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cas-skz · 1 year

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🤣 I'm laughing at your snow plow man flirting, but in a "it's cute" way.

Wait, this is a fic! It's Lee Know, you're the final street on his route. He likes shameless flirting and he comes back after his shift in 30 minutes to see how much hospitality he can wring out of you 💀

Thank you so much for this lmao it was actually so fun to write!!

18+!! Please&thanks!! MDNI

warnings: cursing, drinking alcohol, boobie play, petname - pretty girl, dirty talk, protected sex (crowd gasps)

“Stupid fucking winter, stupid fucking snow!” You yelled as you lazily pushed the snow off your walk way. It was the first major storm of the season, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last.

You had finally made it to the end of your driveway when the snowplow turned the corner, daring to add more snow to the already large mountain at the end of the driveway.

You groaned quietly as you backed up, only to slip on ice and land flat out on your back. “I. Fucking. Hate. Winter!” You yelled, throwing your arms out beside you.

The loud beeping and bright of the snowplow stoped in front of your house, the sound of the squeaky metal door opening. “You okay?” He yelled, you couldn’t hear him.

“Hello?” His face popped into view above you, offering a hand to help you up.

You furrows your brows at the stranger, but took his hand and pulled yourself up, brushing the snow off your coat.

“You okay?” He asked again, his soft brown eyes scanning your face.

“Physically fine, mentally hating every single thing about winter.” You kicked a snowball with your foot.

Leeknow laughed, shaking his head as he glanced back at his plow. “Ya, I guess I don’t help with that.” He looked back at you and extended a hand. “I’m Leeknow.”

You yanked your glove off and shook his hand. “Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but check out the man in front of you. He was extremely attractive, to hot to be driving a snowplow, but a job was a job.

“So, no boyfriend around to shovel for you?” He asked with a tilt of the head.

You huffed a laugh, “Even if I did, they wouldn’t do this. I have a history of picking leaches.”

“Leaches?” He laughed

“Yea, men who just stick to you and suck all your worth.” You shook your head, feeling slightly embarrassed by your own remark.

“Anyways, thank you for helping me up. I’ll appreciate you until you make more snow for me to shovel.”

Leeknow motioned with his shoulder towards your house, “Go warm up, I’ll get rid of it for you.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded, “It’ll take me two seconds.”

You smiled widely, “Thank you, so much. I owe you a drink.”

“I’ll keep your word on that.” He smirked, giving a little wave as he turned back to get in his truck.

You watched from the window as he cleared the snow for you, even getting out to make sure it was perfectly clean before heading on his way.

You grabbed some fuzzy pj shorts and a matching bralette, throwing it on and pulling in your house coat over it. You relaxed on the couch with a white claw, chatting on the phone with your phone as the tv played in the background.

“I haven’t hooked up with anyone since you dragged me out last summer and I got wasted.” You laughed, taking a sip of your drink. “Besides, I’ll get some dick when I get some, there’s no rush.”

“Hey, maybe plow guy will come back to plow you.”

You rolled your eyes, holding the one to one ear as the doorbell rang. “Shut up! I’m not gonna tell you about the cute guys I meet if you think we’re going to fuck right away.”

Grabbing your wallet, you opened the door expecting a food delivery person. Instead it was Leeknow, with a 24 pack of drinks in hand.

“Hey…I’m gonna have to call you back. Leeknow is here.”

You went to hang up the phone, just as us ur friend yelled “plow guy?!” Loud enough for him to hear.

Your cheeks flushed a deep red, as you threw your phone onto the couch. “Sorry, I thought you were my Chinese food.” You mumbled for a moment before raising an eyebrow at him. “Wait, why are you here? Do I owe you money for clearing the snow?” Your second question was filled with sarcasm.

“You said you owe me a drink.” He held up the case of white claws, “I brought some, just in case you didn’t have any.” He said with a wink.

You shook your head with a laugh, stepping aside to let him in. “If you try to murder me, I have a witness that you were here.”

“Am I that scary looking?” He asked with a smirk, kicking off his shoes as he glanced around the room. “Fridge?” He asked holding the box of drinks to you.

You took it and motioned for him to follow you. “I have some chilled already.”

Turning into the kitchen, you noticed Leeknow had gotten distracted by your cat. “That’s Taylor.”

Leeknow joined you a moment later, “Your cats name is Taylor?” He asked with a laugh, leaning up against your center island as you opened the fridge for him to see the drink options.

“Yes. I did not name her, and she refused to be renamed.”

After a few minutes of chatting in the kitchen, the doorbell rang. You started towards it, but Leeknow stopped you. “I’ll get it.”

It caught you off guard, in a good way.

He came back with the food a few minutes later, setting it on the island. “And now I’ve bought you dinner.”

You blushed a deep red, biting your lips before grabbing two plates and passing him one. “Lucky for you, I can’t pick one thing, so there’s tons.”

The two of you chatted while you ate, laughing and telling stories. You didn’t end up eating very much since he kept the conversation flowing. But you definitely had a good buzz on.

“So, how would you say our first date is going?” He asked, gathering the dishes and cleaning up a bit.

You sat back in your chair, watching him easily move around your kitchen, asking where certain things went and insisted you just relax.

“Honestly, probably the best one I’ve had. I’m comfy as heck, didn’t have to go anywhere and I laughed a lot.”

“And what about the guy? What do you think about him?” He asked as he stood at the sink, washing the plates you had used.

You shifted a little in your seat, taking a drink as you checked him out from behind. “Great ass.”

“Thank you.” He laughed

“Did not mean for that to come out, but you’re welcome.” You laughed quietly, biting your lip.

You tried your best to ignore the butterflies swirling in your stomach. Something about watching a man being domestic drove you mind into the gutter.

“He’s funny, super sweet. My cat likes him which is a big thing cause she doesn’t like a lot of people.”

He turned to look at you, a smile on his face as he dried off his hands. You didn’t notice before, but they were beautiful in their own way, perfectly lined with popping veins.

You took a long drink, the warm effect of the alcohol taking over your body, “and what did he think about the girl?”

“She’s smart, very pretty. Likes to color and draw, which is super cute.”

You took off your house coat, completely forgetting that you only had minimal pjs on.

“She’s also got a great body.” He choked over his words.

You looked down at your body, giggling a bit. “I guess you’re lucky I have something on.”

Your filter was basically gone at this point as a result of the alcohol. You lazily lofted the housecoat back over your shoulders.

The two of you made your way to the living room to continue chatting. Leeknow had a few more drinks and you, against your own judgment, had another one.

For some reason, this man who was just a stranger a few hours ago, made you feel safe and happy. It felt like you’d known each other in another life time.

You curled up next to him to watch a movie, his arm draped around you, his fingers gently rubbing your shoulder.

When a sex scene came on in the movie, you bit your lip hard. As if the drunken sexual tension wasn’t enough, you were picturing Leeknow fucking you like the guy on screen.

His fingers came to a stop as the scene got more intense, the girl was being called slut and you couldn’t help when a smirk pulled at your lips.

“Whatcha’ smiling about?” He whispered in your ear.

“It’s kinda hot.” You looked up at him for a quick second, eyes trailing to his plump lips before darting back to the tv.

Leeknow hummed, his fingers starting to move again, this time slipping under your bralette slap.

His touch gave you goosebumps, and you swore you could feel his eyes staring you down.

“I don’t want to sound lewd, but my eyes haven’t been on the movies all that much.”

You slid your hand onto his thigh, squeezing a bit, “well what have you been looking at?”

Leeknow moved a little closer, his hand moving down your chest, running along his fingers slowly across the hem of your bralette.

“Oh, I guess they are quite out there.” You looked over at him, “I can put them away if you’d like.”

“Please don’t.” He said with a smirk, licking his lips.

You repositioned on the couch, sitting cross legged facing him, “Do you wanna touch?”

Leeknow laughed shyly, a dark red tinting his ears. His hand started to move, but bypassed and cupped you cheek instead.

He pressed his lips into yours, gently at first but deepening it when you kissed back.

As the kissing intensified, his hands started to wander over your body, caressing the exposed parts of your skin.

You moved to straddle his lap, earning a soft moan as you felt his semi hard cock under you. Your hand trailed down his firm toned chest, across his abs to lift his shirt.

Your eyes looked over his body, ogling at how good he looked without a shirt. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

Leeknow’s hand rested on your thigh, running under the bottom of your fuzzy shorts, slowly sliding up.

You slowly slid each strap off your shoulder before pulling your bralette off, your breasts bouncing freely.

“Says you.” Leeknow said smirking, both hands cupping your breasts. His fingers ran over your erect nipples, twisting and flicking at them gently “You like that?”

You nodded and moaned softly, feeling your wetness start to soak your panties. You rolled your hips against his, grinding roughly.

He hummed happily as his lips went back to yours, gently kissing before he worked his way down your chest, sliding his tongue every few seconds.

His mouth sucked gently on your nipple, tongue swirling and lapping at your sensitive bud.

You gasped quietly as his mouth moved, biting down and sucking hard at the skin of your breast, slowly leading to the other nipple.

“I’m so fucking wet for you.” You say in a moan, scooting back a bit on his lap as your hand ran over his bulge.

“You want that cock, pretty girl?” He asked, pulling back as his fingers slipped under your shorts and panties. His fingers ran slowly over your clit before be carefully pulled them back, admiring the release on his fingers.

“Well” You started to undo his pants, tugging them down a bit as you freed his cock. It was much bigger than you though. “How else am I going to thank you for dinner and plowing?”

Your hand started to pump slowly, with a twist of the wrist when you reached the top. His fingers went back to your pussy, his thumb pressing into your clit as two dipped in your hole.

“You sure you want me to stretch out this tight little pussy?” He asked, his eyes on you as you reacted to his touch.

You tilted your head at him, your hand stopping at the top of his cock. Your thumb ran over the tip, collecting a little of his pre cum before bringing your thumb to your mouth and giving it a little suck.

“Afraid you’ll like it to much?”

Leeknow’s three fingers worked away, pumping your entrance and moving his thumb slowly. He looked up at you, pulling your face towards him. “I already know I will.”

You roughly kissed his lips as your hand trailed down his length, massaging his balls gently.

“You wanna go to the bedroom?” You asked against his lips, your walls starting to tighten around his fingers.

Leeknow slipped his hand from your shorts, wrapping both arms around you to stand up.

You giggled and wrapped yourself around him. “You keep this up and I might want to keep you.”

“Just feed me twice a day and I’ll pretty easy to handle.”

You directed him to the bedroom, where he climbed onto the bed with you still under him.

“Do you have a condom?” Leeknow asked as he kissed you, yanking down your shorts.

You turned over, leaning across the bed to the side table, unaware of how exposed you were to him.

He groaned quietly behind you, his fingers running along your entrance. “You’re fucking killing me.”

You gave your butt a little wiggle, digging through the drawer. “I swear there was some in here.”

Leeknow moved up behind you, his cock resting against your throbbing entrance. He leaned up behind you, “back corner” he pointed.

You held his cock in place, moaning softly at the feeling of his length against your clit. Your hand reached to hold him in place and you started to grind against him.

Leeknow groaned loudly, his teeth biting into your shoulder. His dick barely fit between your folds it was so thick, so long that the tip rested culled in your hand.

“Fuckin’ shit you feel so good.” You moaned, feeling your body shake gently, a gush of liquid running down your legs. You hand found Leeknow’s, passing him the condom.

“Haven’t even fucked you yet and you’re already making a mess.” He repositioned you on your back, moving between your legs as he rolled the condom on.

“I’m sure I’ll have to sleep in the spare bedroom.” You giggle, biting down on your finger as his length started to poke at your entrance.

He leaned down, inches away from your face as he pushed in a bit. “What? You’re kicking me out already?”

You tried to steady your breathing, feeling him stretch you out, making you wetter with each stroke.

“Because I know after this,” You start, your hand trailing down his cheek and flicking off his jaw. “I’m going to want more of you.”

He thrusted slowly as his lips pecked yours, his own moans making you more aroused. “I already want more of you.”

Leeknow’s lips found yours, kissing you roughly as he started to pick up speed.

You moaned into his mouth, allowing his tongue to slip in, moving along with yours.

“Pretty, pretty girl.” He whispered.

Your walls clenched around his length, wetness staring to drip and trickling onto Leeknow.

He held your hips as he fucked you through your orgasm, your body shaking under him.

Something about his lips were so addicting, the way they moved so easily with yours. How sweet he tasted.

He pulled back a little, just to look down at you. Smiling softly down at you, “You’re so pretty, and super fucking cool.”

You blushed hard and smiled at him, “Clears my snow, pays for dinner, fucks so good, and now complements?”

You leaned up to kiss his lips, gently pushing him back to climb on top. “Good luck getting rid of me.”

Leeknow looked at you with gazing eyes, watching as you lowered yourself onto his cock, “Please fucking stay.”

His words gave you goosebumps and a chill ran up your spine. You leaned down to kiss his lips, the unexpected butterflies made you smile into the kiss.

“I can be all yours.” You whispered, your hips slamming down into his. Your fist balled on his chest, feeling his cock start to firm.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, both your and Leeknow’s breathing becoming more and more erratic. “Cum for me Leeknow.”

His hips started to thrust into yours, cursing as he gripped onto your skin.

You laid your head on his shoulder as he slammed into you, your moans turning into whimpers as you felt his cock throbbing inside you.

His arms wrapped around your body, a hand rubbing your back gently.

“You ready to sleep?,” he asked, pressing kisses into the side of your head.

You whined quietly, hiding your face in the neck more. “Can you carry me to the spare bedroom and cuddle me?”

It was mostly a joke, but Leeknow didn’t take it as one. He slid out from underneath you, rolling the condom off and tossing it in the trash before scooping you up.

He plopped you on the bed, pulling the covers over you before climbing in and taking you into his arms.

It didn’t take long for you to drift to sleep, the warmth and comfort of Leeknow making it easy.

You woke up still in his arms, “Hey you.” You say wuietly.

Leeknow smiled at you, kissing your head. “Hey pretty girl, sleep well?”

You kissed his arm, “I did actually. How about you?”

“Probably the best sleep I’ve had in a long time.”

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adultswim2021 · 5 months

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Delocated #5: “The Soother” | March 16, 2009 - 12:15AM | S01E05

Kim goes off on a yoga retreat, but leaves behind a plaster mold of her own hand. Jon becomes unusually dependent on it, and the episode features at least one loving montage of him being romantic with the hand. There might’ve been two montages, I fell asleep before I could write this up and I’m relying on my notes. I hope there was two montages, because we all deserve that.

Jon also becomes a professional “soother” after a chance encounter proves that his buttery smooth/electronically modified voice is just what a colicky baby needs to drift off to beddy-bye. This results in a successful launch of a CD of Jon lulling your little angel to sleep. This gets under Yvgeny’s skin, whose comedy CD is not only selling poorly, but was also disrespected by his father, currently doing hard time being a prison guy. It should be noted, Jon records this CD and see it's release within the space of a week.

Kim comes home and is disturbed by Jon’s obsession with the fake hand, which is destroyed during a botched mob hit. The episode ends with an emotional ceremony of Jon spreading the ashes, or possibly just ground-up remnants of the hand.

Season one of Delocated is perfectly respectable and funny, but the more memorable episodes are still to come. This one is a fine collection of funny bits, like the running gag where Mike gets emotionally distraught when people reject his Halal French toast and has to call his mother. Also I liked when Jon likened Kim’s plaster hand to if he made a plaster mold of his penis were the shoe on the other foot. Or, glove on the other hand, if you will.

Hey, I couldn’t figure out how to work this into the write-up proper, so I’m adding it here. Also, I’m not sure how funny it actually is on paper, so please imagine me doing this on stage, and I’m making a very funny face while saying it, and everyone cheers when I get done saying it. Thanks:

“I’ve heard of a feet guys before, but hand guys????”

Let’s give me a hand, guys.

MAIL BAG

You didnt ask me but I have a dog and definately have gone through the doggy door before. unfortunately i got stuck last time I tried and was in there for quite a bit until my stepbrother showed up and plowed my fat white girl ass. toodles

I hope he got you pregnant and that your child grows up to read my blog and be my biggest fan :D I am a star!

For a class about the Comedies of Ancient Greece and Rome, i did a 10 min presentation comparing Xavier Renegade Angel to Socrates from the play The Clouds. I chose a student at random to read aloud my transcription of the Free Range Mannibalism cold open (“these byways of Ameri-can’t are coated con carnage…”). No one knew what the fuck i was talking about. I got an A-, i think.

People really despise this television show. It's hardly surprising, but, gosh, I wish the entire world agreed with me.

i wonder if Free Range Mannibalisn is less confusing to people who remember Mad Cow disease. Although even by the time of that episode airing, that was already barely a thing anymore

Brings to mind this one joke from Duckman where they make a Mad Cow Disease reference and then the screen pauses and a subtitle pops up explaining that the joke was written back when it was relevant. Duckman, still funny. I forget what your question was. If you are a trustee of the Everett Peck estate or current holder of the Duckman IP please reboot Duckman and let me and my friends write it.

#adult swim #adultswim2021 #delocated

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

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It’s Always Been You ~ 147

OUT OF TIME MASTERLIST

IT’S ALWAYS BEEN YOU MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,320ish

Summary: The final battle begins....

Notes: You must read Out Of Time in order to understand this. The chapter numbers continue from Out Of Time.

Y/N was lost in the midst of the chaos. Her unconscious body getting caught in one of the lower levels of the rubble. Tony was up first, searching for Y/N. He found the shield and Steve instead.

“Come on, buddy,” Tony urged, kneeling beside his brother-in-law. “Wake up.” Steve groaned, coming to. “That’s my man.” Tony held the shield up. “You lose this again, I’m keeping it.”

“What happened?” Steve asked.

“You messed with time. It tends to mess back. You’ll see.” Tony helped Steve to his feet.

“Where’s Y/N?”

“I was hoping she was with you. FRIDAY?”

“I am searching for her location, boss” FRIDAY responded.

“Please tell me that she’s alive."

“She has to be,” Steve said. “The Stones won’t allow anything to happen to her.”

“I’ve located Mrs. Stark,” FRIDAY announced. “She’s underneath the rubble.”

“Great, where?” Tony pressed.

“Tony,” Steve said, “maybe we need to deal with—“

“Deal with what?! Your sister—my wife is down there in who knows what kind of condition! We—I need to get to her!”

“Boss,” FRIDAY interrupted, “I don’t know if Y/N would see that as the best idea.”

“What?! Why are you choosing now to talk back, FRIDAY?”

“Because Thanos is here. Thor is currently watching him not too far from where you are.” Steve and Tony made eye contact.

“Y/N can protect herself,” Steve told his worried friend. “The she’ll be fine because the Stones need her.”

Tony nodded and the two walked out of the rubble they were in. They found Thor intensely watching Thanos, who was sitting on something not too far off.

“What’s he been doing?” Tony asked.

“Absolutely nothing,” Thor answered.

“Where are the Stones?” Steve questioned.

“Probably somewhere under all this,” Tony responded. “FRIDAY’s looking. All I know is he doesn’t have them.”

“So we keep it that way.”

“You know it’s a trap, right?” Thor said.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “And I don’t much care.”

“Good. Just as long we are all in agreement.” Thor stretched out both hands as thunder cracked. He summoned both Stormbreaker and Mjolnir, which he had stolen during the time heist. HIs casual clothes transformed into his armor and cape, with his beard forming into a braid. “Let’s kill him properly this time.”

The three walked down the rubble towards Thanos. All of them were very serious and ready to end this once and for all.

“You could not live with your own failure. And where did that bring you? Back to me,” Thanos stated, as the three heroes slowly moved to surround him. “I thought by eliminating half of life, the other half would thrive. But you’ve shown me that’s impossible. And as long as there are those that remember what was, there will always be those that are unable to accept what can be. They will resist.”

“Yep. We’re all kinds of stubborn,” Tony replied.

“I'm thankful. Because now, I know what I must do.” Thanos stood. “I will shred this universe down to its last atom.” He placed his helmet on his head. "And then– With the stones you've collected for me, create a new one. Teeming with life, but knows not what it has lost but only what it has been given.” Thor began crackling with lightning. “A grateful universe.”

“Born out of blood,” Steve said.

“They'll never know it. Because you won't be alive to tell them.”

And the fighting began.

~~~

Y/N groaned as she came to. Her head was pounding, it had obviously been hit during the chaos. She was breathing heavily as she took in her surroundings. There was a large metal beam trapping her against broken concrete.

“Hello!” She called out. “Is anyone there?”

No response. And she instantly regretted not putting a comms device in her ear. Y/N grunted as she tried to push the beam off of her, failing. Looking up, she studied the rubble barely hanging on above her. She needed to be careful or it was going to completely crush her.

“Use us,” a rough voice whispered to her in her head. “Use us.”

“It has always taken a lot from me to control you,” Y/N responded, aloud. “How am I suppose to do what I have to if I’m weak?”

“You’ll be fine.”

“What the hell am I even supposed to do anyway?”

“When the time comes, you will know.”

“You guys are incredibly unhelpful, you know?” She groaned as she tried to wiggle herself free again, without help from the Stones.

“You are wasting time.”

“Fine!” Y/N huffed.

She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the Stones.

~~~

“Okay, Thor! Hit me!” Tony exclaimed, the back of his suit opening up.

Thor banged his 2 weapons together, each loaded with lightning, and aimed them at the back of Tony’s suit. The Iron Man suit sucked up the energy and he shot it out at Thanos using his hands and body. Thanos twirled his blade really fast to divert the energy. Thor grabbed Stormbreaker and used it to bat Mjolnir to hit Thanos. Thanos used Tony as a shield, knocking him out and away.

“Boss, wake up!” FRIDAY pled.

Steve tried to attack Thanos but was easily shielded away. Thor’s attack was quickly blocked by Thanos’ sword. Thanos grabbed onto Thor and lifts him up by the neck, choking him, before slamming him down and punching him. Mjolnir is flicked away as Thanos relentlessly beats up Thor, throwing him into a tree and socking him before throwing Thor over rubble and socking him again. Thor tried to grab Stormbreaker but Thanos grabbed it and used it against Thor.

Form not too far off, Mjolnir began to float off the ground. Thanos was digging Stormbreaker into Thor, when suddenly Mjolnir flies into Thanos. It zoomed past, stopped, and then flew back the way it came. Both Thanos and Thor looked back in amazement as Steve wields the hammer.

“I knew it!” Thor said.

Frustrated, Thanos kicked Thor to the ground. Steve charged at the Titan, swinging Mjolnir, and hitting him in the face, knocking him down. Steve threw his shield and Thanos deflected. Steve threw Mjolnir to his shield, creating a shockwave and knocking Thanos off his feet.

Steve then threw his shield at Thanos, quickly hitting it back at the Titan again with Mjolnir. He lined his arm up with Thanos to channel lightning his way.

Thanos eventually got the upper hand, removing his helmet. He stabbed Steve’s leg and knocked Mjolnir out of the Captain’s hand. Thanos proceeded to destroy Steve’s shield with his double-bladed Soward and threw him across the battlefield. Steve staggeredly tried to get up.

“In all my years of conquest, violence, slaughter,” Thanos said, “it was never personal. But I’ll tell you now, what I’m about to do to your stubborn, annoying little planet—I’m gonna enjoy it. Very, very much.”

The entirety of Thanos’ army was then summoned to the ground. Upon seeing the army descending onto Earth, Steve slowly got back to his feet. With a fierce determination, he tightened his broken shield to his arm and stood against the army. Alone. Suddenly, a crackling came in on his comm.

“Hey, Cap, you read me?”

Steve stopped and looked around.

“Cap, it’s Sam. Can you hear me?”

A portal began to form behind the Captain.

“On your left.”

Steve looked behind to see the portal on his left side. Three figures stepped through; Okoye, Shuri, and T’Challa, all ready to fight. Sam then zoomed in from above. As he did, dozens of more portals opened up all around the battlefield. Through one of the portals, Doctor Strange appeared, joined by Drax, Mantis, Star Lord, and Spider-Man. Everyone on the battlefield watched in confusion and awe as more and more heroes arrive through the portals from all the corners of the universe.

Giant-Man (Scott) appeared out of the rubble with Rhodey, Bruce, and Rocket. Every one was lining up behind the Captain, all the teams and armies that Strange and the other sorcerers brought in to help. Tony was sitting up, finally coming around from the hit on his head. Suddenly, the ground in front of him began to tremble and crack. He pushed himself back as something blasted through it and into the sky. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was his wife.

Y/N was glowing with the power of the Stones. Each of the colors were circling around her, all six colors clearly defined. She slowly set herself down in front of Tony, the power fading away as she rushed to him.

“Tony! Are you okay?” She worried as she helped him to his feet.

“Am I okay?” He questioned. “You just shot up from the ground. You were glowing!”

“I’m okay. I’m ready to finish this. Once and for all.”

Tony pulled her in for a desperate kiss. Like he was terrified it would be their last. Y/N quickly reciprocated the desperation.

“I love you,” Tony breathed out as he pulled away.

“I love you too,” she responded.

They turned to join the group of heroes. Tony suited all the way up, while Y/N began to channel the Stones.

“AVENGERS!” Steve shouted, everyone gearing up as she summoned Mjolnir. “Assemble.”

Thor made a battle cry, as did T’Challa, and the heroes charged towards the opposing army. Thanos raised his sword towards the Avengers, signaling his army to charge as well. As the two armies collided, everyone short of paired up. Tony and Y/N were working together, keeping each other safe. Steve and Thor were doing the same thing, both switching off weapons. Steve had Stormbreaker in his hand while Thor had Mjolnir.

“No, no, give me that,” Thor said, tossing Mjolnir to Steve and signaling for Stormbreaker. “You have the little one.”

Steve passed Stormbreaker over and the two nodded to each other before running back into the battle. Y/N and Tony had gotten separated. Y/N could sense the Stones and knew she needed to get to them before Thanos did. It seemed that Thanos and his army knew that and were sending their biggest creatures to slow her down.

Despite her trying, Y/N was thrown down, plowing through the ground. She was panting, and groaning in pain. The creature stalked towards her as she tried to get back up. It raised its claws above its head and was just about to ship down on Y/N when someone stepped in-between her and the creature and killed it. Y/N inhaled sharply, still slightly panting, as she took in her hero. Bucky had turned, looking down at her with those eyes she had fallen in love with. But it wasn’t the same anymore. Y/N now knew that she was over him, though he would always have a place in her heart.

“Bucky,” she breathed out.

“Hey, doll,” he smiled softly, helping her off the ground.

“Bucky.”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Bucky.” She practically jumped on him, hugging him tightly. He held her close. “We did it… you’re back.”

“I’m back. Though it’s been mere seconds for me.”

Y/N pulled away. The two studied each other’s faces. Y/N was trying to figure out how to say what she needed to. Bucky was studying her, knowing what she needed to say.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I kept you waiting too many times. I get it.”

Tears pooled in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re happy, right? He treats you right?”

“Yes. He treats me like a queen. We have a daughter. Morgan Howard Stark.”

“Howard?” Bucky chuckled lightly.

“Yeah, I was hesitant on it too. But Tony did some pretty good persuading.”

“I’m happy for you. Really.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey! Can you two old people stop catching up and come help us with the fight?” Sam exclaimed over the comms.

