lovely.

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halstudandruz · 3 years

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Research Purposes (NSFW)

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: Bearded Jay Smut

Warnings: swearing, smut (18+)

A/N: I know the timeline is off but just go with it.

Sitting at the bar, you couldn’t help where your eyes wandered across the room. You were at Trudy and Mouch’s wedding, and even though it was a joyous occasion you were kind of ready to go home from the start. The night before you had discovered your ex-fiancé and the new girl in intelligence were dating, and it was safe to say you were drowning in your sorrows. You and Adam had been broken up for almost a year, but you still loved him and in the back of your mind you just hoped time would give you both the perspectives you needed and you would be back together. You had no right to be upset, but you were having trouble convincing yourself of that. The night was starting to wind down, as you downed a shot. You had held it together for Trudy wanting her to have the best day ever, but since they had left a few minutes prior you were ready to get drunk enough you couldn’t remember your own name.

“You know the longer you sit still the harder it’s gonna hit when you stand.” Jay teased sliding in next to you.

“Good.” You sighed, turning around to take another drink.

“Well in an effort to ensure I don’t have to carry you out of here would you like to dance?” He asked, holding his hand out to you. Contemplating for a minute he smiled when you took a hold of his hand following him out to the dance floor. Frank Sinatra played in the background while his hands slowly moved to rest on your hips. You and Jay were friends. You worked together and were around each other a lot. You got along well, and you weren’t afraid to admit he was an attractive guy, but you had always been locked in on Adam. So, your friendship never even toed the line. You never even thought about it, until tonight.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say you found out.” Jay whispered into your ear looking down at you.

“Found out about what?” You eyed him curiously until he nodded towards where Hailey and Adam sat laughing together.

“Wait..you know?” He nodded, “How long has it..?”

“I only found out a week or two ago so it probably hasn’t been that long.” He shrugged,“How’d you find out?” He continued. Sighing your hands rested on his chest.

“Today was actually supposed to be Adam and I’s wedding day. Before we decided to push it. So, I kind of went down a dark hole after the rehearsal dinner and went to see him. When he answered the door I saw her come out of his room.” You chewed on your lip.

“Oh fuck. What’d you do?” He pried.

“I made some excuse about not being able to find something I needed for today so I thought I might’ve accidentally left it there when I moved out or left or whatever. I was just going to leave, but then I had to pretend to look for it, and when I went into his room a bunch of her stuff was there. You know in the dresser I used to use.” You recounted the night before swallowing hard.

“That sounds awful. I’m sorry.” He shook his head pulling you closer as he moved a hand to rub your back.

“Yeah it wasn’t my finest moment. I’ve been avoiding him all day,” you chuckled blinking tears away, “How are you feeling about it?” You looked up at him hoping to shift the focus off you.

“What do you mean? Why would I care?” He masked.

“Come on Jay.” You scoffed giving him a look.

“I don’t have any say in what or who she does.” He said.

“How do you let it roll off you so easily? Not let it bother you?” You wondered.

“I want her to be happy, and wishing that I was the one over there isn’t going to do anything for either of us.” He shrugged nonchalantly, “You deserve to be happy. You deserve to have fun too right?” He continued.

“I don’t know. I guess.” You replied.

“You do, and that is why you’re out here dancing with me.” He smiled, spinning you effortlessly, causing you to laugh. You and Jay would spend the next hour talking and dancing letting your minds push away the two people across the room.

Jay and you were caught up in conversation, your bodies practically up against each other causing heat to surface on your face at the feeling of his hands holding you close. His tie now hung loosely on his shoulders, the top few buttons of his dress shirt open, and his sleeves had been rolled up allowing you to see the veins throughout them. You had never realized how attractive he actually was until you were this close, eyes counting the freckles that covered his face.

“Incoming.” he mumbled looking over your shoulder; breaking you out of your thoughts. You turned to see Adam walking towards you.

“No no no.” You whined hands gripping Jay’s shoulders tighter. Adam clearing his throat when he reached you,

“May I cut in?” He asked, looking between the two of you. A glint of confusion present in his face. Jay’s eyes shifted from him to you, registering your panic of having to face him right now.

“Uh actually I just offered to take her home. We were just heading out.” Jay attempted to save you.

“Oh well we’re going to be going right past your place we could just drop you off so Jay doesn’t have to go out of his way, and I’d actually really like to talk to you for a sec-“ Adam started to grab your hand.

“No it’s all good. No big deal. I already promised her I would.” Jay stepped slightly in front of you.

“Yeah I’m just going to go grab my coat and say bye to Sylvie. See you on Monday.” You pointed walking off to leave Adam and Jay alone on the dance floor. “You didn’t have to do that.” You smiled softly when Jay fell back by your side.

“He shouldn’t get what he wants all the time.” Jay shrugged.

“So is the ride offer actually on the table?” You asked.

“Of course.” He smiled helping you put your jacket on before pulling his on and heading out to his truck.

Walking outside you had made it almost to his truck ensuring you were far enough away from the door that people wouldn’t be watching before grabbing onto his arm to stop him. This could be a terrible, horrible idea, but that thought didn’t seem to over power your want.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, turning to face you where you leaned against the brick wall.

“You know I had every intention of waking up tomorrow either horribly hungover, or in someone else’s bed, and considering you prevented the latter..” You trailed off looking up at him.

“Are you serious?” He asked after a few seconds of silence.

“I’ve been holding out, hoping for something to change with him. I’m done waiting around.” You admitted weakly.

“I don’t want to just be some outlet to make Adam jealous.” He shook his head.

“This isn’t about him. This is about me and what I want. For once.” You laid a hand against his neck.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” He whispered stepping closer to lay a hand against the cold brick, body just inches away from yours.

“Jay, I am going home with someone tonight, and I really hope it’s you.” You bargained. You hadn’t done this in months, and you were just ready to let all the pent up need out. Jay searched your face for hesitation before leaning in to capture your lips. You quickly responded, hands wrapping around his neck to pull his body against yours. Letting him take control of the kiss when his fingers moved to tightly grasp your jaw. Tongue slipping into your mouth in time with the movement. You hummed when he nipped at your lip pulling away to take heavy breaths.

“My place?” He whispered lips almost up against yours again. Nodding quickly you reached into his coat pocket fishing out the keys to unlock the vehicle. Chuckling he took them from you opening the passenger door to help you in before walking to the drivers side and starting the truck. You could see him looking at you from the corner of his eye as you chewed on your bottom lip appreciating his features lit up from the street lights. He turned to wink at you before putting the truck into drive and heading towards his apartment.

The silence was tense and a little bit awkward as you started to second guess your forwardness. You weren’t just using him to get back at Adam, right? You were a grown woman and you had needs. Needs that hadn’t been met in far too long, and the person that was going to satisfy them just so happened to be your co-worker from the same unit. That’s all. It was all coincidence. Plus Jay was hot. Everyone knew that. Why couldn’t you enjoy that fact when the opportunity presented itself? “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Jay asked jarring you out of your thoughts.

“Nothing. I just..I don’t know. Kinda embarrassed.” You admitted shrugging.

“Why?” He questioned grabbing a hold of your hand.

“I could’ve approached that better instead of acting like a horny teenager.” You laughed looking down.

“I would be lying if I wasn’t hoping you’d say something though.” He looked over at you grinning.

“What?” You looked at him confused.

“I mean you’re obviously beautiful and I thought we had a great night together, but I didn’t want to overstep bounds or make it awkward. I was just hoping you picked up the same vibe I was catching. I’m not the greatest at saying what I want.” He chuckled. Shaking your head you looked down smiling to yourself, feeling a little lighter in the knowledge that he wanted you too. Lifting the center console up you scooted closer to him. “Well hello.” He smirked, hand falling onto your thigh.

“I like your beard.” You smiled running your fingers through it. The last time you had seen him with one was when Erin left, and the only time before that was when he had been kidnapped. Remembering the bruises that accompanied the facial hair. Tracing his face where they had healed completely.

“Yeah?” He replied smiling at the gentleness of your hands as you admired his face.

“Yeah, I think you should keep it.” You voiced your opinion.

“Maybe I will.” He squeezed your thigh when you leaned over to lay soft kisses along his neck, nipping at his ear as you moved your palm over the crotch of his jeans. You felt his breath hitch at the movement, letting out a low growl when your lips attached right below his ear, heel of your hand pressing down simultaneously. “Oh god, I can’t wait to get you inside.” Jay whispered, breaths becoming labored at the insistent pressure of your hand. Quickly pulling into the parking garage of his apartment two minutes later. Putting the truck into park he let his eyes fall shut, head falling back onto the rest his hips finally moving up in time with the movement of your palm. The sight before you and the feeling of his obvious arousal already causing moisture to gather between your legs. Giving him a couple more rocks of pressure before slipping your hand up his shirt to rest on his stomach.

“Jay?” You whispered pressing a gentle kiss against his jaw, his facial hair tickling your nose. He turned his head to look at you, pupils already visibly darker than before. “I want you.” You stated. He grinned giving you a quick but hard kiss before shutting his truck off and guiding you towards the elevator. Pushing you against the wall as soon as the doors closed mouth molding over yours, hands bracketing you in against the wall. “Mmm.” You hum when his lips start to trail down your jaw. “Someone could walk in.” You remind him head falling back to give him more access. The dinging as you pass each floor prevalent in the background.

“Don’t care.” He growls lifting one of your legs to rest on his hips, fingers moving up your thigh, starting to move your panties to the side when the elevator comes to a stop on his floor. “I don’t think it’s ever moved that fast before.” He joked letting your leg down and grabbing ahold of your hand to pull you towards his apartment before pulling his keys out to unlock it and ushering you inside. “Do you want anything to drink?” He asked casually as he set his keys down slipping off his shoes, ridding your heels in the process you giggled stepping towards him to take the lapels of his jacket in your hands.

“I’m definitely thirsty but not for water.” You winked pulling him back towards your lips, before you pushed the jacket off his shoulders. Beginning to unbutton his dress shirt his hands moved down to your ass, lips breaking from yours long enough for him to whisper,

“Jump.” You let him pick you up, shedding his shirt on the way towards his bedroom.

“You have too many clothes on.” You sighed when he laid you down on the end of his bed tugging the bottom of his shirt. Laughing he stood up to pull it over his head for you.

“You haven’t taken one piece of clothing off and I’m the one that’s wearing too much?” He teased falling back on top of you.

“Lucky for you, you’ll find there’s next to no obstacles once this comes off.” You snapped the strap of your dress. Jay eyes trailed down your body slowly, hands following as he pulled you up to slide the zipper down slowly, lips falling to your collarbone in the process.

“Tell me if this is okay.” He hesitated sliding the straps down.

“It’s okay, Jay.” You voiced helping him pull the tight dress from your body. Face instantly blushing when you looked up to see his eyes wandering all over you, left in only your panties.

“You’re fucking gorgeous.” He complimented hands squeezing your hips.

“Your voice is really sexy when you’re turned on.” You blurted out, causing Jay to laugh.

“Well I can assure you I am in fact very turned on right now.” He grinned nuzzling your neck.

“Can I..?” You asked tugging on the button of his pants popping it open when you felt him nod. He breathed a quiet sigh at the pressure being released when you opened his zipper, pushing them to the ground with his help. He returned back on top of you leaning down to press his mouth to yours, moving slowly to appreciate the action. In no hurry for this to end. Your hand trailed from his chest to his stomach, tip of your finger sneaking under the hem of his boxers. His hips involuntarily bucking at the anticipation, coaxing your mouth open with his tongue. Reaching further down you took a hold of him giving him an experimental squeeze earning a groan against your lips. Beginning to slowly move your hand his forehead fell against yours eyes closing while his hips began to move in rhythm. Swiping your thumb across the tip, gathering the precum that had started to leak out. He watched as you brought it to your mouth, licking it off your finger to enjoy the taste of him. Breath hitching at the sight, seemingly flipping a switch in him as he lunged forward capturing your wrists and forcing them above your head, his lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss. Roughly biting at your lip before moving down your body. Stopping first at your chest. His teeth nipped at the skin, laying soft kisses all over before taking ahold of your left breast tongue swirling around your nipple. Other hand pinching and rolling the right between his fingers. Swallowing a moan your legs opened further letting him slide between them more comfortably. His mouth moved farther south as his fingers gently started to make soft circles to your center outside of your underwear. Sighing your hips moved slightly trying to get more pressure as you felt Jay smile against your hip bone. Teasingly his fingers fumbled with the side of your underwear occasionally swiping his finger inside while his mouth bit and sucked the inside of your thighs no doubt leaving a few marks. “Oh, yeah you’re keeping the beard.” Your fingertips dug into his head, goosebumps rising at the rough feeling of his facial hair against your thighs, jaw tightening, not wanting to make a sound.

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N], are you insinuating we will be doing this again?” He looked up at you, eyebrow raised, cocky smirk on his lips.

“Stop talking.” You ordered, face going a little red.

“If I remember correctly you just said my voice was sexy.” He quipped.

“And if I remember correctly you were in the middle of something.” You pushed his head back down.

“As you wish.” He winked teeth grazing the inside of your thigh as he moved closer and closer to your core. Your legs were starting to shake at the anticipation, your mind picturing your juices covering his mouth and throughout his beard.

“Jay, please.” You actually whined when he laid a kiss on your clit outside of your panties.

“I just wanted to hear you say my name. I can tell you’re trying to hold back, but all I want is to hear you [Y/N]. Helps me figure out the best way to make you feel good.” He admitted hooking his fingers into your panties and slowly sliding them down your legs before tossing them to the floor, “Let me hear you baby. Let me know I’m doing a good job.” He reminded you before his mouth connected to your center, eliciting a moan that you wouldn’t have been able to hold back even if you tried.

“Such a pretty sound, sweetheart.” He commented, before his tongue swirled around your clit, gently sucking it. Head falling back you let yourself give into every sensation. The way his hands pinned your hips down, preventing you from moving. The way his tongue worked you so soft and smooth like he did the research on exactly how your pussy was structured so he could hit every sweet spot imaginable. The way he pushed a finger in slightly curling it up to perfectly hit your g-spot over and over again while his tongue flicked against your clit. The way his stubble burned against your thighs only heightening the realization that this was Jay. Jay Halstead: your co-worker, friend, and apparently now fuck buddy. Your legs started to shake, hips trying their hardest to fight their way out of his grasp, uncontrollable noises flowing from your lips, knot growing tighter with each tap of your sweet spot.

“J-Jay.” You warned, hoping he could hear your voice that was barely there. Your fingers tightening in his hair, the other one moving down to his cheek, thumb rubbing over the roughness.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” He encouraged fingers moving faster, tongue licking harder. This was Jay Halstead and he was eating you out like no tomorrow, and with that thought your thighs came up to trap his head, back arching as you screamed out the knot inside of you unraveling hard.

Legs falling back apart you released him and Jay made his way back up your body. Kissing you, taste of yourself covering his mouth. “That was beautiful.” He smirked, cupping your cheek.

“That was incredible, how did you even learn how to do that? It’s like you knew my body better than I do.” You laughed still a little light headed.

“Everyone is different. You just have to pay attention to the signs. For example I already know you’re not going to be able to cum from just penetration. Just like you have a hard time cumming from just oral. You need the best of both worlds. I always knew you were high maintenance.” He joked.

“You already have me all figured out.” You rolled your eyes, but. what he was saying was true. You don’t know how he came to the conclusion, but you weren’t about to complain.

“If you want to stop here I completely understand. We don’t-“ He started to say when you cut him off.

“And deprive myself of discovering whether your dick game is as good as your head? No thank you.” You grinned starting to push his boxers down.

“Well I could never live with myself if I left you wondering.” He shrugged, getting up to push the last remaining piece of clothing between you two to the ground before reaching over to fish a condom out of his nightstand. You took a hold of him again, twisting your hand up and down his shaft to make sure he was fully ready. He ripped the condom open with his teeth, rolling it on with your help. “You’re absolutely sure about this?” He asked again, positioning his dick at your entrance.

“Yes, completely.” You nodded.

“Just tell me if you want to stop at any point.” He reiterated, leaning down the rest of the way to kiss you when he started to push in. Groaning you focused on his tongue slipping into your mouth knowing the pain would subside soon, and a few short thrusts later the pleasure started to seep in.

“Ahh fuck.” You moaned relaxing into him.

“That’s my girl.” He smiled feeling the way you loosened more for him still making small movements, knowing there was no way he would be able to go hard right away, but within a few strokes your pussy started to clench him even harder than before. “Baby, you gotta loosen up for me or I’m not gonna be able to move at all without blowing it.” He groaned biting his lip, hips shuttering.

“I’m sorry you just feel so good.” You cried, it wasn’t your fault. Well not really anyway you had a hard time controlling it.

“Okay okay okay.” You closed your eyes, begging yourself to relax when he hit your g-spot for the first time. “Shit!” You cursed nails digging into his shoulder blades. “Right there. Again. Please.” You informed him, but you knew he was already aware as he hit it again before you were finished talking. He took one of your legs positioning it on his shoulder as he bracketed himself above you. Hitting harder this time, earning a loud moan from you. “Jay, faster. Please baby.” You begged.

“You feel incredible [Y/N]. I’m gonna cum so hard. Jay moaned above you.

“Your dick feels amazing babe. I love that I get to make you cum.” You reciprocated attempting to move with him. His thumb moved down to start rubbing circles on your clit in time with his long thrusts. “I h-hope you think a-ahhh-about this every time you - fuck - see me at w-work this week.” You got out between heavy breaths.

“I’m not going to be able to think about a-anything else baby. How f-fucking good you taste. How much I loved being between your legs e-eating you up. How good your pussy feels s-stretched around my cock. Holy fuck [Y/N] I’m so fucking close. Fuck fuck fuck, [Y/N].” He screamed louder with each word, collapsing onto you as he worked through his high, but you were already gone. Pulsating around his dick the minute he reminded you how good he looked between your thighs. Opening your eyes just in time for you to watch his orgasm and to catch your name falling off his lips with a few curse words.

“Is it true?” You asked after a few minutes of silence, heavily breathing being the only sounds that filled the room.

“Is what true?” He replied confused when he started to pull out of you before carefully disposing of the filled condom.

“You’re going to think all that stuff when you look at me this week?” You explained, causing him to chuckle still breathless.

“Maybe not every time, but I’d confidently wager 80% of the time.” He smirked rolling over to kiss you, “unless you don’t want me to?”

“Well it wouldn’t be fair for me to be thinking about it and not give you permission to as well.” You shrugged, knowing full well this wasn’t disappearing from your mind anytime soon. You got up to use the restroom as Jay cleaned himself the rest of the way.

“Is he bigger than me?” Jay asked, when you walked back into the room.

“I am not answering that question.” You laughed loudly laying back down beside him.

“Why not? It’s for research purposes. You know purely for your benefit.” He smirked down at you.

“Oh yeah? How so?” You urged.

“I just gotta know the level of game I have to bring. Should I be more focused on the motion or does the size make up for it?” He gestured south.

“Motion is always more important than size.” You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t think that’s true.” Jay scrunched his eyebrows,“Next time this happens I’ll just use my finger and remind you of what you just said.”

“I said it was more important. I didn’t say it’s not important at all, but I can assure you the level of game you brought tonight is better than I could’ve imagined.” You smiled completely satisfied.

“I totally am.” He decided, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“So what’s the plan here?” You changed the subject.

“I think that all depends on what you want.” Jay answered.

“Well..I’m not going to deny this was fun and you did say I need to have more fun.” You shrugged sheepishly.

“So then we keep having fun.” Jay said simply.

“But we need ground rules.” You laid your chin on his chest looking up at him.

“Okay..” He looked down at you waiting for you to continue.

“Like I don’t know..is this purely friends with benefits? Do we go out for dinner sometimes? Do I bring you coffee in the morning?” You started to list the things running through your head.

“If you want to bring me coffee and dinner, who am I to tell you no?” He joked causing you to sigh.

“Jay, I’m serious.” You pushed.

“Can’t we just kind of roll with it?” He asked, hand rubbing up and down your back.

“I guess I’m just scared of what will happen if they find out.” You admitted.

“So what if they do?” He seemed unfazed.

��You’re not concerned at all how Hailey would react?” You asked.

“I like her. I really do. That’s not a secret, but she’s sleeping with Adam. Why should we have to wait around and agonize over it? You deserve to be just as happy as he does [Y/N].” He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“What if this turns into some fanfiction shit where we end up having feelings for each other?” You giggled.

“Well then I hope the author writes us a happy ending.” He smiled kissing you on the forehead. “Now I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty tired after that performance.” He yawned. You agreed, waiting for him to slide further down into his bed before pulling you back into his side, your head falling back down on his chest.

“Promise me you’re not going to freak out in the morning.” He whispered kissing the top of your head after a few minutes of silence.

“I promise.” You replied kissing his chest before letting his heartbeat lull you to sleep.

Waking up the next morning you felt the heat before your eyes even opened. Quickly registering that you were laying on someone. Slowly opening your eyes you looked around the semi dark room, black out curtains trying to reduce the amount of light peeking through. You knew who it was, but you had to confirm it. Gently sitting up you were met with Jay’s figure still sleeping beside you. Oh shit. You started to panic, memories of the night before suddenly flooding your mind. Remembering the things you did, the things you said. Eyes darting around the room you started to contemplate an escape. You’d sneak out and pretend like this never happened. That’s probably what Jay would want you to do anyway and-

“Lay back down and stop freaking out.” Jay grumbled beside you, eyes still closed. You reached for the sheet to cover your still bare body.

“How did you even-“ You began to ask causing Jay to smirk.

“I’m a detective for a reason, [Y/L/N]. Come back to sleep.” He urged pulling you back into his chest.

“It’s probably just a better idea if I leave.” You sat back up causing him to sigh heavily.

“You promised me you weren’t going to freak out.” Jay reminded you.

“I’m not freaking out.” You tried to defend, voice squeaking a little.

“Then stop biting your lip.” He challenged. Stopping your actions you looked over to still see his eyes closed.

“Okay seriously how the hell-“ You started

“I know you better than you think.” He opened his eyes to look up at you, dark circles obvious under them reminding you of late the two of you were up last night a blush covering your cheeks at the thought. “What’s going on, what are you thinking about at 6:30 in the morning?” He asked, looking at you like you were crazy after seeing the time on his alarm clock.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged looking away from him.

“C’mon talk to me.” He pushed sitting up to face you where you clung tight to the sheet that was also still covering him up to his hips.

“I just said a lot of stuff last night that’s kinda embarrassing looking back on it now.” You admitted remembering distinctly how you encouraged him to fuck you.

“Like?” He urged making you groan.

“I am not answering that.” You shook your head looking around the room for any piece of clothing.

“I can’t think of a single thing that didn’t sound incredible coming out of your mouth.” He shrugged just as you found a shirt slipping it on before realizing it was his.

“It’s probably just a good idea for me to leave.” You sighed contemplating what to do.

“We’ve gotten like 3 hours of sleep. Please lay back down.” He looked at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Jay.” You sighed running a hand down your face.

“Just come back to bed and let me cook you breakfast later. Then if you want to leave you can.” He bargained, voice still raspy from lack of sleep. Your mind was all over the place. You did want to be here, and last night was great and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t hoping for a morning encore. That’s what friends with benefits were for right? But how would this end? You just didn’t want to get hurt again somehow, but maybe that was just something you had to risk.

“Only if you make French toast.” You reasoned making him grin.

“That can be arranged.” He lifted his arms to pull you back to his chest.

“Your voice is sexy in the morning too.” You whispered after a few minutes, hoping he was asleep already.

“I think it’s a little worn out from all the sounds you had me making last night.” He retorted making you giggle.

NSFW Taglist:

@beautiful-bunny89 @justadreamxx @grettiwrites @life-treatments @weepingfestivalmentality @toomuchtv95 @malrunaway @queen-of-arda

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead smut #jay halstead #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader #chicago pd smut #Chicago pd #one chicago imagine

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buckyssoldat · 3 years

Text

The one (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Summary: Sharon confesses her love to Steve and his girlfriend accidentally hears it, which leaves her insecure and confused. Does Steve love her or Sharon?

Word count: 2650

Warnings: fluff mixed with angst and sadness, alcohol consumption, strong language, mentions of sex, implied smut

A/N: Hope everyone likes this! Also, please check my fic ‘Forsaken - The Fallen Soldier’. Feedback is always appreciated, don’t be shy to share your thoughts on this :)

Her eyes pooled with water as she watched her best friends in the living room of their apartment. She and Steve had been together for almost two years and everything was great, well, except for one thing – Sharon Carter, her best friend in the whole world, was in love with her boyfriend.

Both Sharon and Steve thought they were home alone. They started drinking late at night, which led them to play some games. The one being played at the moment was to tell their deep and darkest secrets. They didn’t hear her come in, so they continued playing the game. And she entered her apartment right when Sharon was exposing hers.

“Steve…” she heard Sharon say while looking at him, “I have always loved you…”

It was in that exact moment that she felt her heart break into million pieces. Sharon was one of her best friends and she trusted her with her whole life, but there was always a part in her that felt jealous of hear, even though she didn’t show it, or at least she tried not to. Having the perfect boyfriend, one of the best agents at Shield, being so beautiful and strong, and the way Steve would sometimes look at her. She had noticed it since she first joined the team. She even thought he was in love with Sharon, but those feelings went away when they finally started dating. She would sometimes feel a bit jealous of their close friendship, but she knew Steve loved her and would never leave her. Seeing Sharon professing her love for him made her feel insecure again, especially after the way Steve looked at her, as if he were ready to confess his love for her as well.

After that unexpected confession, she entered the living room, pretending she didn’t hear what had happened. The best way to deal with it was not dealing with it, or at least that was what she thought. When Steve noticed her presence, he went immediately to her arms, happy to see her home. She did hug him back, but Steve noticed something was wrong with her, especially after seeing her reject Sharon’s hug and giving her a smile instead before going back to the kitchen to make herself some coffee. He decided to speak with her once Sharon left, which happened just a few minutes later. She sensed her best friend was acting strange, so she decided to leave the couple alone and go home.

“You were acting weird” Steve said as he took another bite of the pizza they had ordered for dinner, “Did something happen at work? Was Nat too hard on you during training? She can be like that sometimes, but she doesn’t mean it.”

“I wasn’t acting strange” she answered without looking at him.

“You were. I felt it when I hugged you and then you rejected Sharon’s hug. Did I do something wrong? If I did, please tell me what it was. I hate seeing you like this.”

she sighed before finally locking eyes with her boyfriend, “You did nothing wrong, Steve. I’m just tired from training all day, nothing more.” She got up from the couch and patted his shoulder, “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Steve.”

He didn’t even have the time to answer her, as she was already inside his bedroom, ready to go to sleep.

Once she was inside their bedroom, she took off all her clothes and picked an old t-shirt from his closet. As she laid down on the bed, she was engulfed by his scent, which was the final straw for her. The tears she had been trying to hold while she ate dinner with Steve were finally running down her cheeks and falling on the pillowcase. Why was she so insecure? Steve loved her more than anything and would never intentionally hurt her. Sharon was not a threat to their relationship, she was happily in a relationship with Frank and would never leave him. So why was she feeling so sad and insecure, afraid to lose the only person she ever truly loved? Steve entered the bedroom only a few minutes later, making her clean her wet cheeks as quick as she could before he noticed. He took off all his clothes, except his boxers, and laid next to her. As usual, he stretched his arms so they could fall asleep cuddling each other, but she immediately moved away from him.

He called her name, trying to figure out what was happening with her, but she didn’t answer him. Deciding that it was best to let her sleep, he shifted himself around, turning her back on her. And for the first time since the couple started dating, they slept with their backs to each other.

It was almost nine in the morning when Steve woke up. Luckily, the entire team had the day off, so he didn’t have to worry about going to work. He turned around, ready to meet his lover, but he only found an empty side of the bed and a note on top of her pillow.

Going off the grid for a few days. Already talked with Nat. Be back for Tony and Pepper’s wedding. I love you.

At first, he double checked the calligraphy in the note to make sure it was hers. Then, he thought it was a prank and that was gonna be waiting for him in the kitchen, but when he got up and didn’t find her there, he started to panic. Picking up his phone, he tried to call her, but she had left her phone on top of the coffee table. Next option was to call Natasha since she said in her note she had already talked with her, but her phone was off, so he got dressed and went to her apartment.

After ringing Nat’s bell for almost a minute straight, she finally opened the door, wearing a robe and yawning.

“Cap? Is everything alright?” she asked as she motioned him to come in.

“Where is she?” he questioned, already inside of her living room.

“Um, I don’t know Steve” Nat started to get worried about her friends. “She called me at 6am saying that she needed a break until Tony’s wedding. I thought she told you.”

“She didn’t.” Steve was pacing back and forth in front of the couch, nervously running his hands through his hair. “I woke up this morning and she was already gone. She left me this.” He handed the note to her. “I’m worried about her, Natasha. She was acting strange yesterday, but I was gonna talk to her about it today and now she’s gone and she-”

“Steve,” Nat interrupted him, “She is okay, I’m sure of it. The wedding is in just four days and she will be back by then. Whatever she’s going through, you’re gonna solve it together, but if she needs space, you gotta give her space, otherwise she will never come back. You know how she is, she doesn’t handle pressure well.”

“I just… I just wanna know what’s bothering her so I can help her get through it.” Steve’s voice was much calmer than it was before.

Nat went to his side and put her hand on his shoulder, “Just wait until Tony’s wedding and then you’ll talk to her.”

The next four days were like hell for Steve. He couldn’t stop worrying about her, thinking about where she was and if she was safe or not. The morning of Tony’s wedding, Steve got dressed and went to the venue. When he arrived there, he saw her happily speaking to Thor. There was a time where Steve was extremely jealous of the god of thunder. When he joined the team, him and her immediately started flirting back and forth. Back then, Steve and she weren’t dating yet, but he loved her. He accidentally found out that she and Thor were sleeping together when he went to her place late at night. It was something they usually did, go to each other’s apartments when one of them couldn’t sleep. That night, Steve was so distraught about Thor that he didn’t even text her he was coming over. When she opened her front door, she was only wearing a big white t-shirt that barely covered her bottom. The first thing Steve noticed was how effortlessly beautiful she looked; the second thing was that she wouldn’t wear that kind of t-shirt; the third thing was the t-shirt was a men’s shirt.

“I’m sorry, I forgot to ask you if I could come over” Steve cocked his head to the right, getting a clear view of her living room, where clothes were scattered all over the place. That was when he noticed the hammer on top of her coffee table. And then he remembered Thor was wearing a white t-shirt that day. “I didn’t know you had company. I’m sorry, I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Yeah, um…” her cheeks were burning with embarrassment. She knew Steve noticed the clothes and the hammer on her living room and the men’s t-shirt she was wearing, “this isn’t really a good time, but I can get dressed and we can go to your apartment. It’s fine Steve, really, I just gotta-”

“No,” he interrupted her, “it’s okay. I should have asked if I could come over. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay? Have fun.” Steve immediately left, not giving her an opportunity to answer him.

Since she and Thor stopped sleeping together, Steve never felt jealous of him again, especially after the Asgardian reassured him he didn’t have feelings for her and that he should tell her how he felt about her.

When the couple finally locked eyes, she looked away, continuing her conversation with Thor. Stee went to Sharon so they could finally talk about her confession a few days ago. Little did he know was that she saw them together and got closer to the pair without them noticing so she could hear the conversation. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop on her boyfriend and her best friend, but she had to. What if Steve was telling Sharon he had always loved her as well? It was possible. Sharon loved Steve even though she had Frank. What if she was like Frank?

It wasn’t the conversation that broke her heart even more, but the look Steve had on his face as he watched Sharon walk away. In her mind, he looked at her as if she was his whole world, as if she was the only person he had ever loved. She thought Steve looked at Sharon like she thought he looked at her and that broke her completely, but she couldn’t ruin Tony and Pepper’s special day, so she had to hold it together. Every time Steve tried to approach her, she would sneak her way around and dodge him.

After telling a couple of funny stories about Tony to Pepper, she made her way to the bar so she could grab another drink, but the bartender wasn’t there. She decided to sit in one of the stools and wait. When Steve saw her alone, he went to her. This was his opportunity to finally talk to her for the first time in almost five days.

“Hey” he said as he sat next to her.

“Hi” she mumbled as she fidgeted with her fingers.

“I’m sorry.”

She let out a snarky laugh, “You don’t even know what you’re sorry for, Steve, so why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t, but-”

“Do you love her back?”

“What?” Steve asked confused.

“I know what Sharon confessed to you that night. I know how she feels about you. My question is, do you love her back or not?”

“How do you-”

“Just answer me, Steve.”

“No, I don’t love her. I mean, I do love her, but not like that anymore. I stopped loving her as soon as I saw you walk in into the tower.”

He tried to put his hand on top of her, but she quickly dismissed his touch. She didn’t believe what he had just said, not after seeing the way he looked at Sharon. Steve loved Sharon and she was just a replacement since he couldn’t have the real deal. She got up, but he gently grabbed her wrist.

“Please, I’m telling you the truth.”

“Let me go. This is Tony and Pepper’s day, I don’t wanna cause a scene, so let me go, Cap. Now.” Steve did as she asked and let go of her wrist. “Call me when you decide to stop lying.”

She left him alone at the bar. Sharon didn’t hear their conversation, but she noticed the way she looked as she made her way to Tony and Pepper to apologize for leaving so early. Sharon wanted to go to Steve, but she knew it would only make him feel worse about himself. She was sure he was in love with his girlfriend and that she was the love of his life, but she was also sure that her confession had left him confused.

She took off a couple more days. No one knew why, only Steve. Sharon suspected it was because of her, but she didn’t say anything. She got the confirmation when she didn’t visit her at the hospital after she was hurt in a mission. The only thing she got from her was a text saying “Glad you’re okay” and nothing more.

After almost one week and a half, she finally decided to text her boyfriend.

I’m ready to talk, you can come over. If you want to.

As soon as he saw that text, he sped up to their apartment. Truth was, he missed her like crazy and couldn’t go on one more day without her. Bucky was right – she was the one.

When he got there, she was sitting on their couch in the living room, a cup of coffee between her hands, waiting for him to arrive.

“Hey” he said as he joined her on the couch.

“Hi” she replied.

“So…” Steve began, “I just wanted to come clear with you – Sharon did tell me she had always loved me, and it’s true that I loved her in the past, but that changed the second you entered the tower. I fell in love the second I laid my eyes on you. And you might think I’m lying, but I’m not. I wouldn’t do that, not to you. If I loved Sharon, I would be with her. But I love you, and only you. You’re the only one and you will always be. You’re the one.”

“Steve…”

“Please, don’t leave. I can’t live without you.”

“I’m not leaving. I wanted to apologize for my behaviour. What I did was stupid and childish, I should have never run away from you, or Sharon. I just got… insecure.”

He put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him, “You have nothing to be insecure of. You’re the most beautiful person in the whole world for me and I love you more than I can ever explain.”

“I’m sorry, Steve. I really am.”

“I know you are, but I’m not the only one who deserves an apology. Sharon has been worried about you, she loves you and misses you. She was really upset when you didn’t come visit her at the hospital.”

“Don’t worry” she smiled at him, “I already talked and apologized to her before I got here. She said she was sorry for sharing that secret. We’re cool now.”

“That’s good, sweetheart” Steve grabbed her by the hips and pulled her on his lap, “Now let me show you how much I love you.”

She giggled before she grabbed him by the neck and kissed him on the lips, happy to be by his side again.

masterlist

#steve rogers fic #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #captain america one shot #captain america fic #captain america x you #captain america x female reader #captain america x reader #captain america x y/n #steve rogers fluff #captain america fluff #steve rogers angst #captain america angst #steve rogers sadness #captain america sadness

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lazyunknownhideout · 3 years

Text

My light || Billy Russo x OC ch-1

new chapter is up on -- > lazy-ass-bitxh-blog also on my wattpad -> Rose_Davidson

Rose Wilson, an artist doing well in her profession, going out to party, traveling, living her best life. Although she gotta admit being best friends to the CEO of a multimillion military company had much of a hand in her blooming success.

Billy and Rose have been friends for three years. After Billy returned from his first tour of Afghanistan, he found a new neighbor. A quiet girl showed up to his doorstep with a shepherd's pie, claiming it to be an introductory gift. And the next day the same girl showed up asking him to help fix her plumbing. After a few help with her plumbing and light fixing and car fixing, they seemed to have formed a nice bond. Soon Billy found himself going up to her place every weekend with a pizza and spend an evening watching movies and talking about the week, for that few hours Billy seemed to forget most about the horrors he faces at the front daily. He found a confidant in her and began sharing as much as he could about his experience in Afghanistan without breaching confidentiality. Even though Billy Russo was a ladies' man, always good to talk his way into their beds and their arms, she seemed to be the one you would like to sit and have a nice cup of coffee and talk all about your day.

On the day Billy had to go back to Afghanistan he told her all about his childhood, opening up all about the abuse the tortures. He figured if he died at the front he would know there was someone who knew all about him, and hopefully still thought good about him, and rose did just that.

"Well Billy, what would you like as your coming home meal?" Rose asked as he was packing up all his bags.

Billy looked at her and smiled, "If I do come back, I will have one of your pies"

"You will come back Billy, you're a stubborn man" Billy chuckled at her words.

"Well I hope I do, until then stay safe and happy okay rose?"

"Yep" She hugged him tight and smiled looking at him.

_____________________________________________________

Timeskip--

Anvil, Billy's company has been thriving, getting a lot of clients of high profile always kept the business going smoothly, however, a small inconvenience had popped up. Homeland security agent Madani seemed to have caught a sniff of operation Cerberus and going public about it would destroy all he has worked for. So Billy did what he does best, chatted her up, and made her trust him.

He just came home after having a drink with Madani, satisfied with the progress he had made, taking all the information out of her would be easy. As he went in to take a shower his phone ranged, it was Rose.

"Hey Billy, where were you? Your phone was switched off"

"Yea I was out confidential work, everything alright?"

"It's Saturday Bill, you didn't come for our pizza night" Her voice sounded sad.

"Shit sorry, It completely went out of my mind, I could come over now order something" He stepped out of the bathroom and started looking for a change of clothes.

"Hey it's alright, you must be tired, we'll just do it next week"

"You sure its alright?" He didn't want to upset the one person he cared about.

"Yea yea, its alright, I'll see you later kay?"

"Yeah see you"

The next morning Billy found her drying a piece of her canvas on her balcony as he was returning from his morning run. Deciding to apologize for last night he walked up to her door.

As she opened the door Billy couldn't control his laugh when he saw the state she was in, clothes splattered with paint all over, face half covered in red paint, and a pencil behind her ear.

"Well stop laughing and come in" Rose rolled her eyes at his reaction.

Billy walked, "Did you run out of canvases to paint on and decided to paint yourself?"

"Shut up Russo" She shook her head unable to hide a smile creeping onto her face.

"So as I missed out on last night, I was thinking maybe go for a cup of coffee and breakfast"

"Sure lemme wash up all these paints then"

"Right give me a call when you are done, I'll be at my place"

"Okay"

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

Billy walked up to the counter, "An espresso and a caramel latte and two bacon with eggs"

"Well you know my preference Russo" He smiled at her, ordering exactly what she had in mind.

"What can I say, I'm pretty observant and I know you well" She smiled at him and sat down. As the order cane real soon they started eating. Rose was debating whether or not to ask him about last night, deciding to just go for it she did

"Hey, so what was the work that kept you busy even on a saturday night"Billy looked up from his cup, "It was a meeting with an informant " He lied effortlessly, although technically it was a 'meeting' she called him upto meet, and as he was trying to pry out information from her it did make madani an informant.

Rose nodded her head, "And how was your week Billy, saw you returning pretty late last few nights"

Billy smirked at her,"Have you been stalking me Rose, I must say Im a bit flattered"

Rose laughed at his reaction,"I can just see your ego inflate up Russo, that car of yours is hard to miss when it pulls up in the driveway, so I guess you can say I stalked your pretty car"

Billy's smirk never faltered,"just the pretty car not the very pretty man inside it?" Rose smiled at him, it was hard to imagine this man sitting infront of her, laughing and making jokes was a person with 300 confirm kills at the upfront and had a whole organisation of henchmen at his fingertips.

"Just finish your coffee Billy" Billy chuckled at her, and sipped his coffe, "How about you how was your week" "Non monumental"

They talked about their week and all other things while having their breakfast. It seemed easy for them to talk to each other, it was effortless Billy never had to worry that she might judge him based on his work that he did, she always seemed to understand him. The only other person that he was this open with was Frank but it has been 2years since he died, even though he missed him, it was comforting knowing Rose was here for him.

She never questioned too much about his work, some times when he returns home wounded up, he goes and visits her after cleaning himself up and one cup of coffee with her seems to ease the pain.

Rose had never met someone like Billy before, he had practically everything at his fingertips, just one call away, she knew people feared Billy, she knew his service in the marines he had killed so many people, enemies, she knew everything he was capable of, but whenever she was with him, she just saw this man, someone who jokes around brings pizza for her, makes coffee sometimes and even goes shopping with her and patiently waits for her to try out many many clothes, and also provides some very constructive advice on fashion.

They walked back to their place and went on with the daily chores.

Back at Anvil things were getting quite busy with new recruiters coming in, Billy had to go in for orientation almost every day, a fresh batch of young men and women, eager to get recruited.

There was also the case of Madani, the sooner he gets to get all the information out of her the better, so far he had taken her out drinking and slept with her almost three days in a row and found out very little.

As the weekend approached Billy had the one thing he looked forward to after a rough week. It was Saturday evening, people at Anvil, finished their work for the day and were headed back. Billy thought to go grab the pizza and go straight to her place. As he was gathering up his stuff, his phone rang Dinah's name popped up.

He picked up the cellphone and answered with a gruff tired voice, "Dinah"

"Well, Mr.Russo you sound tired"

"Yea long day" Billy went on and locked his office, heading out.

"Why don't you come over then Billy, vent some of that tension out" She said in the best sultry voice she could manage.

Billy smirked, "Careful there agent Madani, this might just become a regular thing"

She chuckled, "Why do you have plans tonight?"

Billy took a moment before answering her, maybe if he called Rose she would understand, it was just pizza and movie, it wasn't like they were dating. And he couldn't miss any chance that he can get to search Madani's house.

"No, no I'm free I'm coming over, hope you are ready for me"

"Why don't you come soon and find out" She hung up.

Billy dialed Rose's number, hoping she wouldn't mind missing out tonight. She picked up after three rings.

"Hey Billy, everything alright?"

"Yea, listen um, something came up, so I won't be back like late tonight."

"Oh," She was upset it was evident in her voice.

"I'm sorry Rose" He said softly. "How about coffee like last week?"

"Yea don't worry Billy, it's alright. Job is important"

A tinge of guilt washed over Billy. He did still hesitate a bit but still, went on to Dinah's place.

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

Rose looked over at the clock, 35mins since she ordered her pizza, "Well I should be getting it for free now then", she decided to watch a movie herself, after all, it wasn't Billy's fault that urgent work came over.

The doorbell rang and she went over to collect her pizza.

"That will be 8 dollars, ma'am"

"Shouldn't it be free, you are over 30min"

"No ma'am sorry, we don't have that policy"

"Alright then" She went in to get her purse, as she came back out she was shocked to see the pizza guy holding out a gun, pointing at her.

"Don't dare to scream or move, I won't hesitate to shoot"

Rose was frozen in place, too shocked to comprehend what was even happening. The man came up tied her hands behind her back, all while pointing the gun at her throat.

"What do you want!"

"Shut up girl! You are leverage for Billy Russo. Now don't make a single noise while I take you downstairs. One scream and the bullet goes straight in."

"If I'm to be leverage then I wouldn't be much use dead would I?" Rose regretted it as soon as those words came out of her mouth.

The guy gave her a deadly stare and put gauged her mouth shut and shoot a bullet at her hand. Her scream was muffled by the gauge covering her mouth, she struggled to free her hands but the knot was too tight, the man dragged her to the door and pulled her up.

"Now don't cause a fuss and come quietly or the next bullet goes through the leg. Rose didn't dare to struggle against the guy, he was a foot taller than her, and manhandled her like she weighed nothing. He dragged her out and shoved her into the car. There were two more men inside the car, she tried to take a closer look at their faces when suddenly a hand came in and put a cloth over her face, and then she blacked out.

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chapter 2

A.N: Hey there guys!! hope you like this start, its just the first chapter so not much BillyxRose in here except a build-up of their relation, but there will be action in the next chapter so brace yourselves!

And also: review! review! review!