“Be right there,” Y/N responded. She shot out her hand to the side, blasting a creature into pieces. “Thanks for the save though, Buck. But I could have handled it.” She smirked before running off.

~~~

Tony was fighting by himself, creatures and one of the Children of Thanos were after him. He was punched at the ground and he was going to get back up when Giant Man stopped on the Child of Thanos. Peter swung in, immediately going to help Tony up.

“Hey! Holy cow! You will not believe what's been going on. Do you remember when we were in space? And I got all dusty?” Peter rambled after both his and Tony’s helmets disappeared. Tony was looking at Peter, trying not to brake out in a total grin. “I must've passed out, Because I woke up, and you were gone. But Doctor Strange was there, right? He was like, "It's been five years. Come on, they need us." And then he started doing the yellow sparkly thing that he does all the time–“

Tony took steps towards the teen. “He did?” He mumbled. “Oh, no.” He opened his arms and pulled the teen into him. “Hold me.”

“What are you doing?” Peter hugged back. Tony slapped Peter’s back and closed his eyes, holding him tighter. “Oh, this is nice.”

Y/N had noticed the two and had allowed them some time while she fought off the army. Finally, she was done. She landed behind them.

“Okay, boys, party’s over,” she commented.

“Y/N!” Peter exclaimed, rushing over to hug her.

“Hey, Peter,” she welcomed him into her arms. “I’m so glad you’re back. Now,” she pulled away, “keep fighting.”

“On it!” His helmet closed and he swung away.

The couple watched before making eye contact.

“We did it,” Tony whispered, coming closer to his wife.

“But it’s not over yet,” Y/N replied. She leaned in and kissed him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

next chapter >

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pinkoptics · 3 years

Text

AU-gust 2021 Prompts

3. Hipsters / 16. Hippies

Erik detests hipsters and hippies and, to be honest, isn’t even sure what the difference is, nor does he particularly care. The things he will do for Charles…

Modern AU. Still have powers. Grumpy Erik. Adorable Charles. Meet Cute. Silliness.

3392 Words

Erik hated everything about this place.

Absolutely everything.

He could write a dissertation on its failings, which were abundant.

Its first sin was being directly across from his apartment building. When he looked out his window, he saw it. When he stepped out of the lobby doors, he saw it. When he pulled his car out of the parking garage, he saw it. It was an unavoidable part of every single day of his life.

Its second sin was what it had replaced. Previously, there had been a diner. A kosher diner. A diner that had tasted like his childhood. It had been a hole in the wall, never looked quite clean, but the coffee had been strong enough to caffeinate an elephant and the food almost as good as his mama’s. Most people had passed it by. Just another slightly dingy New York eatery that you didn’t give a second thought. Quiet. A refuge for those in the know. Then came the hipster gentrification, ruining not only his precious diner, but the neighbourhood in general.

Its third sin was its name. Plant. In and of itself the name ‘Plant’ was harmless, inoffensive. Just a word. It conjured images of a vegan eatery, bistro, restaurant, or maybe if taken 100% literally, a store that sold plants. All of which would have been fine. He had nothing against plants and, sure, he ate meat (kosher meat), but happily ate vegetarian dishes as well. But no, it was not a plant store or even a vegan eatery, it was a vegan coffeehouse. Coffee came from plants, Erik knew this, so the name passed on that technicality, but it did not scream ‘coffee.’ Why not ‘Bean’ if it needed to conform to the trendy one-word-naming that had for reasons unknown come with the gentrification. It was couched between ‘Table’ (a restaurant) and ‘Sweat’ (a boutique gym). Plant did not equal coffee, and that knowledge crawled under his skin every time he saw the stylized lettering.

Its fourth sin was the coffee. Erik wasn’t particularly picky about his brew, whether at home or out. Cheap diner swill, the finest Italian espresso, the Keurig at the office, the ridiculously expensive machine that produced the perfect cappuccino at Emma’s apartment, whatever. Plant’s beans were fine as beans went, the roast satisfactory, but then ruined with its accompaniments. They carried a variety of ‘mylks.’ Yes, with a ‘y’. He preferred lattes, and would have been fine with oat or almond— if only it was spelled with a fucking ‘i’. Every time he saw the pretentious letter, he felt the urge to take a sharpie and commit as many acts of misdemeanour graffiti as necessary until all the ‘y’s were gone.

Its fifth sin was its staff. He could have tolerated their always sunny dispositions (even if it were literally impossible for any customer service employee to be that happy all the time). He could have tolerated their ridiculous hipster (or was it hippy?) apparel, moustaches, beards and hairstyles (what was even the difference between the two?). What he could not handle was the way they called him ‘friend.’ Every. Single. Time. He could count his friends on one hand and none of them worked at Plant. Their ‘peace, love and joy’ vibe made him grind his teeth and wish he had a mutation that would allow him to send them back to the 1960s.

And yet…

“Good morning friend! Amazing day, right?” It was, in fact, pouring so hard the streets were borderline flooding. “Usual? Or do you want to try—”

Erik had long ago learned to immediately tune out the suggestions, but was sure he caught the word ‘sage.’ Who in their right fucking mind wanted sage in their coffee? Yes, he was inside the loathed establishment wasting precious brain cells wondering why anyone felt the need to mess with the simple perfection that was coffee and milk. Yes, he was there often enough that the employees knew him on sight. Yes, he had a usual order.

It wasn’t his fault.

It really wasn’t.

It was the fault of a pair of the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

This shouldn’t have been the case. The whole thing was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. The entire story more at home on the W Network or Hallmark, than in his very real, not-a-rom-com, life. And yet, here he was, having his 24th latte with mylk in a row and questioning his very sanity.

It had all started, just over a month ago, directly in front of Plant. To this day, Erik wasn’t sure whose fault it had been. He’d been on his phone, eviscerating a junior partner for a monstrous fuck up, and so livid that he was not at all paying attention to his surroundings. The blue-eyed man he’d run into, however, had claimed equal distraction, so perhaps the blame rested on both of their shoulders.

They had crashed into each other— papers flew, his phone flipped through the air and they ended up in a heap on the sidewalk, Erik atop the smaller frame beneath him. Already late for work, already pissed off with the junior partner beyond reason, Erik had been ready to re-direct his anger and tear whoever it was a new one, when the aforementioned blue eyes had arrested the words in his throat. He had admitted this to no one. Hell, he barely admitted it in the sanctity of his own mind because he was not a 12 year old girl, but a senior partner in one of the most prestigious architecture firms in New York. He did not go soft over a pair of gorgeous eyes (except, apparently, that he did), particularly when he hadn’t even seen the face that went with the eyes, which could have been grotesquely unattractive (it wasn’t).

The mouth that went with the eyes was absurdly red and absurdly kissable. The face angelic. To his eternal, internal embarrassment he had thought that exact word— angelic. He wished he could have blamed his temporary insanity on hitting his head, but having fallen on top, he couldn’t. If anyone had a concussion it was the ocean-eyed, ruby-lipped angel man. The ruby lips had spluttered apologies in a gorgeous British accent (not something Erik had until now found to be a turn on) as they scrambled off each other, righting clothes and belongings.

“Your phone!” the man had moaned. “Is it all right?”

The screen did appear to have a crack, but in another moment of lunacy, Erik pocketed it before the Angel could see and muttered something about it being fine. Instead, Erik helped him to collect the papers that had fluttered every which way, including the road, where they were already being demolished by a steady stream of vehicles.

“I hope those weren’t important.”

The man laughed, it was a very nice sound. “Not as such, no. I’m sure my students will be delighted to hear that their papers were torn asunder. They already mock me for printing them at all. I could mark them on my laptop like a proper 21st century individual, but there’s something about the feel of paper and pen that I just cannot let go of. It’s— and, as I go on and see your expression, I realize a simple ‘no’ likely would have sufficed.”

What did he see in Erik’s expression? A man besotted? Enamoured? Smitten? Any other number of words he had never used in regard to himself or anyone else in his entire life? Fuck. Erik tried to school has face into its usual disdain for the world and ninety-nine percent of the people in it, but if he was as in control of his facial muscles as he was of his thoughts, he knew he was failing miserably.

Erik handed him the last of the papers they could possibly retrieve. “I agree— about the pen and paper, I mean.” He did. As incredible as design software was these days, he always started on paper. The precision needed to draw the perfect straight lines and angles of a new building gave him a feeling of immense satisfaction in a way little else did.

“Oh, well, glad I’m not the only one who hasn’t forsaken the old ways.”

His smile.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Erik cleared his throat. “Let me buy you a coffee.”

Had he just said that?

Traitorous voice.

Was he gesturing at Plant?

Traitorous body.

He’d never been inside. On principle. Apparently, principle flew out the window for charming British men with cornflower (cornflower?!) blue eyes. The man blinked those eyes, as though not expecting the kindness.

Erik gestured at the papers. “I’ve clearly set your work back and I’ve ruined your—” cardigan. Erik blinked as his clothes came into focus. The man he was suddenly, desperately, attracted to was wearing a baggy, grandpa cardigan. Erik began to wonder if he had never woken up that morning. Maybe he was still in bed, across the street. Maybe this was a fever dream.

“Oh! I’ve dozens more just like it. It’s nothing.” He swatted ineffectually at the dirt covering one sleeve.

“Please.”

The man cocked his head. “Well… all right.”

So Erik had. In the end it had been a tea, not coffee. Earl grey with mylk. The interaction had ended there, awkwardly. Most likely his own fault. He didn’t do flirting with random strangers he’d just plowed into on the street. He didn’t generally do flirting at all. Moreover, he was now very late and had the junior partner’s fuck ups to fix before this afternoon’s meeting with their client. So, he’d left, stumbling over his goodbyes.

The day that followed hadn’t afforded much opportunity to think on the chance encounter. Not with employees to castrate and clients to placate. It wasn’t until he was home, looking out the bank of front windows at Plant that his thoughts drifted back to Blue Eyes. Which was, unfortunately, what he had christened him in his head because he’d never gotten the man’s name. Erik had gone to bed, mind clouded with thoughts, dreamt of him, and woken up with those same thoughts. Emma had always said his was one of the most disciplined minds she had ever encountered.

So much for that.

It was only a complete loss of that discipline that could possibly explain why he’d unnecessarily crossed the street the next morning and entered the obnoxious establishment for a second time, without even a moment’s hesitation. His eyes had immediately scanned for a mop of just overlong brown hair (yes, he’d noted that too, as well as just how much he wanted to run his hands through it). When they’d landed upon said hair, curling delightfully upon Blue Eyes’ forehead, Erik had been genuinely surprised. This clearly made the man a Plant regular, which should have been a point against him — a massive point — yet here Erik was, seeking him out regardless. Blue Eyes had looked up at him then, gifting him with a smile and acknowledging him with a nod, before returning to a set of what Erik had to guess were re-printed term papers.

Such was the story of how Erik had become a regular customer with a regular order.

Most days Blue Eyes was there before he came in, sometimes working on laptop or in a notebook, other times reading a book or a journal. Erik had caught a title once — The Oxford Journal of Genetics — which led him to conclude, that along with clearly being a professor, this proved the man must have a brain to back up the looks. Another point in his favour, as Erik had no patience for stupidity, no matter how pretty a package it came in.

Erik’s day was such that he usually needed to take his order to go. The few days where he could scrape together a few extra minutes, he grabbed his own table. He hadn’t once attempted to kid himself that it was because he enjoyed the ambience— that level of denial would have been absurd. No, it was clearly so he could spend a few extra minutes trying to stare, in a way that wasn’t blatantly obvious, at his… crush. Crush. He might as well think the word because that’s what it was. Only days after meeting him, Erik had caught himself, pen poised, about to doodle hearts on his notepad at a meeting. The mental pinch and knowing look Emma had sent his way had made him extra testy for the rest of the day. The wide berth everyone but Emma had given him was a testament to that.

And yet…

He never approached Blue Eyes. They exchanged nods, occasional hellos, but never anything more. Out of all of his out of character behaviour — and there was a lot of it at this point — this rattled him most. Erik had a reputation in professional and personal circles. He was confident, forbidding, occasionally arrogant, and brazen in pursuing designs no one else thought possible to execute. Erik went after what he wanted in life with borderline fanaticism.

He did not sit and observe from afar, mentally warring with himself, while also berating himself, for not having the balls to ask to join him, or buy him another tea, or inquire as to what he was reading. There were any number of conversational openings, but 24th latte in, he still hadn’t taken any of them. With each passing day the side of him that decided against it (or ‘chickened out’ as the nastier part of his mind supplied) became stronger and stronger. Blue Eyes hadn’t engaged with him either. Maybe he wasn’t gay. Maybe Erik wasn’t his type. Maybe he was already in a relationship. The chances that he was being just as melodramatic as Erik was being in his own head seemed slim. So, Erik continued to act foolish — alternately wondering how long he would continue to do so and how good a kisser Blue Eyes might be with lips like that.

It was on latte #26 that everything changed— no thanks to Erik.

He had decided to sit at a table that day and engage in his usual ‘I’m staring but I’m not staring’ routine. He was in the ‘not-staring’ portion, scrolling through his emails without really paying attention to any of them, when he was startled out of it by the chair across from him suddenly becoming occupied.

Blue Eyes.

“I can’t take it anymore.”

“Wha—”

“You come in here every day. Every day. Sometimes you stay, sometimes you don’t. It’s baffling because there is one thing I know for certain— you hate it here. No, you loathe it. And, there are literally dozens of other coffee houses within walking distance. You clearly don’t belong—” Blue Eyes gestured up and down at what was likely Erik’s three piece suit, then at Plant in general, where there wasn’t a single person so much as sporting dress pants. Erik counted at least two man buns, one head of dreadlocks and a form of baggy pants Erik didn’t even have a name for. “—and I am fascinated by things that don’t belong. Things that don’t make sense. Puzzles. You don’t make sense. There is no way the coffee is that good. And yet, here you are. Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Charles.”

Blue Eyes — no, Charles — extended his hand across the table and, reflexively, Erik took it, shaking it gingerly.

Charles laughed. “I don’t bite. I entirely talk too much, ask anyone, but I don’t bite.”

Erik rather wished that he did.

“How did you— my suit?”

Thankfully, Charles seemed to follow his meaning. “Oh no, the suit is only corroborating evidence. As is the way you look down your nose at everything in here. It’s your mind.” Charles tapped his temple. “Telepath. I swear to you I haven’t dug any deeper than the surface swirl of utter distaste for this establishment. Then I’d know, wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t be here asking.”

Telepath. Blue E— Charles was a mutant. Erik was fairly certain his knees went a little weak. Good thing they were sitting. However… what on earth could he say? ‘I’ve essentially been stalking you’ hardly seemed like an opener that was going to get him where he wanted to be. Erik cleared his throat, buying time, as those keen eyes continued to look at him expectantly. While Erik wasn’t verbose, he also never found himself at a loss for words, except for here and now, where the truth was exceptionally embarrassing.

His pause, it seemed, went on too long because Charles jumped back into the fray. “Good lord, I’ve ambushed you, haven’t I? Clearly, you don’t have to answer the mad man who mowed you down on the sidewalk and then ambushed the peaceful solitude of your morning coffee. I apologize and will bugger right off if you tell me to. However, if it helps any, I don’t like it here either. It’s trying too bloody hard to be ‘on trend,’ isn’t it? For a cultural subset who pride themselves on not being pretentious they’ve entirely failed, haven’t they? And, I’m English, I know pretentious.” He laughed self-depreciatingly at that.

A beat for his mind to catch up to the second verbal barrage and Erik finally had a response. “If you like it as little as I do, then why are you here?”

Charles’ mouth formed a perfect little ‘o’ of surprise. He scratched the back of his neck and, for a moment, looked everywhere but Erik. “Blast. I’m caught, aren’t I?”

His cheeks reddened adorably. Since when did Erik find anything adorable? Since now, apparently. This man broke all of his rules.

Charles gave an adorable (christ) little shrug of his shoulders. “I suppose I best come clean.” He looked Erik squarely in the eye. “You’re gorgeous. You bought me tea. I came back thinking I’d ask you out. But you’re so… I lost my nerve. Have been doing the same daily ever since.”

“I’m so… ?”

The cheeks reddened further.

“Entirely too gorgeous for me.” Charles gestured at today’s grandfatherly cardigan. “Besides that—”

“You’re perfect.”

Fucking hell. When had his mind decided to say things without his permission?

It produced another, adorable, surprised little ‘o’. “I’m sorry— What?”

In for a penny…

“I had never set foot in Plant before we crashed into each other. Never would have because I do hate everything about it. Everything except you, who I thought were a regular—”

“I thought you were a regular.”

“— and wanted to ask you out.”

“I’d never been here before ei— you wanted to ask me out?”

They stopped, collective words sinking into respective minds.

Charles threw his head back, laughing. “If I didn’t know better—“ He tapped his temple again. “— I’d think you’re having me on.”

His laughter was infectious and Erik found he was smiling despite himself. He gave his own little shrug. “I don’t lie.”

“No, you don’t, do you? I can’t believe we both—”

“Me either.”

“This is too much. Wait… Why are we still here?”

“I’m sorry?”

Charles leaned forward and plucked Erik’s latte with oat mylk from his hand. “Can I buy you a coffee? A real coffee? Where they know how to spell the word milk? At the cafe I actually frequented before I began co-starring with you in a romcom so terrible my sister wouldn’t even watch it?”

He was already standing up, as if assured Erik would say yes, which every single bone in his body was blaring loudly for him to do. It didn’t seem to matter to any part of him that he would be blowing off work, a thought he discarded as quickly as it appeared. Just another out of character thing to add to the list. He followed. “I’m Erik, by the way.”

Charles looked back, as he collected his belongings, and grinned sheepishly. “I know.”

That was the last time Erik set foot in Plant until exactly a year later. He ordered latte #27 with Blue-Eyed Charles on his arm, after having crossed the street from their apartment, to celebrate their first anniversary. As Charles smiled at him over his Earl Gray with mylk, Erik found he couldn’t quite hate the damned coffee shop as much as he had before.

#cherik #cherik fanfic #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #pinkoptics fic #au_gust #augustwritingchallenge

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bluebellwriting · 3 years

Text

Love Me Tender Part 6

Hey folks! I know it’s been a minute, I’ve been super busy with work and school, but I’m by no means done with this piece and you know I had to post something for Valentine’s Day (to make up for the fact that single and lonely 😆😭)

Despite popular belief, Hell does in fact freeze over. It’s Hell, after all, and in the world of pain and torture, everything is fair game. And it’s February, historically one of the coldest months for you back when you were living and certainly the most miserable in Hell too. The roads are slick with sheets of ice, you can’t walk a block without a three-foot icicle nearly spearing itself through you, and everyone’s car is perpetually trapped in a snowbank thanks to Lucifer’s “generous snow plow program.” Each winter day reminds you of the worst snow cyclones from when you were growing up in Brooklyn, cold yes, but in a way it’s all very sentimental. They remind you of the winter nights cuddled up with your siblings, hot chocolate in hand, listening to the winds blustering against your windows. It’s all rather lovely, in a strange way.

Your boyfriend of four months does not seem to agree, if the way he’s gripping you and nuzzling into your neck is anything to go by. You’ve been trying to extricate yourself from your practically shared bed for the last ten minutes, but each attempt only causes Alastor to pull you closer. He’s basically on top of you now, those boney forearms are stronger than you’d think.

“Sweetheart,” you whisper. “It’s time to get up.”

Alastor groans but otherwise your voice falls on deaf ears.

“Come on, we have to make breakfast and then--”

“But darling, it’s freezing,” he sighs. “And why would I go anywhere when I have my own personal heater right here.”

It’s really hard to stay mad at him, especially when he places sweet little kisses from your cheek to your shoulder and back again.

“Well your personal heater has some errands to run and needs to get her day started.”

“Ugh,” Alastor whines and inch by inch, begins to roll off of you. “How can you even stand to be out in that unbearable cold? Don’t you want to stay right here with me, your loving and adoring boyfriend?”

“You know I would,” you boop his nose. “But then I wouldn’t be able to get your present.”

His ears perk up immediately.

“Present?” He coos. “A present for lil’ ol’ me? Dearest, you shouldn’t have.”

“Yes, but I can’t pick it up until I get out of this bed.”

“Oh fine. I suppose I have some things to do for tonight as well,” he teases and kisses you on the nose before finally allowing you to shift out of bed.

“Although before you leave me,” he whines. “I have a little something to kick off the festivities.”

With a snap of his fingers, a red garment manifests in your arms.

“Oh, Alastor.” You run your hands over the thick velvet of the dress. “It’s lovely.”

“This is just the beginning, love. Now go try it on,” he shoos you off to the bathroom, then immediately curls back up into the comforter to protect himself from the draft leaking in from your window.

The dress is beautiful and warm. As soon as you change into it and assess yourself in the bathroom mirror it hits you that this has to be a customized dress. It fits you far too perfectly and the fabric is so soft, it’s like a blanket heating you up and snuggling you in. It’s either custom or enchanted with Alastor’s magic. Or maybe both, you wouldn’t put it past him to make this the perfect dress.

The last four months together have been a dream. A blissful and rapturous dream that you never want to wake up from. If you thought he was sweet before you began dating, then this is an entirely new level. You two are practically glued to the hip, and he finds a way to make every possible moment so enthralling and exciting that it doesn’t even matter.

Everything about him is just enthralling, and the best part is that he can’t seem to get enough of you either. It makes your face warm and your mouth split into a grin just thinking about it.

You poke your head out of the bathroom door and giggle at the sight of Alastor in his own personal blanket cocoon.

“Comfortable?” You ask.

“I’d be more comfortable if you were here with me.”

“While that sounds tempting, I wouldn’t want to ruin my fabulous new dress.”

He shoots up, blanket still around his shoulders, eyes wide and alert and trained on the way the bodice clings to your curves. It’s even more perfect than he could have expected.

“Do you like it?” He scoots to the edge of the bed and holds his arms out for you to step into.

“I love it.” You smile and step between his legs to fall into his embrace. “It’s perfect. Thank you, my love.”

“That’s just the beginning, dear,” he cheers.

“Alastor, you didn’t--”

“Nonsense! It’s our first Valentine’s together and it must be the best of all time!” Ever one for theatrics, with a flourish of his arm the room is filled with red roses.

“Oh my goodness,” you giggle and cup his face in your hands. “You darling man.”

Alastor melts into your hands, letting the softness of your palms warm his cheeks.

“Only for you, love.” He leans forward and nuzzles your nose. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, dear.”

If you weren’t worried about getting to the store and back in time, you would have stayed here, exactly like this, for hours more.

“Let’s begin the day, shall we, love?” You whisper.

“But it’s cold!” He whines. “And you’re so warm!”

“Ugh, you’re such a southern boy,” you tease and pull away from him, if only to draw him out of his blanket nest and into the world.

“You love this southern boy,” he laughs and finally rises. With a quick snap, he’s dressed in a redder-than-average suit with one of the red roses on your floor now pinned to his lapel.

He hands you your coat, gloves, hat, scarf, and tries to force another sweater upon you but you stop him before you’re a complete bundle of wool and layers.

---

Charlie must have gotten up early because the entire lobby is littered with hearts and confetti. Chocolates are on every available surface and your fearless leader is currently snuggling with Vaggie in matching heart sweaters. You watch Angel hand Husk a box of chocolates wrapped in a lovely bow. Hesitantly, Husk opens the box and spits out whatever he was drinking all over your brother before stomping away with a red face.

“What did you do to that poor man?” You call over.

“Just gave him an innocent token of my affections,” Angel chimes and shows you the contents of the box: three rows of chocolates with letters printed on each piece, spelling out “Best Dick Ever.”

“Angel, that is so vulgar,” you exclaim.

“It’s the day of love, sis.” Angel pops one of the pieces into his mouth.

“That is not love, my fellow,” Alastor chastises.

“Aww, that’s cute coming from you, strawberry pimp.”

“I’ll have you know that I am plenty romantic,” Alastor says incredulously. “Aren’t I, (Y/N)?”

“You are, love. The most romantic,” you coo. “Now I have to get going. Please be nice, boys.”

“And you,” Alastor leans down to pull your scarf tighter around you, “promise me that you will be careful. You’re sure I can’t come with you?”

“I’m sure, love. I’ll be fine. Angel,” you turn to him. “Be nice.”

“’K, mom,” he calls back to you, waving as you begin your journey into the chilly winds.

“So,” Angel drawls, sidling up to Alastor. “What are you doing for my sister on this ever most sacred day of love and affection?”

“Something special and perfect and I will not have you distracting me,” Alastor sighs and snaps his fingers, transporting himself to his cottage deep in the woods of the Pentagram. Because only a crazy person would want to walk out in that cold. Good thing Alastor loves your kind of crazy.

---

It’s been a while since Alastor has been to his home, his actual home, one that is reminiscent of the large, Queen Anne-style homes of New Orleans. Dust is collecting on the counters and window sills, but that’s nothing that some quick magic can’t fix. The real task at hand is the redecorating and the meal he has to prepare for tonight to be as perfect as can be. This is certainly not the first time that you’ve been to his home but he’s hoping that it will be the last time that he calls it “his home.”

If he had it his way, tonight would be the night that Alastor asked you to marry him, to spend the rest of eternity -- or as long as you’d have him at least -- together in Hell as husband and wife, as partners in crime until the very fabric of the universe began to fray at the seams. He’s known for so long, long before you began your courtship, that he wanted to marry you and it took everything within him not to propose to you on your first date. But he had to be patient, suave, a perfect gentleman, because the last thing he wanted to do was scare you off with a hasty courtship and engagement. The last man who had attempted that with you, well, Alastor was still in the process of hunting him down so he could offer you his head on a spit. That was supposed to be the second part of your Valentine’s gift but alas, the wretched soul was more slippery than he had anticipated.

Hopefully you’d be impressed enough by the way he had decorated the house with some of your favorite colors and furniture from the 1940s, things to make it look more like a home you could share and grow into.

---

The beauty about Hell in the wintertime is that there are so few people out on the streets to bother you. The sidewalks and roads are eerily quiet, the snow swallowing up distant sounds so the only ones left is the crunch of your boots. Your trip to Rosie’s had been quick, as the poor woman was overrun with sinners trying to buy up last-minute Valentine’s gifts. As she said to you in passing while gift wrapping some tacky jewelry for a panicked demoness, “good for business, bad for relationships.”

You clutched your gift bag close to your chest, guarding it from any muggers who would even dare steal the most perfect gift for your Alastor. This was weeks in the making and you were not about to let someone ruin your first good Valentine’s Day.

You approached the door to the hotel, already anticipating a warm fire to warm your cheeks and nose, when suddenly an arm is around you and you’re no longer in front of the hotel. No, after blinking your eyes to readjust, you’re now staring at Alastor’s home, which means the arm and body hugging you close belongs to your sweet, adoring, and sometimes startling beau.

“Alastor!” You squeal. “What have I told you about surprising me like that?”

“I’m sorry, love,” he chuckles. “But I just couldn’t have you out in the cold any longer.”

“If this wasn’t a day dedicated to love you’d be buried in snow right now,” you grumble.

“I don’t doubt that, sweetest. Now come on, the fire is waiting for you.”

When Alastor first brought you into his home it was your one-month anniversary. You were actually relieved when it wasn’t a massive mansion like most Overlords pick for themselves, and you couldn’t help but be charmed by the perfectly retro, 1920s decor.

But it’s different now. The living room has new, floral wallpaper and some of the furniture reminds you of... your old home back in New York.

“You redecorated,” you shiver as you allow the warmth of the home heat up your body. Alastor rubs his hands up and down your shoulders to warm you up as soon as your coat and layers have been shed.

“Do you like it?” He asks, a glimmer of hope igniting in his eyes.

“Oh it’s lovely,” you breathe and inhale, smelling the hot meal he’s probably slaved over. “Just surprising. What brought this on?”

“Oh, just, wanted to try something new. Are you ready for dinner?”

“I’ve been salivating since I first stepped into the door.”

Dinner is delicious, mouth wateringly incredible and cajun. But all throughout dinner you couldn’t help but notice the way Alastor’s knee bounced or the way his hand shook whenever he held his fork to his mouth. Not to mention the eery quiet between you two. You can’t seem to get more than a one-word response out of him. It makes your heart drop, and the way his eyes shift away from your gaze makes a pit form in your stomach.

“Alastor, love. Is everything alright?”

His eyes dart up to meet yours. His teeth worry his bottom lip and you can hear his fingers tapping excessively on his seat.

“Of course, darling. Everything is right as rain. Are you enjoying your food?”

“It’s amazing, Al. It’s always amazing.” You beam at him and reach across the table to hold on to his hand.

“If you don’t have any more delightful surprises for me, love, could I give you my gift now?”

“(Y/N) you didn’t--”

“I won’t even dignify that with a response.”

Reaching down beside your chair, you pull out the perfectly wrapped present and slide it across the table to him.

“It’s not much,” you explain. “But I hope you like it.”

It’s perfect. So perfect, the wrapping, the bow, the very idea that his darling has given him a gift at all, that he doesn’t even want to open it. As much as he wants to tear it open, there’s the urge to keep this moment preserved in his mind forever and ever, just in case his present to you goes south tonight.

But from the way you’re looking at him, eyes wide and hopeful, he knows he has to open it right now.

Inside is a little plastic... view finder? He’s really never seen anything like this. They look like binoculars but there’s a little white disk inside with small film negatives along the circumference.