#billy russo #billyrusso #fanfiction #benbarnes #ben barnes #billy russo imagine #smut #jigsaw #thepunisher #billy russo fanfiction

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mbti-ramblings-and-whatnot · 3 years

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Trying to type characters from books y’all probably don’t recognise

Or you do know them, in which case outside opinions are helpful :) Even if you don’t know the series, I’ll try to give some examples and explain my reasonings so you can correct me if I’m wrong on definitions or if I’m interpreting things in a not so correct way

Today’s edition: The Mysterious Benedict Society I’ll just be typing the main 4 characters

**beware, spoilers may/will be present**

Reynard Muldoon: INTJ

Throw away the stereotypes because Reynie is seriously such a sweet kid, he’s never cold and unfeeling. And yet, he’s still insanely logical, so don’t go telling me he’s a feeler.

Whilst trying to type Reynie, there were several problems I encountered. The biggest of which being whether he had Ni or Ti in his top two functions. The reason Ti came to mind is because Reynie’s often asking lots of questions and trying to figure out “why?”. I know that everyone can ask questions, but one of the defining characteristics of Ti is that it wants to understand things, which often leads it to asking a lot of questions about “why?”. He’s definitely highly logical (which led me to call him a thinker), and Ti seemed (at first) like it made sense. However, if he had Ti in one of his top two functions, he would be a Perciever. And my boy Reynie is anything but. He’s the one everyone looks to when they need a plan. He’s the one who comes up with all the plans. He feels extremely uncomfortable when he doesn’t have a plan. I may not be comfortable with anything else I’ve called him, but I know he’s a judger. So, if he’s a thinker and a judger, he has to have Te. That’s just how that works. Although I see lots of Ti in him, he just isn’t a perceived, and Te does make a fair amount of sense. Then, with that problem out of the way, I didn’t even have to worry about dealing with Ni. I know he’s very perceptive to patterns, which can be seen in a scene very early in the first book. He’s taking a test that had been advertised in the paper for gifted children. If I’m not mistaken, he’s the only one who figured out that all of the answers to all of the questions were inside the questions themselves. Qs 1-20’s answers were in Qs 21-40, and vice versa. Of course they were phrased in a way that you had to be paying attention to catch it, but they were still there. And he’s the only one who caught it. So either everyone sucks at picking up on patterns or he’s just got some really high Ni.

And so, the only part left to figure out is whether he’s a introvert or extravert. This kid spent most of his childhood before the setting of the book completely alienated by the other children in the orphanage, and he didn’t seem to mind it much. He was always happy just being able to be by himself in the library, reading a nice book by himself. Although he does greatly cherish his friendships as the novels progress, he still very much feels like an introvert to me, at least.

So, putting it all together, we get INTJ! Feel free to start friendly debates in the comments/reblogs/tags, I’m happy to hear anyone else’s thoughts if they think anything else! Just please keep it respectful!

Constance Contraire: ENTJ

Very similar to Reynie, I just realised… oh well.

I’m not so positive about much else, but Constance is pure Ni. Her level of Ni makes Reynie look like he wouldn’t be able to notice the pattern in a sequence of circle, square, circle, square, etc. I mean, oh my gosh… just… pure Ni right here. For those of you who are unaware, this book series is focused on the adventures of four children, all who are gifted in different ways. Constance, despite the fact that she advanced very quickly for her age (she was 2 in the first book (I think) and was still able to participate in extremely important ways to things that were going on), is essentially hypersensitive to patterns. Like, she could be in a room and someone could be walking quietly down the hallway and she’d know exactly who it was and where they were, just by picking up on sound or whatever it is. Her brain so effortlessly picks up on all sorts of patters without her even knowing it, which feels a ton like Ni to me. My only issue with this is she doesn’t feel like a judger, she doesn’t appear to me as someone who’d care much at all about organisation or plans, but Ni is dominant or auxiliary only for judgers, and I’m not going to argue with that.

The rest of what I have is only assumptions, and I’m open to hearing other opinions.

I think I heard somewhere (a Frank James video?) that, for example, people whose dominant function is a perceiving function (Ni, Ne, Si, Se) would more often come home from work or school or whatever and, when asked how their day went, they would talk more about the things that happened versus the people and interactions/whatever was going on with them, and the opposite for people whose dominant function is judging (Fi, Fe, Ti, Te). Constance, to me, feels like the kind of person who would come home (or wherever home was at the moment) and complain about how stupid everyone seemed all day and how dumb everything they did was. This would mean her dominant function would be her judging function, which would have to be extraverted if her other highest function is introverted. So she’d then be an extravert. You could also make the argument that if she were talking with Mr Benedict (someone she cares an insane amount about), for example, she’d talk about all the cool things she did. But, I still feel that in most scenarios this wouldn’t be the case, so I stand by what I decided on above. There’s even the argument where (completely ignoring everything I’ve said above, just focus on Exxx vs Ixxx right now) she lived alone in the storage room of a library for who knows how long (several weeks? months?). That definitely feels introverted to me, but it could also be irrationality and fear keeping her down there. I don’t know, other thoughts are helpful.

The last thing we need to figure out is whether she’s a feeler or thinker, or in other words whether she’s an Fe or Te dom. To me, Constance doesn’t seem to care much about what other people want. She’ll steal your ice cream when you aren’t looking, when you’re playing the steal/share game (I don’t feel like explaining it, so for your reference it is described in the first chapter of “The Mysterious Benedict Society and the Prisoner’s Dilemma” (aka the third book)) she’ll choose steal because she wants the other people (her friends) playing to have to suffer the consequences, she just doesn’t seem to care much about caring for others. So this would leave her being a thinker, which although I don’t think I’d necessarily call her logical, she is just a little kid and she really doesn’t feel like a feeler.

So, putting all that together, she’d be an ENTJ. Other opinions are welcome, I’d love to talk about it!

Kate Wetherall: ESFP

I wanted to call her an ESTP (and she might very well be one), but I’ll stick with ESFP for the purposes of my explanations

Total Se dom, I’m not even going to argue about that. She has insanely good spacial awareness and is very much a hands-on person. One of her special gifts is that, just by looking at something, even for just a moment, she can tell you exactly how long it is. No doubt about it, she’ll know. Once she was down in a storm drain (? I think it was a storm drain) to help a girl get the pencil she’d dropped down there. Despite the fact that it was probably super dark down there, she knew exactly how deep the crack the pencil feel down was. She’s high energy, always looking for adventure, very extraverted. I’m not sure what else to say, but man does she have high Se. At this point a lot of it’s just a feeling I get, but I trust it.

So, if she’s an Se-dom, she has to be an ESxP. The only two options from here on forth are ESTP and ESFP, and for some reason I’ve settled on ESFP. I don’t think she’s super logical, she sort of feels like a feeler… not sure…

I actually have no idea if she’s an F or T, so if any of you know the books, I’d appreciate some assistance!

George “Sticky” Washington: IxTx

No idea with this kid, I also haven’t thought too much about his… nothing seems to jump out to me as STICKY except for introvert… but that’s not much to go off of…

He doesn’t seem to be very social, he seems like he’d be perfectly happy to spend less time around people (aside from the three people above, they as a group are inseparable, it tears them apart inside to be apart from one another for too long).

I call him a thinker, but I wouldn’t argue if you called him a feeler.

I really have no clue with this kid, assistance would be appreciated!

So!

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lonelyyinchicago · 3 years

Text

jily wedding

“are you sure this is okay?” lily asked euphemia potter, tugging at the heavy silk nervously.

“yes dear, of course. it means a lot to james that you came here for the wedding.”

“we couldn’t not! i mean, it’s all just so beautiful and i’ve always wanted to see the places james has described countless times.”

euphemia smiled as lily turned to face the mirror and look at her wedding sari.

“mum?” lily called. “what do you think?”

“lily? oh!”

mrs evans stopped in the doorway when she saw her youngest daughter. the midnight blue material contrasted perfectly with lily’s pale skin.

“you’re like a princess” she finally managed. “you look absolutely gorgeous lils.”

lily blushed as her bridesmaids appeared behind her in their lehngas.

“your partners are all incredibly lucky” mrs potter noted from her chair. “the colours look amazing on all of you.”

marlene and dorcas exchanged a small wink that wasn’t missed by anyone.

“you ready?” mary asked, as they all stood side by side in awe of lily’s curves in the sari - the way the pleats fell couldn’t have been more perfect. lily ran her hands over the small portion of stomach that was visible.

“yes.”

—

sat next to each other beside the flames, james and lily’s fingers intertwined as the priest carried out the first prayers.

the gold thali james placed around his bride’s neck with a smile was the most poignant moment of the morning.

mrs potter and mrs evans sat together, gently crying into handkerchiefs. mr evans sat in a stunned silence, taking in the beauty of his surroundings, mentally preparing himself for his upcoming role in the western service.

in the few minutes pause in the day as lily changed her sari and touched up her sightly smudged make up, james turned to face his best man excitedly.

“did you see her?! sirius i’ve married a goddess! did you see the gold trimmings on the edge of the sari, did you? oh my god she looked so good oh okay. wow wow wow. she’s so perfect. why did she say yes to me oh my god i just adore her did you see the colours? and the fresh jasmine in her hair? the smell, sirius! please tell me you smelt it too! okay okay, i’m so ready for this.”

sirius merely smiled through his best friends’ rambling about lily evans. he’d been listening to it for the past seven years and he felt nothing but pride and happiness for his two closest friends.

“of course i saw her; all eyes were on her. and yes, the gold trimming matches the border on your veshti too. you’ve really done well pads. you picked a good one.”

“i did, didn’t i? right from the beginning too.”

“yes, yes i know” sirius laughed, turning james towards the alter for the start of the christian ceremony. “go get her, pads.”

james potter could barely hold back tears as mr evans slowly led lily up the aisle. the lighter, pale green material followed lily’s movements effortlessly. the couple made eye contact for lily’s entire journey, neither one of them wanting to look away; neither one of them able to look away. james’ hand shook as lily’s was transferred from her father’s to his. the gentle squeeze from his bride was enough for the tears to spill over. standing up on tiptoe she placed a kiss on his cheek before reciting her vows.

the priest’s confirmation of their union was the last thing james heard before the room erupted into cheers and wolf whistles (from remus lupin). absorbed by the beauty of his wife, james potter leant down slowly, his nose scraping lily potter’s, before wrapping a curl around his finger and pulling her close for their first kiss as a married couple.

smiling against each other’s lips, they broke apart. stepping off the altar hand in hand the young potters screamed as they ran out the temple doors. the shouting and laughter was quickly reignited as sirius, remus, peter, frank, mary, marlene, alice and dorcas followed closely behind them.

lily didn’t let go of james’ hand for the rest of the day. during the wedding breakfast as they sat together, sharing dahl and idli from the same banana leaf, they were always in contact.

james cried throughout sirius’ best man speech, and remus buried his head in his hands and mouthed apologies as sirius kept in the parts about their tricks at hogwarts he’d been told to cut out.

mr evans’ voice shook as he gave his father of the bride speech but got to the end with the support of fleamont, who assured him of the warm welcome that was awaiting lily as life as a potter.

the night quickly turned into morning as the dancing and drinking continued. lily threw her head back as she was spun around in her husband’s arms, her joy captured forever in the pictures peter was taking.

slowly the group fell apart, with frank and alice heading back to the hotel first. with the entire room to themselves, lily put on their song and led james out onto the dance floor. as the beatles sang, the couple stood close, lily’s head resting on james’ chest as he led her around the room.

“all you need is love, huh?” james asked into the quiet.

“our first dance. remember?”

lily looked up at her husband expectantly.

“how could i forget? best night of my life.” james paused. “well, second best now i guess.”

falling into the lift a few minutes later, lily was still clinging to james. picking her up and carrying her into their room, he placed her down gently on the end of the bed. she instantly wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing into his stomach.

“i love you so much” she mumbled into his shirt softly.

“i love you too, mrs potter” james said with a grin.

lily looked up as james cupped her face.

“i’m never going to get sick of hearing that.”

“good” james replied. “because it’s all you’re going to hear.”

“fine by me” she said, raising herself up to meet his lips. “call me mrs potter forever.”

“it’s a promise.”

#harry potter #james potter #lily potter #lily evans #jily #jily fluff #jily wedding #marauders

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sergeant-donny-donowitz · 4 years

Text

The Confession: Cliff Booth x Fem!Reader

Requested by @lababy2727

TW: abusive ex

@tealaquinn @frozenhuntress67 @juxt4p0siti0n @kwyloz

@what-the--curtains @taikawho

*Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist! :)))

******************** "Well, shit Cliff..." Rick chuckled, leaning against the car door as they drove down the highway after a long day on set. Cliff grunted, though, he couldn't hide a smirk. "You're a damn lucky man, partner." He couldn't forget you. It was your first big role in a Hollywood film. You walked on set, absolutely star struck, though you kept your cool. You wore a bright yellow dress, and a kind smile. You were an actress working on a movie with Rick, and Cliff. You and Rick had to kiss in one scene, and of course you were both professional about it. "It's only acting," Rick laughed a little. It had only been a few days since filming began, but the three of you had hit it off. More specifically, you and Cliff hit it off... And Rick was having a lot of fun pointing out every single chance he got.

Cliff rolled his eyes behind his shades, as he pulled into the driveway. The two made their way into Rick's place to watch Bounty Law, and drink a couple of beers.

"How'd you know?" "Kn-know? Know what?" RIck smirked, knowing damn well what he knew. Cliff grumbled, "Forget it." Rick chuckled, "Whenever Y/n gets you goin', you run off." "I don't run off." "Today sh-she made you laugh too m-much, and you t-told her you had to go b-back to your trailer." "So?" "Cliff, you don't h-have a trailer." "..." Rick went on, "Y/n's a smart kid. She sure as hell knows that." Cliff sighed, "Well shit...She don't know that." "N-no she knows." "Well shit." Cliff shrugged, pretending not to care...but he absolutely did. "Sh-she knows why you said t-that." Rick smirked, though Cliff shook his head, "Y/N's just sweet. That's all."

"Sure. That's all. That's why y-you mentioned her out of the b-blue, huh?" Rick laughed as he popped the cap off another beer. "She might just be worth mentioning," Cliff smirked a little as he opened a beer, and put his feet up. There was a knock on the door, and Rick got up. "Glad you feel that way." Cliff narrowed his eyes, knowing Rick never mentioned anyone else joining them. He opened the door, "Y/n!" Rick greeted you with a bear hug and led you into the livingroom. "Glad you could make it! I was just about to make some margaritas. Y-You want one?" You giggled, not because of your slightly-intoxicated friend, but because you caught a glimpse of Cliff scrambling ot his feet. "Sure thing, Rick." "Alright, you g-go on n' get y-yourself a seat, kid." He winked, noting your reaction at seeing Cliff. You bit your lip, and glanced down as you stammered a little, "C'mon, now Rick." He lit a cigarette with a laugh, "Margaritas' gon' ta-take a while, make yourselves comfortable." He disappeared into the kitchen, and you called out, "Nothing's gonna-" You bumped into Cliff. "Y/n!" "Cliff!" You laughed nervously, but sincerely. You didn't expect him to be there, but you weren't complaining. It was a fun night, with just the three of you... Well...Rick kept coming up with excuses to leave the room, and you didn't quite realize why. Looking back on it...it wasn't much of a mystery. So, a couple nights a week, you'd join Cliff and Rick to watch Bounty Law. Sometimes you'd hang out other days and watch other show. Maybe the Saint, or the Time Tunnel. Whatever was on. Margaritas, Bloody Mary's, beer and cigarettes became a familair sight. Cliff became less standoffish. He stopped running off to his imaginary trailer. You made him laugh and smile like he hadn't done in as long as he could remember. Eventually, you started seeing each other (without Rick around...and he might have been the happiest person in the world when he heard that). Some nights you and Cliff met at Musso & Frank's. Some nights you went by the Santa Monica Pier. Some nights, even if you'd planned to go out on the town, you'd both just stay at your place, make dinner together, or hang around. Months passed, and you were with Cliff and Rick, watching another episode of Bounty Law, when you saw a trailer for your new movie. Clinking margaritas and bloody mary's you celebrated that night. Still, it meant your time working together was coming to an end. Rick sighed with a shrug, "That's Hollywood. Meet nice people, move around, a-and meet more nice p-people." You nodded, though you were just starting your career out, you quickly learned that. You mentioned in passing that you'd landed a part in another movie. You'd start filming in Hawaii in a few days. It'd be a while before you could find the time to watch Bounty Law with them...or do anything with Cliff. Rick asked, "B-but you'll be at th-the wrap up party, tomorrow night, won't you?" You sighed, thinking about it. You really wanted to go, having met so many wonderful people on set....specifically Cliff and Rick. But it was the night you were flying to Hawaii. Still... "Maybe for an hour or two. Don't get your hopes up, boys." You smiled, glancing at Cliff, as you stood by the door. "Bye, darlin'." Rick hugged you, just in case you couldn't go. "Bye, Rick." He chuckled, then glanced between you and Cliff, finding an excuse to leave you alone again. "Y/n..." "Yeah, Cliff?" You waited with a soft smile, and it made him blush...which was not an easy thing to do. Yet you did it so effortlessly. Before he could say anything, you both heard a loud crash somewhere in the house, followed by Rick cursing. Cliff sighed, knowing he'd have to fix whatever it was eventually. He laughed a little, resting his hand against your face, "Good luck out there, kid." You smirked, "I'll bring you back a Hawaiian shirt or two." He laughed again, and his glance lingered on you. "If you can't go tomorrow...I mean..." "Aw, Cliff..." You flung your arms around him, "I'm gonna miss you." He hugged you back, resting his chin on the top of your head, "I'm gon' miss you too..." You left, though you knew there was more on his mind. You also knew that with Cliff, you couldn't push him to say things when he wasn't ready to. He stood by the doorway, as you pulled out of the driveway and drove down the hill lined with houses. He jumped a little when he heard a voice behind him. "You love her." He shut the door, and turned to Rick, who had a smug grin on his face. "She's young, Rick. Big up and coming star. She don't need me." "You're too old for this 'i-if you love her l-let her go' shit, man." "Forget it, man." Cliff shook his head, put his shades on, and his denim jacket, and grabbed his keys. Brandy was definitely hungry, after all. Rick muttered, "Goddamn it." having worked so hard to bring you and Cliff together, and it ended just like that... The next night, you drove down the highway. You sighed with a soft smile, seeing as you had an hour or two to spare. You pulled up to the big mansion, hearing blaring music, and seeing bright colorful lights from the street. You left your luggage in the trunk. You'd only be around for an hour or two, then make your way to the airport. It wasn't long before you spotted Cliff, wearing a bright yellow Hawaiian shirt. "Cliff!" He picked your voice out among the crowd, quickly turning around, with the widest grin you'd seen in your life, as he practically rushed toward you with open arms, "Y/n!" You were only beginning to talk, swaying with the music together, loosely, making each other laugh. "Y/N." You both heard a loud, agressive, drunken voice stagger through the crowd. You muttered, "For fuck's sake." His name was Mike. He was your ex. And he was not happy. He pulled you away from Cliff, gripping you by your forearm. "What the fuck did I tell you about-" Cliff stepped in immediately between you and Mike, with a warning and low voice, "Hey man. Leave her alone." He barely looked at Cliff, "Stay out of this, pal," then looked back at you with glaring, fuming eyes. "We're through, Mike. We've been through for months. Get that through your fat fucking head." He scowled, and lunged at you, but Cliff gragged him by his shirt, slamming him onto the concrete, as people gathered around. Some beginning to pull Cliff away, while others dragged Mike out of the property. As soon as he was out, everyone let Cliff go. He could have broken every bone in Mike's body, but he didn't want to scare you, he didn't want blood on his favorite shirt, and frankly... a drunken asshole of a stuntman like Mike wasn't worth a night in jail. The crowd slowly dissipated, moving toward the bar, the pool, and the music. "Cliff..." He looked at you with a soft expression. You picked his shades up from the ground, though they were broken. You ran into his arms, and he said, "I'm sorry, Y/n. I didn't think-" "No, no you-" He looked at you. Your eyes... He couldn't keep lying to you. So he said what he'd wanted to say from the moment he met you on set. Even if you went on to be a big star, if you moved on, if you forgot about him, he'd never forgive himself for not letting you know this one thing. "I love you." You looked up at him, knowing it was almost time for you to go. You hadn't even left yet, and you missed him already. "I love you, too." He smiled, "You know where to find me." "Friday night, at Rick's." It may take a few months till filming wrapped up, but you'd be there. "I'll bring some beer," you laughed, as he walked with you to your car. He ended up driving you to the airport himself, just for a half hour more with you. You kissed goodbye, and you remarked, "Save one of those margarita's for me?"

He winked with a grin, "You got it, baby."

#Cliff Booth #cliff booth x reader #rick dalton #Once Upon A Time In Hollywood #OUATIH #ouatih imagine #cliff booth imagine

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 4 years

Photo

C A L L M E C A T, chapter nine

January 2017

We had time off near the holidays, space for all of us was good. The rush of our record deal and newfound fame was suffocating in moments, exhilarating in others.

Niall journeyed back to Ireland and Miles back up north to Massachusetts. Jules’ parents were only in Connecticut, and Harry had already made the trip back to the UK to see his family.

By the time the New Year came, I was sick of being in Florida with no friends and minimal interaction from my parents. Our last night together as a band was the night of my drunken exit, something that we all knew was awkward and tense but didn’t dare to mention the next morning.

Being around my parents made me drink less just because I feared becoming them. Which was probably good for both my liver and my mind, but bad for my emotional state. It had been a few weeks since I’d spoken to Miles or Harry. Jules would check in just to make sure I hadn’t murdered my parents yet, Niall sent pictures of his nephew and the pints he was drinking back home.

I sat on the back patio a few days into 2017, sunglasses on to block the sun and hoping to get a bit of a glow on the unseasonably warm day. My phone buzzed beside me and pulled my attention back to the pool in front of me, my parents were both at work and I finally had a minute without them to gather my thoughts.

Nothing about the sunshine state made me want to stay, especially not the locked door down the hall that had been untouched since 2011. The bed was likely unmade and I was sure dust had collected on the trophies that lined his shelves.

I picked up my phone and read the message that had just come through, one that made me want to abandon my home state more than I already did.

Harry Styles (1:03pm): Random question, are you still in Florida?

I looked around the backyard, boats buzzed by on the water and the waves glimmered in the sun.

Cat Fonder (1:04pm): Unfortunately

Harry Styles (1:04pm): Me too.

I pulled up the phone and read it twice before I pressed the phone icon near his name. It rang once before he answered.

“Hi!”

“What are you doing in Florida?”

“Well--bit of an airline issue, so I ended up on a flight here instead of New York. I’m stuck here overnight.”

“That sucks,” I admitted, turning on my side on the pool lounge chair. “What are you going to do?”

“Well,” he took a pause, but I could tell he’d already decided. “You’re going to come get me at the airport.”

“What makes you think that?”

He laughed on the other end of the phone. “I mean, you wouldn’t let me sleep overnight in the Miami airport would you?” I let out a groan for him to hear, laughed a little when he threw in: “I know you have enough bedrooms at your parents house.”

Marta, our longtime housekeeper and an adopted member of our family, slid open the door to the living room. “Do you want lunch?”

“In a few!” I called back to her. “Harry--you can Uber here if you want.”

“Oh just come pick me up--how far do you live from the airport?”

“From Miami? Like an hour and a half!”

“Which is exactly why I’m not paying for an Uber, Catherine.”

I exhaled through my nose, licked at my lips, already regretting the decision to take one of my dad’s cars into a Miami afternoon. The air was sticky and the climb in my heartbeat made me feel stupid and childish. Harry’s chastising on the other end didn’t help.

“Did you hang up on me? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Cause I’m trying to think of a plan to be in a car with you and not kill you.”

He let out a belly laugh at this, noise from the busy airport terminal was seeping through the speaker and into my ears. “I’ll make sure we don’t lay any hands on each other.”

Goosebumps rose on my skin, his voice almost melodic when he said see you soon!

I grabbed the keys and took a sandwich for the road from Marta, prayed to some type of higher power that I didn’t rear end someone or fuck up my dad’s Mercedes. He drove the Tesla to work, which was good, honestly, because I wouldn’t even know how to turn that one on.

It took me only an hour and fifteen, which didn’t seem like a result of my timid driving but more the lack of traffic and time of day. When I rolled up to the baggage claim and saw him standing on the curb with sunglasses pushed up and a hood over his head, I rolled the window down.

“How’s the disguise working?”

He made a face at me, stuffed his suitcase in the backseat and climbed in front. “You joke, but there were girls who literally cried when they saw me. And a few photographers, I think--which is really weird.”

“Really?” I looked over my shoulder and put on my blinker, hoping to merge effortlessly over three lanes to get out of the hellhole that was Miami International.

“Yeah--don’t know why but people apparently like our band in Florida. Hometown pride, maybe.”

He had a point--apparently my name had been one of the most searched google phrases in the state at the end of 2016. But we weren’t really paparazzi level yet, once or twice in New York or LA when we’d do shows, but they’d yet to really follow us around.

“Okay, well you might have to be silent the rest of the ride if you want to get to Palm Beach in one piece.”

He turned towards me with an amused look. “Do you suck at driving?”

“No,” I said, looking over at him quickly, a car merged in front of me and made me swerve to the side a little bit when I took my eyes off the road.

“Jesus fuck!” He laughed, “oh god--you would be absolutely rubbish at driving. This is actually extremely on brand for you.”

“I’m not rubbish at driving,” I twisted my face. “I’m just out of practice.”

We made it four miles away from the airport before he demanded that I get out and let him drive, arguing that even if the steering wheel was on the other side and we drove on the wrong side of the road, he’d be a safer bet.

He got a coffee at a gas station and took a picture of me with the girl behind the register, more pleasant than I’d ever seen him be. He put the windows down and played me the songs he’d been listening to over the holidays and laughed when he pointed at my hands. “You got a manicure!”

I hid my face, embarrassed at the sellout I’d become. Thirteen whole days in town and my mother had convinced me to sit beside her, watch daytime talk shows while the spa ladies buffed and snipped our cuticles.

She made me, I laughed. You might end up with one too before you leave.

We rolled up to Island Drive right before my parents got home from work and Harry leaned towards the window to get a better view of the house. His mouth hung open when we turned into the shrub-lined driveway. “Jesus, Cat. What do your parents do again?”

“Work too much,” I told him. “Mom’s a dentist and my dad’s a financial advisor. They’re super obnoxious so please try to interact with them at a minimum like Marta and I do.”

“Marta?”

“Housekeeper, my old nanny--she’s part of the family.”

He nodded, still taking in the fountain and manicured lawn when I pulled his suitcase from the backseat. Harry had known that my parents were wealthy--mainly from the time that Miles made me sound like an obnoxious rich kid when we wrote at their apartment. But Harry was apparently surprised by the level of wealth that was held in Palm Beach. His lips parted when I brought him in the front door, views of the water over the crest of the lawn and the pool, eyes landing on mine after a few seconds.

“And you moved to New York, why?”

I kept my voice quiet, didn’t want Marta to hear my bluntness from the other room. “To get out of here.”

But soon she smiled and rushed over, eager to take Harry’s suitcase and bring it to the guest room. She offered him tea and coffee and all of the snacks that he joked he would have held out for if he knew she was here and waiting.

I brought him upstairs to show him the room he could sleep in, around the corner from mine, a view of the side yard and the gardens that a landscaping company tended to every Saturday morning. I laid the ground rules: no mentioning our partying, no mentioning times when I’ve been too drunk. If he wanted a free place to sleep with good food and a king-sized bed, he needed to keep his mouth shut about that stuff.

He saluted me and stifled a laugh. “Yes ma’am.”

“I’m serious,” I told him. “Just be quiet, don’t give them a reason to ask you any questions.”

“Alright--I mean, come on, they can’t be that bad.”

As if on cue--as if Harry showing up in Florida wasn’t enough bad karma for one day--the alarm beeped downstairs letting me know one of them was home. Lorna first, she came in with big sunglasses and greeted Harry with a smile, her hand outstretched for her afternoon glass of Chardonnay before Marta could even hang her keys up by the door.

Frank strolled in a little after six pm, dinner was almost ready when Harry excused himself to the bathroom and I took it as my opportunity to corner my mother before she was too drunk to remember it.

I knocked on her office door twice, waited for her to look up from her computer before I took a few steps inside. “Hi, dear,” she said, a small smile before she looked back to the papers on her desk.

“Hi--I just wanted to uh, ask you a favor, actually.” I approached her with my hands on my hips, unsure if I’d get her full attention or if I’d have to snap my fingers to get her eyes back on me. I sat down in the chair across from her, a formal chess move to let her know I was serious.

“What’s that?” She leaned back in her chair and waited for me to spit it out. Her direct eye contact made me nervous, I stammered over my words and tried to sway her by bringing my dad into it.

“I, uh, just asked dad the same thing--he said it was fine.”

“Just spit it out, Catherine.”

“Can we not talk about Cameron in front of Harry?”

She set down her glasses at this, watched me for a second before she tilted her head to the side. “Okay.”

“Like, at all. Okay? Not even once.”

She sighed, almost as if my request was painful for her to consider. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

Maybe she’d tone it down with a stranger in the house. Maybe not talking about Cameron for someone else’s benefit would make her respect the limit more than she had in the past.

I had hoped for so long that one day it’d stop, one day she’d forget his name or leave it out of conversation even if just for my sake. But my mother was too selfish for that--always forgetting that while she was grieving a son, I was grieving my other half.

I should have known she couldn’t help herself--she had to relive the moment over and over, desperate to keep herself alive in the past as if it was safer than the present. His name slipped out of her mouth like she didn’t even realize it, I nearly choked on my asparagus at the dinner table when she said it.

Harry was busy making small talk about our upcoming album, the studio sessions we’d be heading into once we flew back to the city. “Our manager said it’ll be good timing to release an album, makes us eligible for award season the following year.”

She pretended to be interested, pretended to care for a second about our careers, but then she did it. “Reminds me of the time Cameron won that award--”

“Mom,” I said it quick, my hands falling to the table with a thud, fork and knife in my grasp when I cut her off. “Don’t.”

The noise startled Harry, but the genuine smile on his face only faltered a little. “No, I’d love to hear the story,” he didn’t even have a clue to the fire he was igniting.

“We talked about it mom,” I gave her a death glare--which I could tell threw her off. She was frozen, torn between pleasing her dinner guest and pissing off her daughter, two of her favorite past times.

She gestured at Harry. “Well I don’t want to be rude, Catherine.”

“Dad,” I looked over to see him on his phone, my voice pleading for him to intervene.

“Lorna, leave it alone,” he said, disinterested, phone screen still lit up like he was begging for a distraction.

“Oh,” she sighed, sarcasm threaded in her words. “Right--we don’t go there.”

Harry was across from me, mid-bite of his steak. He looked from me and to my mom, then back, while he chewed. He had no clue what was happening but he could tell he’d said the wrong thing.

My mom picked up her wine glass, brought it to her lips and offered a sweet smile in Harry’s direction. “Nevermind, dear--don’t want to upset Catherine.”

I rolled my eyes and stood from the table, “Harry, do you want to go for a walk?”

He was caught off guard, still uncomfortably in the middle when he nodded quickly, stood from the table and thanked both of my parents for letting him stay the night as I headed for the front door. He hurried out behind me, his voice barely a whisper in the hallway. “Did I do that? Did I fuck up?”

“No,” I said, calling to Marta over my shoulder. “Dinner was delicious, Marta! We’ll be back!”

“What even happened in there?” He asked, still a few steps behind me once we walked out onto the moonlit driveway.

I stopped short and turned around, the anger in my chest was threatening to spill out and onto the concrete. “Nothing--my mother is just fucking stupid and selfish.”

“So the intimidating level of rage coming off of you is not my fault?”

“What? No.”

I spun around again and headed for the street, a left turn towards the familiar route that I’d escape to when something like this happened. He walked beside me on the tree-line street, silent and steady until the neighborhood opened up. The same empty field at the end of the road that gave access to the lagoon, the same location I’d come to so many times after storming away from dinner as a kid. Doing it at 22 felt no different than at 15.

He shoved his hands in his pockets when we stepped onto the grass. “What is this place?”

“I don’t know--an empty field at the end of my street.”

“Is this your ponder spot?”

I looked over my shoulder, his face was lit up by the glow of the streetlights. “Ponder spot?”

He nodded and offered a shrug, “you know, the place you run off to when you need space.”

I bit back a laugh, embarrassed that his words couldn’t have been more accurate. He took my silence as confirmation, followed me over to a picnic table that sat close to the end of the water.

I threw a leg over the bench and let my head rest on top, a groan escaping my lips once I felt his weight shift the structure.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head but didn’t lift it, so he let me sit in silence for a little while. A breeze blew my hair around and after a few minutes, he sighed, like he already knew the answer but wanted to ask anyway. “Do you want to tell me who Cameron is?”

That got me to raise my head. “Definitely not.”

He smirked a little, a tiny nod as if to tell me he wouldn’t push it. He reached a hand over and patted my thigh, chin in his hand as he watched people cruise by on their boats.

For the first time I felt comfortable with him--not pressured or panicked. He brought his eyes over to me and then fished into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a small joint, a dimple appeared on his cheek when he said: “I found this in the guest room.”

“Shut up,” I laughed, pulling it from him and sniffing it to inspect. “Did you really?”

He nodded, “which one of your parents is the stoner?”

“Well my mom is too high strung, so--must be Frank.”

He pulled out a lighter and held it up, watched when I placed it between my lips and then inhaled. I passed it over to him, thankful for a buffer between us now aside from the moon and the breeze.

Smoke escaped my lips and floated towards the stars, he drummed his fingers on the table before I passed it to him. “Do you feel overwhelmed ever?”

“Ever?” He laughed at my question, licked his lips and then looked out over the water.

“I mean by the music stuff lately.”

He shrugged. “Excited mostly. Why? Do you?”

I nodded, unafraid to admit that being home brought a different layer of complexity to life. “My parents will just never get it.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not successful.”

I looked down at the faded wood and the fresh coat of polish on my nails. “It kind of feels that way, though--you know, if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, did it really happen?”

He stared at me for a second, sure that I was joking. “You’re mental,” he said. “The tree is down on the ground, of course it fell. Who fucking cares if they were around to hear it or not?”

I nodded, took the joint back from him and took another inhale, reminded of the first time we did this type of thing.

He passed it to me, watched as I let smoke dance through the chilly air before he asked: “Why do you go by Cat?”

Another shrug, how I answered most questions these days. Do you have nightmares about it? Do you think about him all the time? Do you feel easily agitated?

“Just don’t like Catherine. Too formal.”

I didn’t want to get into it. My mother calls me that, my brother called me that, all good reasons to pack up and leave behind in the childhood bedroom that held bad memories.

“I like Catherine,” he admitted. “S’pretty.”

I let my eyes sweep over to him, the moon reflected in his eyes, curls of hair poked out from the beanie on his head. “Just--don’t call me that, please.”

He laughed, completely unaware of the way it made my chest heave in the shower or the way it sent a shiver down my spine when my mom had to cut herself off--Catherine and Cameron--no, just Catherine.

I had to correct her now too. Catherine felt like it needed to be followed by something, another name, the one that had been linked to mine since birth, born two minutes apart.

“I think you’re pretty fucking successful, you know.”

I glanced over at him. “Yeah?”

A single nod. His short hair was still something to get used to, it bent in the wind and blocked his eyes when he turned to look at me. “I will never admit I said this, but, we’d be nothing without you.”

“Well, we only got big once you came along.”

He smirked, “so you’re aware of that?”

I gave him a shove, shaking my head at his stupid ego. His eyes lingered on mine for a second, his knee knocked against mine when he flicked the joint and then he let out a sigh.

I wanted to lean in and kiss him, and I probably would have if it weren’t for Lila. As far as I knew she was home in New York, maybe in Jersey with her parents or siblings, but certainly an obstacle to whatever kind of intoxicated hook up could have happened between us.

I cleared my throat and looked up at the sky. “Do you want to go write a song?”

He smiled, a soft one, nodded a few times and patted me on the thigh again before he stood up and offered me a hand. “I’d love to.”

He followed me back to the house, up the stairs to my bedroom and stared at the ceiling while I plucked at the guitar.

I don’t know where I wanna go,

But it’s far away from here

Don’t know what I’m running from

If it’s you or me, my dear

He watched, listened, nodded along while it poured out of me, more of a witness than a participant.

It’s good, Cat, he said, keep going.

Everybody’s talking now

But no one seems to say a thing

I do my best to drown them out

I just wish that I could be

Somewhere far away from here

Back to myself, back where I could see clear

Somewhere far away from here

Won’t somebody take me far away from here?

Sleep was heavy on my eyelids, Harry down the hall and a rough version already sent off in an email to Niall before I realized he’d said it. Four and a half years of begging him to say it, call me Cat, hoping one day he’d just give in and go along with it. All this time I thought fighting him and pushing him away would make it happen.

It was fitting, I guess, that it was the exact opposite that finally got me what I wanted.

Niall was excited that Harry had accidentally landed himself in Miami, and he was even more excited when he learned that I told him he could stay with me an extra few days before I was due to return to Manhattan and the responsibilities of work.

He was eager to see my town, made me drive him by the high school and the parking lot where I learned--or failed, according to him--to parallel park. He swam in the pool and spit water in my face, completely deconstructing the wall I had managed to build over the last few years with a single glance in my direction.

He promised he stayed because he was having fun, not just because flying home with me meant a first class seat.

It was rare, these days, too, that I found myself on a boat. A few times since the accident, maybe three or four. But his excitement and delight was contagious when he learned my parents still had one--the same one--and it was down on a dock off the backyard.

I let the motor hum to life, pinks and purples splashed over the sky on our last night when he popped a bottle of champagne. I wondered if Lila knew he was here--he seemed undisturbed by his phone and altogether disconnected and unplugged.

I drove us out to the middle of the lagoon, dropped anchor and told him about the time I learned to swim off the back. I was three or four, always in a life vest and completely unaware of the irony that my life was accumulating.

Cam would jump off first, his floaties on his arms as he swam over to my dad who’d be in the water already. My mom would clap and snap pictures, throw us a noodle or two and then wrap us in towels back on board the boat.

Harry was treading water beside me, though, hair dripping wet after he’d pulled off his shirt and shorts.

I laughed when he dared me to jump in after him, said he hoped my swimming skills were better than they were back then. He splashed enough water at me on the boat before I gave in, promised he wouldn’t watch me undress and wouldn’t tell a soul that we’d been this cliché, swimming in our underwear and conversation laced with champagne giggles. So I tossed my shirt to the side and shimmied out of my shorts before I let myself sink under the surface.

When I came up, he was watching me.

“What?”

“Nothing--just--s’been nice to hang out with you.”

I twisted my face at his kindness, crinkled my nose at the friendship that had suddenly blossomed in the cool Florida weather.

The laughter from another boat floated over the waves, a big splash is what did it.

I looked over, searched for the person only a hundred yards away, desperate for their head to emerge from the water, unlike his. My heartbeat was in my ears, throat tight and shoulders tense.

“Where are they?” I asked, my head turning frantically. “Do you see them? Did they come up?”

“What?” Harry followed my gaze and the smile faded from his lips. “What are you talking about?”

A man popped back up, a group of people on the boat cheered for him and sang along the music that hummed from their speakers. Harry could tell something was wrong, I tried my best to slow my breathing when I realized what was happening.

I swam over to the boat, hands clutching the ladder as I pulled myself up. My breathing was sporadic, the images flashing through my head with no option to pause. Allie’s voice, Will’s voice, the feeling in my chest when I knew he was dead and we couldn’t do anything about it.

But I was acutely aware of the moment around me, Harry climbed up to the boat behind me and had a terrified look on his face, green eyes searching the floor for a towel before he draped it over my shoulders.

“You’re alright--Cat, you’re alright, it’s okay,” his arms were around me when a sob slipped out, eyes stung from a mix of salt water and tears. I couldn’t do this, it couldn’t happen here and now.

The waves from that day couldn’t show up, drag me under until I couldn’t breathe like he couldn’t. Not in front of Harry.

“Hey,” he said, moving my shoulders to force me to sit down, his knees across from mine when he looked me in the eyes. “You’re alright, nothing’s happening.”

I nodded, licked at my lips and wiped at my eyes with the towel when I blinked a few times. Feet on the boat, hands around the towel, I could see blue and white and the keys in the ignition. “Okay,” I said, more grounded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, hands on my knees now to keep them from shaking.

Silence for a minute when I looked back at the other boat. They were fine. No one was drowning. I wasn’t drowning. I was on the boat and Harry was on the boat.

The sun had sunk lower now, almost meeting the horizon when I met his eyes again.

“When did he die?”

“What?”

“Your brother.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He plucked at his lower lip, he dropped my gaze for a second and then sighed. “It’s okay, Cat.”

I felt the water in my eyes at that, let my head swivel side to side to argue his claim. “No,” I said. “It’s not okay. This is why I don’t talk about it.”

“Maybe that’s why this is happening, then. Maybe you get like this because you refuse to talk about it.”

I pulled away from him, angry at his accusation and the way he sounded like he knew me better than he did.

“Unless the two ten-year-olds in the frame above the guest bath are just random people,” he shrugged. “That’s Cameron, right?”

I was caught--unsure where to go and stuck on a boat with him. I didn’t look at him, kept my eyes on the floor and nodded slowly.

He repeated his original question. “When did he die?”

“The summer before senior year of high school. He drowned.”

A breath of air escaped from his lips, like he’d expected a different answer. Cancer, maybe. A terminal illness or something less violent and avoidable.

“Were you--with him when it happened?”

I wiped at my eyes, wishing the tears would stop and the memories would, too. “In the boat--we were drunk.”

He nodded, his focus solely on me when he leaned forward. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“You weren’t there,” I said quickly, defensively. “You have no clue what happened.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t. But I know it’s not your fault.”

I cried harder at that, vision blurred when I nodded. “It was, Harry--I didn’t realize how long he’d been underwater. I was too drunk.”

“It’s called an accident for a reason.”

“You’re not supposed to know any of this,” I reminded, eyeing him skeptically when I pulled the towel up to cover myself more. “Niall doesn’t know. Miles doesn’t know. No one knows.”

“Does Jules?”

I nodded. “Cause I’m a fucking moron and got too drunk one night.”

He laughed a little. “Why’ve you been hiding it?”

“Cause college was the first time I was just me. Not Catherine and Cameron, not one of two. I was just me for the first time and it was okay--it wasn’t sad or tragic that I was just me. I wanted it to be normal.”

He nodded in understanding, offered to drive us back to the dock if I showed him how. My parents were upstairs for the night, enough space for us to sit at the counter and heat up leftovers that Marta had made while we were out. He listened when I talked about the nightmares and the flashbacks, followed me up the stairs and nodded solemnly when I made him promise to not tell the others.

He echoed his sentiment on the boat: it’s not your fault. He brushed a piece of hair behind my ear before he leaned in and kissed me outside my bedroom door, softer than before, and most importantly, sober.

He followed me over to the bed, his touch gentle and warm when we slipped under the sheets. It was easy--slow and careful, not like the time before. He made me feel grounded, actually in the moment for the first time in a long time. He didn’t know it, but he made me feel seen.

Something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

It felt different to wake up beside him, knowing he knew and knowing he still thought I was a decent human. I looked over to see him, eyelids fluttered against his cheek when I stirred.

A buzzing on the nightstand grabbed my attention, though, his phone vibrating with an incoming call when the morning sun crept in. A stomach dropping worse than ever, a shiver down my spine when I saw her name, a picture of the two of them side by side.

Incoming call: Lila DiPretto

table of contents | join the tag list + talk to me | the playlist

author’s note: wowowowowowoooooww! A doozy of a chapter I hope none of you hate me too much for all of the emotion in this one! Things are heating up and now Harry knows Cat’s secret.....shit can only get weirder from here!

taglist: @mellamolayla @meganlikesfandoms @afterstylesmadeit @sing-me-a-song-harry @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfics-xx @shawnsblue @avipshamitra @a-secretyoucankeep @groovybaybee @nearbyou @blueviiolence @kiwicherryharry @thurhomish @bopbopstyles @live-at-the-forum @ajayque @mleestiles @ashbabao @anssu-amry @odetostep @bemib @caritocp @ursogoldenshan @rainbowbutterflyboy @bubblegumstyles7 @1142590m @winter-soldier-007 @beingsolonely @sloanferg @ivanacats @mumplans @wastedsweetcreature @harryssugarhigh @wanderlustiing @sunflowers-styles @g0bl1nqueen @stepping-into-the-light @kara-246 @stilljosiegrossie @harrys-cherrry

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years

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It's that time once again when Diabolical plays in my head on loop.

Can I please get fic where Hels gets back on hermitcraft server? Causing some shenanigans and general trouble?

This was so much fun to write, thank you!! It also ended up being WAY more angsty than I expected but I’m sure you’ll enjoy it anyway, my friend :) Slight CW: minor descriptions of injuries

...