“It’s a reel viewer,” you explain. “Put it up to your eyes and click the lever.”

So he does. And with each click he’s met with little candids of you and him, some from before your relationship began, some from after, all of them more perfect than the last and preserved forever just for him. His heart swells and warms an overwhelming amount. His joy leaks from his mouth and eyes, until it feels like the sun itself is pouring through his teeth and tears.

“Oh, (Y/N), darling...” he sniffles.

“I know it’s not much but--”

“It’s everything, dearest.” It really is. And more importantly it’s enough for him to get his act together. He feels like he can breathe again, like the fog of doubt has finally been lifted. What was he so worried about? You love him, of course, you love him.

“It’s perfect.” He rises and comes to kneel before you. “More lovely and wonderful than you will ever know. So much better than my gift to you but I hope you will love it all the same. I love it, (Y/N). I love you. So, so very much, dearest.”

“Alastor, I’m going to love anything you give me because I love you, sweetheart.” You peck his nose.

“Yes, well, that’s the thing. Because really, this feels more like just another gift from you to me.”

“Is it now?” You tease.

“It is...” he sighs. “I love you. I hope you never have to doubt that for an instant in your life. And I know this might be too soon, and you can say no for now, or forever, but I have never doubted for a minute that you are the one for me. My gift to you, love, sweetheart, darling dearest, is this.”

He motions to the dining room.

“The... dining room?”

“No, love,” he chuckles. “The house. My house... Our house. If you’ll have it. If you’ll have me.”

You gasp and tears flood your eyes so quickly that you have to blink them away to see Alastor’s hopeful eyes properly.

“You’re asking me to move in with you?”

“I am. I’m asking you to make this house, our home.”

“Oh, Alastor.” You launch forward and wrap your arms around his neck. You press your lips to his in a bruising kiss, letting him bundle you up in his own arms and grip your waist.

You pull way for a brief moment, short enough to mumble out a fervent series of ‘yeses.’

“Of course,” you say between kisses to his face. “Of course, I’ll move in with you.”

#alastor x reader #alastor x Chubby!reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #valentine's day #they say write the stories you want to see

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wayward-dreamer · 4 years

Text

Life’s Lessons - Part 4

Title: Life’s Lessons - A Lesson in Self Control

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader (eventual)

Other Pairings: Dean x Lisa, Female!Reader x OMC – Ethan (past, mentioned)

Word Count: 6,612 (thoughts, song lyrics in italics)

Part Summary: After Charlie witnesses the looks between Dean and Y/N outside the school on Friday, she convinces Y/N they should go out for drinks. At the bar, Charlie and Y/N bond, as she opens up to Charlie about Dean but also her past. After several drinks, Y/N goes home drunk and gets a little help from a friend. The next day brings a little embarrassment, but also brings up feelings within Dean and Y/N, that they know they shouldn’t be feeling.

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Mentions of cheating, Mentions of reader’s ex, Talk of Emotional Abuse, Mentions of a physical incident against reader, Drunk reader, Embarrassment, Dean being sweet (yes, that’s a warning), flirting, forbidden feelings

Music: Deeper in the Water by The Lone Bellow (playing in the background while Y/N is baking scene), Wherever I May Roam by Metallica (Dean and Y/N backyard scene).

Life’s Lessons Spotify Playlist

A/N: Thank you to everyone for your wonderful comments on this series so far! I’m so glad you’re all enjoying it! This part is a little heavier, so please read the warnings. Please share your thoughts with me, I love hearing what you all think! Happy reading and enjoy! :)

Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics! Check her out for all your AU needs!!!

Life’s Lessons Masterlist

Y/N took off her red glasses, smiling as she looked at her students. She could see them all flicking their eyes up at the clock every now and then, wondering when the bell would ring. She found it amusing as she tried not to laugh. It was Friday and they couldn’t wait to get out of there and start their weekend fun. She couldn’t wait herself, hoping to have some time for herself, call her family and maybe go see a movie.

Unfortunately for her students, they still had some time before they could leave, using that time to take the notes for the criteria set for their book reports. She watched as they all scribbled in their notebooks hurriedly, wanting to get out as soon as the bell went off.

“Make sure it’s personal to you” she told them as they wrote. “Books have a way of really affecting us, so I want you guys to choose something that really had a big effect on you.”

Some of them mumbled an “okay” while others nodded.

Suddenly, the bell rang, and they all sprung up at the same time. It was like how smaller children got excited for ice-cream.

“Alright, don’t all head out at the same time! You’ll plow each other out of the way!” she laughed.

“Sorry, Miss Y/L/N” one student called out.

“Have a great weekend, guys!” she called out in return.

Y/N walked out of the room as well, following them down the hallway and out of the school building. She smiled as students were being picked up by their parents, getting on the bus home or their bikes and riding home. She spotted a parent of one of her students notice her, walking over to her.

“Miss Y/L/N?” the woman asked.

“Yes” Y/N smiled, offering her hand.

“Oh, it’s wonderful to meet you, I’m Carol. Amy’s mom” she said, shaking Y/N’s hand.

“Wonderful to meet you, too” Y/N agreed.

“I just wanted to come and introduce myself and welcome you” Carol said, a bright, peaceful smile on her face. “I know it’s already been a couple of weeks, but I hope you’re loving Lawrence.”

Y/N nodded. “I’m definitely warming up to life here.”

“Well, Amy’s really fond of you. English is already her favorite subject but she’s so happy to have someone like you teaching it” Carol complemented her.

Y/N beamed, her heart soaring. It was always great to hear when kids enjoyed a subject and the way you taught it.

“She’s a great student, so that definitely makes it easy” Y/N told her.

Carol blushed, delighted by the complement for her daughter. “Well, we better go. I’m sure we’ll see you around.”

“Of course,” Y/N said. “It was great to meet you.”

As Carol walked away after saying goodbye, Y/N looked around as the crowds of children started to clear. She spotted Charlie and was about to walk over, when she noticed who she was talking to. Dean was leaning against his car, aviators on and laughing at something Charlie just said. Ben was sitting in the car, waiting for Dean. She didn’t realize that Charlie knew Dean too, but she really should’ve made the connection considering she knew Cas, and Cas knew Dean. She thought about going over there, but she didn’t want to interrupt them. Plus, after what happened the other night at dinner with him and Lisa, she wasn’t sure if she should go over there.

“Y/N!” she heard her redheaded friend call out and she knew she had to go over.

She smiled as she walked over, trying to prepare herself to be near Dean again. He looked so damn good in that moment, and she was finding it hard to look at him.

“Thanks to your car, I know you already know each other, so I don’t have to introduce you” Charlie laughed, as she nudged Y/N with her hand.

“Yeah.” Dean took his sunglasses off and Y/N saw that he was looking directly at her. She was suddenly nervous again.

Dean took her in, dressed in a black dress that hugged her body in just the right way. Her red glasses were tucked into the neckline of her dress, and he had a sudden urge to see her wearing them. Mind outta the gutter, man he thought to himself as he looked away from her.

“I didn’t realize you guys were friends” she said, as she stood in front of Charlie and Dean.

Charlie smiled as she looked at Dean. “Yeah, have been for years.”

“Charlie’s like the little sister I never wanted” Dean teased, smiling cheekily at her. Charlie punched him in the arm, and he laughed.

His gaze moved from her back to Y/N. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his head since the first time he met her, but even more so after what happened at her house.

Charlie noticed how Dean and Y/N were looking at each other and dropped her head, smiling without them seeing.

“I better go” he said, suddenly, putting his sunglasses back on. “Lisa finished work early and we’re going to Sid and Olivia’s for dinner.”

“Tell them I said hi” Y/N told him, trying not frown as she wished he had stayed longer.

“Sure thing” he nodded. He moved in to hug Charlie, kissing her head.

Y/N watched as Dean got into the car and drove off, the car roaring down the road. She turned to Charlie and her face dropped into a frown, when she saw her friend grinning at her.

“What?”

“You like him” Charlie stated.

Y/N stared at her in shock, before scoffing a laugh. “You’re insane.”

“On the contrary, I’m completely sane” Charlie countered. “And you denied it a little too quickly, so it has to be true.”

“Charlie…” Y/N trailed off, not knowing how to respond to that.

“I think we need to get a drink together” Charlie suggested. “We haven’t gotten a chance to hang out outside of work yet.”

Y/N grinned. “Sounds great.”

“Tonight?” Charlie asked.

“Name a time and place, and I’m there” Y/N responded quickly. She was excited to go out and see what Lawrence was like on a Friday night. She knew it wouldn’t be much for a small town, but she also knew she needed to know how the nightlife was here.

“Ditch the rental at home and I’ll pick you up” Charlie said, as she started to walk away. “I’ll be there at 7!”

“See you soon!” Y/N called out as they both made their way back in to collect their belongings, before they headed home.

When she got home, Y/N relaxed for a while before she needed to get ready. She freshened up and got dressed into black ripped skinny jeans and a dark mustard sweater. She put on her black heeled ankle boots, ran a straightener through her hair quickly to get the kinks of the school day out and applied light make-up. She picked up her black leather jacket and her bag, just in time when she heard two quick honks of a car horn. She picked up her keys and walked out, closing the door behind her. She walked down the porch steps and smiled at Charlie as she walked over, getting into the car.

Y/N and Charlie made their way to the town square, lined with shops and some restaurants. Deciding they were hungry too; they grabbed a quick bite to eat. Conversation over at the diner mainly consisted of work and minor things, because Y/N had a feeling Charlie wanted to talk about personal things over drinks. After they ate, they walked down the street and past a couple of dive bars, the loud music and chatter filtering out to the streets. She felt better knowing there was something going on in this town and that it wasn’t as sleepy as a place like Rhinebeck. Though Rhinebeck did have its own charms.

Y/N followed Charlie, arriving at the place where they sat at the bar. She and Charlie sat on the bar stools, the bartender immediately coming over to them.

“What can I get you, ladies?” he asked, smiling at them.

“Gin and tonic, please” Charlie replied, smiling back.

Y/N thought it over for a second before she replied. “A vodka martini.”

“Sure thing” he muttered before moving down the bar to mix the drinks.

Y/N and Charlie both took their jackets off, settling in. The bartender put their respective drinks in front of them and then went to serve other customers. Charlie picked up her glass and turned to Y/N.

“To surviving your first two weeks” she said, smiling.

“Well, thanks for making it easy for me to settle in” Y/N smiled back, clinking her glass against hers. “I really mean it. You and Cas have really helped me and supported me, so… thank you.”

“No need to thank” Charlie waved her off, taking a sip of her drink. “So… let’s get to the real reason we’re here…”

“Oh god” Y/N groaned.

“Oh yeah” Charlie smirked. “You like Dean.”

Y/N laughed a little to herself. She didn’t beat around the bush, this one.

“Yeah. I do” Y/N admitted, feeling slightly relieved to say it out loud. “At first, I really just thought it was a crush, something that would just go away after a couple of days. Then… then the butterflies stuck around and they’re not going away. Every time I see him… I just want to be near him. All the time. I know two weeks is way too soon to be feeling like this about someone I just met, but-” she explained but Charlie shook her head, cutting in.

“I don’t think the length of time matters to Oxytocin” Charlie advised her.

“I’m not quite at the love stage yet. In fact, I hope I never get there because that’s going to get me into trouble” Y/N countered.

“Which is unfortunate because I think you two would be adorable together” Charlie confessed, a guilty grin on her face.

“What?” Y/N scoffed, not quite believing what she just heard.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… the way he was looking at you, even just for a few seconds, I haven’t seen him like that in a really long time” Charlie said, a sad smile on her face.

“Oh god” Y/N groaned, her face dropping into her hands. “Charlie, what are you doing to me?!”

“I know, I know” Charlie shook her head, not knowing what else to say.

“I can’t” Y/N shook her head, taking a large sip of her martini.

“I know, and I wasn’t telling you to go for it at all. I’m sorry” Charlie apologized, sipping her drink.

“It’s okay” Y/N reassured her, patting her back. Once they had both calmed down, Y/N turned to her friend. “Oh, they came over for dinner on Monday. I wanted to thank Dean about the car, and he came over with Lisa.”

“Really?” Charlie asked, a little shocked. “She actually came over?”

Y/N nodded. “Seemed like she didn’t want to be there, though. I mean, she was okay, she didn’t say much, which I don’t really care about, but she was kind of cold with Dean.”

Y/N looked at Charlie and saw that she looked like she wanted to say something but was contemplating whether she should or not.

“Okay, look…” Charlie started, trying to find her next words carefully. “I’m just going to tell you this, and it’s in no way saying that you have to do something, I just think you need to know, now that you’ve brought this up.”

“Okay…” Y/N didn’t know where she was going with this, but she listened anyway.

“Dean and Lisa have never been good for each other. They had a one-night thing, it was great for both of them, but that’s where it should’ve ended. Things were fine at the start, but once they got past the one-year mark, is when things started turning. Two years in, it got pretty bad. I mean, Dean doesn’t know for sure… but he thinks that she might’ve slept with someone else when she went home to visit her family. Things haven’t been right for a while now. Between not trusting her and them fighting at the drop of a hat all the time… it should’ve ended a year ago” Charlie explained.

“Wow” Y/N sighed, shaking her head.

“The only time we see him happy is when he’s at work or when he’s with us and she’s not around. Hell, I don’t particularly think she likes any of us, and we’ve tried really hard to include her. She never really wanted to do anything with us and would only come out with Dean if she wanted to prove things were okay. After a while, we just stopped trying to get her to like us” Charlie went on.

Y/N couldn’t imagine anyone not liking Charlie or Cas. “Seriously?”

Charlie nodded, a glint of anger behind her eyes. “She’s never encouraged him with the business, she’s always put him down for his choice in friends. She claims it’s to make him see that he’s better than them, but she’s just forcing him to think things he never would.”

There was a long silence between them, as Y/N processed everything Charlie just told her. She and Charlie were only just starting to become friends, so she could’ve easily said she didn’t believe her. She did, though. Charlie looked genuinely hurt, which meant everything was true.

“Fuck” Y/N whispered.

“Yeah” Charlie said, raising her eyebrows. “Dean’s generally a happy, care-free guy but for over a year now, I know he’s been hurting. He just hides it behind his larger than life personality. I just want to see him as his old self again. He thinks that if he stays, maybe things will just fix themselves, but they won’t. They haven’t yet and they certainly won’t the longer he stays in this relationship.”

“Wow” Y/N sighed again.

“So, that’s all I want to say” Charlie finished. “I’m not saying you have to do anything about it, but I want you know the reality, and maybe not hate yourself so much for having the thoughts you’ve been having.”

Y/N nodded. Hearing it made her feel slightly better, but worse now that she knew what he was going through.

Another silence fell between them as Y/N thought about everything Charlie said.

“It scares me” Y/N looked down into her glass, shaking her head. “Feeling something so quickly for someone I just met. I’ve never felt a connection like this before. Not even with Ethan.”

“Ethan?” Charlie asked, confusion written on her face.

Y/N bit her lip. She didn’t realize she had never mentioned him to Charlie. “My ex.”

Charlie nodded slowly, immediately understanding. “I’m guessing things didn’t end well if you’re so far away from New York.”

“No, they did not” Y/N muttered after a sip of her drink. “He uh… he was really controlling of me. He’d tell me how I shouldn’t dress up and be too revealing, but then somehow… somehow, he’d tell me that I didn’t try hard enough either, that I wasn’t attractive enough. My job wasn’t good enough. I… I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t… I didn’t think it was something that was a problem, no matter how much anyone told me it was. I thought he’d… he’d say the things he did because he just wanted me to be better, but it was to stroke his own ego.”

“Scumbag” Charlie muttered; her face morphed into anger.

“Yeah” Y/N laughed, bitterly. “I couldn’t see it until the night he hurt me. I thought he was doing those things because he loved me, but love isn’t making a person hate themselves to make yourself feel better.”

“You said he hurt you…” Charlie trailed off, worried that she’d uncover feelings that Y/N had buried.

“Just once, he pushed me and I ended up in hospital with a concussion” Y/N said, her words choking around the lump in her throat. “Once I was better, my parents helped me get my things out of his apartment. It wasn’t an easy transition; I kept seeing him everywhere. I tried to get a restraining order against him, but his family had money and probably paid someone off, so he never got charged with one. He eventually left with his new girlfriend, but that didn’t mean it got better for me. It took some time, a year of therapy before I left, but I realized that I wasn’t going to let anyone do that to me ever again. That place… I didn’t want to leave my family but there was too much of him there. So… now I’m here.”

“I’m glad you are. Y/N, you’re… shit, you’re fucking amazing and I hate that someone made you feel like you’re not” Charlie said, quietly, her eyes watery.

“I really know how to tell a story, huh?” Y/N jested, trying to lighten the mood again, as she blinked to keep her tears from falling.

“I’m glad you told me, that you could trust me with that” Charlie said, a small, empathetic smile playing at her lips.

“I’m sorry” Y/N shook her head, feeling awful at her sudden confession of her past. “I shouldn’t have brought it up when we’re here to have a good time.”

Charlie took her hand in hers. “No, please don’t apologize. I really am glad that you did. I’m so glad I know you.”

Y/N smiled at her. She knew Charlie would hear the story and wouldn’t pity her but be there for her and listen. She held Charlie’s hand, squeezing it. She was glad to have met the woman sitting in front of her.

“You know… Dean would never do that to you, right? To anyone” Charlie told her.

Y/N nodded, closing her eyes. “I know. I don’t know how I know, but I just see him, and I know that he’d never do that.”

“And that’s what scares you, right? That he’d never do that, that you feel so much and that he’s with someone else?” Charlie asked.

Y/N looked at her and didn’t say anything. Her face said it all. Charlie just nodded, before taking the last sip of her drink.

“I need another drink” Y/N said with a small chuckle, having finished her martini.

Charlie just smiled as she flagged down the bartender.

Another drink turned into two more after that. Y/N understood what Charlie said clearly, but that didn’t mean she was going to take the words and run with them. Why risk everything on what could just be a crush? She was wrong, 2 weeks was absolutely a ridiculous amount of time to suddenly fall for someone. She was overthinking things.

She was thankful when Charlie dropped the subject of Dean, having said what she needed to about how she felt towards Lisa, knowing Y/N would interpret everything the way she needed to. She also felt a huge pressure lift off her chest when she told Charlie about what happened with Ethan. It had been a year since the break-up and since she had started therapy. Her last session before she left had left her feeling relieved. Coming to Lawrence had been the best decision, even with her situation with Dean. Charlie was amazing and was glad she spoke up and told someone who she really trusted.

They eventually moved onto talking Charlie and Dorothy and Y/N found the redhead incredibly cute in that moment, as she gushed about her girlfriend.

Y/N knew that once the fourth martini went down, she had to get home. She was well and truly drunk and all she wanted to do was sleep it off. Just forget them ever talking about Dean.

As they left the bar, she stumbled slightly as they walked down the road. She needed to get an Uber and be alone in her thoughts now, her mind reeling with their conversation but vodka, too.

“Are you sure I can’t take you home?” Charlie asked, concern all over her face.

Y/N chuckled as she shook her head. “I’m sure, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay” Charlie agreed, reluctantly. “Message me as soon as you get home.”

An Uber quickly pulled up a few moments after she called it, and Y/N got in. She smiled and waved at Charlie. “Thanks for tonight.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you Monday” Charlie smiled.

Y/N leaned back against the seat, looking out the window. She really didn’t need man drama while she settled into a new town. She had had enough of it back home in her previous relationship, that one almost ruining her mental state. She was still recovering, even if had been a year since they broke up. Memories of him and imagining him around town, even after he left, were what made her decide to leave too. The last thing she needed was to be with someone. That being said, someone could argue with her that it was time to move on and find something better, something more meaningful.

Well, that something would have to come from somewhere else because it sure as hell wasn’t going to come from Dean. As much as she was attracted to him, he was with someone. No matter how unhappy the relationship was. Her mind floated to something Charlie told her. That it was possible that Lisa cheated on Dean.

He was sweet and caring, nurturing and compassionate. Gorgeous as hell and insanely hilarious. Who could ever cheat on him? People had their flaws, but that didn’t mean you give up on a person. His flaws couldn’t be as bad as her ex’s.

The Uber pulled up outside her house. Y/N steadied herself as much as she could as she got out. The car pulling up caught the attention of Dean, however, as he was sitting on the front porch, beer in hand. He watched as Y/N stumbled up the stairs of her porch and tried to open the door to her house.

Dean put his beer down on the stoop and got up from the stairs, walking across the street. As he walked up her porch stairs, Y/N turned around and smiled at him, indicating to Dean that she was quite drunk.

“Dean” she slurred happily, her eyes sparkling.

He tried not to laugh as he walked over to her. “Doing okay there, sweetheart?”

“Sure am” she giggled in her drunken state. “Just trying to get my door open.”

Dean watched as she tried to put the key in but kept missing the keyhole. He stepped forward and took the key from her hand, putting it into the lock and opening the door with ease.

“Thanks” she beamed.

As she went to walk through the threshold, her foot caught the edge and she stumbled. With quick reflexes, Dean caught her arm and pulled her into his body.

“Whoa, Y/N” he exclaimed, cradling her to his body.

She let out a loud cackling laugh, completely unaware of her near injury. Knowing that this wasn’t going to end well if she kept at it by herself, Dean bent down and lifted her legs up as he cradled her body. He lifted her into his arms as he carried her into the house, trying not to dwell on how good she felt in his arms.

“Ooh” she gasped, as her arms wrapped around his neck. “You’re very strong, Dean.”

She couldn’t help but lean her head on his shoulder, the intoxicating scent of cologne driving her crazy.

He ignored that as he walked down the hallway and into her bedroom.

Dean gulped as he looked around, the realization that he shouldn’t be standing in her bedroom hitting him suddenly. He quickly walked to the bed and laid her down, watching her eyes flutter as the alcohol she had consumed took control.

“Have to… have to text Charlie” she mumbled, the alcohol making her sleepy.

Ah, so that’s who she went out with he thought as he took off her shoes and pulled the covers over her.

He picked up her bag and fished around quickly, finding her phone. He didn’t look in, knowing that a woman’s handbag had things in there he had no business seeing.

Y/N unlocked her phone and handed it to him, flinging her head back to her pillow.

Dean bit back a laugh as he messaged Charlie as Y/N.

Hey, made it home safe. Thanks for tonight.

He added that in because if she was this drunk, then clearly she had a great time with his friend. Who wouldn’t?

Dean placed her phone on the nightstand and was about to walk away when he heard her stir.

“You’re really sweet, Dean” she mumbled, only one eye looking up at him as her face was smooshed to her pillow. “Why can’t all guys be like you?”

Dean shook his head. She was really out of it. “I wouldn’t say that, Y/N. I’m not someone to be compared to.”

“I think you are” she said, a soft smile on her face. “I think you’re something special, Dean Winchester.”

A smile spread on his face, but it dropped quickly. She wouldn’t remember saying it in the morning, so it was best not to dwell on it.

“Goodnight, Y/N” he whispered.

“I could get used to you in my life” she whispered, as she drifted off into slumber.

Dean felt a pang in his heart at her words. She may have been drunk, but it had been a while since someone had something like that to him. He couldn’t let her words affect him like that, though. He was with someone else and he needed to make that work again.

Dean slowly walked out of her room and back down the hall. He took out his wallet and took out the Advil tablets he kept in there, leaving them by her coffee machine. He picked up a napkin and quickly scribbled a note on it, before leaving her house. Hopefully she wouldn’t remember all of that in the morning and they could avoid the awkwardness that would follow.

The sunlight from the windows streamed into Y/N’s room. It warmed the covers she was wrapped in, causing her to stir. She groaned as she lifted her head, feeling the heaviness of last night’s drinking session with Charlie. She sat in bed as she tried to recall what happened last night. Her eyes widened as she remembered, everything quickly rushing to her head.

Dean had helped her into the house. Dean had most likely helped her into bed. Dean had been in her bedroom.

She couldn’t remember if any words had been exchanged. Had she said anything that would cause her embarrassment?

Y/N slowly got out of bed and picked up her robe, wrapping it around herself. She picked up her phone and walked out of her bedroom, into the kitchen, as she needed coffee as soon as humanly possible. She looked at the time. It was 10 in the morning. She had really been knocked out last night. She walked over to her coffee machine and was about to start filling it, when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye.

A slip of Advil tablets and a note laid next to the machine. She smiled as she picked up the note, scribbled in all-caps.

HOPE YOUR HEAD DOESN’T HATE YOU TOO MUCH IN THE MORNING.

-D

Her stomach flipped as she bit her lip, reading over the note again. She liked his handwriting. It said so much about him.

She quickly took the Advil before she made her coffee and breakfast, two eggs and a little bacon. You had to have bacon on a Saturday morning, especially if you were hungover. That’s what she felt.

The rest of her afternoon consisted of paying bills and doing some work for her classes, once her head was feeling slightly better. She made a mental note to actually go see a movie next week with Charlie. Maybe they could invite Cas’s girlfriend along, as she was dying to meet Meg. After doing her work for the day, she decided to do a little baking. Saturday afternoon baking was something she did often back home, and she wanted to keep that going here in her new house.

Y/N decided on making an apple pie, one of her favorites. As she got all the ingredients together, she decided to make two, wanting to take one over to Dean as a thank you for helping her last night. Hopefully he liked pie. She turned on one of her softer playlists, as cooking or baking needed some kind of music in the background and something soft was good for her head right now.

An hour later as The Lone Bellow graced her ears, she took out two beautifully golden pies from the oven. She put them on the kitchen bench and went to shower, having still been in the same clothes from last night.

Once she was freshened up, she walked out in dark blue skinny jeans, a white tank top and a pink and white plaid shirt over the top. She took a red and white checked cloth and wrapped it around one of the pies, making sure it stayed warm as she walked over. Slipping her phone into her back pocket, she shrugged on a light jacket to shield her from the light breeze. It was starting to get colder and she wondered what winter would be like here.

Y/N left her house and walked over to Dean and Lisa’s, pie in hand. She was a little nervous and hoped that Lisa wouldn’t be there, so that she could talk to Dean alone. She was slightly ashamed of herself; he was technically a parent of a child she was teaching, and he saw her drunk. She really hated herself for it and hoped that they could talk and come to an understanding.

She quickly walked up the porch steps and rang their doorbell. She waited patiently for a few seconds, before she rang the bell again. Again, she didn’t hear anyone coming for the door. Even the Impala wasn’t in the driveway. They had probably gone out as a family. As she walked back down the porch steps, she heard some music and clinking sounds coming from the back of the house. Wondering if maybe Dean was at home, she walked around the corner to their backyard, the sounds of Metallica’s Wherever I May Roam becoming louder as she got closer. The sight that greeted her caused her eyes to widen and her heart to beat wildly in her chest.

Dean was leaning over the engine of his car with the hood open. He was wearing blue jeans that hung on his hips in the most perfect way, highlighting his cute butt. His dark grey t-shirt defined his physique, the material stretching across his chest and biceps. His arms and face were covered in grease from the car, but that only added to the hotness he was showing at that point. When he turned around and noticed her, he smirked which just killed her dead on the spot.

“Hey, I didn’t hear ya coming out here” he said, walking over to her, turning the music down a little as he walked past his little radio.

She blinked a few times, trying to get out of the trance he put her in. “I rang the bell a few times but then I heard you out here.”

He nodded as he jerked his head towards the car. “Yeah, I gotta work on her from time to time, make sure she’s still runnin’ properly.”

“Well, she’s gorgeous. I wouldn’t want her to fade away either, if I was you” she smiled.

He smirked as he looked at his priced possession. “Dad would tear me a new one if I ever did.”

She laughed a little before a silence fell between them, only the sounds of the song being heard.

And the road becomes my bride And the road becomes my bride I have stripped of all but pride So in her I do confide And she keeps me satisfied Gives me all I need And with dust in throat I crave Only knowledge will I save To the game you stay a slave

Now was as good a time as to bring up what she needed to.

“Dean, I just wanted to say thank you for helping me last night” she started but he waved her off.

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart” he smiled.

He really had to stop calling her that if she was ever going to get anywhere with this. If only he knew what that did to her.

“I know it might’ve felt like just a nice gesture, and it was, but… Dean, I’m really ashamed and I really, really hope you don’t see me differently now” she confessed.

Dean frowned, not sure what she meant. “Why would I do that?”

“It’s just that… I’m a teacher, and I’m supposed to be a certain way. You’re practically a parent to a child in my class, and you shouldn’t be seeing me like that, like how I was last night-” she rambled but the feel of his hands on her shoulders stopped her.

“Y/N, it’s really okay. I’d never tell anyone about that. I mean, shit. You gotta let loose once and a while, too. Maybe someone else would judge you for that, but I never would” he told her, his voice calming her.

“But-” Dean shook his head when she protested.

“Honestly, Y/N. It’s fine. That’s just between you and me. Okay?” he reassured her.

She sighed in relief. “Okay.”

“Good” he winked at her.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she looked down, trying not to think about that wink.

“It’s just… I didn’t say anything stupid to you, did I? If I did, I’m so sorry” she apologized.