Welsknight had been avoiding his nether portal as much as possible since he saw his doppelganger disappear through it. Something about the formerly harmless particles and whooshing noise when he walked past it now just about gave him an anxiety attack every time he walked past it. Once, when Jevin popped out of it to say hello just hours after Helsknight had left, Wels had reacted so violently that Jevin was STILL wary around him all these months later.

Nobody used his portal anymore. He made sure of that.

One sunny day, he finally worked up the courage to go to the shopping district, something he hadn’t dared to do in weeks in case something happened. He went straight past his own portal and flew all the way to Etho’s; there was no way he was going to use the portal his evil clone went through to go back to the hell dimension from which he had come.

The shopping district had changed a lot in the weeks Wels had been avoiding it. He couldn’t help staring around at the myriad of new shops that had sprung up. It almost seemed like an entirely new place.

As Wels entered the barge, he found another Hermit already inside, browsing the chest full of golden carrots.

“Hi, Joe,” said Wels politely, unable to hide a smile at the sight of his old friend.

Joe turned and gave him a wave. “Howdy, Wels. Haven’t seen you around here for a few weeks.”

“Yeah, it’s been… a while. Just been busy, that’s all.” Wels awkward;y indicated the chest. “You, uh… buying stuff?”

“Nah, I’m not dealing with diamonds this season. I thought Grian might be open to some kind of trading system using stuff other than diamonds but he hasn’t responded to my message yet, so in the meantime, I’m-.” He broke off with a frown. “Okay, I think I might have forgotten to actually send the message.”

Wels chuckled. “You’re busy too, huh? You only start forgetting stuff when you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

Joe matched his chuckle. “I’ve got quite a few projects going at the moment, yes. You wanna come over to my base sometime and I’ll show you what I’m working on?”

“That sounds nice, Joe, thanks.”

At that moment, the sound of a firework going off nearby caused both of them to look up. A second later, a figure glided through the door and landed neatly on the ground, his elytra closing as he took a few steps further into the room. “Hey, Wels,” Etho said, giving a friendly wave. “Man, you really got here fast.”

Wels frowned at his friend. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I just saw you over by Shade-E-E’s a minute ago. You said hello to me and everything.”

“That…” Wels’s heart skipped a beat. “That wasn’t me.”

Etho frowned back. “Well, then… Someone must’ve stolen a spare set of armour or something, cuz it looked exactly like you.”

“Oh…” Blinking very fast, Wels let out a nervous breath. “Oh, boy… Please don’t tell me he’s back…”

Etho and Joe exchanged a confused look. “Who?” asked Joe.

Wels considered either making something up or dismissing his comment, but looking at the concerned faces of two of his best friends on the server, he decided to tell the truth. “The evil clone of myself that Beef and I accidentally created who ran off into the nether after I beat him in a rap battle when he tried to destroy the server.”

Etho stared at him with wide eyes.

“I thought it might be something like that,” said Joe, nodding.

“How can you possibly have been expecting that?” Wels said in disbelief.

Joe shrugged. “I’ve heard weirder.”

“Well… anyway. His name is Helsknight and he’s from a nether-like dimension called Hels, apparently. I thought I’d driven him back to where he came from but I should’ve known he wouldn’t stay away for long.”

“To be frank, beating him in a rap battle isn’t quite as definitive as beating him in PVP,” said Joe.

Wels scowled. “The last time I tried PVP, you dropped an anvil on my head from a great height.”

“Oh yeah.” Joe snickered. “I did.”

“Leaving that aside,” said Etho, “it seems there’s an evil clone of you loose on the server, so we should probably deal with that. Helsknight, you said his name is?”

Wels nodded. “He looks exactly like me except his eyes are red, his armour is slightly greyer than mine, and his hair is a darker shade of blond.”

“Ohh, I noticed the darker armour,” said Etho. “I just thought it was the shade from my shop. I guess we’d better go find him, huh?”

“Yeah, I need to find him before he causes any more chaos. You guys should probably warn the other Hermits so they-.”

“No, we’re coming with you to find him,” Etho interrupted.

“It’ll be quicker if the three of us look together,” Joe added. “Plus, I’ve never met an evil clone before, so it would be rather thrilling to do so.”

Wels frowned at his friends. “Are you sure? He’s really dangerous. I don’t know exactly what he’s capable of, but he’s from a hellfire dimension, so...”

“As sure as the day is long,” replied Joe, patting his friend on the shoulder. “You need our help and we aren’t gonna abandon you.”

As Etho nodded, Wels gave a small smile. “Thank you, guys. I really appreciate it.”

“No worries. So where should we look first?” asked Etho.

“Well…” Wels thought for a moment. “He’s probably trying to cause some shenanigans on the server. If we check certain prominent places on the server, we’ll probably find him trying to lure me out somehow.”

“I’ll check the rest of the shopping district, then,” said Joe. “He might still be here.”

“I’ll have a look round the nether hub and the Upside Down,” Etho added. “You said he’s from a nether-like dimension so he might gravitate there. What about you, Wels?”

“I’m going to Bdubs’s castle,” said Wels. “It’s the most medieval build on the server, so if he isn’t there now, he’ll end up there eventually.”

“Okay, but be careful, Wels,” Etho said softly. “Don’t do anything reckless.”

“I won’t.”

With that, the group split up.

Wels flew straight over to Bdubs’s base. As he got closer, he couldn’t help marvelling at the sheer size and grandeur of the cliff and the castle sitting atop it. It was one of the grandest bases on the servers, so Wels felt sure he would find his clone here.

He landed atop the cliff and started looking around. As he explored further, he spotted the person he was looking for standing at the entrance to Bdubs’s castle.

“If you’re looking for your little friend Bdoubleo, he’s in the nether,” crowed Helsknight. “I watched him go through his portal.”

Wels glared up at his doppelganger. “You know I’m not looking for Bdubs.”

“Are you here to rap battle with me again, then?” Helsknight grinned. “I warn you: I’ve been practising.”

Shaking his head, Wels drew his sword. “No, Hels. I’m going to do what I should have done in the first place.”

Helsknight sighed and drew his own sword. “So boring. Come on, then.”

His doppelganger’s relaxed, indifferent manner sent a bolt of anger straight into Wels. Letting out a yell, he charged to attack.

Their battle lasted at least ten minutes, though to Wels, it felt like hours. He poured all his energy into his swings, attacking his evil clone with all the rage and fear that had threatened to consume him since Helsknight had disappeared into the nether all those months ago. He was done letting his negative emotions control his life.

Finally, Wels managed to knock Helsknight’s sword out of his hand and kick him to the ground, aiming his own sword at his evil clone’s neck.

Helsknight simply grinned evilly up at him. “You gonna kill me, Welsy? I wouldn’t do it if I were you; we Hels Hermits only get stronger when we die. If you kill me, I’ll come back with a vengeance. We have a special lava fountain in Hels that can-.”

“Oh, shut up,” snapped Wels suddenly. “I’m not going to kill you, but not because of any stupid threats you make. I don’t care what you have in Hels. I’m not going to kill you, because I’m merciful. But if you ever come back here again, I won’t be so forgiving. Do you understand?”

Helsknight simply stared back at him. “You’ve got some great friends here, Welsy. Better hold onto them in case something… happens.”

Wels narrowed his eyes. “You stay away from them. I swear to god, if you-.”

He hadn’t realised that he had lowered his hand slightly until Helsknight moved, fast as lightning, and kicked the sword out of his hand. Before he could react, Helsknight jumped up and grabbed him by the throat. He took two steps forward and threw Wels over the edge of the cliff.

The fall seemed to take only a split second, but the cliff was tall enough that Wels’s left leg broke immediately upon impacting the ground. He lay still in shock, too numb to cry, despite the searing pain in his leg, which was folded painfully underneath his body.

Helsknight appeared above him and effortlessly picked him up off the ground, again by the throat. He grinned, his face less than a foot from Wels’s.

“You know what else we have in Hels?” Helsknight taunted. “Fire. Lots of fire.”

He lifted his free hand, which was now engulfed in burning hot flames. Wels weakly struggled in his grip, trying to lean as far away from his counterpart as possible, as Helsknight slowly moved the fire closer to his face, taunting him with the fact that he couldn’t escape it.

The flames started to burn his face. He held his breath, trying not to let his pain show, trying not to give Helsknight the satisfaction.

But finally, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He let out a cry at the burning agony across the side of his face.

Helsknight barked a laugh and retracted his hand, as if all he’d been after was a reaction from Wels. “Maybe you should stick with the rap battles next time.”

With that, he dropped Wels on the ground and walked away.

Wels lay where he fell, unable to move through the burning pain in his face and leg. His chest moved quickly up and down as he struggled for oxygen, still winded from the battle.

“Wels!” yelled a familiar voice from somewhere behind him.

Seconds later, Joe appeared on his right and Etho on his left, their worried faces peering down at him.

“Is he okay?” Joe gasped.

“H-His face…!” Etho gently touched Wels’s burnt cheek. Wels could feel his friend’s cool fingers trembling. “Wels, can you hear me?”

Wels couldn’t speak, couldn’t reassure his friends that he would be okay. His leg would heal. His face, he wasn’t sure yet. The only thing he knew wouldn’t heal was the crushing feeling of failure, of knowing that because of said failure, an evil clone of himself was still running around the server, potentially hurting people he cared about. The pain in his leg and face served as an agonising reminder that he wasn’t strong enough to stop his doppelganger.

How was he supposed to protect other people when he couldn’t even protect himself?

#hermitcraft #welsknight #helsknight #joehills #etho #long post #angsty writing #Vaunna writes

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isolemnlyswearpevensie · 4 years

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He Decided Purple Just Wasn’t For Him | Sirius Black x Reader

Warnings: HARD ANGST without a happy ending, death, mourning, drugs and drug abuse, dark themes

Time/Era: Marauders era

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: After James and Lily die, Y/N watches Sirius fall into insanity.

Request: Hey could you possibly write young!Sirius Black x reader imagine based on song Colours by Halsey? Thanks a lot xx

A/N: I’m sorry in advance. Sirius doesn’t go to Azkaban in this.

masterlist | read on ao3

Sirius was the most vibrant soul Y/N had ever met. Everything down to his smile was full of color. She absolutely adored him. Sirius could touch her arm or look in her direction, and her dark blue soul would turn into a light lilac.

Y/N came from a family very similar to Sirius’; she was the heir of a very strict pureblood family, and she was expected to follow her family’s expectations. She had lived up to the expectations perfectly until she hit the ripe old age of eleven. She was sorted into Gryffindor alongside Sirius and suddenly the Noble House of L/N had no daughter. You are no daughter of mine. A howler was sent on the second day of school. The red envelope twisted into the hideous face of Y/N’s mother and filled the entire Great Haul with her shrewd voice. You are an embarrassment to the name L/N. I have never been more disappointed. Y/N felt her cheeks heat up and tears well up in her eyes. This was the most embarrassed she had ever been. That was until a young boy sitting down the table opened his howler. How despicable. I knew you were a problem child but I never thought you would betray your only family like this. The entire Slytherin table snickered at this. The woman’s voice was very similar to Y/n’s mother’s. It was thin and nasally but it spoke with a keen sharpness. When you return home don’t expect to be welcomed with open arms. The young boy looked over at Y/N with a matching sorrowful expression.

When it came to leave the Great Hall, Sirius came over and spoke to Y/N. She was a good few inches taller than him at this point and he had to raise his head to look her in her eyes. “I’m sorry about that,” He spoke as he rocked back and forth on his heels. “What happened, I mean.” Y/N smiled with half of her mouth, making one of her cheeks puff. “Me too, but hey, at least we can get murdered together.” This made a small smile grace the boy’s face. For some reason, it made Y/N feel warm.

Sirius’s hair covered his eyes and curled in perfect spirals over his forehead. And no matter how sad he was in the moment, he still had a brilliant sparkle in his eye. Y/N had heard a lot about the Black family as Sirius and Y/N’s parents were friends. She knew that they were one of the most regal families within the wizarding world. Y/N didn’t have the biggest expectations for meeting Sirius.

Sirius had also heard a ton about Y/N’s family in passing; they were known for owning part of and sponsoring Gringotts bank. Her father was rumored to be in special talk with some of the goblins, thus making the family name worth millions. Sirius didn’t have the best first impression of Y/N, but seeing what happened in the Great Hall, his hopes of friendship rose. Finally, maybe someone would be able to understand some of the deep thoughts whirling inside his head. “I’m Sirius Black.”

“I’m Y/N L/N, nice to meet you.” ~

“Do you think he likes me?” Y/N asked Sirius one night during their fifth year. The boy had been picking feathers out of a pillow in the common room, but his fingers stopped immediately at the sound of his companion’s voice.

Y/N couldn’t help but admire how he looked in this moment. It was 4 am on a Tuesday; the fire was mere ashes in the fireplace and the half-moon shone through the common room window. A moonbeam reflected across Sirius’ features and cast a deep shadow across the bridge of his nose. The low light defined the dark bun on the back of his head and the various fly away hairs that framed his face. He was effortlessly beautiful, even in his striped boxers and ratty Beatles t-shirt. Especially, even.

Something about the picture in front of Y/N made her feel safe. Sirius sat upright with one leg lazily draped over the arm of the couch, pillow in his lap. Maybe the casual deminer of her best friend comforted her, or maybe it was the lack of school uniform. She didn’t know. Sirius’ head lifted and he made direct eye contact with his best friend.

“Does who like you? The giant squid?” Y/N grew bashful and twisted in her chair a bit.

“No, love, Moony.” Y/N’s cheeks dusted a light rose color, which was only intensified as Sirius remained silent. A deep hatred for Remus Lupin filled his stomach.

“No,” Sirius spat, throwing the pillow onto the cushion next to him. “He doesn’t.”

Y/N is taken aback by the sudden aggression towards her. She crosses her arms and sits back in the chair. “Why not? I mean, he keeps walking me to class, he gave me some candy, he-”

“No, he doesn’t. Honestly, Y/N/N, he’s just being friendly.”

“Are you sure?” Y/N’s face twisted in disappointment. “He hasn’t really done those things for any other girl.” “I know him better than you do, Y/N. Trust me.” Y/N couldn’t describe it, but her beautiful, colorful Sirius turned to gray at the moment.

Remus and Y/N ended up dating for the majority of their 5th year. It was sickenly sweet; the two complimented each other perfectly. Remus loved her with all of his heart, and she loved his company.

This was around the time Sirius started to distance himself from Y/N. She had no idea what she did wrong. One moment the two of them were staying up late in the common room just to talk, the next moment he wouldn’t even meet her eye. “It’s something at home, it’s not you,” Remus had assured her. That’s the thing, though. He would always tell her about his home life.

Y/N began to feel empty without Sirius in her life. She would see him in the common room or hanging out with James, and her stomach would rise to her throat. After a while, this began to impact her relationship with Remus. It started off small, but soon escalated into large arguments.

“Can you stop staring at him? You’re here with me,” Remus said one afternoon as they ate at The Three Broomsticks. They were out celebrating their seven-month anniversary and Sirius just happened to be on a date with a Ravenclaw girl. The two sat four booths away from Remus and Y/N, and they were in Y/N’s direct line of vision. The girl was chatting animately while Sirius pretended to listen. Y/N turned to look at her boyfriend.

“I’m not staring at him, love, I’m just thinking.”

“Yeah, thinking about him. Come on, give me a break. It’s our anniversary.”

“I am not thinking of him, Rem. I’m just daydreaming.” Remus pressed his back into the booth and covered his face with one of his large hands. Y/N loved his hands, but they were poor in comparison to Sirius’.

“I don’t deserve this,” Remus said, gripping the edge of the table and pulling himself to a standing position. “I deserve someone who loves me as much as I love them. And you love Sirius.”

Y/N stood up too. “I don’t love Sirius, I love you.”

Remus lets out a single, harsh laugh. “Listen, Y/N, you deserve happiness and it’s very obvious I can’t give that to you,” He looks over to Sirius’ table to see the boy’s gaze fixed on him. “But he can. Please, save me the additional heartbreak and just get on with it. For the love of Merlin.”

“Does that mean you’re breaking up with me?” Y/N sniffled. Remus had been her first boyfriend, and to have it end so badly was a shame. She couldn’t lie and say that she wasn’t expecting it, but it still stung.

“Think of it more like...setting you free.” Remus leaned down and kissed her cheek before walking out the door. Y/N now knew what it felt to be gray.

As time went on, Y/N’s gray soul started to morph back into dark blue. She thought a lot about what Remus had told her, setting you free. Maybe he was right, she didn’t exactly know. Y/N spent a lot of time at the lake. There was an old, splintered bench near the shore that had an excellent view of the water. Especially at night. The moon would reflect against the water and make the surface look like liquid silver; sparkling, and swirling against the dark depths.

“Hey,” A familiar voice said one night. His voice was smooth and silky like he had just finished drinking a warm cup of tea. Y/N could sit and listen to him talk for hours.

“Hi, Sirius.” Y/N responded, pulling her knee to her chest and tucking it under her chin. She suddenly felt insecure under the gaze she once felt most comfortable.

“I heard you and Moony broke up,” He said casually, as if he was discussing what he had for dinner.

“Yeah, you watched it happen.”

An awkward silence fell over the two.

“I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. Y/N sucked in a harsh breath. “Yeah, why did you do that?” There was a pause.

“I don’t know, Y/N.”

“Yes, you do. Don’t lie to me.” She turned her head to look at him. The moon was casting a dark shadow over his nose, like that night in the common room. Y/N observed how it danced across his skin as his head moved. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and Y/n could see a hint of the colorful boy she had known for years.

“It’s embarrassing to admit if I’m being frank,” His fingers fidgeted with a loose thread on his shirt. “I guess I was a bit jealous of Remus.” “You, Sirius Black, was jealous of Remus?” She couldn’t believe his words.

“I know, it’s stupid.” His back slouched against the splintering wood. It pressed into his skin through his clothing but he didn’t want to move and disrupt the still atmosphere.

“It’s not stupid, love. I just missed you. Besides, my relationship wasn’t exactly the best, there was nothing to be jealous of.”

“What do you mean?” His eyes met Y/N’s for the first time since he sat down.

“I don’t know, I think the entire time I was wishing it was someone else? Every time we kissed I wanted it to be someone else. Every time he called me “baby” or “love” or “darling,” I wanted it to be someone else.” Y/N looked directly into Sirius’ eyes. “Every time we fucked I wanted it to be someone else.” Sirius’ eyes grew dark.

“Who did you want it to be, Y/N?” She scooted closer to the boy and turned so her body was facing his straight on. She reached out her hand and cupped his cheek, her thumb running against his lower lip. “I think you know the answer to that question,” “Say it, I need to hear you say it.” “You, Sirius. I wanted it to be you.”

The look in Sirius’ eyes was the most colorful look Y/N had ever seen.

“I think it’s him,” Sirius paced across the floor of his and Y/N’s bedroom. “Remus has to be the spy.”

Y/N placed a gentle hand on her boyfriend’s shoulder and led him to their shared bed. He was wearing all black clothes, having just returned from an Order mission with James. Y/N wondered if Lily was dealing with the same sort of conspiracy from her husband. She thought of Lily bouncing baby Harry on her hip while James paced across their living room floor.

“Remus is not the spy, darling,” Y/N ran a comforting hand across Sirius’ back. His muscles were tensed into tight knots.

“It has to be someone close to us, and we haven’t even heard from him in weeks. He’s out to get our godson because James didn’t choose him. Or maybe he was manipulated by the werewolves. Completely brainwashed.” “It’s not Remus, end of conversation.” Y/N glanced out the window at all of the Halloween decorations. She loved this time of year. The colors were gorgeous, the atmosphere was spooky, and the weather was amazing.

“Prongs said him, Lily and Harry are going into hiding,” Sirius said. He took hold of Y/N’s hand and began playing with her ring-clad fingers. Still not the ring she yearned for, but she was more than patient.

“Hiding? What do you mean?”

“Apparently, You-Know-Who is planning on killing Harry.” Sirius looked solemn. “They asked me to be secret keeper, you know. I couldn’t do it.” “Kill Harry? Why him out of everyone? He’s just a baby…”

“I guess there was some prophecy that included a boy born in July, and it matches with Harry perfectly. The Longbottom’s kid, too.” Sirius let his back hit the mattress and his hands ran down his face. How Y/N loved his hands.

“Who’s the secret keeper if it’s not you?”

“I’m not sure. James picked someone,” Sirius lied. “It’s not all bad, I guess. Keeps the spotlight off of you. Us.”

“It doesn’t matter if the spotlight is on me or not, you know that. I would happily die for any one of you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of, love.”

Sirius was with Y/N on Halloween night. He insisted that the two of them hit the hay early that night as he had been awake for almost 72 hours due to a particularly hard mission. He never spoke to Y/N about his missions, but she knew that this one would take a long time for him to process. Sirius had fallen asleep at such an early hour, that Y/N hadn’t even eaten dinner yet. Still, she tucked him into their bed, kissed his forehead, and turned out the light.He had only been asleep for almost four hours when the doorbell rang. Y/N was finishing a cup of tea in the kitchen when it happened. Puzzled, she grabbed her wand and opened the door. “Ms. Y/L/N,” Albus Dumbledore greeted, pushing his way into the small house. “May I help you?” Y/N had never been particularly fond of the old professor, and his presence made an uncomfortable feeling overwhelm her senses.

“I actually come baring some unfortunate news.” The way he talked made Y/N uneasy. Why was he so casual about it? “May I ask where Mr. Black is?”

“He’s asleep upstairs, I am sure I can handle the news by myself.” “As you wish,” The old man takes a deep breath. “The Potters have been ambushed…”

“Babe, you have to eat something.” Y/N said, pushing a bowl of cereal towards Sirius. It had been six months since James and Lily were murdered. While it was hard for Y/N, it was devastating for Sirius. His smoking had taken on a mind of his own, acting as a gateway drug. He had attempted to hide his activity from Y/N, but that proved to be difficult when he started using every single day. Whether that was alcohol or drugs, he was just happy to be sedated and numb.

More times than not, he would lash out at Y/N. He blamed her for Lily and James’ death, saying that she should have talked him out of rejecting the secret keeper job. And when she would find him on the bathroom floor, eyes bloodshot with his head in the toilet, he blamed her for not taking care of him.