Dean remembered everything she said last night. It had kept him up for an hour and a half as her words circled around in his thoughts.

“Nope” he lied. “Though you did mutter something about finding Christopher Walken sexy.”

Y/N eyes widened. “What?!”

Dean guffawed loudly, shaking his head. “Oh my god, you should see your face.”

She reached up and smacked his arm, causing a small “ah” to leave his lips but he kept on laughing, as he rubbed his arm.

“You’re such an ass” she shook her head, trying not to smile at the sound of his laugh.

His laughter died down as he composed himself. “That was too easy.”

“I don’t think you deserve this pie now” she gestured to the wrapped-up dish in her hands.

His eyes lit up as he looked between her and what was in her hand. “Pie? You-you made me a pie?”

“Yeah, I did, as a thank you for last night but I don’t think I want to give it to you now” she pretended to be upset, riling him up.

“Y/N…” he said, looking her right in the eyes. “Please.”

Jesus. She was putty in his hands. This wasn’t good. She couldn’t do this with him. In that moment, all she could do was hand over the pie with a polite smile. She couldn’t let him think that she was wanted to keep going on this banter of theirs. That was dangerous and she wouldn’t be that person.

She quickly handed it over. “Since you asked so nice.”

His eyes and smile grew brighter, as he giddily lifted one corner of the cloth and smelt the cinnamon and apple.

His eyes rolled back as he moaned lightly. “Damn, that smells amazing. Thanks, Y/N. Seriously.”

“You’re welcome” she said, laughing slightly at his reaction. “I take it you like pie.”

“Like?” he scoffed. “More like obsessed.”

“Good to know” she giggled as she watched him take another whiff. “I better go.”

“Oh, before I forget. Your car should be ready on Wednesday” he told her.

She smiled with a sigh of relief. “Amazing, thank you.”

“So, I’ll see you at the shop on Wednesday” he said, his thumbs rubbing over the cloth around the pie. He was itching to dig into it.

“Yeah” she nodded. “Bye, Dean.”

“Bye. Thanks again” he lifted the pie as he thanked her.

Y/N smiled as she walked away, rounding the corner and disappearing.

As soon as she was gone, Dean walked into the house and put the pie on the kitchen counter. He washed his hands and wiped them down, his mouth salivating as the delicious scent of the pie wafted through the kitchen. He opened a drawer and took out a fork, unfolding the cloth from around the pie dish. He licked his lips he looked down at it, stabbing his fork in and digging up a big bite. He blew on it and shoved it into his mouth. The flavors exploded as he closed his eyes in delight.

“Fuck, that’s good” he mumbled to himself as he swallowed down the mouthful.

It had to be the best pie he had ever had, not including his mother’s because that wasn’t a fair fight. Did Y/N really have to be so perfect that she made an amazing pie, too? How the hell was he supposed to stay away from her if she did things like this?

You just have to he thought as he wrapped the pie up again, for later. You can’t keep doing what you’re doing with her.

If this was ever going to remain friendly, then he had to stop turning on the charm, even if that was second nature to him. She made everything so easy. Things hadn’t been easy for him in a long time.

Between what she said in her drunken state to him (she may have been drunk, but she still said it. So, it had to be true, right?) and now bringing him this pie, it was getting harder to resist her. He knew was starting to feel something for her, even if it had only been a couple of weeks. He hadn’t felt like this since the first time he was with Lisa. Once they actually got together, the spark fizzled out quite quickly as comfortability took over. Now, even that wasn’t there.

Maybe it’s only meant to be comfortable. Maybe the spark isn’t meant to stay as you get comfortable with your partner. Though, that didn’t seem right to him. If you were really in love, then wouldn’t the spark stick around?

He had never been more confused about what to do, but he knew what the right thing was. It was to stick it out with Lisa, and that’s what he needed to do.

No matter how much he thought about Y/N.

As Y/N walked towards her house, her smiled dropped. What happened back there wasn’t just a friendly neighborhood chat. That was more. Much more. That was something two people did when they’re getting to know each other as more than friends. That was banter and flirting and messing around with each other with silly jokes. There were looks that made her tingle all over, and polite words that comforted her.

He made everything so easy. What she was beginning to feel for him was so much more than what she had felt before. This feeling wasn’t even there the first time she met Ethan. She knew she was fooling herself when she said this was just a little crush.

As she entered her house, Y/N was determined.

Dean Winchester was not going to have an effect on her.

He just wasn’t.

-x-

Tags: @flamencodiva @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @katehuntington @akshi8278 @hobby27 @michellethetvaddict @spngirl05 @kyjey @halesandy @440mxs-wife @stoneyggirl @deanswaywardgirl @wonder-cole @that-one-gay-girl @redbarn1995 @marianita195 @babypink224221 @deans-baby-momma @parinarain @thoughts-and-funnies @mandalou29 @castiels-a-winchester @perpetualabsurdity

#Life's Lessons #Dean x Female!Reader #Dean x Female!Reader Series #Dean x Female!Reader Fanfiction #Female!Reader Insert #Mechanic!Dean #Teacher!Reader #Dean x Reader Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Series #Dean Winchester Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Fanfic #Supernatural Fanfiction

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ab1tofsp1ce · 3 years

Text

A Warmer Refuge

Chapter 5: Do You Trust Me?

Masterlist HERE

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Words: 4.4K

Warnings: Violence, mild sexual harassment.

Description: If you want to get this ship fixed, you and the Mandalorian are going to have to make a deal that could put your safety in jeopardy - do you trust him?

The clouds had mostly cleared by the morning, and I found myself apologizing countless times for setting back our journey. Graciously, he reassured me that it was fine, but the pang of guilt ate away at my chest for the rest of the day. So, I decided that I would do the best damn repair job he had ever seen. I would work my ass off making sure his ship was perfect at as little extra cost to him as possible – this would be the only way I could make it right. Additionally, I tried my absolute best not to alert him towards how much pain I was in. It actually seemed to be working, as he seemed to have no cognizance of the pain I was in. I supposed for someone who deals with violence for a living, he had probably suffered a million injuries far worse than mine, and so I caulked up his indifference to this as opposed to my brilliant acting skills; I could barely hold back my moans and groans as we climbed up and over that mountain. Finally, the trees become sparser, and soon we left the forest behind us. We trekked through fields, most of which seemed to be untouched, but distantly I could see smoke rising in small puffs. We eventually came across a gravel road that seemed to separate the wild from the colonized; on the other side were well-kept fields of strange fruit trees and neatly plowed dirt. We stopped for a moment as we reached the road, the Mandalorian looking down at the small navigation device in the forearm of his suit while I took a moment to catch my breath. I’d definitely seen better days. It was fortunate I hadn’t had too much of a chance to look at my appearance, because I’m sure I wouldn’t have liked what I saw. Much of my clothing, particularly around my injured leg, was ripped or stained, and I was almost certain I still had grease on my face from my hasty repair work a couple of days ago. The small stream that banked the side of the road and the tended fields beckoned to me, and so while the Mandalorian busied himself, I went over and kneeled down at its edge to scoop up some water and splash my face down. It was freezing and fresh, reminding me again of the beauty of this planet. I took a moment to feel the mild sun on my back and the cool water drip down my chin, before standing up and turning back to the Mandalorian. “Before we go,” he said, when I reached him, “I want you to carry this.” Out of his utility belt he pulled a rather sharp dagger. It was nothing flashy, except for the way it shone in the afternoon sun, but it pricked something in my heart. “I – I wouldn’t know how to use it,” I admitted timidly. “Are you sure?” He held it out to me in the flat of his palm. “It would bring me some comfort,” he admitted, and so I took it. “Here,” he said, reaching down to my belt. My heart skipped a beat as he attached a sheath for me to keep it in. “Hide it. It will be the most useful if no one knows you have it.” I nodded, carefully sliding the dagger in.

We walked in relative silence, as we had for most of the day. But, unlike it was when we first met, it was a far more comfortable silence. A mutual understanding, of sorts, that we both had things we wished to mull over in our thoughts. I could only guess what he was thinking – he was still a mystery to me. But I thought about my plans on Kistern; where I would go, what I would… in truth, there wasn’t much use. I tried, desperately, over the whole course of the day to consider my plans. But I knew so little about the planet I would soon call home it was futile to try and pretend I did. I hated the uncertainty of my life at the moment (and of the past year), but I distracted myself by admiring the view around me and focusing on what I could manage in the near future; fixing this ship and getting off this planet in one piece. The sun was getting low in the afternoon sky by the time the once empty land began to become sparsely populated. But none of this planet’s loveliness could’ve prepared me for meeting its inhabitants. They were very similar to those back home on Yak’ish Temeen, in that they were a motley population of various races and species, but all equally unsettling. Roadside stalls and derelict houses intermittently spotted the side of the road, and we soon gained some unintentional company as more roads and paths began to diverge onto ours. By comparison to Yak’ish Temeen this was, on reflection, a far more diverse crowd – strange, large furry creatures towered over us, shepherding small and equally hairy creatures transporting goods on their backs, a group of Gungans manned a small cart of strange smelling purple fruit and humans at all wore equally unsettling expressions. They stared at us as we walked, glowering from a distance and occasionally whispering to each other. The Mandalorian must have noticed this, as he slowed down very suddenly to close the distance between us. “Walk near me,” he said quietly, not turning his head. “And don’t make eye contact. We’re not looking for trouble.” I slid my eyes down to the ground, trying to ignore the sensation of being watched. I felt my heart race in my chest. Eventually, we seemed to enter the settlement, marked by a higher density of houses and people. It was mostly one long street, flanked by various stalls selling strangely roasted animals, buckets of grains and other odd goods. Despite the fact I could hear children laughing in the distance, and that the general chatter of the place seemed civil, I followed the Mandalorian’s advice and stuck close by him. Although this was a new place to both of us, he walked with a confidence and direction that made him look like a seasoned local. By comparison, I was almost certain I looked frail and timid, shuffling along and intently staring at the ground. In times like this I was once again grateful for my peripheral vision. The Mandalorian veered off our straight course over to a stall on the right side of the road, where a man was talking to an Artiodac, both sitting on chairs under the cover of a low-hanging tarp. Under it and behind them I noticed a long table covered in various mechanical parts – all of which, I must admit, didn’t seem to be in the best condition. The Mandalorian conversed with the duo, who exchanged glances between each other, the Mandalorian and me. I shuffled uncomfortably under the weight of their stares, so I busied myself by trailing my eyes over the parts in the stall, scanning for anything I might be able to use. From this distance I could make out few bits that could be relevant – whether or not they were in usable condition was another question entirely. My heart stopped beating for a second, jumping out of my chest in shock as I felt a hand grab my arm gently. But it was just the Mandalorian, who was now facing in the opposite direction of me and the vendors as if to better prevent them from hearing what he was saying to me. “We’ll have to get the parts from here,” he said in a low, hushed tone. The baritone depth of his voice sent chills down my back. “Fill your bag with them. But don’t take long – I don’t trust these guys. Or anyone here.” I threw a glance at them; the man was murmuring something to his Artiodac colleague, both staring at us with dirty looks. I nodded in silent agreement with the Mandalorian, my arm still tingling as his grasp lingered on it, firm but tender. He let me get to work, scavenging through the piles of spare parts. As I did, he alternated between examining the pieces I presented to him and watching both the vendors and the general public. I tried my best not to let this creeping feeling disturb me, but it was hard to focus when I was acutely aware of the attraction we were drawing. I filled up my rucksack with the pieces we needed – although some of them were far rattier than I would’ve preferred, I figured it was better to clean and adjust them back at the safety of the ship than make any sort of complaint about it here. After about 20 minutes, I felt that I had truly ransacked the selection for all it was worth. What I had managed to collect wasn’t ideal, but I could definitely make it work, at least enough that we could get off this planet and to Kistern safely. Once I had informed the Mandalorian of this, he escorted me over to the two vendors. The human male gave me a look up and down, making me shuffle slightly – there was something almost hungry in his expression. He looked only a few years older than me and certainly didn’t look to be the muscle of the duo, but between his rugged facial hair and beady blue eyes, he felt threatening enough. Perhaps the Mandalorian saw this too, because he stepped forward rather pointedly, almost sizing up the man as he stood up. “Hand over the goods, lovely,” he said with a slick tongue. “Let’s see what you’ve picked out.” Turns out I didn’t need to hand over anything, as the Artiodac snatched the bag out of my hand with a low growl. “Watch it,” breathed the Mandalorian threateningly at him. The Artiodac took no notice, rummaging through my rucksack and conversing with the man in a foreign language as he occasionally gestured to certain parts. They seemed to be negotiating with each other, with the man occasionally spatting something at the Artiodac, who grumbled something back rather animatedly in return. Eventually, they seemed to come to an agreement, as they both turned back to me in unison. “You’ve got a good load here,” said the man, shifting his eyes slowly from me to the Mandalorian. “We’ve agreed it’ll set you back four thousand credits.” He exchanged a smirk with his colleague. “You’re overcharging,” said the Mandalorian in a gruff tone, which I could read as ‘I don’t have four thousand credits.’ “I can give you three thousand, no more.” The man raised an eyebrow, clearly bemused, and turned to the Artiodac to swap a few remarks in another language before turning back to him. “My friend and I agree four thousand is more than fair for a purchase of this size. However,” his gaze slid back over to me. “We’d be willing to compromise if you have something to offer that can… sweeten the deal.” The Mandalorian stiffened, seemingly understanding the implication of this statement. “Like what?” “My friend here,” said the man, shifting his weight to face me slightly, “is curious about what a Grat’anarian is doing in these parts. You see, he knows Yak’ish Temeen well, been there on a few business trips haven’t you, Uulog?” Uulog made a slurping sound as a reply. I shivered. “What’s your point?” The Mandalorian almost growled these words. “Well, if I’m correct, this one has a great bounty on her head… what with her refugee status, she has free entry onto all sorts of planets… planets me and my friend here, as well as many others, would love to gain access to. So, I’ll tell you what, you –” “I’m not bartering with her life,” said the Mandalorian, stepping even closer and slipping a hand silently onto his blaster. Uulog the Artiodac seemed to notice, as he reached for his blaster in the exact same manner, snarling. The man feigned a sympathetic smile, although the corners of his mouth remained sinisterly twisted. “Of course, of course! Such a pretty thing, I can understand how you wouldn’t want to part with her…” He looked at me and licked his lips. “However, I’m really not sure what else you have to offer that we’ll be interested in. Well, apart from…” he gestured with the silent tilt of his head to the Mandalorian himself. For a moment I was confused as to what he meant, but clearly the Mandalorian wasn’t, and his next words cleared it up. “My armor is not for sale.” “Hmm… what a shame. Well, then, neither are these parts.” The man studied the Mandalorian as if he knew this wouldn’t be the end of it; he was waiting for a better offer. The Mandalorian seemed stuck for a moment, and I could almost hear the cogs and wheels turning in his head. “Give us a moment,” he said to the man, who dismissed us in gratuitously generous gesture. Once again, the Mandalorian slipped his hand around my arm and escorted me to the side, shooting one last look at the vendors before turning to me. I could feel his gaze under the helmet and could sense his uncertainty. He had a plan, and I wasn’t going to like it. “Do you trust me?” I was taken aback dramatically by this question. My eyes, which had been trained in apprehension on the two conversing men, swiveled back to the Mandalorian in mild shock. His voice was almost a whisper, but I could once again hear what he was really saying – almost everything he said had another meaning, as I’d come to learn. I suppose a man of few words had to make the most of them. So, when he said, “do you trust me,” all I heard was “are you ready?” And despite my fear, despite the sinking feeling in my stomach, despite the hairs rising on the back of my neck and every instinct in my body telling me to run, I knew my answer to both questions. “Yes.” “Then play along,” he said quietly. We spared a moment, a split second to look at each other. I felt him squeeze my arm lightly, a small gesture that did a surprising amount to quell the rapid beating of my heart. Then, he turned back and walked over to the vendors. “Well, have we come to an agreement?” The man clapped his hands together enthusiastically, switching his gaze between the two of us. “You can take her,” said the Mandalorian. I’ll admit, I didn’t really have to feign shock at this statement. I knew, with the context of what he had just told me, that he wasn’t being serious, but his tone when he said it – so unbothered and emotionless – it fooled me for the few seconds it took to regain my senses. “What?!” I said, and he grabbed my arm with a force I was yet to feel from him, yanking me as if I was a bounty of his. “Ahh… an interesting development… I’m curious, what made you decide this?” The man’s voice was laced with civil suspicion; he seemed to find it hard to believe the Mandalorian would give me up so quickly. “Well, as you said,” said the Mandalorian, “she’s a very valuable bounty. But I need to get off this planet, so you can have her if that’s your price.” His grip tightened around my arm, and I took this as a silent signal; ‘you’ll have to sell this narrative’. “You bastard!” I yelled, and rather convincingly too. “You – you promised you’d help me! Over there you said – I’ll kill you!” I thrashed against his grip, but before I knew it, he was behind me, one hand tying mine together quickly with handcuffs and the other covering my mouth with his gloved hand. I knew this wasn’t the time or the place, but I couldn’t help my heart flutter at the feeling of my back pressed against the cold beskar breastplate behind me. The man’s smirk turned into a full grin, clearly entertained by our performances. “I have to say, you have not disappointed your reputation, Mandalorian. Cold both inside and out…” “There’s one condition,” said the Mandalorian, his hand still over my mouth. “I need her to repair my ship. You come with me, she repairs it, and then I’ll be on my way.” Once again, the two vendors exchanged brief and heated words in their language, before the man turned back to us. “You have yourself a deal. And, since we reached it so… amicably, I’m prepared to lower the credit portion of your price to just two thousand. As a symbol of… goodwill.” He smiled, that same twist at the corners of his mouth. I felt the Mandalorian nod in agreement behind me, and the Artiodac handed him back the rucksack, which he took with his now spare hand. “Perfect! Now, where is this ship of yours?” The Mandalorian slid his hand slowly off my mouth, faking a threatening glower at me before gesturing at the tall mountain we had recently climbed, which now loomed distantly behind the two men. Both of them turned around in unison, and the man made a sound of familiar acknowledgment. “Ahh, yes! The mountain of Pelesus! An important monument in Utaran history. I assume you hiked your way here, yes? Well, we do not mind in the slightest to give you a ride there… it would be in the best interest of all parties involved, no?” “Lead the way,” said the Mandalorian in return.

We were led further down the road before deviating off it and into what I can only describe as a shanty town, which proved this outpost was far bigger than we had initially noticed. Handmade lean-tos and shacks were piled haphazardly around, only making small alleys as paths between them. It was a strange and drastic contrast – the one between the beautiful, lush and rugged landscape around us with the squalors we were being led through. I wondered how this place could be so poor if it were so abundant with natural resources, and I sensed that something more sinister was probably at play on this planet. The man switched between conversing with the Artiodac in a hushed, foreign tongue to occasionally making cheery remarks to the Mandalorian, as if he were a tour guide showing us around the glorious city of Theed. Eventually, we made it to what almost appeared to be a junkyard on the outskirts of the town, where we were led to a landspeeder. “Wait aboard,” said the man, whose name we had learned on our walk over to be Raggard. I thought I may have a moment alone to ask the Mandalorian something, but the Artiodac stayed with us as we climbed onto the large and rusty landspeeder, eyeing us pointedly the entire time. I watched discreetly as Raggard waved over a few people who had been sitting around nearby and spoke to them in the same foreign language he had spoken to his colleague in. By the way they looked over Raggard’s shoulder at me hungrily, I could only assume they believed they would be getting their fair share of my worth when we returned. Which we wouldn’t, of course. I looked over at the Mandalorian, who sat next to me. He seemed unreadable at this moment, still as a statue and paying attention to nothing in particular. I hoped he knew what he was doing, because I certainly didn’t. His words, ‘do you trust me’, echoed distantly in my ears.

Soon we were off, the four of us in the landspeeder. The journey was only a few hours, and by far shorter than our hike here, but felt agonizingly long as I sat with anticipation and fear in the pit of my stomach. Finally, we arrived at the bottom of the other side of the mountain, and I could almost see the ship as I looked up its slope. We hiked the rest of the way up, the Mandalorian guiding me with a gentle hold on my arm, as my hands were still cuffed. Eventually, we reached the ship, by which time it was almost sunset. “You’d best get working,” said Raggard, walking slowly around the ship to admire it. “It’s clear you’ve got a lot of work to do before it gets dark.” As I collected and sorted the parts, I noticed the Artiodac grumble something at Raggard, who hissed something back in what seemed to be a low, yet heated argument. I tried to ignore it, focusing on my repairs and working as quickly as possible; the sooner we could do this, the sooner we could leave. The Mandalorian helped with repairs but no matter where we went, either inside or out of the ship, one or both of the duo followed us. Because of this, I had not a moment alone with him to ask what his plan was, although I had a strong feeling it would involve violence. Finally, not long after dark, we completed the repairs. The Mandalorian escorted me out of the ship to meet outside with the two men. I began to get nervous. “Well,” said Raggard, approaching us as we were followed out by the Artiodac. “It has been a pleasure, really. But I suppose now is the time to part ways.” The Mandalorian said nothing but didn’t let go of his grip on my arm – if anything, he tightened it. “It is a shame,” said Raggard, poetically, “that you must part ways with such a precious bounty.” He walked up to me, too close for my liking, reading over my face with a gleam in his eyes. “But I’m sure you’ll take comfort in knowing she’ll be of great use to us.” With a dirty, spindly finger he traced a line down the side of my cheek. I shuddered and bit down hard on my tongue to hide my disgust. “However,” he said, “although she will prove a most valuable asset, I just can’t stop thinking about that beautiful beskar armor of yours, I mean, how did you get it?” The Mandalorian didn’t indulge him with a response, but Raggard took his silence as one. “I know, I know, secrets of the Mandalorians. It has been exciting, really, to do business with you. But,” he said, slowly, exchanging a glance with his partner, “it will be even more exciting to kill you.” In the course of the next three seconds, I barely had time to do anything but fall to the ground in shock. As Raggard said these last words, the Mandalorian drew his blaster and simultaneously threw me to the ground. He shot over Raggard’s shoulder, and it was only then, when I looked up, that I noticed the figures drawing in from the forest around us. The men from back at the junkyard began firing at the Mandalorian, and from my position cowering on the ground I watched as he, one by one, meticulously shot them down. He didn’t even seem to look at them, he just knew where they were. When the Artiodac pounced it him from behind, I screamed in shock, but the Mandalorian shook him off in forward-roll drop to the ground, shooting him with a blaster shot straight to the head. I didn’t see what happened in the next few seconds and only heard the Mandalorian grunting as he spared in hand-to-hand combat with a few more goonies who had seemed to close the distance towards him. I was yanked up off the ground, and felt a cold blaster dig into my lower back, freezing me in fear as another arm wrapped around my throat tightly. I could feel Raggard’s hot breath on my neck and smell the sweat on his arm. I scrambled desperately at it, trying to pull it away so I could breathe, but it was no use. “STOP!” Raggard’s voice was shrill in my ear. My vision unclouded at last, and I was able to see the Mandalorian, standing only a few feet away from us, bodies sprawled around him. He turned to us, still holding his blaster in one hand and what appeared to be a spear in the other. “Let’s not – let’s not let this get more out of hand than it already is,” said Raggard, panting violently. I could feel him shaking with adrenaline. “I wouldn’t want anything nasty to come of this pretty little thing, but if we get too ahead of ourselves, I may have no choice.” But as he spoke, something strange happened. I felt the world fall away, and the sound of Raggard’s voice, the clench is arm had around my throat, the blaster in my back… I lost all sense that they were there. I felt my arms release from Raggard’s, falling to my side. Even though he was wearing a helmet, I knew he was looking at me. I could feel it, like I always did, the warmth of his gaze that, for once, seemed to slow down my heart as opposed to speeding it up. Right now, I could only feel him. Him, and… At my side, I slipped my hand into the folds of my shirt. In one swift movement, I unsheathed the dagger and plunged it into the arm that was so tightly constricting my throat. Raggard let out a yelp of pain, letting me go as he stumbled back. “Onto the ship!” The Mandalorian yelled, and I wasted no time scrambling aboard. Outside, I heard blaster shots and scuffling, but I didn’t give myself time to reflect on it. I ascended the ladder into the cockpit and, without even sitting down, began to start up the ship. My hands were shaking violently, and I tried so hard to keep my focus on the buttons I was pressing and not my concerns for the Mandalorian. Before I initiated take off, I almost jumped back down into the hull and watched in astonishment as the Mandalorian strode up the ramp, sheathing his blaster and spear in the process. With no hesitation he went right past me and into the cockpit, and only seconds later I felt the whole ship shake underneath me as we rose up from the ground and away from it all.

#the mandalorian #star wars #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fic #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fic #din djarin reader insert #din djarin x ofc #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine

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lunarliza · 4 years

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JJ Maybank Must Die | Chapter 3: Fanny Packs

fuckboy!JJ x Reader

series masterlist | prev. chapter | chapter one

JJ Maybank is the island’s most infamous fuckboy- not that you ever cared. But when a group of tourist girls come to your surf shop crying to you about him, you agree to help them plot revenge. Sabotage is all fun and games, until you find that the playboy you were sworn to ruin happens to be falling head over heels for you.

Yes, this is based on John Tucker Must Die lol

For once, you finally felt like everything in life was falling into place.

Sophia dropped off your Venus Panic ticket last night, you booked a ferry to the city for September, you just earned another ‘employee of the month’ title which basically meant you were a shoo-in for the scholarship, and you noticed in the mirror that your ass was looking just a tad bigger.

You were sorting out the application clipboards one afternoon when you heard the ding of the front door opening. In came a cocky head of blonde hair looking as smug as ever. You dropped the stack on sight.

How did he know where you worked? Was he stalking you? Should you file a restraining order?

“Uh, can I help you?”

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding all this time, huh?” JJ crossed his large arms and surveyed the tiny shop.

“Yeah... how the fuck did you find me?” You bent down to hastily pick up the mess. After the incident at the Boneyard on Saturday, you weren’t expecting to run into him again for the rest of the summer. You didn’t think he’d be this relentless.

He casually shrugged. “Eh, I just asked around town for a y/n and they told me you worked here. Still amazes me how I haven’t seen you around.”

You rolled your eyes. As if you and JJ didn’t have English together just this past semester. Nevermind living on the same island for how many years.

“Anyways,” he continued, I came here to sign up for surfing lessons.”

You flinched your nose. “You’re telling me you’ve lived here all your life and you don’t know how to surf?”

This was coming from the boy that won ‘Most Likely to be a Famous Professional Surfer’ in your 5th grade yearbook.

“Hey, it’s been a while since I’ve hit the water. Maybe I need a refresher.” He flashed you a shit-eating grin- the kind girls around here would swoon over. But in that moment you were just plain uncomfortable.

“Sorry, we’re booked for the summer.”

He inched closer to the counter. “Well, at least let me take you out to dinner. Come on, when are you off?”

You glanced side to side in agitation, racking your brain for some witty remark.

“December.”

“I’m serious, y/n. I want to take you out! You know, get to know you better,” he prodded.

You weren’t born yesterday. But he sure was if he thought he was going to take you out anytime soon. Or ever.

“Yeah well, I think I’ll pass. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have my last session of the day in ten minutes.”

Luckily, you were able to slip past him and out to the beach for your beginners’ class. It was a small group- an old couple and two boys around the age of nine.

You greeted them with you usual work-charm and had them set their boards around you. Just as you situated yourself, you hear a faint “Wait!” followed by JJ sputtering towards the pack with a board under his arm.

You wanted to rip your hair out.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you spat, startling the old couple with you vulgarity.

“I’m here for the lesson.”

“Like I said,” you sneered through gritted teeth, “We’re booked.” The glare on your face was very, very potent, and you knew this wouldn’t be good for the reviews.

“Yeah, your co-worker in there told me one of the guys that was supposed to be here said he couldn’t make it. So that leaves a spot open for me.”

Cody. That rat!

You sighed in defeat, motioning for him to situate next to the younger boys. “Fine, just take a seat and be quiet. You already missed the safety instructions!”

All throughout your session JJ was an absolute pest. He could have at least played the part of someone who’s never picked up a surfboard in their life. Instead, every time you went into detail about a specific step, he’d pitch in his own comments no one asked for.

“Well actually, it’s better if you add a jump when you stand up, you’ll go faster.”

“Well actually, if you try to pivot your board when they wave’s under you, you can ride it longer.”

“Well actually, if you attempt a big wave first, you’ll learn how to balance better.”

The next ‘well actually’ you heard, you were going to fling JJ to the sharks.

When it was time for the group to hit the water, you tried to guide them through the motions, but everyone was too busy listening to JJ ramble on and on about his personal tips.

For the remainder of the session, you sat on the shallow end, watching JJ have a rat-a-tat time with your customers. Blowing away a stray hair that fell on your face, you continued to glare at the light-haired boy cheering on the kids as they attempted the baby waves.

There was a point where one of them leaned over onto JJ’s board and threw their arms around him. You softened at bit at the scene. It was very cute.

Once the hour was over, you called everyone back to shore to give your closing remarks. JJ darted up behind the lot, sparklets flying everywhere as he shook his wet hair. He beamed at you, but you just averted your eyes.

While everyone headed back to the hut, you tucked the cash you were given into your fanny pack and gathered your items to leave. That was, until you felt the player boy grab onto your hand.

“Hey, the waves are absolutely insane out there. This is your last session today right? Come surf for a bit, you didn’t really get to do much earlier,” he offered, blinking down at you with his sky-blue eyes.

“Well I would have if someone wasn’t running my class.”

JJ let out a soft chuckle. “Look, everyone was happy with the way it went. And I’ll even tell your boss that you’re an amazing instructor. Which, to tell you the truth, you are.”

You huffed and picked up your board to tread back into the water. You had to give it to him, though. The waves were indeed on fire that afternoon.

You were able practice a few moves you were working on, executing them perfectly. JJ, too, was flexing his tricks and you made a few mental notes to try a few of them later when he wasn’t around.

When a pipeline wave began rolling your way, JJ tossed you a devilish grin, looking like a kid ready to break something. It was supposed to be one of the hardest ones to surf on.

“Bet you won’t get this one!” he hollered. You flipped him off with a smile.

“Bet I will.”

You both eyed the target, determination evident, as you paddled. JJ quickly bounced up once it tumbled in while you waited a couple seconds after.

Immediately, he plunged from his board while you expertly pivoted and glided along the tide. Poking his head from the water, he yelped seeing you nail it.

Afterwards, you plowed back up the sand with him while he raved about what just happened. “That was so sick y/n! It was a pipeline! A fucking pipeline! I’ve never seen anyone do that before.”

You blushed and tucked your hair behind your ear. “Well, it’s kinda my job.”

As you reached the shop, he turned to face you. “Yeah, speaking of, when do they give you a break around here again?”

You chuckled and shook your head. “JJ, I had fun out there, but I’m still not going out with you.”

“Alright! Alright! I get it. Can’t hate a guy for trying.” He held his hands up in defeat.

You bid him goodbye and started getting ready to close the store.

Later that evening, you met Sophia and the others at Annalise’s condo, spilling the beans on what happened. They all collectively gasped and hung onto their seltzers.

“He actually came back?” Maia repeated as Arabella anxious gulped her drink.

“Yup! Bothered me for my entire session and everything. God, he’s so delusional thinking I’d actually go on a date with him.”

All the girls giggled except for Annalise who stared at the ground in deep thought. “But what if... you did?” she finally spoke.

You grimaced. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“No, like, fake date him,” she re-emphasized, “Think about it- you can fake-date him and we’ll go on your dates and sabotage the fuck out of him! Then, for the cherry on top, you can dump him before he even gets the chance to run! It’s the perfect ploy guys! We need to make sure he never messes with any girl ever again.”

“Uh, I don’t know,” you scratched your head, “Can we really pull it off? It sounds so messy don’t you think?”

“Relax, we’re not killing him,” Annalise assured, “Also, it’s what he deserves! He’s broken practically every heart on this island. It’s time we take a stand in the name of our womanhood!”

“That, I agree with,” Sophia added and the other two nodded.

You were kind of shocked that Soph would be on board with such a preposterous plan. But, then again, this wasn’t the worst thing she’s ever agreed to.

“You know,” your best friend continued, “I heard after you ditched him at the Boneyard, he hooked up with Emma Cohen the same night and ghosted her too. The boy just won’t stop!”

Arabella gasped. “See! Rejecting him just isn’t enough! We need to kick him straight in the balls!”

They did have a point. A twisted, ridiculous point. But you weren’t all gung ho about being the one to beat JJ at his own game. You- the girl who couldn’t even get Pope Heyward to take her to a dance.

“All you’d have to do is bear him for a few dates. I’m sure we can take care of the rest,” Maia noted.

Reluctance was still evident on your face. You could tell Annalise was getting desperate. “You know, y/n, I saw all the UVA gear on your locker at the shop. My dad’s best friends with the chancellor. He owes my family a lot of favors. How about I make a deal with you. If you do this for us, I’ll have my dad write you a rec letter and talk to his friend. You’ll be pretty much guaranteed a spot at UVA when you apply.”

You let out an exasperated breath. Now that was an offer you couldn’t refuse. You wanted to put up more of a fight, but you didn’t want to let an opportunity like that slip from your fingers.

“Alright,” you sighed, “Fine. You sold me with UVA. Count me in your little scheming game again.”

Your friends cheered and clinked their drinks, eyes hungry for revenge. You sat back meekly and sipped yours, knowing the next few weeks were going to be an absolute train-wreck.

“But wait!” you raised in the midst of the group’s plotting , “I shooed him away today. What makes you think he’ll be back to ask me again?”

“You rejected him twice today?” Arabella questioned. You gave her a quick nod.

“Oh girl, he’ll definitely be back.”

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

Sure enough, JJ was back at the hut bright and early the next morning when you started your shift.

“It’s you again,” you greeted as he leaned his arms against the counter, flashing you a smirk.

He had on black aviators and a gray crewneck. For a second he seemed like a cute, innocent little puppy. Until he opened his mouth.

“Don’t act so coy, babe, you know you’re happy to see me.”

Oh God. This was the guy making half the island bawl in tears? You really couldn’t wrap your head around it.

You sighed, ignoring his corny-ness. “What do you want? We’re booked for the day.”

“Ouch, is that any way to treat a customer?” He pretended to have gotten shot in the heart.

As if on cue, Cody’s stocky legs strolled out of the back room, acting like he owned the place. He slid behind the counter to face you, disregarding JJ. You scowled and rolled your eyes.

“Y/n one of my customers had a complaint yesterday,” Cody stated.

“What? They had a shitty instructor? I could’ve told them that,” you shot back nonchalantly, inspecting your bare nails in disinterest.

From the corner of your eye, you could see JJ snort in amusement.

“Actually,” he prevailed, “They were complaining that their board was wobbly because someone let their customers take all the new ones.”

You remained emotionless at his petty grievance. “What? It’s not my fault I don’t make my students do a hundred push ups at the start of the session. Maybe quit the crossfit and then they’ll actually leave better reviews.”

Cody narrowed his eyes. “My students are grateful for my complimentary body-weight routine! They need to be fit for the waters. Whatever, stop fucking taking all the good boards! You’re taking away my customer experience, my good reviews, and my scholarship!”

He proceeded to storm out the front door to his first set of victims for the day. You shot daggers at his back before JJ’s giggling snapped you back to reality.

“Done,” JJ said, lifting his eyes from his phone.

“What are you talking about?”

“I just left a bad review for that guy on your website.”

Your eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

JJ flipped his screen to you with the post pulled up. You read it out loud.

“Do not recommend having Cody as your instructor. Made me do a hundred push ups before I got in the water, voice was too demanding, and shorts were uncomfortably short.” You erupted in laughter and playfully swiped his arm. “No way JJ!”

“What?” he grinned and pocketed his phone. “Dude was being a real asshole to you.”

You lightened up a bit at his kind gesture. Well, kind to you.

“Anyways, look,” he went on, “I know we might’ve started off on the wrong foot yesterday, but I wanted to come here and ask you out again. Properly.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he persisted with his rehearsed spiel.

“And before you say no, I just want to say that it won’t be nothing grimey or weird. Just dinner. Tonight. It’s not gonna be the best night of your life or the worst, I just wanna get to know you.”

You sighed and cocked your head to the side. “If I say yes will you leave and stop bothering me while I’m at work?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

You blinked in disinterest. “Pick me up at seven. And don’t be late.”

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note: dUN DUN DUN!!!

chapter four

tags: @obxlife @rudyypankow @yeehaw87 @ilymarkchan @jellyfishbeansontoast @tangledinsparkles @toloveortobeinlove @pixelated-pogues @normatural @teamnick @drizzlethatfalls @hazelgirl355 @wicked-laugh @jjmaybankswife @ponyboys-sunsets @5am-cigarette @everydayimfangirling @angvelics @poguecollins @xealia @floridabornandraised

#outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks #outerbanks #john b obx #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #obx #jj obx #jj x y/n #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine

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amandajoyce118 · 2 years

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Julie And The Phantoms - “I Got The Music” rewatch

Okay, so, since the Fantoms around the world are doing a rewatch of the series today, I’ve got the episodes playing while I’m doing some of my freelance work, so I thought I’d jot down random thoughts while watching the episodes and contribute, even if I’m not liveblogging the whole thing. (Episode 1 is here. And Episode 2. And Episode 3.)

This is the most High School Musical feeling episode of the series. That opening sequence is definitely evocative of Disney channel in a way most of the rest of the show isn’t.

The audience was robbed of a song writing session. I would be interested in seeing the different dynamics in Julie and Luke writing a song compared to the whole group writing a song. Because Luke and Reggie working on “Flying Solo” is more just them messing around with Julie’s words. At least, that’s all we get to see of it.

Willie and Alex ghostly breaking into a museum just to hang out and blow off steam? Yes. Willie is more immersed in the ghost world than Alex is, so him saying, “and we’ve got the whole place to ourselves,” just makes me think that he gets interrupted by other ghosts so often because of his role at the Hollywood Ghost Club, that he doesn’t actually get much time to just be.

“I’ve always been a little anxious... and then I died, which did not calm me down.” One of the best lines of the series.

The camera angle is clearly not quite right if we’re supposed to see Willie actually jump that stone bench, but we’ve all collectively agreed to ignore that.

I can’t scream on command. I have to basically be terrified for my life in order to get that out of me, so Willie and Alex just yelling at the top of their lungs always makes my throat have phantom pain. lol

For those of us keeping track of who walks through who, at this point in the show we’ve got Ray walking through Reggie, Julie through Luke (multiple times), and Carlos through Alex. I want to know how Alex feels about Carlos since the other interactions are more significant.

Julie is so big on boundaries, but first chance she gets to look at one of Luke’s songs that he doesn’t want her to see, she takes it. Oh, Julie.

What is in “Crooked Teeth” that it’s enough for Reggie to dislike it when he knows it’s about him? Will we ever get to hear the songs mentioned but not recorded for the first season? I want them all. Netflix, just let the actors become an actual band and release all of the music that didn’t make it into the show, okay?

Alex stopping Reggie from talking about his parents is definitely because they’re already following Luke when he goes to see his parents and he doesn’t want Reggie to slip up and say something.

I’m also curious about “My Name Is Luke.” I picture it as a kind of customer service rant now that we know Luke worked part time in a diner when he was alive. Anyone who has worked in food service or retail knows that customers will call you everything other than your actual name to get your attention.

Do you think Trevor wondered why he was suddenly being haunted by his bandmates after 25 years of ghost silence?

The fact that Julie isn’t even phased by the guys all pulling up their pants when she finds them outside makes me wonder what they get up to between scenes. She doesn’t even pause, ask what they think they’re doing, roll her eyes, nothing, just plows right into her talk.

Willie hesitating before telling the guys about Caleb? Yeah, he worried that bringing them to Caleb was a bad idea, but he just wanted to help them.

Julie’s outfit for the dance is both very 80s and very modern, and it’s one of her best in the show. They developed a very fun style for her.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #no unfinished business

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janeofcakes · 3 years

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Soulmate: How John Met Sherlock...Again Chapter 2

Hello, my friends! I come to you today knowing there is but one burning question in your minds today: What will Gracie and Olive get up to next? Okay, maybe two: When the hell will John and Sherlock meet, Jane? Tell me. Tell me now! Haha. Patience, my lovelies. You know I can't write a story without stringing you along for a while first. I am very firmly on the naughty list and like our dear friend, Martin Freeman I cannot abide being on anyone's nice list. Mwahaha.

I also wanted to say that the next few chapters are not as long as the first. There was so much to get through in that one. I hope you aren't disappointed. The good news is my typing and editing are going well so I should be able to keep my weekend schedule. Hooray!Happy reading. Jane

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Gracie casts a side look at Olive from where she sits on the jungle gym. It is afternoon break and the two girls just climbed frantically up the poles and bars to sit at the top for a rest after running themselves ragged all over the playground pretending to be Nancy Drew and George Fayne solving a mystery. Every day since Monday has gone more or less the same way. They play together for morning break, talk at lunch and play again in the afternoon. They write notes on one another’s notebooks during lessons, but manage not to disrupt class or miss instruction. It has been a truly amazing first week of school, better than Gracie could have ever imagined.

Gracie looks at Olive again and feels her throat swell. It’s like she has known Olive forever. They seem to always understand each other and be in perfect sync. Gracie has talked about nothing else at home and has even dreamed about playing with Olive each night. Olive has told her all kinds of things about London and its history. Tower Bridge, London Bridge, the National Theatre, but what Gracie is most interested in seeing is the Tower of London. She asked her father just last night if they could go sometime to see the old castle and the crown jewels. She can’t wait to see and do everything, and it would be even better if Olive could come along for some of it. London is much more exciting than Bath ever was, hands down!

“Gracie,” Olive begins in a lazy tone, “how do you feel about bees?”

Turning to face her friend fully, Gracie furrows her brow and frowns. Olive does not react to the movement and continues looking at something in the distance, or perhaps at nothing at all. Gracie says nothing at first, wondering if Olive had been talking before and all Gracie heard was the bee question. The taller girl finally turns her head and fixes the blonde with an inquisitive gaze. Gracie frowns as she considers the question. She is not really partial to any insect, nor is she upset by them.

“They’re all right, I guess,” Gracie shrugs. “They make honey, so there’s that.”

“Mm…” Olives hums in approval. “True.”

Gracie raises her brows, every inch of her face asking ‘What are you on about?’. Olive blinks and seems to realize she was lost in her own mind, leaving Gracie with absolutely no context for the question.

“That’s what my dad wants to do when he retires,” Olive explains. “Beekeeping. In Sussex, probably.”

Oh no. This can’t be happening. Gracie just met Olive and had the best week of her life and now she’s going to lose her to bees?!

“You’d leave London then?” Gracie chokes on the words, not even trying to hide her distress.

“Yeah,” Olive answers absently, playing with the end of her long braid. “He says they’re fascinating.”

Gracie’s whole body tenses and her stomach roils. She feels sick and a bit dizzy when she glances away from Olive to a girl laughing wildly on the swings. It’s like a bad dream spiraling out of control to the soundtrack of that girl’s mad laughter. Gracie bites her lip hard to ground herself and looks back at Olive.

“Is he close to retiring?” Gracie forces out, beads of sweat beginning to collect at her temples.

“What? No,” Olive huffs a laugh and looks at Gracie again. “He’s definitely old, but not ancient. He has too much fun working anyway. Hey, are you okay?”

“Fun?” Gracie asks incredulously, ignoring her friend’s inquiry. “At a crime scene?”

“Oh, yeah, he loves it,” Olive laughs, seeing Gracie begin to relax. “He loves a good mystery. Locked room murders are his favorite.”

“Wow,” Gracie mutters, only half understanding what that means.

“He used to have a partner, you know,” Olive adds with a grin. “He loved it even more then.”

“So he had his own Clue Crew?” excited energy vibrates through Gracie’s body as she pictures a grown up and male version of Olive with a man and woman posed behind him like on Charlie’s Angels. Gracie’s dad loves old shows and movies, so she has seen her fair share. James Bond is his favorite. She makes a note to ask Olive if she has ever seen any of them.

“Not a crew,” the brunette corrects. “Just the one partner. They solved all kinds of cases together. They were best friends.”

“Like us?”

“Yep, exactly like us,” Olive says with a flash of teeth. Gracie grins too and is about to ask about Bond when something else pops to the forefront of her mind.

“Oh! It’s like my dad’s bedtime stories!” Gracie blurts eagerly. “Sam Williams and Dean Jensen. They’re best friends and solve crimes together. That’s how I got started on Nancy Drew in the first place. Dad’s read some of the old ones to me.”

“Really?” Olive cries. “Oh! Oh! Mystery of the 99 Steps?”

“That’s my favorite!” Gracie shrieks, her hands flying to her cheeks.

“Mine too!” Olive gasps.

“Girls,” the teacher on duty calls up to them from the ground below. They look down at her, all wide eyes and smiles. “Time to go back inside.”

They climb down as the teacher walks away to tell other kids. The two girls bound towards the school, slowing to a walk as they get closer. Gracie feels something brush against her hand and glances at it just in time to see Olive’s longer fingers wrap around it. She shifts her wide eyes to her friend’s, barely able to contain her joy.

“We should get our dads to read us the same old Nancy Drew book, a chapter each night,” Olive tells her conspiratorially. “Then we can compare notes the next day and see if we can solve it before Nancy.”

“That’s the best idea!” Gracie crows. “We can figure out which one during library time.”

“And then you check it out,” Olive says decisively. “Mrs. Hudson has all of them. I can borrow it from her.”

“Ok,” Gracie agrees, already knowing so much about Olive’s godmother that she doesn’t even question the woman would have the whole series. Honestly, Gracie wants to meet her almost as much as she wants to meet Olive’s detective father.

The two girls giggle for a moment at their new plan and then skip into the school building.

***

Saturday afternoon finds Gracie hand in hand with Candace McCleary, a nanny John handpicked while Gracie was still in Bath. They met the day after Gracie arrived last week and she instantly fell in love with Candace, much to John’s relief. Candace would not be a live-in nanny, but is employed like one. John needs her to get Gracie from school and stay with her until he gets home in the evenings. He also needs her to be available at a moment’s notice for when an emergency, like the birth of a baby, arises. John had warned his daughter after Angela Taylor’s check-up on Wednesday that he thought the baby would come early and probably at a most inconvenient time. Sure enough, he received the call just as he started lunch. Gracie was disappointed that her first trip to Hanover Gate Children’s Playground in Regent’s Park would be without her father, but was still over the moon when Candace was happy to take her. She had been looking forward to it almost all week.

“Oh my gosh!” Gracie exclaims as she and Candace approach the playground. There is equipment everywhere to climb and swing on and slide down. Gracie immediately decides the sandpit is first on her list. A tall tree stands in its center with wooden bridges and walkways built all around it. Rope ladders and nets offer admittance and there is even a hammock to sit on. “Candace, this is amazing! This is the best park ever!”

“Why don’t you jump right in?” the woman laughs. “I’ll just be right on this bench if you need me.”

Candace points to an empty green bench as she speaks and starts heading for it before someone else claims it. Gracie calls out her agreement and makes a b-line for the nearest rope ladder. She is up it in seconds and running across a bouncy bridge, laughing all the way. She runs the whole course, turns right back around and does it again. There are quite a few kids in this part of the park, but it’s still easy to work her way around them. After a few more laps on the equipment, a small group of kids asks Gracie to play tag. She recognizes them from school and accepts.

A good hour later, two of the kids have to go home and Gracie is exhausted. She begs off, having had her mind set on playing in the sand since she and Candace got there. Plopping down in a shady spot, she plunges her hands beneath the beige and brown grains. The sand is cool and dry and feels soft in between her fingers, not like the rough sand that is sometimes used in parks. It’s like the white sand from a beach. She has half a mind to pull her shoes off and let her feet sink into its depths. Gracie closes her eyes and wiggles her fingers, feeling the sand move around them like a favorite blanket. She opens her eyes as she curls her fingers around the tiny grains and watches them slip through when she lifts her hands.

Gracie does this again and again until she grabs a stick and begins to drag it through the sand like a plow. At one point, she makes a short trench and plants sunflower seeds and raisins from the snack baggy in her pocket. She pats the sand with satisfaction after covering them and looks toward the bench where Candace sits. She waves and her nanny waves back. Gracie giggles and gets to her knees, but stops when a figure just sitting down on the hammock suddenly blocks her view of Candace.

“What the…” Gracie mutters, her mouth falling open in disbelief. She gets to her feet and runs straight for the rope hammock and its occupant, who hears her footfalls and looks up with blue-grey eyes.

“Gracie!” Olive cries in surprise as her friend trips in the sand and drops face-first next to the hammock. “Gracie?”

“I’m okay,” the blonde girl declares, pushing herself up and standing quickly. The two girls lock eyes and start laughing. “What are you doing here?”

“We come every weekend,” Olive replies, pulling Gracie onto the woven rope. “Our flat’s just that way.”

“Really?” Gracie gasps with a delighted squeak. She points in the opposite direction. “Mine’s that way.”

“No way!” Olive shouts with glee. “That’s amazing! I had no idea we lived so close.”

“I know right,” Gracie exclaims, beginning to rock the hammock a bit. Olive unfolds her legs to hang them down and help push. “What are the odds?”

“Well,” Olive considers, adopting her contemplative face. Gracie knows instantly that a deduction is coming. She giggles and her smile widens as she watches her best friend. “Since we go to the same school, it seems fairly likely that we would live close together because it’s usually based on geography. However, it’s a bit different with public school. Kids can come from all parts of London as long as they have the money to pay.”

“Oh my god,” Gracie can barely contain her excitement and she stamps a foot on the ground a few times. “We could play here every weekend! I’m sure I could get Dad to bring me.”

“Yes! Let’s set it up now,” Olive sits up straight, ready to jump off the netting. “Is your dad here?”

“No, he had to deliver a baby,” Gracie rolls her eyes. Olive makes a dismissive noise that sounds like she just opened an air-tight container and sinks back into the hammock “Exactly. I mean, babies are important and all, but now he has to wait another week to see all this.”

Gracie swings her arms out wide and tilts her head skyward before flopping unceremoniously onto her back. Olive lets herself tip backwards as well and they soon lie side by side, looking up at the clouds. Gracie points out one that looks like a panda and proceeds to tell her friend all sorts of facts about pandas.

“I even have a panda,” she finishes.

“You do?” Olive asks, her eyes widen with wonder.

“Since I was three,” Gracie nods. “She’s my favorite stuffie. She’s called Pandy and I sleep with her every night.”

“I have a bee,” Olive says without hesitation. “I call him Wellington, sometimes Wellies for short.”

“Do you like bees as much as your dad does?” Gracie is curious because Wellington might have been a gift like Pandy was, but it certainly sparked her interest in pandas.

“I don’t think anyone could like them as much as Dad,” Olive huffs a laugh, “but yeah, I definitely like them too. It’s amazing how they make honey and their whole society and all.”

“Wow. Would you tell me?” Gracie fixes her with a serious gaze and licks her lips. “I loooove honey.”

“Sure, and you can tell me more about pandas,” Olive grins and points to a medium-sized cloud. “That one looks like a catapult.”

Gracie cocks a brow and follows her finger to a cloud that, amazingly enough, does resemble a rudimentary catapult.

The afternoon passes as the two girls tell each other stories and make up new games, their favorite being pirates sailing their hammock boat across the sea to a mysterious island. They leave their spot at this point to explore sandy beaches, nearly being vanquished by a giant hippo and almost losing Olive beneath quicksand. Gracie keeps her head about her and is always within Candace’s line of sight, and it’s a good thing too because the two girls are interrupted as tea time nears.

“I knew I’d find you here,” a low rumble of a voice comes from behind Gracie where she sits facing Olive. They have just dug up a treasure of sunflowers and raisins, a very valuable find on the sea. Their eyes grow wide as a menacing laugh fills the air around them. Gracie swallows hard and turns slowly to see the towering silhouette of a man in a billowy black coat. She shields her eyes, but with the sun behind him, she cannot make out his features. He probably has an eye patch and everything.

“What are you doing on my island?” the man demands as he steps closer. Gracie gasps and pushes herself backwards toward Olive to get away from the dark figure only just coming into focus.

“Hi, girls. Is everything okay?” Candace McCleary asks from the right and Gracie glances at her gratefully. Her trusty companion must have bolted from her park bench as soon as the giant appeared. Now she stands alert as though ready to pounce and Gracie breathes a sigh of relief. She hadn’t even seen this man until it was too late. Gracie grits her teeth and silently berates herself as her father’s words about being observant come to mind.

“Uhhh…” Gracie finds her voice, but it comes out as a meek croak. Meanwhile, Olive leaps up next to her and runs for the figure with open arms. Gracie gapes, sure she is about to see her friend eaten before her very eyes.

“Daddy!” Olive cries, launching herself into the man’s arms. Gracie blinks and it is like a cloud has moved from where it had covered the sun. The giant, no longer in the shadows, transforms into a tall man wearing a nice suit with no tie and a long coat. Gracie finds herself marveling at the fact that he doesn’t appear to be hot in the slightest and momentarily wonders if he has ice in his pockets, but stops all speculation when she sees his face. Angles and cheeks like Olive, dark curls and the same grey eyes that seem to change from green to blue and back. The corners of Gracie’s mouth turn up and a sense of ease washes over her.

“Is it time to go already?” Olive is speaking at a mile a minute. “We only just started playing pirates. Can Gracie come home with us? We’re having Thai for dinner. I bet she’ll like it.”

The tall man chuckles at his daughter and the sound is like a really warm blanket, soft and comfy. He glances at Candace and settles his gaze on Gracie. She bristles for a moment at those all-seeing eyes. It’s true they are like Olive’s, but much wiser. Gracie has the feeling he is learning much more from just watching her than anyone else can. She’s not entirely sure how she feels about that, but supposes it’s why Olive is so perceptive and she loves her. Besides, this is her dad. Gracie feels like she knows him already after all the stories she has heard.

“Ah, so this is the infamous Gracie,” Sherlock says surreptitiously with a look in Olive’s direction. The girl smiles broadly and nods while Gracie smiles a little timidly. His chin dips in greeting. “I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

“I know a lot about you too,” Gracie replies as she rises, finding her tenacity again.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Sherlock answers. He turns his attention to Candace, who still looks a touch uneasy. “And this is your friend?”

“Yeah,” Gracie confirms enthusiastically. “This is Candace.”

She jumps up and grabs Olive’s hand, pulling her toward the young woman.

“And this is Olive,” she exclaims.

“Oh,” the last traces of suspicion vanish from Candace’s eyes and she gestures at the girls. “Of course. You’re Olive. Gracie has been telling me about you all week.” “And this is my dad,” Olive introduces. “Sher…”

“William,” Sherlock interrupts, offering his hand. Candace steps forward and takes it in a firm shake. “Will.”

“Nice to meet you,” Candace replies, not noticing the quizzical look on Olive’s face, but Gracie sees. She also sees Sherlock glance at his daughter and communicate something that clears the confusion from Olive’s mind in an instant. Gracie tilts her head in thought, considering this new information. She and John can do that sometimes too. It makes her that much more certain that Olive is meant to be her best friend.

“It’s quite a coincidence them meeting in the park like this,” Candace is saying when Gracie emerges from her thoughts. “Do you live around here?”

“Yes, just on Baker Street,” Sherlock answers politely, but with a tinge of the tone Olive has when she mutters that something is obvious. Gracie lets out a quick giggle.

“Oh, right,” Candace nods with a friendly smile. “That’s not far at all. Maybe we’ll see you here again.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Sherlock looks down at the two girls, both of which are very excited. Olive is almost dancing in place and Gracie would swear she needed the toilet if she didn’t know better. “We’re here every Saturday just after lunch.”

“Perfect,” Candace says. “That’s about when we arrived. I’ll let her father know too. He’ll usually be the one who brings her.”

“He had a baby to deliver,” Gracie supplies. “He’s a doctor.”

“So Olive tells me,” Sherlock tells her with a certain mirth in his tone. “I would very much like to meet him, especially now that I’ve met you.”

“He’s wanted to all week,” Olive exclaims, giving Gracie’s hand a squeeze. “Ever since the first day.”

“I just can’t believe we ran into each other like this,” Candace declares, still a little dumbfounded.

Gracie doesn’t hear Sherlock’s response because Olive leans in close to whisper in her ear how great it will be when their fathers meet. The blonde nods her head vigorously and they laugh together quietly.

“Oh my, it’s nearly tea time,” Candace says to her watch. “I have to get her home. Are you ready, Gracie?”

“I guess so,” the girl pouts. She throws her arms around Olive in a huge hug. “I can’t wait to see you on Monday.”

Gracie gasps and looks at Olive with wide eyes, her hands still clamped around her arms.

“I’m going to write you a special note tomorrow and make a comic with my favorite markers,” she announces with glee. “They smell like strawberries and grapes and stuff.”

“Oh, wow!” Olive hoots. “I’ll make one of my maps for you.”

“It could be of this park!” Gracie shouts as Candace’s mobile sounds. She pulls it from her pocket and glances at its screen, pressing the surface to turn off the alarm.

“We really have to be going,” Candace says apologetically. “It was so nice to meet you both.”

“And you as well,” Sherlock dips his chin in farewell as Candace takes Gracie’s hand and leads her away.

“Bye, Gracie!” Olive calls, waving madly.

“Bye!” the blonde shouts back.

Olive waves for a good thirty seconds and then turns to face her father with her arms crossed over her chest. She raises a brow expectantly and Sherlock knows precisely why, but says nothing.

“Let’s go, shall we?” he begins walking toward home, knowing she will follow. “I believe Mrs. Hudson is making fresh biscuits.”