The thing Sirius didn’t seem to understand was that Y/N was mourning just as much as he was. Similar to his situation with James, Lily had taken Y/N into her wing and added her to the family. It felt like a knife being stabbed through her heart when Albus Dumbledore had declared Lily dead. Sweet Lily Evans with the quick mouth and heart of gold. Lily Potter, the woman who dropped everything to protect her son and loved her husband more than anything, was dead. Even just the thought made Y/N’s stomach twist in knots.

All of the color within Sirius and Y/N’s lives had vanished. Any beauty had been ripped from their brains and replaced with deep feelings of regret, guilt, and depression. At month four, Y/N decided to visit a therapist to reorganize her brain. She had tried to get Sirius to come with her, but he wouldn’t move off of their sofa.

“Stop bossing me around,” Sirius responded, pushing the bowl away from his body. His mind seemed to be clearer today, but his skin still had a sickly yellow hue and his eyes were sunken in. Somehow, she had managed to convince him to shower the day prior, so he did not reek of body odor.

“Sirius, please. You haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.” Y/N was trying to cope as well as she could. Not only was she mourning her best friends, but she was also trying to watch over Sirius. Between therapist visits and tending to her lover, she had taken up journaling and meditation. It wasn’t a cure, but it sure did help.

“You know what? I’m tired of you acting like you’re so much better than me, with your fancy therapist visits and mental health bullshit. You’re not better than me, Y/N.” His voice was loud, but she knew it was just his sick mind talking. She tried to take everything he said with a grain of salt.

“I don’t think I’m better than you, baby. What I do think, though, is you need to eat your cereal.” She pushed the bowl closer to him and he snatches the spoon from inside the bowl.

He shoves multiple heaping spoonfuls into his mouth. “Fine, if it will make you get off my back.” Small bits of chewed cereal spray all over the table as he spoke.

“Y/N, I think I need help,” Sirius said one evening, an empty bottle of vodka in his hand. His cheek was laying on her shoulder and his drool was dripping down her shirt. He was dressed in striped boxers and a raggedy Beatles t-shirt, but this time, the fabric had various stains and burn marks. Y/N wiped some of the sweat-soaked hair off of his forehead.

“Help with what, babe?”

He lifts the bottle in response. “I want to be happy again.”

The following day, Y/N contacted a drug rehab center. When they arrived, Y/N kissed Sirius’ cheek.

“I’m proud of you for getting help,” She whispered so only he could hear. Sirius looked as if he couldn’t understand what Y/N was saying.

“I don’t want to be here, Y/N. Please don’t make me.” His voice came out as a whimper, making Y/N’s eyes grow damp.

“I know, my love, but this place is going to help you.” Y/N wiped a tear from her cheek. “I love you.”

Sirius stayed in rehab for three months before he was released.

The first time Y/N saw him was magical; his hair was cut short, he had shaven his beard, his skin was back to its normal color and his eyes had regained their sparkle. He seemed to get his colors back. When Y/N ran to hug him, though, he didn’t hug back.

“Sirius! You look so good!” Y/N exclaimed, taking in the new look of her boyfriend.

“Thank you, you do too.” His voice was monotone and flat, his eyes landing on anything but hers.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think we need to talk, Y/N,” He led her to sit down on a bench outside of the rehabilitation center. He took a deep breath before continuing. “I’ve had a lot of time to think, and a lot of time to talk to different professionals. I don’t want you to take offense to what I’m about to say because it is anything but your fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, my therapists said I need to take a break from things that are bringing me distress so I can move on and heal.” He looked down at his hands. “And that’s James and Lily’s death. Y/N, every time I look at you I’m reminded of them and the good times we had. I think about how we’re Harry’s godparents. I think about how James always used to kiss your cheek to make me jealous. I think about you and them, Y/N.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” Y/N felt her entire world begin to collapse.

“I think we need time to heal separately, to deal with this in our own ways. I love you so much and I am so grateful for what you’ve done for me, but I need a break.”

Y/N felt her chest close and her shoulders shake with a sob. She got up from the bench quickly, pushing past Sirius and towards the parking structure.

She was no longer purple or even blue; she was the color of a thunderstorm. She was the color of a bad day, of paying taxes and skinning your knee. Y/N was the color of pain and she wasn’t sure if she would ever be purple again.

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popculturebuffet · 4 years

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The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck: The Last of the Clan McDuck! Review “It Was Worth THE Dime”

This is one of my faviorite comic book stories of all time. Given i’m a massive comics nerd, for both books and strips, that is the highest praise I can give this wonderful, epic, beautifully drawn and deeply emotoinal story. I first discovered it in the local library that had the second volume, and found the rest online at a now long dead fan site. And while it took me longer than I care to admit to really dig into Duck Comics, and even now i’ve only scratched the surface, I can say without a doubt this story is the reason I’m so deeply attached to Scrooge as a character, and that I was excited as I was for Ducktales 2017. This comic showed me just what Scrooge McDuck should be at his core as a character, and showed me what a wonderful character that is. So with all that glowing praise as you can guess i’ve been wanting to cover this for years, and even considered though back when I was more primarily a comic book reviewer last year. Any time i’ve reviewed stuff before now, i’ve considered it, and with Scrooge’s Sisters Hortense and Matilda presumably and definitely debuting on Ducktales soon, and it’s about damn time, the timing could not be better or clearer to dig into this utter triumph. But before we can take a look at the story itself we naturally have to take a look at the man behind it: Writer and Artist Don Rosa. Don Rosa is easily one of the best Duck Comics writer out there, seen by many as only second to his own faviorite duck comics writer and God of Ducks, Carl Barks. For those 1 of you who do not know, Barks was the man who created pretty much everything in the duck universe comics wise and a bit in animation too: He created Daisy, Scrooge, Gladstone, Magica, The Beagle Boys, The Junior Woodchucks, Gyro, Little Bulb, Glomgold, Rockerduck, and the list goes on. While he didn’t make EVERY duck, he made so many that it’d be impossible to imagine either version of Ducktales being possible without him. So of course Rosa was a fan and while he took up the family buisness, he was also an artist and duck comics fanboy on the side. So when, even if it meant a paycut, the opportunity to actually write and draw them came up, he lept at it and thus became one of their publishers go to guys, even if said publisher published the stories overseas where the Duck Comics are far more popular and still going to this day, and ironically where most duck comics printed nowadays get their stories from. Rosa was known for his meticous historical research and gorgeous art that he took his time drawing to get just perfect and showed on the page. The man has easily some of hte best and most detailed duck art around and I still haven’t found a duck artist that can match him.. and if you have or found one close i’d genuinely love to see that. He is a genuinely talented, spirited guy who was sadly mistreated by disney and that, coupled with tragically failing eyesight, eventually ended his career. He’s still around and I genuinely hope to meet him some day as he still does conventions. The man is not without fault: I don’t get his hatred of superhero comics, as while I get them overshadowing funnybooks and that around the time of his career they were in decline, but it’s just as unfair to write off Superhero comics as mindless. garbage as it is for people to write off the Duck Comics as “only for kids” and I genuinely wish he’d see that and see how the medium has evolved so much since then. I also grumble a bit as his refusal to allow anything besides barks into his bubble, and having to be forced to include fethry on the family tree, but that’s more personal preference. I like using as much material as you got. IT’s why i’ve wanted to, and hopefully will eventually get around to, write a sonic fanfic using bits of all the various universes that for legal, ken penders being an absolute waste of a human being, and sega being stupid reasons can’t be used anymore. I like taking everything in a franchise and putting it in a blender and it’s why I love the reboot. But there’s nothing wrong with taking things as is, not stepping on toes canon wise, but still being awesome. We’re just diffrent people and that’s okay. And a lot of his fanboy showing actually lead to REALLY good things: Goldie O’Gilt was a one off character, and while used ocasoinally overseas, didn’t really pick up as a character again until a combination of Ducktales 87 and Rosa’s work with her, as he always loved the character, and fleshing her out lead to her being used more, and gaining a sizeable fandom. He also gained the Cablleros an even bigger fandom by giving them two stories of their own, and fleshing them out a bit more. And this very comic is the peak of that, taking EVERY mention of scrooge’s past from various backstories to set up adventures, every tiny scrap, and to his credit going to both Barks Himself and various other Barks Experts Rosa was friends with to check his work, especially difficult given he likey had to find these stories in issue or pullt hem from disney archives, and complied it into one long epic that not only uses all this info effortlessly, but spins a compelling story that gives us a clear vision of what Scrooge should be, how he became the man he is, and how he lost himself only to find himself again with the help of three precocious boys and a cynical 30 something duck. So taint all bad is what i’m saying. As for how this got started, thankfully rosa himself provided the origin story for this project in the back of the volume of his works that contained the first 7 chapters of life and times, as well as detailed notes for every chapter. At the time Rosa was working for Egmont, the big european publisher who handles Disney’s much larger european comics market, hence why most of his stories appeared years earlier in Europe before debuting here. The american publisher at the time , and an old friend of his, called Rosa with an idea: A 12 issue Maxi-Series focusing on Scrooge’s history, since at the time they were all the rage.. and really even today mini series are still a viable market and many indie titles just have several minis instead of an ongoing. So it wasn’t a bad idea, Rosa just simply offered a tweak: He’d tell his publisher at Egmont about the idea, and let her get a crack team of writers and artists to do this proper, and thus Disney could publish it for free once it was done and for no extra cost. Rosa gave his publisher a fax detaling both the idea and the fact that it needed to be done right, given to the best person possible, and done with the greatest care. She agreed.. and naturally handed it to him, as he admits he hoped. She made the right call, a legend was born and here we are. One last bit before the read more and before I get to the first story itself at last: Since barks wrote a lot of side stories that fit into the canon, I COULD slot them in between chapters, but have instead chosen to review the original 12 part story as was, and do the various side stories and two epilogues, the utterly fantastic “Dream of a Life Time”, easiliy one of my faviorite comics ever, and the also really great “Letter From Home”, which will likely on some level be the basis for the upcoming at the time of this review “Battle for Castle McDuck!”, after completing the story. In other words i’m probably going to be at this for years. so join me under the read more won’t you as I begin the journey of a thousand miles with a single step as we look at the humble start of a legend.

We begin, after a fun short teaser with present Day scrooge saying his past is no one’s buisness only to get hit with an oh yeah?, with a scrap book title for the issue, something I want to bring up since while I got that’s what it was what I never got, and must’ve glanced over when I first read rosa’s notes when I got this copy, was that it isn’t SCROOGE’S scrap book, but his sister Matilda’s who dutifully and happily catologued her brother’s adventures. It’s a really sweet moment.. and something that will hit VERY hard when we reach Chapter 11. If you haven’t read this story or heard of it.. .that’s this story’s equilvent of “Last Crash of the Sunchaser” and clearly Frank and Matt drew from that story a bit for it, but we can get more into the parallels when we get there. A smaller but fun note is that Rosa had specific coin drawing templates, for different indentions and what not he used, and used them for the coins in these intro bits. Yes he admitted he has a problem and yes that’s damn impressive anyway.

It’s Scrooge’s 10th birthday, and his father Fergus has taken him up to see the family land, Dismal Downs to tell him of the mighty Clan McDuck and show him the ancestral lands, graveyards and Castle. He admits to having taken this long because the Clan McDuck currently lives in Glasgow so it’s kind of a long trip just to show your son “Hey look at the decay and rot that’s our ancestral homeland”. The Clan is on hard times, as a bad shipping deal, the backbone of a rather good barks story and I wont’ be interjecting for every barks reference as it’d get rather tiring though for what it’s worth Rosa provided tons of detailed footnotes in the back of each Fantagraphics collection, so good on him. Speaking of which though they do include 10 pages of Mc Duck family history that was supposed to open this story.. until Rosa’s editor wisely pointed out the story isn’t about them but scrooge and having read his roug draft, yeah.. there’s a good gag here and there, as well as “Dirty” Dingus McDuck, scrooge’s Grandpa and the reason Dewey is cursed with that middle name. Why anyone thought Dingus was a good name is beyond me, nor why Donald thought that was a good middle name back in 2009 is again, beyond me. Good on Don though for getting that past the censors. But yeah with no money they can’t buy the land back and they were scared off it years ago by a mystical ghost dog, the hound of the whiskervilles. There is treasure in the castle, Sir Quackly’s gold, but he accidently sealed himself into a wall while sealing his treasure in there. Their interrupted by the town assholes, the Whiskervilles who have been grazing sheep on the land and are naturally behind the hound, using the sound of it to scare off Fergus once they realize he’s a McDuck. Because apparently you can keep a Scooby Doo style hoax up for Centuries if you don’t have meddling kids around. Who knew. Back in Glasgow, we meet the rest of Scrooge’s family: His Uncle Jake, his sisters Matilda and Hortense, and his mother Downy. Jake hasn’t really been mentioned at all in Ducktales and I know next to nothing about him, which given I share a name with the guy you’d THINK I would. I mean I know a decent amount about this Jake.

But nothing about who the hell Jake McDuck is or why he lives with his brother and his family. Here, you guys watch the dancing Jake, i’m going to probably do that for hours after this review is done, i’m going to go sort this out. Okay one google and finding the Scrooge Mcduck wiki page on him, Jake shows up here likely because he was referenced in the story “A Christmas For Shacktown” and apparently borrowed from Scrooge and never paid it back. Otherwise.. there’s not a lot about him and unlike the rest of Scrooge’s family he really dosen’t do much that I can remember. Except like 2017 Scrooge, he apparently has become extremely long lived, as Scrooge and Donald STILL think he’s alive in the 1950′s.. and likely is STILL alive in some form in the Don Rosa stories, given his take place after Barks and thus in the 40′s and 50′s where Barks stories were set. Hence why unlike the Reboot, Scrooge isn’t inexpecilbly over 210. But Jake McDuck sure as heck is. Maybe this highlander is a highlander.. you know the movie and tv show type. Maybe someone cut off his head. That’s what i’m going with.

This does bring me to another point about this story: While Barks gave all of scrooge’s family their names, it’s where Rosa got them after all, it’s Rosa who really made them into characters. Fergus as a loving father ashamed his family legacy has fallen and wanting his son to do better than him, Downy as an equally loving wife and mother, Matilda as his sweet and caring sister and later her brother’s moral center, and Hortense.. well here she’s just a babbling baby but her character will become clear and glorious as we go. She is adorable here though and we do get some great bits with her. Getting back to the plot now i’ve made my points, Jake is riled up wanting to understandably kick the Whiskerville’s asses with Scrooge, who even as a sweet innocent ten year old still has the family temper already, agreeing.. but Downy gently shoots them out pointing that two middle aged-ish men and a 10-year old just aren’t enough to fight an army of them and while she doesn’t mention it the fight would just tire them out for work and accomplish nothing as while it is the McDuck’s land the combination of the hound and the lack of money to move back means it’s pointless. She also mentions their younger brother Pothole, who went to America. This will be important later.

Scrooge storms off and Fergus laments, in a scene that’s more painful the more I think about it, how his clan has fallen, with he and his brother lamenting their chances at glory are long gone.. but Fergus has hope his son can do better, and for his son’s birthday makes him a shoeshine kit in the hopes of inspiring him to greatness. This scene still resonates since many of us are poor, struggling and not doing so good money wise. I’m sure many parents have doubts and regrets about not being able to do more for their kid.

Not only that but the story carefully avoids the trap of Fergus accidently being abusive by you know, pinning his family’s future on one 10 year old. While yes he is asking a lot of Scrooge, to restore their family name.. it’s very clear he mostly just wants his son to do better than him. Even if Scrooge was just slightly more successful, Fergus would likely be happy with that. He’s not using the legacy as a “This what you must be” like say the Gems in steven universe did for Steven with Rose’s Legacy, the kind where it sort of suffocates you till youc an make it your own. He’s just saying “this is what you can be” He believes his child can be great and simply once him to reach his full potetial and is simply giving him a means to hopefully do so, a simple home made shoe shine kit. While Jake scoffs, the narration notes the idea isn’t worth a dime.. it’s worth THE dime. The dime that would set Scrooge’s destiny in motion.

The next morning, Fergus goes to check up on his son and his new buisness but Scroogey’s having no luck and about ready to just quit, the poor child. Also Matilda is dragging her baby sister around like a doll and it’s entirely precious as it is funny.

But as for those Dorty Boots, Matilda wonders why her dad dosen’t just tell Scrooge that Burt the Ditch Digger is coming. Fergus tells her to quite and then explains his plan: he’s sending Burt to scrooge, with an American dime Fergus and Matilda found, to teach his son a lesson: By giving him a hard days work, he’ll teach him what hard work truly means.. and by having Burt “cheat” him with the American dime, it’ll give him the motivation to keep going and to nto be as wide eyed and trusting. It’s a well meaning if harsh lesson, and the kind you’d expect from 1900′s parenting and fits the origin well: Scrooge still earned his first money square, as he still did work.. but his getting cheated being a lesson dosen’t diminish what it taught scrooge, and helps flesh out what I talked about above, Fergus knowing his son has great potential he just needs inspiration to reach it. And instead of just telling him that he does a con job but it’s the 1900′s. This orign, and Fergus’ part in it would be entirely untouched in Ducktales 2017, the first scrooge based adaptation since this comic came out, and I bless them for it. Frank even said this comic was used as a bible by the writers and while theirs clear deviations, and we’ll get to that, they were mainly done for good reason, and it’s very clear that while scrooge’s history is very VERY diffrent in the reboot, the core of his past is still there.

So the plan is on and young scrooge spends half an hour killing himself to get Burt’s shoes clean before getting his dime.. and realizing he’s been had, makes this proud decleration that will be the bedrock of his entire life and character.

Scrooge being naturally stubborn as you can see takes his cheats a leson: There will always be hard honest work, and he will be there to do it and he’ll be tougher and sharper than anyone trying to cheat him out of his pay. Fergus’ plan has the intended effect, and Scrooge having learned a hard lesson now has the drive and determination we know him for. As for why it gives it to him.. I had to think on it a bit but it makes sense: For some a setback like this would make them quit.. for Scrooge it’s just proof he CAN find customers, he CAN do this job, or any at his hardest and instead takes this as a lesson to be prepared ot out think and outfight anyone who dares cheat him again, and to not earn his money by being the kind of guy who cheats a kid out of an honest days pay, but as a good honest duck like his father and his father before him. =He will make his money square so he can be the kind of person this seeming stranger SHOULD have been. Granted we’ll see Scrooge doesn’t end up as the best person at times but .. we’ll get there. So with the fire inside turned from a spark into the flame Scrooge soon got to work, and by the next panel we see he’s eventually worked his stand up from a small box given to him by his dad, to a three seater shoeshining bench, who he wipes all at once by stretching one of his mother’s girldes over a light pole, a detail I didn’t get the first time around but now love. Naturally being a good kind boy much like his Nephews, Scrooge always gave his proud father a portion of his earnings, if with a full receipt for tax purposes. Because he’s still scrooge after all. His dad wonders he did too good a job while Hortense glxbit’s in agreement.

As the years go on, a now tween Scrooge is eventually able to save up for a horse cart, and starts selling Fire Wood up in the city. He eventually realizes Peat, an earthy subtance found in bogs I only know about because I had to look it up for this review, is more profitable and with some snappy marketing moves into selling Peat for the rich instead, also showing the young lad already has a grasp of how to sell to obnoxious rich people.

But while his business is booming, our young hero can’t resist visiting his family’s ancestral home and longing for it, hoping one day to have it for himself and in a nice show of how despite his temper and tenacity forged over the last few years he’s still at hear the kind, sweet optimistic lad he was just a few pages ago, he decides to tidy up the Clan’s Cemetary while he’s here.

Unfortunately as proof that Donald and Della’s terrible luck comes from both sides of the family the Whiskervilles are sub-glomgold levels of human beings.. or Dogfaces in this case, and are digging up the McDuck Clan’s graves to hunt for treasure. Scrooge tries to simply do the smart thing and flee, but the asshole brigade catch sight of him and mistkaing him for a peat burgalar chase after him.. and spend WAY too much time and energy chasing a teenage boy over some fucking bog grass you clearly aren’t selling yourselves. I mean spare a thought for how dumb this is: They could easily sell of of that peat to put up a fence or chop down some trees to get the material if their really that concerned about someone getting in the bog. Then again this isn the 1800 and 1900′s where the child death toll was simply “Yes”, so they likely thought whose gonna notice one more dead child on our property?

Scrooge heads toward the castle and is gestured in by a friendly mystery duck who gladly shows him around and can tell he’s a McDuck just by look, showing the castle is still in glorious condition as the whiskervilles are too spooked to go in, hence why they didn’t chase Scrooge inside. I’d say being afraid of ghosts but not murdering a child is weird but these are the same guys who thought murdering a child was plan A. We’re not dealing with a brain trust is what i’m saying. So the mystery duck shows Scroogey around, showing off some colorful stories about his ancestors recycled from that scrapped prologue I mentioned. THe mystery man, who brushes off Scrooge thinking he’s a McDuck asks Scrooge what he’s doing to restore the family glory and while Scrooge points out he’s already working on it, Mystery Duck points out he’s still missing something: He has the drive and the dream, but peat and shoeshining, while getting him good money for his family, aren’t the thing you can build a fortune or a future off of. He then points out where Scrooge’s dime comes from: America.. and that gives the boy the idea to head to the states. As for what he could possibly DO there to start, the mystery guy mentions his uncle pothole. So Scrooge has the dream, the drive.. and now a plan: Go to america, work for his uncle on the riverboats, and work his way up from there till he finds his fortune and restores his family name. But while his future is settled, the present is still an issue and Scrooge wants to teach the child murder club a lesson and thus borrows, though MM wisely points out it’s all his property a horse and some armor, and stuffs the armor with peat. As for what his plan is.. welllll

That.. is fucking awesome. And far from the last fucking awesome moment in this thing. It also shows off even as not quite a teen yet, Scrooge is still a badass already, and while he doesn’t have his trademark strength or fighting skills quite yet, his ingenuity is already there.. and that will always trump both. The Whiskervilles run away and into some quicksand and Scrooge vows to return one day as laird and reclaim his family land. But that’s a story for a few chapters down the line. As for who the mystery duck is, he’s naturally Sir Quackely himself, or rather his ghost, who was simply guiding Scrooge and didn’t give him the treasure as simply handing him the money wouldnn’t restore their family’s good name or continue their bloodline now would it?

For now Scrooge returns to work for a bit before finding his way to America: A cattleboat to New Orleans looking for a Cabin Boy. And so Scrooge bids farewell to his family. His Dad, feeling bad he can’t even give his boy shilling, gives him the family pocketwatch with jake pitching in with the family gold dentures. While Scrooge naturally refuses to sell the watch, he does plan to sell the teeth as soon as possible for good reason. We then get some sweet goodbyes with him, his sisters (With hortense uttering her first words to everyone’s astonishment) and loving mother as he wonders just what awaits him in America.

And there he stands on the bow of a ship, heading for a new land, in New Orleans he can be a new man. And we’ll see just what kind of man he becomes as this series continues. For now this is the end of a chapter but the beginning of a lifetime.

Final Thoughts on Last of the Clan McDuck:

This story is excellent. While there are even better chapters to come, this one is still one of the most memorable and most joyous, showing just how Scrooge became what he is, where some of his values come from, others will be instilled along the way , and beginning to flesh out his family. We see Scrooge’s love of wealth comes from starting from the bottom, growing up with a family that barely had anything and badly needed everything, but was loving and instilled fine morals in him. We also see a Scrooge far removed from the bitter old man he is in present day, an optimistic naïve young lad who only wants best for his family. It’s a nice stark contrast to who he’ll become, good and bad, and a nice way to both compare him to Huey Dewey and Louie and break your heart as his own hardens before briefly turning black later on. The art, as is standard for this series and Rosa, is breathtaking, and the story isn’t lacking in good jokes, their just downplayed so the story itself can take center stage. There’s nothing really more to say: it’s an excellent start to an even more excellent tale and stands proud among an already stellar story as one of it’s finest outings.

NEXT RAINBOW: Scrooge goes down to the mighty Missipi to work on the riverboats and meets one of his signature Rogue’s for the first time in their first form, as well as Gyro’s dad.. or grandpa.. or possibly both I don’t know his family tree. Point is, tune in next time for some riverboat hyjinks. Until then if you’d like to comission an episode of any animated show, especially ducktales and the various other duck related disney shows, or another Duck Comics story you really like from Rosa, Barks or whoever you want really, I take commissions for 5 dollars a review, with 5 dollars off your full order when you put in for more than one episode or issue. You can also follow me on patreon.com/popculturebuffet and for just two bucks a month get access to polls (which i’ll start once we have at least three patreons), and my exclusive discord server. And if you liked this review be sure to reblog it to show off. My self promotion done until next time: There’s always another rainbow.

#scrooge mcduck #don rosa #ducktales #the life and times of scrooge mcduck #fergus mcduck #downy mcduck #hortense mcduck #hortense duck #matilda mcduck #jake mcduck #uncle scrooge #duck comics #disney duck comics #carl barks

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magnoliasinbloom · 4 years

Text

Crash Course Love

Infinite thanks to @anna-swims and @lcbeauchampoftarth for being awesome betas.

AO3 :: Previously

12: Past Tense [Claire]

I’d been dreaming of Jamie.

I had dreamed of his hands roving all over me, touching me, pleasuring me. I thought I had dreamt his hand on my breast, his arousal pressed against my bum, and I shamelessly ground my body on his, in my lust-fueled dream. The sound of his voice had hit me and it had stopped being a dream.

I’d made it become reality. I’d gone for broke and kissed him, and more. What on earth had possessed me to do that?

You’re insanely attracted to him, that’s why.

He hadn’t rejected me, and for that I was grateful. But now paranoia had set in and I was worried about what our encounter would do to our budding friendship. Afterwards, I had felt a little stilted and awkward. He gave no outward sign of discomfort, but was attentive and polite as usual.

But now that I knew what Jamie looked like in the throes of passion, starting a conversation became doubly hard. The roads had been cleared, the snow storm having spent itself in a night. After breakfast with his family and being hugged goodbye by everyone (including my vague promise to Ellen about coming back soon), he had driven me home; the radio was on a little bit loud, breaking up the silence between us. We managed a few half-smiles, a brush of hands here and there, and a promise to call each other soon. We had a wedding to attend, after all.

I had a few texts from Louise and a voicemail, who wanted to go over the flower arrangements one final time, now that the wedding invitations had been mailed and RSVPs were pouring in, including mine. The wedding was set in a few weeks, right before Christmas. The shop was closed on Mondays, but I texted her back so we could meet up later that week. I did a load of laundry. I went over some invoices for the shop. And all the while, in the back of my head, the memory of Jamie’s mouth and hands on me lingered.

The ringing of my phone startled me out of my reverie; Jamie Fraser flashed on the screen, and my heart pounded in double-time. The tension in my shoulders eased and I felt something unclench in my stomach I hadn’t even realized was there.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Sassenach, it’s Jamie. Well, o’ course ye ken that, mobiles show ye who’s calling, don’t they. But why do we always answer the phone like we dinna ken who’s calling, right?”

“Hi, Jamie. You know, you’re right about that. I’ll start answering my phone differently from now on.” I laughed, set further at ease by the Scottish burr of his voice.

“Och, weel, I just wanted to thank ye for accompanying me to lunch. And being so nice to my family. They absolutely loved ye, I think ye could tell. And I wanted to say… sorry. I guess. For the… this morning, ye ken. In case ye were regretting it. Or if ye think I was out of line.”

“Actually, Jamie, I was hoping you didn’t think I was out of line.” My hands fiddled with the papers on the table. “I think I was pretty clear about what I wanted. But maybe you didn’t want to be pawed at and I don’t want you to think that it’s all I wanted from you. You’re my friend, and I wouldn’t want this to come between us.”

“Friend?” Jamie repeated.

“Of course, I consider you my friend,” I said, confused. “Aren’t we friends?”

“Aye, of course, Claire.” He paused. “There was one more thing I wanted to ask ye. As friends, then.”

“Sure.”

“I meant to ask ye out. On a proper date.” Jamie’s tone went up on the last word, making it sound like a question.

“A date.”

“A real one. Not just coffee—unless that’s what ye would like, of course. But I thought perhaps dinner.”

“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate any longer. My fingers gripped the phone tightly, and the swooping feeling of butterflies was back in my stomach, but for a good reason.

“Really?” Jamie asked, incredulous.

I laughed again. “Yes, Jamie, I’m saying yes. Would this Friday be alright?”

“Sounds perfect. Shall I pick ye up at 7? Did ye have anything in mind that ye’d like?”

“Whatever you choose will be fine. I trust you.”

He didn’t know how much.

- - -

For the rest of the week, I spent my days dreaming about my date with Jamie. Date, date, date. A real date. I put in flower orders for bouquets and tended to the indoor plant boxes that held rosemary, parsley, and thyme, but all the while my thoughts were with Jamie.

After meeting Louise on Friday morning for some final wedding details, I left the shop in a hurry, already planning my outfit in my head. Dress up, or seem casual? Maybe a mix of both? As I ransacked my closet, pulling out shirts and jeans and the few dresses I owned, I decided to call Geillis.

“I have a date tonight.” I didn’t even bother to say hello as soon as she answered.

“Ye do?” Geillis Duncan was one of the few people in Glasgow who’d made Frank and me feel welcome back when we were new to the city. She owned a small but popular café near the flower shop. Our friendship had survived my breakup; it dawned on me that we hadn’t talked to each other in a couple of weeks, and she knew nothing about Jamie. I filled her in on some of the details, keeping the most recent private ones to myself.

“So he’s picking me up in like, an hour, and I don’t know what to wear!” I wailed, trying to zip up the back of a dress and giving up in frustration.

“It sounds like ye’re overthinking this, Beauchamp,” Geillis said. “Why don’t I come over now and lend ye my black skirt ye like so much and the yellow top? It’ll bring out the color of yer eyes, I’m sure Jamie will love ye in it.” She was giggling madly at the idea.

“Don’t tease me, Geil, I’m so not in the mood right now. But thank you.”

We hung up, and twenty minutes later she was at my door, helping me with my hair and make-up after I had dressed. I knew there was an ulterior motive to her being at my flat, and she confirmed in no uncertain terms that she wanted to see Jamie herself.

“Geillis, please don’t—”

“Relax, Claire. I just want to see the lad’s whose bonny red hair has ye in such a fluster.”

“You have red hair, you know.”

Geillis clucked. “’Tis not the same, and ye ken it. When will he be here?”

Before I could respond, there was a knock at the front door. It was promptly seven o’clock, and I glanced at Geillis in a panic. She smoothed down the skirt and pushed me towards the entrance. Heart pounding, very much aware that Geillis was peering gleefully around the hall for a glimpse of Jamie, I opened the door to find a very dapper Jamie. In dark jeans, a pressed sky-blue shirt and a black coat. The hues of his outfit brought out the intense sapphire of his eyes as his own gaze raked me over and seemed please at what he saw. I blushed.

“Hello, Sassenach.” He leaned in to kiss my cheek and his fingers lingered briefly on my arm. I caught the scent of his cologne, like tart lemons and spice.

“Hi, Jamie.” We stood there for a few seconds that seemed an eternity, before a loud harrumph and a fake cough from Geillis broke us out of our reverie. Jamie peered into the flat as I quickly grabbed my purse from the kitchen table where I’d left it before.

“Is there someone here with ye, Sassenach?”

“It’s my friend Geillis, but don’t worry, you don’t need to meet her and she was just leaving. Weren’t you, Geil?” I raised my voice for her benefit as I led Jamie out of the flat. “Lock up when you go!” I shut the door on one of her loud laughs; I was sure to hear from her later.

We walked to the stairs and Jamie tentatively reached for my hand. I grasped it firmly and squeezed in reassurance. Traipsing down the stairs, and remembering the last time we had done so together, I felt stupidly happy and shy all at once.

The restaurant he’d chosen was a low-key pub tucked into one of Glasgow’s winding alleys. We ordered wine and the awkwardness that I’d feared after our previous encounter was gone. Jamie and I talked animatedly about our week; my preparations for the upcoming wedding and flower arrangements, and he told me of the distillery and all the Christmas orders they had to fill.

“I was thinking of a new special blend; aging whisky in tequila barrels, not regular oak. The flavor is more complex, so different from what I’ve tasted. I plan to call it something like da anam, two souls.”

“That sounds very different! Where would you get the barrels?”

Jamie spoke of partnering up with several tequila producers in Mexico, as I speared rosemary potatoes with my fork; all the while we poured glass after glass of ruby wine for each other. Conversation flowed between us just as effortlessly.

Over dessert sometime later, I felt the back of my neck prickling. I sensed eyes on me, and they weren’t Jamie’s. It felt wrong, somehow.

I turned my head slightly and found Frank looking at me. He was with Sandy; he quickly bowed his head and shifted his attention elsewhere. I felt my face flush. I swiveled back and dropped my fork with a clatter.

“Sassenach? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t—it-it’s Frank.”

“Where?” He looked around wildly and I shushed him and clamped my hands on his arm in desperation.

“He’s back there, with the blonde. Just—be discreet.” Jamie got a good long look and then leaned in to whisper quietly.

“Didn’t ye say Sandy—his fiancée, with the giant ring ye mentioned. Wasn’t she supposed to be pregnant?”

“She might have had the baby, I don’t know. Her stomach was pretty big last time I saw her.” I sneaked another look.

It wasn’t Sandy.

She was blonde like Frank’s fiancée, but this wasn’t her. She looked even younger, fresher-faced, and was definitely not pregnant.

Cheating, lying, bastard.

I took deep breaths and Jamie ran a hand soothingly down my back. I shivered and grabbed my coat off the back of my chair.

“Jamie, I’m sorry, can we go?”

“Of course, Sassenach.” After quickly settling the check, he stood up as unobtrusively as a six-foot man ever could and pulled out my chair. He put his arm around me as we walked quickly to the exit.

It was inevitable that we pass by Frank’s table, though. The restaurant was a bit crowded and the layout made it impossible to avoid him. As we did, I got up the courage to meet his eye, bolstered by Jamie’s warm hand on my back. He wore a shamed expression, and could not hold my gaze. The woman stared back curiously at us, and I heard her ask him who I was.

“No one,” Frank replied, a slight tremor in his voice. Jamie tightened his grip on me, and I knew he’d heard him too.

Jamie came to a sudden halt near their table; he turned to face me, and with a soft whispered, “I hope ye dinna mind this,” pressed a soft kiss to my pursed lips. I opened my mouth in surprise, and he continued to probe gently. I found my arms rising to encircle his waist, clutching at the back of his coat. I dimly heard Frank clear his throat and murmur something unintelligible. I had ceased to care, though, lost in the fog of kissing Jamie.

Jamie’s mouth trailed across my cheek. “Dinna listen to him, Sassenach,” he whispered as he nuzzled my ear. “Ye’re so much more than ye know.”

- - -

A/N: I finished writing it out, so new chapters will post on Thursday. Finally, a schedule! The whisky in tequila barrels is actually a thing. Can’t find an English link, though. Thanks for all your likes, reblogs, comments. <3

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #CCL12 #/17 #we're getting there #i'm not a drinker

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heli0s-writes · 5 years

Text

DEADCRUSH

Summary: Deadcrush, a game played based on the question “what historical figure would I want to take on a date if they were alive today?”

A/N: 4k word count because I can’t be brief about anything. Also mentions age difference, and questionable internet humor. Also now with Part 2! Oh my god and Part 3!

Bag of Tricks One-Shots Masterlist

It’s in the middle of receiving a blow to his jaw when Bucky hears your voice whistle through the air above him.

“No way!” You’re yelling, “That’s sick, Peter!”

He glances up for half a second to see you swinging against the New York backdrop, left hand raised and entombed by a thick knot of webbing from Parker who’s launching you and himself across the skyline. Bucky dodges another fist and by the time he’s knocked out the thug trying to get fresh with him, you’ve already finished your trajectory and bowled over a cluster of bodies. The ground’s cracked where you made your descent in the distance, and Parker lands softly next to you.

“Come on!” He cries, pitch rising, “You picked Rasputin!”

You respond with a maniacal giggle. “He’s Russia’s greatest love machine!” With a flick of your wrist, you condescendingly scoff. “Dude, Anne Frank? She was twelve.”

“Rasputin was like a million! And insane! Anne Frank is close to my age, at least. And this is entirely hypothetical—I'm imagining a future with her where she’s older than me. I think we’d totally get along, I read her diary and everything- I mean, we’re so close! Fine--” Parker crosses his arms.

“Marie Curie.”

Your eyes catch Bucky looking and you give him a wide smile and a small wave before you pivot back to Peter. Bucky’s brow furrows even deeper before he turns and heads towards Steve who’s winding down at the end of his own fight. Kids are fucking weird, he thinks a little bitterly, as you and Parker squabble on in the distance.

In the middle of dinner, as he’s twisting a ream of spaghetti onto his fork, you and Parker stand on the balcony eating what looks like a whole baguette smeared with jelly. Through the glass door, Parker crunches into it before handing the baguette off to you. He’s gesturing wildly and brushing crumbs off his suit.

You take a bite too large for your mouth and the crust crumbles down your chin, chased by a dribble of jelly. You level your palm and start measuring Peter’s height much to his indignance, and Bucky has to turn around before he loses his appetite completely. He hears your laughter muffled through the door. Your hand is clasped on Parker’s shoulder in an attempt to hold yourself up.

You’re a funny one. Always joking and cheerful. You’ve been a part of the team for the past six months and you’re closest to Parker both in demeanor and in age, but sometimes Bucky finds you up late at night and the two of you sit at the table over a cup of tea.

You show him inexplicable and strange images from your phone and try your best to explain to him why the frog is on the unicycle and what the hell “yeet” actually means. Once, you showed him a video about twerking but when you jokingly proposed that you might teach him instead, he nearly knocked the table over by jerking up, ready to take off.

It always ends with joyful tears in the corners of your eyes.

It makes him a little bit angry with himself because he really has no right to even be talking to you. Cryrosleep aside, he’s almost old enough to be your father. But when your laughter lights up the room, it burns those harsh thoughts from his brain.

He’d never admit it, but when he’s awake after tossing for hours, he hopes you’re in the kitchen.

The door swings open and in-between mouthfuls, Parker is baffled, “Who is that?”

“Ancient poet.” You answer, popping a finger in your mouth, “My girl! Island of Lesbos. She definitely knew how to...” You waggle your eyebrows, make a V-shape with your fingers, and lewdly run your tongue up and down between them. Bucky thinks he sees you looking at him, but he feels himself flushing at your comment and pretends like he’s enthralled with spaghetti.

“Dude. Stop it.” Peter moans.

In the middle of movie night, another showing of Mary Poppins, you and Parker once again tuck away into the corner of the Stark auditorium with a shared blanket and chatter vehemently. Bucky doesn’t know which is more irritating—Van Dyke’s terrible accent, or the fact that the two of you are attached by the hip today.

“Marilyn Monroe!” Parker whispers.

From the corner of his eye, Bucky watches you contemplate your reply before leaning in impossibly close to Peter. The young man’s jaw clenches as his eyes widen like saucers. He shoots Bucky a look, as if catching him eavesdropping.

“What!?” Peter shrieks.

The entire room turns to look at the two of you. You clamp your hand over Peter’s mouth, bury your face into the side of his head.

“That’s the safest one!” You say.

“No! No, it’s definitely not safe!” He responds back, voice cracking slightly and pushing your face away when your hair tickles him. “Gettoffa— God! Are you serious!?”

“Okay, what the hell is this conversation?” Natasha pauses the movie and leans over the back of the recliner.

Peter pulls the cover over his face and you start giggling again.

“We’re talking about our DC’s.” You finally admit, pausing enough to calm yourself.

“DC’s?” Steve questions.

“Dead crushes.” There it is again- that little look you send his way. He thinks three times is at least one too many to be just a dream.

“Dead-what-now?” Sam is incredulous.

“You guys have never played this game before? You know, pick one person from history who you’d take out to dinner if circumstances made it possible.”

Peter pokes his head out, “And look, please tell her that all of my choices are perfectly reasonable! Anne Frank? Marilyn Monroe? Marie Curie? She picked Rasputin! And not because of that weird old song.”

You scoff because Boney M is a fine example of industry-bottled pop music and beat Milli Vanilli as the façade of genuine artistry by miles.

“Rasputin’s a bit dark, isn’t he?” Steve shakes his head.

Sticking your tongue out at him, you land your gaze on Natasha with a sly smirk.

“Who would you pick, sexy international Russian spy? Let’s get a peek into that gorgeous red head of yours.” She licks her lips at your overt flirtation and flips her hair over her shoulder.

Bucky folds his arms over his chest and leans back into the chair he’s on. This was your game—saddling up to people with effortless compliments and humor, reading a personality so well and maneuvering yourself to fit just right into their expectations. Who else could be so forward with Natasha, joking or otherwise? Who else would suggest teaching him how to twerk? Fuck.

Natasha mulls the question over for a second, “Stalin. I’d take him to dinner. And then to his grave.”

There’s an exasperated sound that escapes your lips. “Okay, that’s not really how the game works. This is not supposed to be a political commentary- it's a genuine display of … attraction!”

“To corpses.” Bucky mutters.

“Okay, that’s dark.” You and Peter exhale in unison. The giggles that escape both of you as you start calling “jinx” on each other before wrestling on that tiny fucking sofa chair makes him bite back a growl. From the couch to his left, Steve notices.

In the middle of pouring scalding water into a plain white mug, Bucky feels a tap on his shoulder.

“No.” He greets the finger. “Nope. Steve. Goodnight, jerk.”

“You’re actin’ like a kid, Buck.”

Bucky huffs as he sets the kettle back down with a clatter on the stovetop.

“No.” The problem is that I’m not the kid, Bucky scolds himself for even having the thought surface.

Steve half-heartedly sighs because Bucky is so smitten it’s almost painful to watch. It’s obvious to him and the rest of the team that the two of you dance around each other under the pretense of professionalism, but he knows that the laughter coming from down the hallway late at night is more meaningful than a work relationship.

The first time Steve had seen Bucky lean into a friendly touch was when you had placed your hand on his back, steadying yourself as you fixed your shoe. It was such an offhanded gesture, and Bucky tensed briefly before holding out his arm for you. You didn’t realize his intention and took his entire vibranium hand with a firm squeeze before waltzing off, leaving him to gaze after your disappearing trail. That was three weeks into Bucky’s time at the compound, and your fourth month. It opened Steve’s eyes to a possibility he hadn’t yet entertained.

Steve thinks part of how easily you had infiltrated Bucky’s stonewall demeanor is, in fact, your age. You were right on the cusp of balancing maturity and immaturity, often teetering into the immature waters out of habit. You stayed up late for no reason, played video games for hours, ate all sorts of odd meals with no care for your health, and always gladly shared anything that made you smile. It was infectious. You lacked the exact type of self-awareness everyone else had that made them so careful with Buck— and he let you slip through the cracks effortlessly.

It’s your childlike happiness that’s done it for Bucky. Even though it’s now become a point of uneasiness for his friend, Steve is thankful that you’re exactly how old you are. It’s helped him more than harmed him so far.

Bucky takes a sip of his peppermint and lemon tea and leans against the counter. Steve watches with amusement as his shoulders tense when your chortle bounces into the room. You’re telling Peter goodnight as he heads back home to Queens.

“Hey!” You call, “Sunrise tomorrow?”

A faint affirmation is heard before Parker’s whooping whips faintly in the distance, swinging away. The front door closes and you pop into the kitchen wearing nothing but a swimsuit cover-up, full of diamond-shaped holes. A tiny pink bikini peeks out from underneath the pattern. Bucky averts his gaze because the women of his time did not dress like that and he’s not even sure looking in your direction is legal.

“Night swimming?” Steve asks with a smirk at his friend, who turns around to hide the red creeping up his cheeks like vines.

You nod eagerly before opening the pantry and grabbing a box of Oreos from the top shelf. Tucking one into your mouth, you crunch through it and swallow before closing the pantry door and placing the container under your arm. Crumbs fall down your chest and you curse under your breath as you swipe bits of cookie from your top, oblivious to why Steve suddenly finds the ceiling very interesting.

“Hey me and Double-P are gonna watch the sunrise on top of the Chrysler building tomorrow- you two wanna come? He’ll swing you right up! It’s fun! I’m gonna make breakfast!”

They both shake their head and you mutter something about their loss for a free roller coaster and good view. Bucky and Steve follow your path out the door and hear the patter of your feet before you crash into the deep midnight water with a tremendous cannonball. They watch as your head breaks the surface of ripples before you lean back and squirt water from your mouth like a fountain. Music surges from the outdoor speakers— a seductive Latin Pop tune with hints of reggaeton. You float over to the pool’s edge and throw another cookie in your mouth, bopping along to the groove enthusiastically, shoulders winding to the ebb and flow of water.

“C’mon, Buck.” Steve urges, motioning his head to where you float lazily, watching the moon, nodding to synth beats and timbales drumming. “Forget age… she woulda been your kinda girl back in the day.”