“What was that about, Dad?” Olive asks in disbelief, already matching his steps. “Why William?”

“You know I use aliases at times,” Sherlock replies without looking at her.

“Yeah, for cases, but these aren’t criminals,” Olive insists. “These are my friends.”

“I know, love,” he turns his head to see her earnest expression looking up at him. “I just don’t want to prejudice Gracie’s father.”

“What’s prejudice?” Olive furrows her brow as she repeats the word.

“Well, you know my profession can be dangerous,” Sherlock begins.

“Yeah…” Olive says slowly, eyeing him curiously.

“A lot of people know that because they see my name in the media,” he explains. “I don’t want Gracie’s father to hear my name and assume Gracie will be in danger. I’m concerned he will get the wrong impression and feel uncomfortable about you being friends.”

“Oh,” Olive says flatly as if she hadn’t considered that. They walk in silence for a moment until she speaks up again. He knew she would. She is too smart and inquisitive not to have follow-up questions. “So what are you going to do when we’ve been friends for months and it’s time to tell them your real name? Say ‘By the way, my name is really Sherlock Holmes.’?”

Sherlock gives her a withering look and says nothing. Her jaw drops and she shoves him lightly.

“Dad! You can’t NOT tell them,” Olive insists. She bends at the knees slightly to emphasize the word not. “It’s dishonest. Dad, it’s lying.”

“Sometimes we lie for the greater good,” Sherlock tells her curtly.

“Now you sound like Mycroft,” Olive sneers and that stops Sherlock dead in his tracks. He turns to face her, dropping into a squat and meeting her eyes.

“I would do anything for you, Olive,” he says sincerely, resting his hands on her shoulders. She curls the corner of her mouth and cocks a brow.

“Dad,” Olive begins matter-of-factly, “I know that and I would do anything for you too, but you told me I couldn’t lie.”

“Yes. Yes, I did,” Sherlock sighs and then continues resolutely. “You’re right. I’ll introduce myself properly when we meet Gracie’s father. Okay?”

“Okay,” Olive grins and they walk again, hand in hand.

“Olive?” Sherlock says, glancing her way. She looks up at him in answer. “Don’t compare me to Mycroft again.”

Olive lets out a quiet chortle and tightens her grip on his fingers.

“Desperate measures,” she replies more than a little pleased with herself. Sherlock puffs a quick breath through his nose and smirks as they walk on. Like father, like daughter.

---

What the hell, Jane?? I know what you said at the beginning, but this is unfair. Gracie and Candace get to meet Sherlock, but not John?! I want the boys to meet again! NOW! So sorry, my friends, but you'll have to wait a bit longer. Worry not, it will happen. Eventually. (insert evil smile, cruel chuckle and holding of fingertips together like Mr. Burns) Love, Jane

@johnlock-rocks

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #bbc sherlock #john watson #johnlock #sherlock loves john #John loves Sherlock #Johnlock fanfic #Mystrade

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magnoliasinbloom · 4 years

Text

Lie To Me - 9

AO3 :: Previously

Claire blinks, visibly baffled. For a moment, she doesn’t even know what to say, processing what Jamie’s revelation means for their own relationship. She shakes her head to clear it. “You say that having children is one way for your uncles to take the land. How do you manage to not… you know?” Claire blushes.

“Och, Sassenach, I’ve told them that the burns may have made me… unable to sire children. Nerve damage and such.” Jamie matches her reddening cheeks. They both know he is perfectly capable of performing.

“The other way they win is if you—you die. Does this mean that they’ve tried that?”

“Not yet. I agreed to marry as well because Jenny has bairns of her own, including boys. They can inherit too, but I dinna wish my uncles to harm them in their pursuit of wealth and power.” Jamie’s voice is hard. “There was the fire, but that was merely a happy accident that didna turn out as well as they would have hoped.”

“The fire? Your scars?” Claire asks, and Jamie and Murtagh exchange glances.

“Start at the beginning, a bhalaich. Dinna confuse the puir lassie.” Murtagh pours them another tumblerful. Claire is still nursing the first drink, her mind reeling with the information regarding Jamie’s marriage.

“A few years ago, I was working late at night at the Leoch office building. I was still inexperienced, tryin’ to prove meself at the job. I had a colleague; his name was Alexander McGregor.” Jamie’s eyes are full of shame, but his voice is steady. “He had stayed that night too. When I was finally leaving, I noticed he was in a private conference room, with the blinds drawn. That was smart, for Alex knew there were cameras in there. I thought it might be something serious, for their talk grew so heated I could hear the argument coming from the room. I thought I’d knock and defuse the situation.” Jamie paused to take a deep draught. Claire is tempted to reach for his hand and comfort him, but senses this is a story he has to tell for himself.

“Before I could turn the doorknob, I heard a muffled gunshot and I broke into the room. I could only see Alex for a second, slumped in a chair, blood pouring from a hole in his stomach. The man struck me in the heid wi’ the gun, and I dropped like a stone.” Claire gasps softly.

Jamie plows ahead resolutely. “I woke up a few minutes later when I smelled the smoke, the gun in my own hand, and it was already too late. Alex was dead, and the room was up in flames. The man had rigged the wiring on the overhead lights when he left and caused the fire, disabling the sprinklers too. Wi’ the closed door, it was an inferno. My back was seared and blistered, the skin peeling off as I tried to get Alex’s body out. Or so the doctors told me. ‘Twas a miracle I survived at all.”

Murtagh clears his throat. “He was in the hospital for a month. Jenny and I were terribly worried, thinking he might not pull through.”

“But why?” Claire bursts out, bewildered. “Why kill Alex?”

“Alex discovered internal documents that implicated men in power, links to bank accounts of several police officers, judges, and politicians on Leoch Holdings’ payroll. My uncles were—are—trading money for favors, overturning convictions, and legislating in the company’s interests.”

“During the investigations, we found no trace of any document in the room, most everything had burned up,” Murtagh says. “There was also no CCTV footage available. Someone had tampered with the video.” With this, the old man stood up, and unlocked a metal filing cabinet next to his desk. Claire watched in fascination as he manipulated a false bottom and extracted a fat manila envelope. “But then we got these.”

“Murtagh took care of my dingy flat while I was in hospital. Alex had messengered over copies of the documents in secret—wise of him, to leave no digital trace. There was a letter explaining what it all meant, and who the man was—Stephen Bonnet, he’s a commander in the force. Murtagh saw it, and could verify that my name was not on the records. Therefore, I was unlikely to be involved in my uncles’ dirty business.”

“Why did he not tell you from the start?” Dread was settling into Claire’s very bones, as she grasped the magnitude of the situation.

“He didna trust me, I imagine. Upon his discovery, he assumed I was in cahoots with my uncles, bein’ family and all. But I made certain comments to him that probably convinced him I was unaware of their dealings.”

“What did you tell him?”

“At the time, when I started at Leoch, my uncles were pressuring me to date and marry Laoghaire. I told Alex this, and said that it was wrong and I plain didna want to, and if they fired me for it, they could go fuck themselves and I’d work bagging groceries at Tesco before I’d let them bully me like that.” Claire almost smiles at this vehement outburst. “I lost on that account.”

“And Bonnet?”

“He was listed under an assumed name on the documents. That’s why Alex, poor lad, didna think he might be involved either. Bonnet fixed it so Alex’s body was not autopsied, so no one could ken of the gunshot wound that killed him. The McGregors were told there were no real remains, and they had only ashes to mourn. My uncles—”

“Threatened your life if you exposed them and forced you to marry,” Claire finishes for him. “But there is no proof of you doing any wrong!”

Murtagh sighed. “We thought so as weel. But Colum and Dougal’s reach is much longer than ye ken.”

“They had tech experts alter images and deep fake a video that pin Alexander’s death on me,” Jamie says. Claire shakes her head.

“But surely anyone—”

“’Tis my word against theirs. With their endless resources and contacts in law enforcement and the courts, who would believe me?” Jamie’s tone is final and resigned.

Silence weighs heavy in the air; Murtagh collects their empty glasses and sets them on his desk. “I’ve used my position in the force to continue to gather evidence, more papers, whatever I can use to help bring Colum and Dougal MacKenzie to justice, and absolve Jamie from any blame. I’ve involved Chief John Grey from the SCD, Specialist Crime Division, who works with organized crime, and it’s taken us years to be able to discern who to trust and who is in Leoch’s pockets.”

Claire is stunned at this turn of events. She had expected a godfather who at best, might cajole her into believing that Jamie’s marriage was a lie, an economic convenience of sorts, and that had been true after a fashion. But she had not predicted that this was an issue involving crime, illegal activities, and the death of an innocent man. Jamie appears to read her thoughts.

“That is the truth, Sassenach, and I trust ye enough that I ken well ye willna expose the ongoing investigation, or speak to anyone about what happens at Leoch. I’ve endangered yer very life by making ye privy to my story, and for that I am truly sorry.”

“Jamie, I—” Claire’s voice breaks. She casts about for what she wants to say. “Thank you for trusting me. I won’t say anything, not even to Geillis,”—at this she remembers G is still waiting in the lobby— “and… and I want you to understand, we are what we make ourselves, we use what we have, and we decide what we are. You, James Fraser, are an honorable man.”

X-x-X

Jamie remains behind to spend time going over new evidence with Murtagh. Claire assures him Geillis and she will head straight to their flat, and he asks if she would call him tomorrow. He doesn’t want to assume, he doesn’t want to lie anymore; he will give her time to think, to decide if this is something she also wants, if she feels as he does, their short acquaintance be damned. Can Claire risk her heart?

There is an unbearable weight of sorrow pressing upon Claire’s spirit; as she rides the elevator, descending numbers flashing in the display, she racks her brain trying to figure out if there is anything, anything at all she can do to ease his burden.

When she spots Geillis waiting for her, she realizes how lucky she is to have a friend like her—unconditional, constant, a forever kind of friend. G had been there for her in her darkest times, even when…

Suddenly it hits Claire. Without a word, Geillis follows her out into the rainy Glasgow night.

“What’s happened? Are ye convinced? Was he telling the truth?”

“Oh, G. I can’t even tell you. He’s for real, and he’s just been so unlucky in life… I have to help him.”

“What do you mean? Help him how?”

“I’m going to call Frank.”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #ltm9

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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years

Text

Don’t Let Me Down

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1,500 Warning: Two curse words Author’s Note: That premium scene from Book 1, Chapter 1 where MC helps Ethan pick something from the vending machine but from his POV

___________

Not for the first time that day, his patience stretches out dangerously thin as he inspects the options of the vending machine. What a day it was turning out to be and he was only half way through his shift. It was not uncommon for new interns to grate on his nerves; after all, everyone at Edenbrook carefully threaded around him on the first week of new recruits. However, there was something about this group that pushed him even further over the edge. Either they were particularly boisterous, or Ethan was just getting old.

Fleetingly, he thinks of the thoracotomy intern from that morning. His mind particularly recalls the unabashed and almost taunting smirk that illuminated her face after he criticized her technique, leaving him momentarily puzzled. Anyone else would have wilted under his wrath, he had seen it hundreds of times before. With a wicked glint in her eyes, she had had the nerve to flirt with him.

God help him if that was what he would have to put up with all year.

“Um. Hi, Dr. Ramsey,” a small voice says from behind him.

Distracted, he briefly glances at the speaker, only to freeze immediately after.

It was the intern from that morning, standing there as though he had summoned her with thought alone, her cheeks flushed, a book clutched to her chest, and a look of pure determination set on her face.

“... Rookie.”

The feeble acknowledgement is all the greeting he offers her as he returns his attention to the vending selections.

“I was hoping you might sign my book,” she says when it becomes clear he is done speaking.

That surprises him, though years of experience with schooling his expression into an indifferent one help him conceal this. “Autographs? Don't you have other work to be doing? Or at least other attendings to irritate?”

Ethan catches sight of her reflection on the glass of the machine. That smile is back, tilting one corner of her mouth into a peculiar smirk, a knowing one.

“No, just you,” she quips.

Ethan stares at her reflection, completely shocked at his urge to smile at that.

“I should have guessed,” he returns dryly, pleased that his voice sounds as collected and indifferent as he prefers it. There is a small pause in which he sees her open her mouth as if to say something. She closes it just as quickly. “Well, if you have something else to say, then say it.”

Dr. Allende hesitates briefly. Ethan can practically see the gears of her mind working, much like he observed that morning during the emergency. A small crease forms in between her brows as she collects her thoughts and he feels impatience and something else starting to swell his temper once more. He only begins to realize that the unknown emotion is eagerness, when she finally speaks.

“I won't let you down again.”

Whatever Ethan is expecting, it is not that. There is something about the young doctor before him that enables his innate need to be a pain in the ass because he returns, “You can see the future? If so, you'll make a remarkable physician.”

“I just meant—”

He knows what she meant. The automatic response to a genuine promise to do better surprises even him. Ethan had always held a reputation of being brutally honest, if at times excessively harsh and sarcastic. Seconds after he says the words, however, even he admits the statement is just downright cruel.

You unmeasured asshole, he thinks.

He tries again. “You will let me down again, Rookie.” Vaguely, he notes that although he is very aware of her name, he prefers the nickname. “What's more, you'll let yourself down. Over and over.”

Tired of speaking to her through a reflection on a vending machine, he turns to face her. Standing this close, and with no suffocating patient between them, he is hit with how unquestionably pretty she is. Ethan tries to dismiss that thought at once, but the flush he had initially noticed is still present on her cheeks, redirecting his attention to the constellation of faint freckles dusting her nose.

Dr. Allende, meanwhile, is watching him with a sudden seriousness, lips slightly parted and head tilted to one side, perhaps struggling to determine if there is more bitter sarcasm coming her way. A myriad of silent thoughts flit across her face and once again he feels a keenness to know more.

“But what matters,” he continues instead, “is that you get back on your feet each and every time, and push yourself to be better.”

She silently takes in the words, giving no indication of her thoughts. Infuriatingly, she changes the subject, choosing to tell him about her favorite snack.

Frustrated, Ethan begins to dismiss this when she assertively informs him, “I know you’re not getting something for yourself.” Her eyes are on the vending machine. “You’re trying to pick something to cheer up Barbara in there, right?”

Startled, Ethan privately commends her observation.

“How’d you figure that?” he asks instead, genuinely curious.

“Just paying attention.” The answer is delivered with one of her winsome smiles. “You know, I bet I could pick out just the thing.”

He stares at said smile a beat too long.

“I doubt it. Barbara's even more stubborn than you.” Dr. Allende's eyebrows rise at this, evidently intrigued. Before they can dwell on any other observations he has made about her character, Ethan plows on. “She’s refused to take her pills for two days.”

His curiosity is an entity of its own by now, palpably gnawing at him. “But be my guest. It’s a hopeless endeavor.”

As she moves closer to the machine, the challenge is clear on her face, embellishing that charming simper of hers. Ethan studies her closely, looking for any clues that might give him an insight to her mind. The only thing Dr. Allende betrays, however, as she studiously looks at the selections, is a small graze of her teeth against her lush bottom lip.

Ethan almost misses her selection, the sound of a pack of gum hitting the tray bringing him back to himself.

“What the hell is that?”

“You’ve never had Chuckles Gum? They write jokes in the wrapper.” An almost childish grin spreads across her face as she opens a stick of gum to show him. “See? This one’s even a doctor joke.”

But Ethan is not paying the wrapper any mind because at that precise moment, she glances at the joke before reading it out loud. Her teeth catch her lower lip again as she suppresses her amusement, the sight entirely too distracting.

“‘What type of blood did the author have?’”

He doesn't even hear the joke.

“Type-O,” she answers when Ethan doesn't respond. “Like a typo?”

Ethan clears his throat quietly. “Oh, I got it,” he lies. “It’s just not funny.”

This makes her laugh, doing nothing to help his efforts to be present in the conversation. “Tough crowd. Look, just give them to her, okay? Trust me.”

Grateful for an aversion, he takes the pack of gum into Barb's room. The older woman reads one of the jokes to herself, guffaws, and miraculously agrees to take her medication. By the time Ethan returns to the hallway, he is speechless.

He only finds his voice to demand how she knew that would work. There was no denying the searing curiosity burning through his rationality.

Dr. Allende winks so swiftly, he could have missed it. “A girl’s gotta have some secrets.”

This time, he fails to fight back a smile. “You’re really going to hold out on me?”

“I’m going for an air of mystery. Is it working?”

That damn smile again.

“Mildly,” he lies.

Dr. Allende's attention returns to the machine, which announces a fifty cent credit from his dollar. Without a single word, she makes a selection, retrieving a chocolate bar from the tray.

“And who is that for?” he asks, unable to stop himself.

Smoothly, she throws it at him. He easily catches it despite being completely agog.

“You.”

For the first time in a long time, the surprise must be evident in his expression because she explains, “Saw you kept staring at it earlier. You know, it’s okay to treat yourself sometimes.”

Ethan allows the words to skin in, his fingers clasping the candy. Quietly, he wonders what he looks like to the staff passing by as he takes in that ever present, beguiling smile of hers.

“...I’ll keep that in mind.”

Seemingly satisfied, she turns to leave. Before he can stop himself, he calls out, “Wait.”

Dr. Allende turns, watching him curiously.

Already feeling outrageously out of his comfort zone, Ethan nods toward the book she still holds against her chest. “Give it here.”

He knows what he will inscribe before she eagerly hands him the copy of his own book. With a flourish, he writes, “Don't let me down.”

“Now get back to work, Allende.”

She pauses.

“You remembered my name?”

Fuck. He had gotten careless and let that slip.

“...Just paying attention,” he returns noncommittally, mirroring her words from earlier.

Dr. Allende opens her mouth to respond, but before she can say anything, Ethan practically forces himself to walk away. When he is certain he has put enough distance between them, he turns back to watch her retreating form. Against his better judgment, he allows a smile.

_____________

Catch up here.

____________

Author’s Note: Imagine how pissed Ramsey will be when he finds out she gave that to Landry.

Ah, writing this was an experience. Getting the dialogue was a journey. Maybe I’ll write the bar scene next. Let me know what you think.

Anyway, this is one of my favorite scenes from book 1. Hope I did it some justice.

_____________

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #my writing

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hhoriginalworks · 3 years

Text

invisible string | g.w

The concept of soulmates and true love had always perplexed you, especially as someone whose parents talked about love like it was the loch ness monster. Your parents were two lit matches when you were growing up and the leaking gas surrounding them was their marriage. Even at seven, you weren't surprised when your mother disappeared in the night, leaving you brokenhearted and determined to not return to your daydreams about a prince sweeping you off your feet. You were truly the world's youngest pessimist, turning your nose up at the girls chasing boys for a kiss and keeping away from the rowdy boys kicking a football around the park.

Many would think such a bitter young child, kicking rocks into lakes and getting nauseous from fairytales, would want someone realistic to hang around. You agreed, thinking that you'd want someone just as angry at the world to stand in the kilometer-wide fields of wildflowers and scream with you. Then faith played a cruel, unusual card that tossed you into the path of George Weasley.

George Weasley had just turned ten when the two of you crossed paths, his legs were carrying as far away from his mum, who was yelling at him and Fred from turning Ron's teddy into a spider... again. He supposed it was his fault when he absolutely plowed into you, a nine-year-old reading on the dry ground, but, you weren't exactly nice enough for him to admit that.

"You absolute idiot, dear God, you nearly knock my damn teeth out," you shouted, brushing off the kicked-up dirt from your clothes.

George stared at you, his eyes wide as the words left your mouth- he rarely heard his parents curse, much less a little girl. In his defense, the only little girl he was around much was Ginny, and while she had a foul temper it rarely involved cursing.

"Well? Aren't you going to apologize?" You looked at him impatiently, maintaining contact with his brown eyes. He was an odd-looking boy, tall and lanky, while also drowned in ragged clothes that looked more like a cloak. "Well? Dear Lord, I don't have time for this."

It didn't take long for George to find his words, somewhat less stunned and, perhaps at that moment, purely intrigued. "Oi, wait up," George shouted, taking the few strides it took to end up beside you.

"Oh, how marvelous- you talk," you deadpanned, mimicking a tone that your father frequently used with you when you said something unintelligible. "Quit following me, Red."

"Red?"

"Well, I have to call you something, don't I?" You were halfway home at this point, and you weren't particularly fond of being home so soon or letting the boy know where you lived. You dug your heels in the dry ground, stopping so abruptly George was nearly two steps past you when he noticed.

"It's George- George Weasley," the redhead greeted, sticking out this pale freckled hand as he'd seen many adults do. You reminded him of an adult, and he frankly, couldn't help but want to make a good impression (well, good second impression). "I live at The Burrow- the slightly leaning building with the large garden."

You stared at the boy, dirt smudged on his nose and an odd shine in his eye. You knew the exact building he was talking about- your father frequently talked about how much of a monstrosity it was and how it brought down market value. Secretly, you thought it looked like something out of Alice in Wonderland, but you never mentioned it.

"Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N, but you hardly need to know my name," you replied cooly, an involuntary shiver running down as you realized you sounded just like your dad. "I should get home, and so should you to the, er, Burrow."

"Why? It is a Thursday, and it is hardly nine."

"School- my dad doesn't let me stay out this late on a school day," you shrugged, pushing through the knee-high foliage and towards your modest home. "Goodbye, Goerge."

"Goodbye, y/n/n," George shouted back, turning back to his own house deciding that he couldn't keep following you all night. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

His question was left unanswered, but the next evening, he found you sitting in the same spot as the night before with a different book and what looked to be a small smile.

Life seemed to get easier from that moment on- a sort of routine springing from the odd encounter. At a certain point, you almost forgot that he didn't seem to be quite normal, and at a certain point, he almost forgot that you were quite normal.

"You have to let me meet your mum and dad," George pleaded, following faithfully behind you as you collected flowers you planned on pressing and drying out. "I'll let you meet my mum and dad, but I'd have to warn you that dad gets a bit mad when muggles visit."

You stopped in your tracks, turning towards the redhead, who frequently let odd vocabulary slip around you. "Is that some sort of code? What in the world is a muggle?"

"Nothing, but now that I think about it, we should just go to your house," George quickly corrected, handing you the bunches of flowers he was holding for you. "Now would be nice- I have to use the loo."

You picked the petals off one of the wildflowers, silently deciding he could come into your house just to use the loo. "My mum isn't home," you began slowly, watching the redhead light up. "Hey! Don't get all grinning- you are only going in to use the loo. Come on, Red, we haven't got all day."

The two of you hiked in silence, the heat of summer beating down on the two of you. It didn't take long to arrive at your house, a small building that was considerably less eccentric than The Burrow. "Take off your shoes before you enter the house," you whispered to the redhead, slowly opening the creaky front door and guiding George inside.

George didn't have any expectations, except maybe someone homely and vibrant like his own home. Your home, however, was alien compared to The Burrow. The walls were painted white as if they were to remain completely sterile, and the furniture looks as though it were incased in some invisible plastic. "Where's your room?" George asked, unable to help himself from wondering if the entire house was this way.

"Nice try, Red," you hummed, tossing the flowers in a small box near what you considered to be your side of the couch. "Loo is to the right with the white door."

George walked down the halls, his eyes focusing on all the small details of the house. Frankly, there weren't many- a few family pictures of a man and your familiar face, but never a mum. George kept quiet, questions piling up before reaching for the doorknob of one of the many white doors. By the time he had slipped in, he realized it most certainly wasn't the loo.

"Did you find- oh, you went to the left," you spoke softly, your words fading as you joined the redhead in your room.

"It's nice," George commented earnestly, running his pale fingers along the edge of your posters. George meant it, enjoyed the seemingly human-ness of your room compared to the rest of your house.

Your bed was pushed to the end of the room just under the window, and your walls were painted in a bright yellow. It looked completely normal and youthful, but George still felt something was off. "I thought you said your mum just wasn't mum- she doesn't even look like she exists."

You messed with the end of your shirt before silently walking over to your mirror, pulling out a few small polaroids from the small space where the wall and mirror didn't touch. "She isn't home- she's in London with her boss and his kids. She's a researcher for a pharmaceutical company," you handed the prized possession to George, who was as quiet as when you first met him.

"She looks like you," George said simply, setting them back behind the mirror.

"Yeah, she does," you replied, a sense of solidarity forming between the two of you. "Here, we can play some board games."

There was something untouchable about your friendship with George, even as the boy seemed to mysteriously leave you without much warning and no communication. You didn't blame him though, knowing that older boys rarely wanted to hang out with childish girls- something your father reminded you when you told him about your friendship with George. George certainly didn't blame you because frankly there was bound to be the distance between you when a whole world you didn't know about sat between the two of you.

By the time, George left for Hogwarts the second time, you no longer felt like something was keeping you in England. Your protests about your father taking a promotion in France slowly stopped until you were clearing out boxes and moving on with your life. The two of you rarely talked at this point, yet, when you got a letter inviting you to some school for witches and wizards in France, he was the first person you thought of.

You didn't write to him though- not because you weren't sure how a letter addressed to The Burrow would arrive at its intended destination, but because you've seen what secrets can do to a relationship. You kept to yourself about it, letting go of George and attempting to embrace the world that now kept the two of you apart.

"Delphine, you honestly believed that Bulgaria would win? Ha- I laugh at you," you giggled, wrapping an arm loosely around your Ombrelune housemate at Beauxbaton. "Very poor judgment, my love."

The blonde shook her head at you, nudging your shoulder gently and pointing towards a group of celebrating Irish. "Why don't you go over there, you Brit," Delphine teased. "Honestly, y/n, in France your accent is hardly noticeable, but the minute we take a portkey over here you're incomprehensible."

"It's the Devon accent, m'love," you grinned, jumping as the sound of an explosion boomed behind you. "Delphine, something is happening- look over there."

Something was happening- the cheerful noise of celebration quickly turned to screams of terror. Delphine held you closely, mumbling senseless French into your ear as the two of you attempted to navigate the crowd.

"Targeting muggleborns and muggles," a nearby voice shouted, eliciting more panic from the crowd and you.

"Delphine, you need to head somewhere else- to the forest," you shouted, pushing away the blonde. "You can't be near me if they somehow find out that I'm-I'm-"

"No- I don't leave your side," you blonde interrupted, holding tighter onto your arm as her petite frame pushed against the crowd.

You nodded your head, the two of your holding onto each other as the sea of fear and chaos stirred around you. Your feet were nearly brushing the edge of the forest when you saw it, a familiar grouping mop of red hair and brown eyes. You felt yourself slip away from the fear and reality of the nightmare you were living as you ran towards the slowly disappearing boy.

"Y/N? Where are you?" Delphine screeched, quickly finding your arms again and pulling you back toward the wooded coverage. "You can't just run off- come on, let's find my Papa."

You nodded your head, your eyes still pinned on where you swore you saw the boy that spent hours with you in the Devon fields of wildflowers. Delphine repeated your name tugging on your arm relentlessly until you were finally compliant and focused back on the present.

The horrors of that night quickly reminded you of your place in the wizarding world, sparking anger that reminded you of how you felt as a child. Anger for finding a place that finally made you let go of your bitterness towards the world, only to find a new bitterness. A bitterness that revolved around the two worlds that you were equally torn between, both filled with people that mattered to you. It drove you partially to madness, but mostly to the notion that you wanted peace in at least one of your worlds.

That night sparked more than anger, and it showed in the work you began to put out at Beauxbaton. You refused the trip to Hogwarts for a Triwizard Tournament, instead choosing to spend hours studying for your exams. You spent nights hunched over a desk, learning how to get where you wanted to make the changes that you wanted to see in the Wizarding World. You sacrificed going back to your childhood home with your dad, and in the end, your chooses landed you a spot in the French Ministry.

"Fleur, I'm doing what I can to get you some people from the French Ministry to help, but frankly, most don't see this as their fight," you argued back, resting your head against your arms. "I know that you're keeping safe in that cottage until you're needed, but it would help if you could reach out to some alumni. The minister doesn't want government workers getting involved and they're hesitant to go against his indirect orders."

"We need you to win, love. Delphine died for this cause, and I know that many know many others. I have to go, but please, help us," Fleur whispered back, using the muggle cellphone you gave her. Perhaps it put you at risk, but with your very public stances for better muggle-magical relations, you were hardly concerned about that. "Goodbye, and I'll let you know when things worsen."

You hung up the phone, the familiar aching of your head returning and you drafted your speech to help get the British ministry back where they needed. "How did it get this far?" You asked yourself, holding the quill to the tan parchment. Your eyes were weighted down with dark bags, and your hand was heavy from hundreds of writings that were turned down the moment you mentioned war.