Bucky swallows and turns to his steaming mug, “There were no girls like her back in the day.”

It’s in the middle of his nightmare when Bucky jerks awake and smells buttered toast and coffee. It’s still dark out, only four-something, but he stumbles to the restroom and brushes his teeth anyway. When he arrives at the kitchen, you’re standing at the stovetop wearing athletic shorts and bunny slippers. There’s a frilly orange apron tied neatly to your waist, covering a shredded crop-top, and you’re flipping a hearty slice of bread with an egg in the center.

“Hey Sarge.” You smile, “Help yourself to an eggy. Yolk’s runny and dippable, just like God intended.”

He shakes his head no because he knows you’re preparing it for Peter, but sits down on a stool anyway, leaning over the counter to watch you with interest. When one piece of toast cooks, you move to crack fresh pepper and sea salt over another. You also slice tomatoes and rinse fresh basil leaves, tunelessly humming the whole time. When you stifle a yawn with your shoulder, Bucky squints at the tell-tale blue bags under your eyes.

“Again?”

You rub your neck with a guilty smile and take a sip of water, “Got stuck on the internet… reading about… I can’t even... I know I started with Kennedy… but the last browser is bee swarming and royal jelly...”

He laughs when you go off on a rant about how bees communicate with each other, even demonstrating for him something you called a “waggle dance”, and he’s not sure if you’re just making shit up or not but it’s cute as hell when you bend your elbows and shuffle in figure eights on the tile.

“So then, me— a bee— would show you— another bee— this dance… and then you would go find the yummy flower! And did you know bees would dance with excitement depending on how convinced they are about the quality of the flower!? They get excited!” You repeat the same figure eight this time accompanied by elbow flapping and happy buzzing. The sound vibrates between your teeth and sizzles over your lips.

Bucky’s laughing so hard he has to put his face in his hand. Finally, you settle down.

“Now your turn.” You tease. He shakes his head defiantly, eyes still brimming with amusement.

You pour him a steaming mug of coffee and slide it next to his hand with a small smile. There’s a strange light in your bleary eyes as you bite your bottom lip.

A flush suddenly sweeps across your cheeks.

“What?” Bucky asks, taking a slow sip, savoring the bitter taste as it rolls down his throat.

“It’s stupid...it’s nothing.” The awkward laugh coming from your throat makes Bucky shuffle in the stool, wary and slightly concerned. Before you can continue, Steve pokes his head in and announces he’s going for a run and asks you to save him some breakfast when he gets back. Bucky checks the time on the microwave. Almost five.

Something dings on the bar counter and you move to grab your phone, frowning and placing your hands on the ruffles against your hip. A disappointed noise sputters from your mouth before you tear off the apron and turn off the stovetop with a quiet fury. “He cancelled!” You cry, disappointment darkening your features. “I made all this crap!”

Bucky looks over the countertop arrangement of perfectly crispy thick multigrain toast, shiny fried eggs, tupperware containers of tomato and shredded basil, and two thermoses of coffee and juice. Your shoulders slump as you place your hands on your hips and lean back to pop your neck and crack your knuckles. You pick up the trash can and kick off its lid, placing the edge of the gaping dark maw against the counter, holding your arm out to sweep the food in. Your generally pleasant features are stained by a scowl.

He forgets how impulsive you can be.

“Wait!” Bucky yells, reaching across the counter. “I’ll go. I’ll watch the sunrise with you.” When you stare at him in surprise, he quickly glances around the countertops, “Let’s not waste all this. You worked really hard on it.”

A squeal escapes as you drop the trash can and clasp your two hands together in a cheer. “Bucky. You are…” you suck in a deep breath and hold your hands over your heart, “just the best. My number one… Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the one-oh-seventh.”

His heart leaps just a tad as his former title rolls off your tongue almost wistfully. Bucky opens his mouth to ask you what you mean but you’re balancing two containers of foil-wrapped toast, another one of tomato slices and the thermoses are hanging precariously on your middle fingers. Bucky leaps from his seat and takes the food from you, leaving the thermoses in your hand.

“To the roof, Sarge!” You smile, leading the way. He follows closely behind and raises his eyebrow curiously when you keep looking back at him every few steps.

It’s in the middle of biting into the most heavenly piece of toast he’s ever had that Bucky hears you giggle shyly. You’re rarely bashful— usually too sharp-tongued and unfiltered is how most people would describe you. It’s why your best friend is Peter Parker: boy genius, mile-a-minute-mouth.

“What is it?” Bucky’s teeth crunch against the crisp brown edge, the bite of egg sliding over his tongue.

You’re leaned back on your palm, brushing a crumb from the corner of your mouth as you chew pensively on a slice of tomato. The sky is a blackened bruise behind you, disappearing into the balm of a soft, glowing orange.

“You were my deadcrush back in the day.” You mutter, hiding your lips with the tomato. Bucky stops mid-chew and freezes completely, unsure if the confession is just another trick his mind is playing on him. Maybe a breeze in the wind just sounds like your voice. “Not to make this weird…” you supply almost fearfully.

“Oh…”

“I mean— you know, it was totally normal. All the girls either liked Captain America or Sergeant Barnes.” You stuff the tomato in your mouth and reach for another just to busy your hands. Bucky’s face heats up like the morning, and he takes a sip of orange juice to calm it down.

“Sure,” you ramble onward, tomato flinging around between your fingers as you gesture back and forth, “I mean, most of them liked Cap— golden lion boy and all—hero’s journey kind of thing… I guess I felt, closer to you.”

You exhale deeply, “When you first came to the tower, I thought I was dreaming. Can you imagine? I felt like I was in the sixth grade.”

His brow furrows as he ponders your question. “Is that why you’re so nice to me?” It slips out before he can catch it, but it doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

“Probably at first,” You admit with a little shrug, “But eventually the schoolgirl crush thing went away, and I started liking you way more. Genuinely, y’know? Not under the thumb of a paltry, fleeting thing.”

He forgets how unexpectedly introspective you can be.

The tomato in your hand is only a shimmer of juice on your fingers now and you reach for something else to occupy yourself lest you become reduced to just weighing your hands together out of nervousness. You pause when Bucky asks, shocked, “You l-like me?”

Then, a smile, against the warming backdrop, he thinks you look like something out of a painter’s imagination—a delicate page from Steve’s notepad. A gentle breeze picks up your lashes, makes you squint a little.

“Yeah. I like you a lot.”

How does someone say such a heavy thing so easily? Bucky turns hot all over, heart beating too fast from your statement and the coffee made too strongly. “Thank you.”

You laugh and throw your head back for a second before shaking your hair wildly and sitting up, as if you’re discarding something. Light bounces off your cheeks as you catch your breath and take the coffee thermos from him. “You’re welcome, Bucky.” Then, softer, “Look.”

A streak of yellow opens up the sky in the east, melting away the ink around it into flames of blood orange and cerise. Still twinkling are the stars entrenched in deep blue further away.

“I’m not dead anymore.” He states plainly. “I can’t be your deadcrush if I’m not dead anymore.”

A chortle escapes- snorts and scoffs and not at all what he expects when you push your hand to your face and laugh in such a way that he might for a split second find it unattractive. But he doesn’t. He finds it so truly endearing that his heart swells like clouds over the morning sky.

A part of him quiets with the settling feeling of disappointment. Your silence gets swirled around in the next bitter mouthful of coffee and Bucky kicks his heel aimlessly against the concrete rooftop. To his left, you scoot a little closer, reach over and take the thermos from his hand. Your fingers linger, and then you put the container down.

“Bucky,” You say. His name so sweetly rolls off your tongue he can taste it—spun sugar and molasses in his mouth. It’s orange and yellow and blue behind you. Your eyes glisten with promise, as sure as the sunrise.

“You can want things, like love.”

It’s so forthright it punches the air right out of him. Before he knows it, you are leaning forward with a smile, planting a tender kiss on his cheek as he stares on open-mouthed and in awe.

And then, you break the moment with a yawn covered by your hand and groan as fatigue slips over like a blanket. “Oh fuck, I am beat, Sarge. Why’d you let me stay up so late?”

He only smiles before he puts his hand over yours for just a moment. “Come on,” He says, “I’ll help you clean up.” But the moment changes again, and he finds himself crawling past the containers of egg and toast, nearly knocking over the juice to hover over your mouth.

Coffee and cream linger between hesitant lips. Then there is a feverish clash-- you, clambering to sit up, to match him in enthusiasm-- him, bold enough to meet your surge with two large hands. He snakes them around your waist, crushing your torso to his.

Your fingers create a separation between your stomachs as you ruck his shirt up, gripping his chest and back and digging into his shoulder. A sharp breath escapes before he comes to snuff it out, licking your mouth, sucking on your tongue.

“Jesus.” You mutter when you break away for air, eyes still closed, “God. Okay. This is happening.”

Bucky laughs and sits back, places his hand on your bare thigh, shaking his head. “I—yeah, well maybe not here.”

“Yeah- yeah, of course… I .. get so caught up.”

He laughs again, because he knows. It’s why you haven’t slept all night, why you made a feast for just two people watching a sunrise, why you ramble on about the most mundane things but somehow still enrapture him, and it’s why he likes you. Your cheeks burn when the first ray of sunshine shoots over the tree scape.

A ding next to your hand catches his attention—a text from Steve.

You peer at it curiously before opening the message. Bucky looks too, and sees the image of the same sunrise he’s witnessed, but over the familiarity of the East Side sprawl.

A second message appears, Steve grinning, Peter winking.

A third one with a single, cheeky question: You and Buck doin’ good?

Bucky slips his shirt back down his golden torso while you tap out a furious response, groaning at the way you’ve been set up by your friends. Before you can send it, he takes the device from you and places it face-down on the roof with a smile. “Are we?” He asks, suddenly shy. “Doin’ good?”

Quietly, you nod.

In the middle of a second kiss, Bucky knows he’s done for. He’s falling hard and fast and can’t stop.

In the middle of a third kiss, you’re there next to him, all smiles and wonder as the two of you plunge together.

Part 2

#marvel #mcu #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #fanfiction #reader insert #fluff

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johnkrrasinski · 4 years

Text

Coffee with Cream

Chapter 1: Our Story Begins in a Diner

full masterlist

series masterlist

Pairings: Frank Castle x reader x Mad Sweeney

Word count: 2,693

Warnings: sexism, mentions of alcohol, men being men.

Summary: Two men, one diner and little old you. Working at a diner had never been your dream job but, fate had a funny way of bringing two contrasted men into your life.

a/n: hey guys! as you all know my obsession over frank castle and pablo schreiber had been exploding these past couple of months. and so, me and @nellblazer decided to write a good old threesome fic involving these two bulky men. hope you like it. enjoy!

Morning shift:

Another day, another chaos. The buzz of the diner was in full swing as you raced to another table filled with new patrons after the previous ones just got up and left, leaving a generous tip for you as you wiped the surface clean and picked up the dirty dishes.

It was a daily occurrence for you to deal with the bustle. Mornings are always the most hectic. You had to pace back and forth from one table to another, wrote down their orders and carefully carried their meals and beverages to the starved consumers.

Another ring above the door echoed in the clamorous room. You had grown so acclimatized to the sound, that you barely noticed it even chimed. It was basically the soundtrack of the early hours at the diner. So it didn’t interrupt your brief conversation with one of the patrons who had just ordered a black coffee with pancakes as you penned them down on your notepad.

It was around 10 AM, entering brunch hours when he walked in.

You turned around to give the order to the cook but was shortly hindered by a dark-haired man with perfectly neat stubble the lower part of his face. You weren’t paying attention to your surroundings due to the rush, so your body crashed with a taller dark figure that was walking in your direction.

“Oh, sorry, sir.” You were stunned. You couldn’t help but quickly notice the mysterious appeal of this man as his deep brown eyes looked into yours. For a second, it felt like the noise in the room suddenly faded into the background. You weren’t one in believing “love at first sight” but you definitely knew an attractive man when you saw one. And you were allured.

He quickly caught you by the shoulders and you loved the temporary moment that you had with him. His touch didn’t last long but you sure as hell wished it had.

“My mistake.” He shrugged it away like it was nothing. Then he walked away to the last booth in the corner and sat near the window. For a second there, you almost forgot what you were currently in the middle of, until you heard your name being called by one of the cooks.

“I’m coming.” You glanced at the lonesome man whom your fellow waitress co-worker was taking orders from once more before you quickly took another cooked order from the counter. You heard the indistinct murmur of the words ‘pancake’ and ‘a cup of espresso coffee’ being spoken by the man. Funny how despite his protruded emanation, he still made a common order.

But with him only a few feet away from where you were standing, things were just getting interesting.

An hour passed by and you were still pacing back and forth from pantry to one table to another. Until the commotion began to dwindle down, and you could just sit back behind the counter and wait for the remaining ones to get up and leave.

The blonde-haired man who had been indecorously eyeing you up and down after you first interacted with him to take his order earlier got up from table two and you were a tad relieved that he was finally about to leave. You just had to deal with him one more time and hopefully, you would never have to see his obnoxiously hideous face ever again.

Maybe you should consider spitting on a patron’s food next time, so they would have no interest in returning due to the bad service or unpleasant food ever again. Well, you’ll keep that in mind.

For now, you were trying to make yourself look as collected as possible despite attempting to hide your disgust on his predatory eyes. He neared toward where you were sitting, which was behind the cashier machine and you tried not to vomit right there.

“How much is it, hot stuff?” You couldn't mask your repugnance at his catcalling. But you neglected it, maintaining your professionalism.

“That’ll be $4.50, and don’t call me hot stuff.”

“Then give me your name, sweet cheeks.” He winked and crudely smirked at you as if he had just aced the last word. The truth was… It only made the idea of spilling a drink on his pants even more intriguing.

“Are you going to pay for your meal or not?” Then he scrambled through his pocket to unfold his wallet then he pulled out a few bucks and placed it on the counter in front of you. You took it without giving him a convivial look and a thank you, and immediately placed the money in the cashier machine.

“No smile for me? I give you some pretty generous tips there.”

“Go fuck yourself. Your tips’ pretty average anyway.” Then you turned your body against him but he abruptly stopped by harshly grabbing your wrist. You tried to release it out of his vicious grip, but this obnoxious man was much stronger than your liking.

“Let go of me!”

“You fucking rude bitch couldn’t even give me a smile, huh? I could get your ass fired out of here, you know that?”

“I said let go!”

What you didn’t notice was the inscrutable man who was sitting in the corner booth, had gotten up and approached the scene. He stood right next to the man that was harassing you, and he immediately put his hand on his shoulder. “Hey, pal, let the lady go, alright? She’s not interested.”

“Who the fuck are you? Mind your own fuckin’ business, pal.” Then he released your wrist and immediately pushed the enigmatic man by the shoulders and it elicited a fire out of him. He didn’t look the slightest bit frenzied but he looked rather enlivened by the son of a bitch’s ineptitude and he was primed for whatever was going to go down. He then pushed the schmuck back, catching him off guard.

“You’re gonna regret that.” He sneered through his wounded ego. The mysterious man only kept his cold-hard stare at him and stood unwaveringly. The obnoxious man then threw a punch at him but he effortlessly dodged it like he saw it coming, then he miserably tried to throw a punch at him once more, but was caught and stopped effortlessly with only a single clench of his hand, then the mysterious man incased his fist and twisted it to the point where the schmuck gave away his pain through his face.

“Who regrets it, now?” The mysterious man gritted as his nostrils flared. The obnoxious man was shorter than him but somehow, he seemed into shrank down before this man.

“Not so tough now huh? You gonna say something? Hmm?”

“No, please, please! I’ll fucking leave, just let me go!” He begged through his visible terror.

He let him go with a slight push and the obnoxious man instantly fled and ran for his life. He exited through the door and didn’t look back.

After the mysterious man made sure that the little coward was out of sight, he shifted his gaze to your direction and his energy immediately improved. It turned into a warmer, more civil look. In fact… He seemed a little nervous. He was so certain of himself when he tamed down that bastard, but now he looked like a shy man who was nervous to talk to a pretty lady.

“You uh… You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Thank you.” You threw him a tiddly smile to truly show your gratitude. But you were also a tad amused by the rapid transformation in him.

“No problem. So uh… Do you deal with those kinda assholes often?”

“On some unfortunate days, yeah. There are two types of assholes though. One who miserly tips and the other who’s like the one you just terrorized to death.”

“Yeah, it can get pretty unpredictable working here, huh?”

“You got that right.” You sighed as you placed your hand on the counter to lean on it.

“So, do I get to know the name of my knight in shining armour?”

He shook his head and chuckled and if your vision wasn’t playing tricks on you, you think he was even slightly blushing.

“The name’s Frank. Frank Castle.”

“Well, Frank, Frank Castle… My name’s y/n. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You shook hands whilst still maintaining unfaltering eye contact with the man. You chatted for a while before he paid for his meal and said his goodbye. You couldn’t remember seeing a smile on his dashing face before that. But you were glad that you did before he was out of sight.

“I’ll see you around.” Those four words loomed in your head throughout the entire day, making you smile like a starstruck idiot. You took the bus to ride back home and you put on your favourite happy song. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this giddy. You didn’t have a clue as to when you were going to see this man again but, you sure as hell were going to meet him in your daydream.

Evening shift:

After being kicked out of every local bar, Sweeney's drinking options were becoming thin.

Sure he could just buy whiskey from the grocery store and drink it from the bottle but that was verging on being the drunk under the bridge territory and he'd had enough of that for one lifetime. He certainly didn't miss the thumping hangovers or the aches of sleeping on the cold ground. He definitely didn't miss the gobshite kids who kicked him whilst he was asleep for fun or who stole the last of his alcohol.

For having a lucky coin, he sure did run into a lot of problems and they'd all started when he'd left Illinios in disgrace. Brooklyn hadn't been much more welcoming but at least he could make fun of the “Irish” bars that seemed to dot about the place....maybe he shouldn't have made as much fun as he did because he was thirsty and it was a need only booze would fill.

He stumbled upon a diner, unassuming and hidden and with that faded flaking majesty of an era long gone by, an era Sweeney missed fondly because you could get a slice of pie and a hard drink for little cash and every now and then he'd catch a glimpse of some lady's stocking top as a gust of wind hit.

He pulled his denim jacket around him, wishing it was still socially acceptable to have cloaks before pushing the door open where an old fashioned bell above tinkled. He could tell this place was a relic but he already loved it for that.

He walked to the red stools next to the counter and relished the warmth of the place and the wafting smell of coffee that lingered and mixed with the scent of pastry.

Sweeney wasn't expecting you to pop up from behind the counter as suddenly as you did and he clutched his chest as he flinched.

“Fuckin' hell!” he exclaims.

“Sorry!” you look mortified to have made him jump. “People keep dropping things over here.”

He wished he could say he was a gentleman and looked at your face first but....he didn't. His eyes travelled up the waitress uniform, following the line of your body until he finally lingered on the sweet face that was shyly tucking a stray hair behind the ear.

“Not to worry, little lasslin'. Woke me up. Got any whiskey for a weary man?”

“I sure do but not the expensive stuff.”

“I'm not particular,” he tries for a charming smile, hoping it lands.

“One whiskey coming up,” you smile back, although he's sure it's your default customer smile.

Nice all the same.

It had been a long time since a bonnie girl had smiled at him.

You brought the whiskey over as he was playing with his coin and your eyes immediately darted to it. Sweeney could see the flare of interest there.

“That's unusual,” you nod at it. “Seems old. Family heirloom?”

“You could say that,” he chuckles, holding it out for you to take.

He watches you study it, feeling an almost sense of pride that for once someone was interested in something that was essentially him and not what he could do for them. When your fingers trace the lines of the sun, he's mesmerised by the care you're taking with it.

“It's really pretty,” you hand it back.

He leans forward and you lean in too, “Not as pretty as you, mind.”

You took it in the spirit it was meant and didn't give him a slap so that was encouraging at least. He twirls the coin between his fingers before presenting it again.

“They say this is the very treasure of the sun. It bestows luck to whoever holds it n' the sun's good grace.”

“I could do with some of that right now,” you laugh.

“Got some problems?”

“There was an incident this morning with a customer,” you sigh, smoothing down the apron but you didn't elaborate. “Happens.”

“Well I tell ya what. I like this place already and so long as I'm around, no fucker is gonna spoil yer day. How about that?”

“What's your name?” you ask.

“Sweeney.”

“Nice to meet you Sweeney. Can I get anything else for you?”

“What's the best pie ya got?”

“Apple is always the favourite but between you and me, the Mississippi Mud Pie is better,” you whisper conspiratorially. “But don't tell my boss I said that.”

“Not a word,” he zips over his mouth before draining his glass. “One a' that then, lasslin' n' another whiskey.”

Sweeney can't help but watch you as you work, setting the glass down in front of him before serving him up a slice and he notes you look around to check as if you're doing something you shouldn't before putting both cream and ice cream on the side. You pass it along to him with a finger over your lips.

“You're only supposed to get one technically,” you wink.

“Yer very good to me, sweetheart,” Sweeney smiles broadly. “This is already my favourite diner I've ever been too n' don't worry, I'll keep my promise. Nobody will insult ya, hurt ya or upset ya whilst I'm here.”

“I'd best serve some other customers. Don't want them to think I'm playing favourites,” you give him a tiny wave before scooting off to refill coffee.

You were right, the pie was fantastic and he almost cried to discover the ice cream appeared to be the homemade variety. It had been so long so he'd had any type of cream that wasn't artificial. He was so sick of being summoned to his worshipper's homes and given dime store whip that tasted like the back end of a plastic conveyor belt.

He put down his money, giving a large tip and sliding it near to where you were making cocoa for someone. He ended up doing a coin trick out of habit which you watched with raptured interest before taking the cash.

“Thanks,” you smile brightly at him. “I'm heading off after this, split shift wears a girl out but if you ever come back, you have to teach me how to do that.”

“I'll teach ya anything ya want for good conversation and more pie,” he laughs.

“Deal. See you around Sweeney,” you head into the back room to change before a surly looking older man comes out to replace you.

This man wasn't nearly as interesting as you were and Sweeney's attention went back to drinking. Funnily enough, he'd forgotten all about that burning thirst to get obliterated when talking to you. There was something so easygoing, so comfortable about you that it felt like he'd lifted his head above the fog of his alcoholism for the first time in years.

Oh he'd definitely be back alright. He wouldn't fuck things up this time. He really liked it here.

And as he watched you in your normal clothes stride out into the darkening night, he thought maybe ending up here was lucky after all.

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