You set down the parchment, your eyes scanning your messy desk until they landed on two small polaroids- one with your mum and one with George. The two of you were so young, and now at nineteen with blood on your choices and ministry desk, you craved innocence. You craved the way that George made you forget the worst parts of life- you craved your youth.

You remember Fleur's call like a nightmare, her voice high and desperate for you. You always wanted to go back to England, to your home, but not like this. Not with your hands shaking as you attempted to tell your dad goodbye, and not you sending a letter saying 'I love you' to your mum. You arrived at Hogwarts with tears in your eyes as you walked into the battlefield that had children already lying dead before you. You arrived at Hogwarts with a wild, unkept fury that you'd been holding deep within as a kid.

"Stupefy." The words left your mouth just as easy as any bout of laughter. The world came crashing down with each cut, curse, and scream from yourself and the children that fought around you.

Then, it ended. The fight was over, and the blanket of grief replaced the anger. The loss of innocence settled in between you, a nineteen-year-old cradling the fourth-year who fell at the last minute, and the others around you. There, at that moment, everything you felt dissipated leaving you with nothing but loneliness.

"You were so good," Fleur mumbled, holding your face as someone lifted the child out of your lap. "So good. You did so great, m'love."

Fleur continued to whisper French nothings into your ear as you sob over some child you didn't know. As you sob over the lives lost, and the feeling that you could've done so much more. "I can't go back to the ministry," you sniffled, rubbing the tears off your cheeks. "I begged for their best duelers, and they said they couldn't provide it because they could die. How- how can I go back to a government like that."

"Shush, come back here with Bill and me. Bill's father works in the ministry, and we can find you someplace," Fleur cooed, lifting you off the ground. "Let's go find Bill."

The two of you trudged through the ruins, past the families that were mourning, and into the great hall where everyone was together. Delphine talked about how everyone at Hogwarts was separated from each other, but you would've never known. People were all together crying, hugging, and what you assumed to be contemplating.

You sat down at the nearest table, your knees crying for rest and your body begging to sleep. "Thank you," you mumbled to no one in particular- perhaps, even the fate that once brought you and George together. You never really believe in luck or fate, but here, in the moment, it felt fitting.

"Y/N?" You turned around slowly, your mind working faster than your body. "It's you- you're here."

George Weasley. In all of his glory and grief, the redhead stood before you, radiating the feeling of home. He looked nearly the same, minus his one ear slightly uneven with the other, and a weak look of disbelief on his face.

"Quit following me, Red," you breathed, jumping from the bench and wrapping your arms around him.

"What-what are you doing here," George mumbled into your head, his arms squeezing you as if he didn't believe you were entirely real.

"You didn't think you could be all magical without your best friend- I got my letter to Beauxbaton a day after I moved to France," you explained, pulling away from the lanky redhead. "I wanted to tell you, but I-I thought you were a pas de magie. A-a, what's the word you used to call me?"

"A muggle? You thought that I was a muggle? I used to make you show me how to use a can opener for entertainment," George chuckled in disbelief.

You looked down at your shoes, slightly embarrassed you never connected the dots. "I just thought you were the homeschooled type," you replied half-heartedly. You looked around quicking sobering up from the high of seeing George. "Did-did you lose anyone?"

George looked at you, a tight smile on his lips. "No- Fred, you remember my twin, right? He, um, is getting taken to St. Mungo's, and they are talking amputation of his right leg. He'll-he'll be okay."

You nodded your head, wiping away a tear that fell down George's cheek. "We'll be okay, George."

The aftermath of the war resonated with the wizarding world- you saw it first-hand in England after you moved back home. You supposed that it was a process of healing, knowing that you had to go through it yourself. Your heart aches for the families, for the Weasleys, who watched Fred have to go through relearning how to live his life.

The war brought so much darkness that stained the lives of many, creating nightmares that still crept into everyday life. The war also brought you back home- back to George, who suddenly found himself ten years old again and madly in love.

"You can stay here longer," George protested, grabbing the Daily Prophet from you. You had been searching for a place that wasn't George and Fred's flat for much longer than you cared to admit. It should've been an easy task, but there always seemed to be something missing.

"I can't mooch off of you two forever," you hummed in response, grabbing a piece of toast from the table. "It's bad enough that I haven't decided whether or not to take that position in the ministry."

"Boring," Fred sang from the bathroom, a toothbrush hanging from his mouth. "Just work for us- you're doing a brilliant job helping us with keeping the books. We'll hire you on full time."

You shook your head at the redheads, who looked at you with identical begging looks. "I want to do something I love, and while I love you guys, I don't love your business half as much as you do. I was thinking I would get a better offer from the ministry than basically a glorified paper-pusher. No matter- I guess I could open up a magical firm, and practice some magical law."

"Boring," George teased, knocking knees with you under the table.

"What what do you find fun?" You questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

"Having you live with me," George answered immediately, his face turning red as Fred not-so-subtly coughed out, 'whipped.'

"I like living with you, too, George," you whispered, placing a hand on top of his. "I mean it- coming back here to be with you makes me feel like I'm nine years old again."

Fred shook his head at the two of you, an obvious smile painted on his lips and he left to open the shop. Fred had put up with a lot since the Battle of Hogwarts, but the worst thing was seeing his brother so helplessly in love with someone who felt the same way.

"I meant what I said about you staying longer, or even forever. Think about it, y/n," George said, turning towards you. "You think everything is wrong with those flats you've looked at. Don't you think that deep down you just want to stay here- stay with me, and, er, Fred."

You shook her head, the familiar warm feeling you got from George settling in your chest. "I-I don't know," you admitted, wringing your hands. "I just don't want to-to get attached."

"What's so wrong with getting attached," George mumbled, grabbing your hands and gently holding them. "Y/N, I am so attached to you, and I have been since the moment I ran into you. Just stay, and- and, we'll figure out a way to make this work."

"You can't make two people work out," you chuckled, sliding your hands out of George's and getting up. George mirrored your actions and stepped closer to you, reminding you of the way he used to follow you around as a kid. "My mum and dad tried-"

"No, they didn't and you know that."

"George, they-"

"We're not them," George stated adamantly. "We're not them because somehow through all of this confusion, all of this fighting, all of this hate and anger- we found each other again. There's an invisible string tying us together, and that's how I know we're not them."

"I don't believe in soulmates," you mumbled, suddenly aware of how close George was.

"You used to not believe in magic," George replied nonchalantly, using his index finger to raise your chin. "You used to not believe in dragons, in flying, in teleportation. Most of all, you used to not believe in having a best friend, but I changed your mind about that. Y/N, let me change your mind about soulmates."

You closed your eyes as George pressed his lips against yours, evoking a feeling that couldn't be put into worlds. It felt like collecting flowers with him, dancing with Delphine, and winning the war. It felt like coming home after years of running, but it mostly, felt like George Weasley loving you infinitely.

"Not soulmates," you corrected, pulling away slowly and out of breath. "An invisible string."

#holyhead-hufflepuff archive

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fellowbrock · 4 years

Text

Snowstorm-Colby Brock

summary: requested by an anon! “Heyyyy! Can you write an imagine where y/n goes to Colby's house for a school project while his parents are away. Suddenly it started snowing by the time they notice it's already too dangerous to go home so Colby offered to let y/n sleep there and they ended up falling asleep together on the couch. In the mornings ng they rush to go to school and y/n ends up wearing Colby's so their friends teases them. Idk if it makes sense ✌”

masterlist

You groaned as the teacher announced he was picking the partners for the new assignment. Your best friend looked over at you, rolling her eyes, obviously having the same thoughts running through her head. You hated being stuck with someone you didn’t know and you had that gut feeling that the teacher was going to stuck you with someone completely out of your comfort zone.

“Alright next pair will be y/n and Colby.” Your teacher announced, continuing to go through the class names, pairing off the rest of your classmates. You glanced over at the brunette across the classroom. You had never been super close to Colby, but you’ve known him since the third grade so you hoped nothing would be awkward, and honestly you weren’t upset with the pairing. It could have been way worse. After creating all the groups, your teacher dismissed the class to start planning for the project. You got up and went to sit next to Colby. He smiled at you.

“Hey, I actually have some great ideas for the project.” You told him, hoping he’d happily let you take some charge.

“I do too, and i have a ton of supplies at my place, do you wanna come over tonight to work on it?” You couldn’t help but get a little red at the thought of going over to Colby’s house. He was a sweet guy, and super cute.

“That sounds great, I can make it over around 4?” You offered, as Colby nodded in agreement, proceeding to write notes for the two of you to follow later that day.

You made your way over to Colby’s place around 3:30, giving yourself some time to get there as you noticed it was starting to snow in your small town. You couldn’t figure out why you were feeling nervous, but there were butterflies taking sanctuary in your stomach. You knocked on the door, adjusting your appearance out of habit. He opened the door, welcoming you into his house. You hurried in, it already being very frigid outside as the snow started to come down harder. Colby showed you where to put your jacket as you put your bag down, removing your boots. He brought you to the kitchen table, where he had set up a proper area for you guys to get your work done.

The two of you had gotten into the zone, making great progress on your project and completely missing how fast time had escaped you. It was 7pm and the two of you hadn’t eaten dinner.

“My parents are away until Monday, they left money for dinner. Is pizza okay?” he asked, and you nodded agreeing. He went off the call the pizza place and you grabbed your phone, shooting your mom a message. You let her know that you were still at Colby’s safe and sound, and eating dinner with him. She asked you to stay there until the snow let up. You wandered over to the window and peered outside. The ground was covered in at least 3 inches of snow, and it didn’t look like it was stopping anytime soon. Checking the weather reports, your assumptions were deemed true. It made you a bit nervous to think about driving home in the shitty weather, but you knew Colby would never force you out if it wasn’t safe. He was a good guy, and you wanted to get to know him more.

‘maybe being snowed in together won’t be so bad’ You pondered, as Colby returned to the room.

“Pizza’s on it’s way, hopefully it won’t be too long in this weather.” He informs you, joining you at the window.

After eating the two of you worked until about 9:30, finishing what you could before calling it a night. The snow was coming down even harder. Colby suggested the two of you watch a movie to wait out the snowstorm. The both of you figured it may let up by then, but you would later discover you were far from right. You and Colby settled on the couch and after scrolling through Netflix for a while, a movie was decided upon. Before clicking play, Colby turned to you.

“I know we don’t know each other super well, but just to be safe, it’s cool with me if you stay overnight. It’s way too dangerous to drive anyway.” you smiled at his generous offer and concern.

“Thanks Colby, that makes me feel a lot better.” It was a good thing he made the offer because you made it about halfway before passing out on the couch.

You both were startled awake by the alarm of your phone going off. Both you and Colby had ended up falling asleep on the couch. Checking the time on his phone, he jolted up off the couch, disturbing your comfortable spot on his shoulder.

“Come on y/n we should’ve been up 20 minutes ago!” he exclaims, racing upstairs to change. You scrambled to get ready, collecting your essentials for school and fixing your knotted hair. Luckily you kept an emergency makeup kit in your backpack, so you quickly touched up your face. Looking down at your clothes you figured you could wear your pants again, being in black leggings, but your shirt would not do. Colby must’ve read your mind because he came racing down the stairs in new outfit and tossed you a hoodie.

“Figured you may need something else to wear. “ he laughs, going to the kitchen to grab you each an apple for breakfast and collecting his own things for school. The two of you rushed to put on your boots and jackets. Colby locked his door before coming over to help you clear off your car.

You drove quickly but carefully, the roads weren’t amazing even though most of them had been plowed. Arriving at school, you and Colby walked in together.

“Wanna hang out again tonight? We can do some more work and maybe just, um get to know each other?” Colby asks before leaving you to head to his locker.

“I’d love to, I’ll drive us to your place after school?” You suggest. He agrees and rushes off to his locker, leaving you blushing. You head to your locker where some of your friends are waiting.

“Look who decided to show up!” Your best friend says as you put in your combination, opening your locker.

“And in who’s sweater?” Your other friend demands, bringing curiosity to everyones eyes. You blush madly and laugh and your friend’s prying.

“It’s Colby’s I had to stay over at his place last night because of the weather.” you informed them, still blushing. This triggered a chorus of questions and sarcastic comments about how you ‘HAD TO STAY’. You laughed at your friends’ teasing, but secretly loved the thought of staying over at Colby’s for other reasons. It made you even more excited for the upcoming afternoon.

#colby brock #colby brock imagines #colby brock fanfic #colby brock oneshot #colby brock x reader #TRAPHOUSE #traphouse imagines #traphouse oneshot #Sam and Colby #youtuber imagines #youtuber oneshot

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queenbirbs · 4 years

Text

the way home | Ch. 6 | Edward x MC

Pairing: Edward Mortemer x MC

Word count: 4,175

Warnings: language, N*FW

Read from the beginning or continue on

Read on AO3

Tag list: @writinghereandthere | @not-sewell

------

Two days later, the brigantine they found passage on arrives in Santo Domingo’s port.

In the grand scheme of things -- that being the two years she spent hunting down a permanent trip back to the past, and the several weeks she’s spent since then hunting down Edward himself-- it isn’t that much time. Elena’s heart still races, though, when she sees the familiar form of Salacia’s Fortune in the harbor.

“I’ll collect yer bag and bring it aboard before I leave,” Robert tells her as they make their way down the port where Edward’s ship awaits. “We can say our farewells then, and you can thank me for saving yer sorry arse again and again.”

Elena snorts, prompting a chuckle out of him.

“Please, as if.”

“I may not have always shown it, but I did come to value yer friendship.”

“Even when I kicked your ass and stole your sword?”

“Ah, but we weren’t friends then, were we?” he points out. “Besides, we both know now that I was just going easy on ye.”

“Oh, were you?”

The gangplank jostles under their weight; Elena ignores Robert��s warning to be careful as she races up to the ship’s deck. It’s nearly empty, save for three pirates who turn to frighten off the unwelcome strangers on their boat.

“Oi, who in the devil’s blaze--” one of them starts to shout before they’re silenced by a squeal.

“Elena!” Ginny shrieks, racing across the deck and plowing into her. Elena wraps her arms around the girl and hugs her tight. “We missed you so, so much.”

“I missed you, too.” Elena pulls back to study the girl. “Oh my god, Ginny, you’re so tall. How did you get so tall?”

“Being sixteen helps, I guess,” she grins.

Elena’s thoughts screech to a halt. “Sixteen? But -- wait, how long was I gone?”

“It’ll be six years next month. But we never gave up on you! Captain always told us to keep believing that you would come back.” Ginny looks up at her with those bright brown eyes of hers. “And you did, see?”

“Yeah,” Elena agrees, her voice breaking upon the word. “I did.”

Time worked differently in the future, that she always knew. But the last time she’d come back, she never learned what year it was before being dragged back to the future. Knowing that almost six years had passed since Edward last saw her made his reaction in the governor’s mansion a little more understandable.

“Captain’s out looking for you right now, actually, but he should be back soon. I told him to stay on the ship, that you would head here first obviously,” Ginny stresses the word and rolls her eyes, “but you know how he is.”

Robert sighs from beside them. “Aye, we know. I’ve business to attend to in town, but if I see him, I’ll herd him yer way, Elena.”

“Thank you,” she tells him, trying to convey as much of her gratitude into the two words as she can. “And good luck with your own search.”

The beginnings of a genuine smile flicker onto Robert’s face before he clears his throat, nodding at her once before disappearing back down the gangplank. Ginny wraps her hand around her arm and tugs.

“C’mon. You can meet the rest of the crew while we wait for the others to return.”

As much as she wants to run into town and hunt him down herself, Elena realizes that staying in one place in a town this large makes the most sense. She lets Ginny lead her over to the other two pirates, one of whom introduces herself as Ginny’s girlfriend, Lottie. They barrage her with questions about the future, most of which she skirts around answering -- she’s already caused enough trouble with the space-time continuum as it is. By the time the rest of the crew arrive, the sun has begun its descent. They take turns sweeping Elena into their sweaty, rum-scented hugs and their good-natured bickering.

“The Cap’n’ll be sorry that we beat him to ye,” Maggie says.

“Glad to have ye back, Elena.” Henry claps a hand on her shoulder and squeezes tight. “None of these swabs give my cookin’ a fair chance.”

“He once scraped barnacles off the hull and fried ‘em!” Kendrick exclaims.

From her perch atop the railing, Ginny gags. “He called them a ‘Caribbean delicacy’.”

“The only thing delicate ‘round here is yer stomachs.”

“They don’t have the experienced palette that I do,” Elena points out.

“I dunno, I don’t think even you could’ve--” Ginny pauses, her long braids swinging as she jerks back around to scan below. “Oi! Captain’s back!”

Elena races to the railing and grips it tight, nearly throwing herself overboard in her attempt to catch sight of him. Even in the dimming light, she picks Edward out of the crowd with ease. He’s distracted, moving steadily along the wharf and scouring the throngs of people. Too busy looking for her that he doesn’t see her aboard his ship. She calls his name, once, then again, before his head finally snaps up.

He stumbles to a halt in the middle of the market. A woman runs into him, chastising him in a rapid burst of Spanish. He ignores the woman, sheer elation spreading across his face. His grin is almost blinding in the low light.

“Elena!”

Shouting her name seems to kickstart him. The sack of food in his hand drops to the ground, forgotten; mangoes and bread loaves scatter across the planks. He darts through the crowd, dodging shoppers and vendors with ease before leaping up onto the gangplank. He reaches the top just as Elena does and swings her up into his arms, crushing her against him.

“You’re here,” he exhales.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know I would be gone for so--”

He silences her with a kiss, and then with another when she tries again to apologize.

“Time matters not. If it had been a hundred more days or a hundred more years, I would have waited,” he assures her. “You’re here. That’s all that matters. You’re here.”

“You keep saying that.”

His breath escapes him in a soft chuckle, leaning into her touch as she cups his cheek. “I may keep doing so for the rest of my life.”

“Then I’ll be here to hear you.” At the naked hope in his gaze, she can’t help but tell him now. “We found a permanent way back. It’s what took me so long, searching for a way to stay.”

“Forever?” he repeats, the word tasting like ambrosia upon his lips.

“Yeah,” she chokes out. His thumb makes gentle sweeps along her forehead, brushing back the stray hairs there. “Forever.”

“Alright, you lovebirds.” Charlie climbs up onto the deck with a crate and sets it down with a rattle. “I say we all have a drink--”

“--or five!” Kendrick adds.

“--to celebrate our lass’s long-awaited return. What say you lot?”

The chorus of ayes echoes across the wharf. Edward drops his hold from her waist and reaches down for her hand, nodding his head towards the crew.

“Shall we?”

“Sure, why not.” She bumps their linked hands against him. “I’ve got time.”

The party continues long after the sun slinks away. Unmoored from its daytime hideaway, the moon drifts high into the sky, casting a brilliant glow across the ship as the crew celebrates. Elena’s feet hurt from taking a turn across the makeshift dance floor with each crew member. Some of the shanties she knows and some she doesn’t -- though, in her defense, they don’t seem to know them all that well, either, especially by the sixth bottle of rum.

“Ye’ve got to show us some future dances one of these days, ‘lena.”

She shakes her head at Henry’s request, side-stepping to avoid her feet being crushed again and giggling at the idea. “I’m not sure you guys would be able to handle my twenty-first century dancing.”

As if he can sense that she’s had her fill of Henry’s clumsy footwork, Edward appears beside her with an open palm.

“May I step in, Miss McTavish?”

Elena eagerly takes his hand. Henry does something resembling a curtsy and moves off to snatch up another partner. Stepping into the circle of his arms, she rests her head on Edward’s chest and breathes a sigh of relief.

“Thanks for the rescue.”

Edward brushes his lips against her hair and hums. “I suppose I should be the one thanking you for rescuing us. Even if you sent me into a panic, retreating back into enemy territory like that.”

She wants to laugh at his worries, but the heartache in his tone tells her to recount her harrowing adventures another time. Instead, she gives a reassuring squeeze to their linked hands.

“I knew that you had the opportunity to escape,” she explains. “Even if it meant leaving me behind.”

His chest tightens underneath her.

“‘Tis not fair to use my own words against me like that.”

“Not fair to guilt me for saving your asses.”

“Hmm. Touché.” There is nothing but the drunken crooning of the crew and the distant lapping of waves for a moment, then: “It’s getting rather late. Should I show you to our cabin?”

“I’d like that.”

The interior is just as she remembers.

The same Persian rug, the same tidy stacks of books and papers atop the desk, the same pile of pillows that Edward insists on having but never bothers to put back on the bed. Returned to her by Robert during the party, her duffel bag sits on top of her trunk, still in her favorite spot under the window. Her pillow, embroidered with a rose when Kendrick wanted to show off his sewing skills, lays propped against the headboard. A small jar of seashells she collected from their previous travels is tucked away safely in the bookcase. A spare coat of hers hangs from the chair; she runs her fingers over it, tears springing to her eyes at the sight.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of stowing it away,” Edward says, closing the cabin door behind them.

“You kept it this way? For six years?”

“For five years, eleven months, and two days.” Elena covers her mouth and drags in an unsteady breath. He crosses the room and guides her into his arms. “I wasn’t lying, Elena, when I told you that I would wait for you. We weren’t sitting idle, of course. We sailed across the Atlantic, o’er to Portugal and made a few trips around the Mediterranean, but there was always a… pull to return here.”

“To home,” she finishes for him.

“Aye. I even sought the help of a mystic in Constantinople to try and reach you, but I was only able to catch a glimpse. You were surrounded by other pirates, on a half-formed ship. And there were all these strange lights.”

Elena squints at the necklace he wears in concentration, scanning through her memories, when the realization hits her.

“That’s… you were there. On the set, just before the compass took me here the first time.”

“Madam Fatima did say time was tricky,” he says, to which Elena acknowledges with a humorless chuckle. “Were you… earlier, were you speaking the truth? That you found a way to stay? I have always hoped to hear you say those words, but even… even if you cannot stay forever, I would never turn my back on this strange arrangement that time has gifted us. But I would like to prepare my heart, if I could.”

Taking his face between her hands, she tilts his head down so she can meet his gaze directly.

“This isn’t some temporary fix. I spent two years searching the world over for a permanent way back to you. And sure, I don’t have faith with most things in life. The one thing I do have faith in, though, is us.”

Edward lays his hand over hers and turns to press a kiss against her palm. Under the heavy lids of his eyes, she can see the faint glittering of tears. “In fact,” she continues, “I got you something from the future to prove it to you.”

“I don’t require any further proof than you here beside me.”

“Hush and let me give you my souvenir.” Elena crosses over to the duffel bag and unzips the interior pocket. She pulls a small leather box out and hands it to him. “Open it,” she prompts when he merely stares at the object.

The golden ring sits on a velvet perch, outshone only by the deep blue stone that rests in the center. “It’s lapis lazuli. It reminded me of our first time up in the crow’s nest together, on Poseidon’s Revenge. Standing up there with you, with that endless stretch of sea and sky. That was our first moment, and I wanted the ring I chose for you to embody that.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a secretive sort of smile. Before she can ask, though, he steps over to his desk. From the drawer, he pulls a wooden box out and hands it to her.

“I believe that we are bound by the tides of fate, for I purchased this for you, as well.”

“Okay, see, that’s not fair. I made a cheesy joke about souvenirs, and you come in with your Lord Byron line.”

His brow wrinkles in confusion. “Who?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she says with a flap of her hand and opens the box. Nestled on a bed of silk, a ring gleams in the candlelight. Thin vines of gold twist up along the band to frame an opalescent stone. The multicolored flecks inside the stone glimmer as Edward plucks the ring from the box and reaches for her trembling hand.

“It is a moonstone. The merchant I bought it from said that it was to symbolize protection and to bring estranged lovers together.”

“It’s beautiful,” she tells him as he slides it onto her finger.

“Aye, almost as lovely as its wearer.”

“See, that’s the cheesy line I was waiting for,” Elena tells him with a soft giggle. He smiles and holds out his hand. The ring is a near-perfect size, she marvels as it works easily down his finger. “Pretty damn good for being several lifetimes away.”

“Five years, eleven months, and two days,” he repeats, his voice thick with the myriad of emotions that play across his face.

“I’m here.” Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulls him even closer and sets her lips on his once, then again, reassuring him each kiss. “You can stop counting.”

Her words strike a chord deep within; the taut lines of him seem to snap, his body colliding with hers as he backs her up against the wall. His touch is everywhere at once, clenching desperately around handfuls of her clothing and coaxing her free of the garments. Their kisses are frantic, heady things, deepening with the soft slide of his tongue against hers. Elena shoves off his coat and strips him of his belts, letting his sword clatter to the floor. The rest of his clothes join the pile at their feet. Edward wraps an arm around her back and hauls her even closer, grinning at her soft moan when her naked skin touches his.

“I have dreamt of this moment for many a night,” he admits, his stubble tickling as he nips along her bare shoulder, grasping and tugging her hair back when it blocks his path. “I had… had hoped to go slow with ye, lass.”

Elena hums at the hot feel of his hand skimming down her stomach and dragging across the soaked skin between her legs. Her head lolls back against the cabin wall. Not one to be idle, she glides her palm across the warm planes of his chest, leaving trails of heat in her wake. His hand becomes more determined, seeking out and rubbing the spot that makes her breath hitch in anticipation.

“That’s really sweet of you and all,” she chuckles. “But my dreams of this moment mostly included you fucking my brains out.”

A strangled laugh escapes him, his head shaking as he leans down for another kiss.

“Good to see that you haven’t lost that assertiveness.”

As if to prove it, Elena dances him backwards in a lazy sort of two-step until his knees hit the mattress. He loops an arm around her hips and tumbles down with her, smirking when she emits a little yelp of surprise. There, the warm length of his body slides along hers and a delicious wave of sensation follows. Her back arches towards the soft, wet heat of his lips as he worships the swell of her breasts. He traces the golden necklace she wears, curiosity lighting his dark eyes when he glances up at her. Elena gathers her hair and dips her head forward, letting him remove the whistle from around her neck. With great care, she takes it from him and lays it on the floor beside the bed. His mouth travels lower, lower, until her hands are scrambling across the blankets, her head twisting to the side as she gasps for him to keep going, for him to send her over the edge. Pleasure soaks into her like a warm bath, seeps deep into her skin and down into the marrow of her bones.

“Edward,” she murmurs, then repeats, as if seeking repentance for the sinful sensation of his mouth on her. “Please, I…” her begging is lost under a ragged whine as her release washes over her.

As her heartbeat settles, Edward returns to the circle of her embrace. He hums with content as she strokes the bare skin of his back. A rumble works through his chest at the sight of her beneath him.

“I have traveled the world over and have never found anything so exquisite as the taste of you.”

Elena settles back against the pillows and quirks her lips into a grin. “That’s high praise coming from someone who has Henry for a cook.” A giggle escapes her at his scoff.

“You just wait,” he taunts, “you’ll be crowned taste-tester again.”

“I lived off of gas station food for a long while there,” she shrugs. “I think I can handle it.”

Before he can ask about the foreign terminology -- she loves him, she really does, but that eager part of him to learn new things has to take a backseat to other enjoyment sometimes -- she winds both hands through his hair and hauls him down for a kiss. Hint taken, Edward’s lips return to hers with a fervor. She loses herself to his touch once more, answering in kind with her own when she reaches down to stroke him. With a growl, he pulls back to position himself between her legs. His fingers clamp around her hips as she makes aborted little thrusts against him, spurring him on.

“Elena,” he gasps as he sinks into her. He takes his sweet time letting her adjust to the feel of him, nibbling at the flushed skin of her throat and up to her earlobe. “Elena.”

“Yes,” she answers, cinching her legs tight around his waist. The sinful drag of him inside her is almost enough to throw her over the edge again. “Yes, god, Edward, I-- please, don’t--”

His lips crash down onto hers. His tongue swipes at her heavy bottom lip, lapping each praise from her mouth as he drives into her. Every sense is invaded by him -- his scent and his taste and his touch, until arousal clogs every synapse and every pore and the concept of spontaneous combustion tips closer to a theory for her.

One of his hands slips down to stroke her to the rhythm of his thrusts. She moans, her nails digging into the solid muscle along his arms.

“Elena, love,” he growls, his teeth scraping along her jaw as he speaks, “come for me.”

The first wave drags her under, a breaking wave of sensation cresting right on top of the last. She’s vaguely aware of her body going taut under his, of her toes curling against the slick skin of his thighs, of the beautiful sight of Edward tumbling over the edge with her. He pulls out and collapses next to her on the bed, holding her close as she settles against his chest. Elena stretches with a long groan, uncaring of the stupid, sated smile on her face.

“Did you put in a skylight?” she murmurs.

The hand tracing nonsensical patterns across her shoulder slows. “What?”

“I was… making a joke. About seeing stars.”

“Oh.” Elena looks up to meet his confused gaze, prompting them both to chuckle at the poor joke. “I have missed this,” he says. “Not just the sex, but this -- you, here by my side. Poseidon himself could promise me a better sight, and I would not believe him.”

A hum leaves her as she nestles closer into his warmth, her throat tightening around the thousand things she wants to tell him.

“Do you remember what you said to me, that first night?”

“Aye, I do.”

Elena presses a kiss to his chest, just above his heart.

“I think I’m ready for the rest of our story.”

------

Soft slivers of fuschia and lilac seep through the salt-streaked window. Fissures of vivid orange follow after as sunlight spills over the long line of the horizon. Elena watches the play of colors across Edward’s face, lax with sleep. Of the past two times she’d returned to his side, she’d been flung back to her century before the next dawn came. It’s no wonder, then, that his arm has stayed firmly wrapped around her throughout the night.

Gradually, he awakens; his arm flexes and his fingers clench and his eyes flutter open to search for her.

“Good morning,” he rumbles, his voice rough with sleep.

“Hi.” She leans up on her elbow and captures his lips with a kiss. “I’m glad you’re awake. I want to do something with you.”

“Really?” A lascivious grin spreads across his face. “Do tell.”

With a sigh, Elena swats at his chest and sits up. “C’mon, you rapscallion.”

They locate their clothes and get dressed. After several more kisses, she leads him out onto the deck. The endless expanse of the ocean greets them, her water almost as blue as the morning sky. Santo Domingo is but a faint scratch of land behind them. With most of the crew still sleeping in their quarters, the shadowed corner of the stern is all theirs. Stepping up to the railing, she pulls the necklace from her pocket.

“I noticed that last night. What is it?” he asks.

“It’s what I spent two years searching for.” She traces the initials on the whistle and looks up at him. “It’s my way back to my time. Before we found it, I’d almost given up. I was desperate enough to come back by another anomaly, just to have the chance to see you one last time.”

“One last…?” he trails off, reaching for her hand and taking it between both of his. “Elena?”

“You didn’t deserve to live like this, to wait on me to find my way back, to waste your time sailing the--”

“Listen good and well,” he demands, anger darkening his features just before he crushes her against him in a tight embrace. “Searching for you, waiting on you ‘twas never a waste. I love you, and I would’ve never given up on you. But I am damned glad that you’re here to stay now.” He pulls back enough to glance between the necklace and her. “What do you intend to do with it?”

“I’m returning it.”

Leaning up on her toes, she plants a quick kiss to his cheek before she stretches her arm out over the railing and lets go. The necklace shimmers as it falls, plummeting straight into the water below. A shuddering breath escapes them both as the whistle disappears beneath the waves.

“By the way,” Elena says after a quiet moment, “I love you, too.”

“Oh. Good.” With a smirk, he pulls her closer. “It would be rather awkward if you didn’t.” He leans down and captures the laughter from her lips.

“Oi!” Henry shouts from behind them. “Breakfast is ready!”

They pull away from each other, sharing a wordless conversation as he draws closer.

“We’ll be down in a moment, Henry!” Edward calls across the deck. “Captain McTavish and I will take watch and let the rest of the crew eat first.”

“Nay, it may’ve been a long while, but I’m not fallin’ for that one again! C’mon and get it while it’s hot.”

“He’ll just keep at it if we don’t come,” she mutters.

“Aye, lass, he will.”

“Alright.” A smile follows her long-suffering sigh. “Let’s go.”

Reaching down for her hand, Edward leads her across the deck and out into the morning sun.

#distant shores #edward x mc #edward mortemer #distant shores fic #f: the way home #Kaila writes things #this is the last official chapter and next is the epilogue and then it's done!

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gustafsnightangel · 3 years

Text

A Softer Side Part 7

The computer pinged with each frantic bid in the dying minutes, and all out war between Petrov and user BaishunpuSureiya, which in a literal translation meant Whore Slayer, otherwise known as first lieutenant to the Yakuza clan Moriyama. “Only thing worse than the Russian mob, the Japanese Yakuza.” Strand sighed.

”Damn I’m glad we got the girl out of this one.” Jerry muttered quietly.

Ayla was frantically digging into these guys as they watched the bidding war play out. A different ping had their attention snap to Ayla’s screen. “Oh you clever sweet girl.” Karl breathed. “You hacked the sites mainframe.”

“Told you she was good.” Jerry elbowed him with his murmured.

As the auction timed out the bids stopped at 6.5 million, Petrov waiting until the last second to out bid his closest rival. Karl kept a hand on Jerry’s shoulder as he breathed out very slowly. “Not celebrating until we bag him.” He said finally, wrangling his emotions under control. “We’re not done, he’s not in our care yet.”

“One step at a time kid.” Karl murmured and watched as Ayla’s hand squeezed Jerry’s. The ping of money being transferred to their dummy account brought them back to reality. “Wainwright will be getting a call soon.” As if he’d dialed the number himself, the call came through, Steve answering. With the drop location agreed on Davis and his team headed out to cast the net wide, they had a few hours to burn beforehand which was ample time to secure all access roads.

As Karl studied the takedown, he could see Ayla was busy pulling those digital threads to finesse the data she was searching for. With a frantic hand tapping his she pointed at the screen and then to Davis’s feed.

“Davis.” He snapped through the coms. “They’re already at the drop site, preplanned in the event they won the auction.”

“Copy that boss. We’ll cast wider see what we come up with.”

“I’ll forward this intel to you, it just came in. North side heavily guarded, best choke point along the south east ridge. You can bottle neck them in if you have a team at the choke point.”

“Mia?” Strand asked.

“Already leaving.” She said. Karl knew she had a helicopter stashed away, there wasn’t much she didn’t have in the way of equipment.

“Archangel is on the way.” Strand snapped out grinding his teeth, shit was about to get real.

“Copy that boss.”

Karl paced and saw Jerry blanch. “We’ll get him kid.”

“I know, his luck’s run out.” He shrugged. “I gotta gut feeling this is his last auction, whether we catch him or kill him it’s his fucking last.”

“Davis?” Strand called.

“Yeah?”

“Capture not kill, do you understand? Not unless he gives you no other option. We want Petrov alive and to at least be able to talk coherently.” Karl thought for a moment. “I don’t care about the rest, society will be much better without them.”

“Copy that. With Archangel, we’ll clean house.” Karl knew Davis understood his command. Take everyone out, leave Petrov alive, it was that fucking simple.

The randevu inched closer, the seconds ticking by in silence as Strand let Davis and Wainwright do their jobs. He had absolute confidence in their ability, he just didn’t want to let Jerry down, they’d come too far now.

“Why Mia?” Hunt asked as he paced, his restless energy making him on edge.

“That woman can shoot the hair off a gnats ass at two miles. She’ll find a nest and pick them off, effectively clearing the way for Davis and company to move in.”

“She is so much more than she seems.” Jerry said

“You have no idea kid.”

“Did you guys ever... you know?” Jerry asked quietly.

“Nope and never will. It would be like fucking my little sister.” Strand said disgustedly, even the thought of it put a bad taste in his mouth.

“Fair enough.” Jerry chuckled.

“You looking to start something with her?” He asked as he watched Davis’s team come online.

“Maybe. I like her.” He shrugged.

“Tread carefully and slowly, she’s been through hell.” Was all Strand would say on the matter and Jerry wisely shut his mouth. Karl didn’t want to get into it, he had enough relationship troubles at the moment without diving into someone else’s love life woes. Is that what this was, he thought, was he in love with her, was this a relationship?”

“In position.” Davis’s voice crackled over coms. “Waiting for Archangel.”

“Copy that, she’s en route. ETA, thirty minutes or so.” Strand said taking a seat again, his own nervous energy starting to make his skin crawl. He should be out there with the team, not cooped up inside watching it go down. In that regard he was impatient, preferring to be in the thick of it not on the sidelines.

“Get my drone up in the air Davis, I’ll need to have eyes.” Mia’s voice was clipped as it came over the coms unit.

“Copy that Archangel.” Karl could hear the smirk in Davis’s voice and smiled, he had a good team.

“Pull it up Jerry.” He said quietly and Hunt activated the drone feed. “We may need to be her eyes as well, the team on the ground will have enough to do.” They settled in with a little over an hour to analyse, strategize, and tighten the net.

******

“Archangel in position.” Mia’s voice was barely a whisper.

“You close?” Strand asked.

“Hostiles 100 yards.” She said shortly barely breathing, though the hostiles in question weren’t exactly being quiet and would mask any noise she made.

“Copy.” Karl said softly.

******

“Approaching now.” Wainwright said as they pulled up just outside the containment line.

“As soon as you set foot on the ground Archangel will clear the outer perimeter, Davis will clean up and move the containment line in.”

“Copy.”

“You ready Burke?” Strand asked.

“Asshole won’t know what hit him.” She snarked.

“We need him alive.” He said.

“I got the memo. He’ll be breathing and conscious.”

“Pulling up.” Steve cut in, now it was down to business.

“Copy.” Strand said.

The feed came into view and Karl saw Petrov waiting, surrounded by his entourage trying to look important more than watching for any real threat, that would be their fatal mistake. “Jerry, paint our good friend Ivan so Mia can leave that asshole alive.” He growled and Hunt did as requested using the drone to fix a red glow to the man, only Mia would be able to see the glow through her scope.”

“Stepping out now Archangel.” Wainwright said softly.

“Copy.” Came Mia’s feminine whisper.

******

No sooner had Steve’s foot met gravel, Petrov’s men started dropping like flies. In less than a minute she had the outer security down.

“Davis move in.” She said quietly. “North side.”

“Copy.” She would keep them safe.

Strand watched Steve take his time, the customary small talk between buyer and seller, giving Mia as much time as possible to plow the road. With an ear on their conversation he glanced to see Davis’s team secure the heavily armed North side.

“Ametures.” Mia snorted. “Never leave the high ground unattended.” Her soft mumble had Karl chuckling. “May as well have presented your asses with a flashing neon sign that said shoot me.”

“It’s just the inner circle left now.” Strand said gruffly as Wainwright hauled Burke out of his car. She swayed as if she was drugged, Karl knowing full well she was stone cold sober.

“Is she armed?” Jerry asked, a worried edge to his voice. “If this goes south she’s fucked.”

Strand snorted before he laughed. “She doesn’t need a weapon Jerry, she is the weapon.” He looked at the rookie and smiled. “Watch and learn, Petrov’s about to get his ass handed to him by a girl.” Strand looked back to watch the takedown unfold, like fucking poetry.

Like a well choreographed dance Burke reached Petrov and his hands closed around her bicep. As soon as skin met skin, Mia reduced his entourage down to just him and his first lieutenant. By the time Mia had taken down the first lieutenant, Burke had Petrov on the ground, balls in his hands, pain plastered across his face, in less than three minutes he was crying like a baby and screaming like a stuck pig.

“Not so tough now are you Ivan.” Burke purred as she circled him.

“What do you want?” He blubbered.

“Funny you should ask.” She grinned and got in his face. “Know this girl?” She held up her phone with a photo of Jerry’s sister Eva. “Before you answer let me remind you, lying or anything other than the whereabouts of this girl will end with you being shipped off to Hades 6, where we have a very nice welcome party waiting for you.” Even on the shitty feed Strand saw his face pale. “Take your time and think real hard because you purchased her, cheaper than a prime piece but you bought her, you have three minutes Ivan, then I’m handing you over to those on Hades 6 to extract the data out of you.” She let him cower at her feet, Hunt was chewing his nails, the wait unbearable.

No one spoke for the entire three minutes, the silence palpable. Crouching again before him she flicked his nose and he trembled, fucking pussy, Strand thought. “Where is she Petrov?”

“Outside San Francisco, at our US compound.” His voice choked and quavered, Karl wouldn’t be surprised if this sniveling asshole had peed his pants.

“You’re going to make a call, in English or the same fate will be in your future.” She growled. “One person drives her to this location.” She held up the address for him to see. Only the girl gets out of the car, I see anyone else I’ll pack you off to Hades 6 so fast your head will spin. Understand?” He nodded furiously.

With shaking hands Ivan dialed the number. As it was ringing Ayla traced it. He rattled off instructions for the girl, where to drive her to. The ping from the computer Ayla was working from made a sly smile spread across Karl’s face.

“Got you now you fuckers.” He growled. “We have what we need. Secure and transport Petrov, collect the girl and take her to the outcrop safe house, I’ll have her brother meet her there.”

“I’m closer.” Mia said quickly. “I’ll bring her home, she’ll be more comfortable there.”

“Sounds good, let us know when you’re heading our way.”

“Copy that, Archangel out.”

Strand turned to Jerry, the rookie pale and in shock. “Mia will bring her home here.” He said placing an understanding hand on the kids shoulder. “You need to brace yourself Jerry, she’s not going to be the same sister.”

“I know. How do I help her?” He asked quietly.

“Just be her brother, that’s all you can do. She’s not going to want to be around anyone for a while.”

“Much like Ayla was.” Jerry breathed and looked at her, that slight nod the only answer he’d get. “You guys go ahead and sleep, I’ll wait up for Mia and my sister.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. She’s going to terrified out of her mind, the less of an audience the better. I just need to lay eyes on her, know that she’s here, safe.”

Strand watched as Ayla stood and padded over to Jerry. Her tentative hug was a huge step, a silent gesture to let him know she was here for him, for his sister.

“Thanks Ayla, if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have found her.” The rookie was almost in tears. She smiled softly and nodded. Jerry headed out to brew what would probably be his tenth coffee for the evening, leaving Ayla staring at Wainwright.

“It’s not him sweet girl.” Karl reassured. Reaching over he clicked Wainwright’s com on to open a channel. “Steve do me a favor and lose the face.” He said quietly. “On camera, she needs to see it.”

“Sure.” He pulled the camera around so Ayla had a good view and she pulled back, almost dissolving against Karl, his arms wrapping around her protectively.

“It’s not him, watch.” Steve scrubbed a hand over his face and she watched as his fingers disappeared. “It’s a holographic image projected over his face to make him look like Raven. If he touches his face it disrupts the signal.” Wainwright pressed a spot by his ear and half the holographic mask disappeared to reveal Steve’s thirty something face. “Pretty cool huh?” Strand murmured as she reached out a hand to touch the screen, a barely there nod her only answer. “Thanks Steve.”

“No problem boss.” Even his voice was back to normal.

“It has a voice chip in there too which makes him sound like Raven.” Karl explained as he cut the feed. She turned in his arms, buried her face in his chest and wept, those slender fingers fisting in his shirt. “You’re ok sweet girl.” He soothed as Jerry came back in and sat at the computer ignoring them as if they weren’t in the room. With a reassuring squeeze of the rookie’s shoulder he scooped Ayla up into his arms and carried her to her room.

It had been a rough evening for her mentally and emotionally, seeing and hearing a likeness of Raven rocking her to her core. “You’re safe Ayla.” He murmured as he climbed into bed with her, there was no way she was letting go of him tonight. He soothed her to sleep, his body cradling hers. Could he really be this stability she was looking for, he wondered? That one thought pounded through his head as he drifted, was he in love with her?

Her nightmare was more a night terror, visceral, all consuming. It was the first sound other than her whimper he’d heard from her, the terrified scream tearing from her throat, hands frantically pushing him away, fighting whatever had appeared in her mind to torment her. Waking her was difficult, his soft commands to wake up were a glancing blow, it held her under deeply. In the end, as much as he hated himself for it, he grabbed her by the biceps tightly, pined her to the mattress and barked at her.

“AYLA, WAKE UP!” He barked, a tone that left no room for interpretation. She woke sharply, eyes suddenly forced wide open at his voice, the grip on her probably hurting. That keening half scream half sob was wrenched from deep within her and she froze in his hands.

Loosening his grip he let her go and put his hands up in front of him. “You’re ok sweet girl, just a nightmare, you’re safe.” She continued to stare at him, her shuddering breath heaving in and out. “Just a really bad dream.” He repeated. Her eyes searched the room frantically, that whimper gutting him. “He’s not here Ayla, he’s on Hades 6 remember?” The urge to pull her into his arms and cradle her against him was overwhelming, the need to soothe. “You’re safe with me sweet girl, I won’t hurt you.” He murmured and held out his hands for her to come to him, to seek comfort, shelter, protection. Her choice, he thought, it had to be her choice as much as this was killing him it would only exacerbate her fear if he forced it.

He clicked on the lamp, the soft glow chasing the shadows into the night where they belonged, not that there was much of the night left. “It’s just you and me sweet girl.” He said softly, her breathing calmer now the light was on, her body still trembling. “I’m here when you’re ready Ayla, no rush.” The look of absolute terror in her eyes destroyed him as he rested his hand on his knee and let her process what she’d dreamt and the scene in front of her.

Eventually her hand reached out, fingertips brushing his. He curled them gently, urging her to come closer, to seek the safety she desperately needed. She inched closer, tentative fingers shaking toward him before they snatched back as if they’d been struck.

“You can touch me sweet girl, you’re safe with me.” He said calmly. “You’re ok.” When in the world had he become so fucking patient, he thought? Since you became her world, that little voice in his head smirked. As her mind settled she curled into him, the quiet weeping of an overwhelmed soul. “You’re safe sweet girl.” He sighed, holding her tighter and slowly leaning back against the headboard. As her tears subsided her finger grazed his scruff, the gentle touch igniting that fire within him. Her hands fisted in his shirt as she pressed her face to his chest and breathed. “Get some more sleep sweet girl, I’m right here ok?” She nodded and he heard the shuddered sigh, willing her body to relax knowing he’d keep her safe while she slept. He squeezed her tightly and shifted to lay flat, her tiny form cradled against his gigantic frame.

He felt her drift under, not so lucky himself as he stared at the ceiling. She slept for another few hours, he was content to just hold her in his arms while he thought about the next op in a few days time. He was pulled from the quiet doze he’d fallen into by her lips on his.

“You feeling better sweet girl?” He rasped as his mind coming back from wherever it had wandered off to. Opening his eyes sea green looked back, clear and full of love, her slight nod settling him. I don’t deserve you, he said silently, I’m no good for you I’m so many ways. No matter how many times he thought it and then banished it from his mind, he still craved her. She’d gotten under his guard and sucker punched him, stealing whatever was left of his black heart for herself. She kissed him again, the primal animal inside him surging forward as he deepened it, taking what he desperately wanted, giving her whatever it was she needed. He lost himself to the taste of her, those soft lips he suddenly had the urge to have around his cock.

Her hands wandering down his chest and along his torso snapped him back to some semblance of reality before her mouth claimed his. “Ayla.” He breathed, he was drowning in her. Shivering slightly as her hand grazed his shaft, his body betrayed his resolve. The press of her body against his elicited a groan as she palmed him, the sensual stroke of his erection causing a low growl to rumble from within him. God he wanted her, every cell in his body wanted her. “Stop.” He murmured gently as he took her hands and brought them to rest on his chest. Pressing his forehead against hers he regained his control, the slim margin of space suddenly between them giving his brain time to think before he acted and did something monumentally stupid. “I want to.” He whispered. “But the way I want you isn’t what you need.” No, he thought, pinning her to the bed and taking her how he pleased was not what she needed, to plunge inside her, to feel her wrapped around his cock as he fucked her hard. No, she needed tender, and he wasn’t sure he could give that to her. He felt her nod slightly, her head bowing until it rested on his chest tucked under his chin. Her tears slipped over his hand and he felt like an even bigger asshole. “I need time Ayla. I’m not sure being intimate with you is best for either of us.” He felt her nod again before she pulled away, rolling over quickly, and moving to the bathroom. “Ayla.” He said gently, but the quiet snick of the door ended his sentence before it had begun. Staring at the ceiling he let his frustration simmer. He was trying to take it slow with her, ease her into sex, did she not see that? Did she not understand that if he hurt her it would destroy him?

Ripping the covers off he dressed in jeans and a sweater and grabbed his Glock out of nightstand drawer. He stomped out to the kitchen, grabbed a coffee in a to go thermos and headed out to Mia’s range. He needed distance, he needed violence, and he needed to get her scent out of his fucking system. They had days to prepare for the last of the three auctions and hopefully put and end to all of it, he needed to focus.

Round after round went into the targets, the action soothing the edges of his unease, cathartic violence for his soul. He wasn’t husband material, relationship material, he worked hard, and played harder. His next shot faltered as Sarah popped into his mind, he’d loved her, still loved her, or what was his version of love. Was that why it felt wrong with Ayla, he wondered? No, not wrong, because he did feel something for her, it was just different to what he felt with Sarah.

Loading a new clip he emptied it into the target.

“I thought I’d find you here.” Mia said as the echo of the last round faded.

“Needed to clear my head.” He snarled, slamming another clip in and fired.

“I figured when you weren’t anywhere to be found.” She said as he let the empty clip fall and placed an egg and bacon sandwich on the table for him. “Thought you could use a bite.”

“Thanks.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.” He loaded and fired, the smooth action one of years of repetition.

“All right then, I’ll leave you to it.” Mia sighed and turned to walk away.

“I’m in love with her Mia and it fucking terrifies me.” He blurted out. “All I keep thinking about is how I’m not the right person for her, I want to push her so far away from me to protect her yet my body wants her, I want her. How do I give her what she needs when I don’t even know what that is or how to give it to her. I’m not the loving gentle soul she needs.”

“Maybe not to the rest of us but to her you are.” Mia said gently. “Karl, she brings out a softer side of you I’ve never seen before, and it’s only with her.”

“I love Sarah, loved Sarah and I don’t know if I can take that kind of a beating again emotionally.”

“I know you did, but this isn’t the same.” Mia said softly.

“It’s so different.” He sighed, unwrapping the sandwich and taking a bite.

“Ayla is happy with you Strand and that’s a good thing for her, positive in her healing, but don’t lead her on.” She put her hands up as he opened his mouth to speak. “You’re not doing that, I’m just saying if you’re not serious about her you need to tell her.”

“I don’t even know what this is Mia.” He huffed.

“Then you need to figure it out, because if you keep pushing her away she’ll eventually stop coming to you, stop vying for your affection.”

“She had a nightmare last night.”

“And she’ll have many more.” Mia shot back. Damn it, Strand thought, she was going to make him deal with it all.

“She wanted sex.” He said flatly.

“Then give it to her.” Mia shrugged.

“It’s not that simple.”

Mia laughed. “God men are so clueless sometimes, I have to spell it out.” Her sigh making Strand bristle.

“Was it like that with you and Peter?” He sniped, the mention of his old partner bringing a mournful look into her eyes. He wished he could take back those words the second they were out.

“That was a low blow even for you Karl, but to answer your question, yes. After you brought me home it was Peter that tended me much like you’re doing with Ayla. There came a point where I needed sex, I needed to feel what it was like to be in control of what was taken from me. The only difference between me and Ayla is I knew what sex was like before Syria, she’s had nothing but rape and torture her entire life.” She studied him. “She trusts you Karl, she wouldn’t be asking if she didn’t.”

“She hasn’t asked, she hasn’t said a fucking word.” His growl was more a snarl.

“Her actions ask. She wouldn’t let you touch her if she didn’t want you to, it’s her choice.” He chewed it over and felt his gut sink, had he pushed her away too much already? “Finish up here.” Mia said seeing him start to think on her words. “Burgers tonight out on the patio, we earned them after last night.”

“You loved him didn’t you?” He said gently.

“Very much.” Her words held such grief, a deep longing as she walked back to the pickup.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole.”

“You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t.” She snorted.

******

The long walk back to the house cleared his head about Sarah, she was not who he thought she was, their relationship tenuous at best. If he was being honest with himself they were using each other for sex and that was, and always had been their relationship, even when he’d thought he’d been in love with her. The way he felt about Ayla however was as clear as mud. There was a deeper pull to her, as if her soul spoke to his, a softness and calm he’d never experienced before. Her soul soothed his own.

Coming into the kitchen he glanced into the rec room and found Ayla and Jerry at the computers working hard to set up their next op for tomorrow. He should have been here helping instead of having his own existential crisis. At least she hadn’t withdrawn or shut down.

“Hey boss.” Jerry said quietly and he saw Ayla’s hands still on the keyboard before resuming their rapid beat.

“How’s your sister?” He asked taking a seat between them.

“Doing ok considering, we talked some.” Jerry shrugged.

“That’s a start.” Karl said softly. Hunt brought him up to speed with their progress. The report from Burke on the delivery of Petrov to Hades 6. “We all set for tonight’s pickup?”

“Wainwright and Burke are set, Davis is regrouping with his team.”

“Good.”

“Do you think our old CO will bid tonight?” Hunt asked hopeful.

“God I fucking hope so.” Karl growled. “He’s the middle man, there’s someone above him pulling the strings and I want to know who.” Because that was who Raven supplied on a regular basis and would bring this entire syndicate down.

“Raven’s the supplier and distributer.”

“Yes, but who’s running the show? Who does he answer to? Raven makes millions off these auctions yet look at the house and neighborhood he lived in. If he had access to all this money where are the fancy cars, the mansions, the carefree lifestyle one had with that about of money?” Karl mused. “Were missing something.” And he’d noticed that even Ayla didn’t have the answer, maybe she doesn’t know.

******

When it came time for burgers Jerry left Strand and Ayla to go see if his sister would join them. He watched as Ayla stood and went to help Mia in the kitchen. There was a tension between them that wasn’t there last night and he was kicking himself for putting it there.

“Great, now she doesn’t want to be in the same room alone with me.” He muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose before scrubbing a hand over his face.

They all took some down time, walked away from the case for a few hours to devour a burger and fries, laugh, and boost each other’s moral.

“Did you like the burger?” Karl asked Ayla before she could get up and leave, the two of them alone for the moment as Jerry and Mia cleared and washed dishes. Jerry taking something in for his sister. She nodded and he could feel the distance between them growing exponentially. “It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with you, I’m just terrified I’ll hurt you.” He blurted out. “I’m a mess Ayla.” He sighed and looked at her, those intense sea green eyes looking back. “I’ve never felt like this about someone, even with Sarah it wasn’t like this and I don’t know how to handle it.” His hand hesitated before he brushed his knuckles along her arm, that jolt to his system something he could no longer ignore or pass off as fleeting arousal. “I feel it every time I touch you, or you touch me.” He said, his voice husky. “That unmistakable yearning for you.” He looked at her. “I crave you, and sure we could just have sex, but it’s more than that, and I’m not sure that’s what you need, or what I need.” Was it love, he wondered? “I wish you’d talk to me sweet girl, tell me what you want, what you need from me.” He murmured.

She stood slowly and Karl thought he’d blown it, but she took his face in her hands and kissed him tenderly. Her knee brushed his and he opened his legs for her to stand closer as she deepened the kiss. He looked up at her as she pulled away, her fingers caressing every angle of his face. The urge to slide his hands along her body made his fingers ache, but he kept them still, not wanting to disrupt the moment.

“Do you really want this with me?” He asked quietly and her nod made his breath hitch. “You know you could do much better.” He scoffed softly and a slight smirk touched her lips before she shook her head. “You don’t think so?” She shook her head again. “I don’t deserve you.” He whispered against her lips as they claimed his again. Her fingers wandered his chest and shoulders, feeling every contour and defined muscle.

He wanted to take it further, but time, once again, wasn’t on their side. “We have an op to run sweet girl.” He sighed as he broke the kiss, her nod one of understanding. Resting his forehead against hers he regained control of his system. “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before.” He whispered. Her hand cupped his cheek and she kissed him sweetly before stepping back.

Making their way back inside, the heat between them making him itch to touch her, maybe he’d scratch that itch after the auction was online and the pickup had been made. Sitting down they got to the business end of the evening. The pickup went as planned, the auction was live and the bidding war had begun. Jerry decided to monitor the auction while the rest of the team get some sleep.

“See you at one ish?” Hunt asked Karl as he and Ayla rose from their chairs, Mia had already gone to crash out.

“Come tap on the door, wake me if anything strange goes down.”

“Will do boss.” Jerry nodded and went back to reading through the mountain of information they were still wading through.

******

He hesitated on her threshold, it was needless, the invitation clear from the tug of her hand in his. It was like any other night they’d slept together, her choice to have him here with her. Sitting on the edge of the bed he watched as she shut the door, her tentative steps toward him had him question himself. “There’s no rush Ayla, we don’t have to do this right now.” He said softly, her hand reaching for his chest. Opening his legs she stood between them much like she had out on the patio. “Talk to me sweet girl.” He whispered. “Tell me what you want.”

Her hand lightly tapped his chest, her mouth opening and then closing a few times as she fought for the words. “I want you.” She whispered, her words barely audible, her hand trembling.

“I’m all yours.” He breathed, a little in awe of her, a little startled at her voice. As a hand wandered the other joined it as she leaned in and kissed him.

He’d forgotten how arousing it was to have a woman touch him so tenderly, each stroke of a finger igniting a trail of searing heat over him. Her eyes met his as they found the hem of his shirt and lifted it, the slight nod telling her it was ok. He shivered as her fingers brushed his bare chest. Pulling his shirt up he felt that tightness in his belly as he lifted his arms so she could take it all the way off, she excited something in him. Her touch became bolder as time went on, her kiss hungrier for him. “Can I touch you?” He asked quietly against her mouth, her gaze uncertain. “I want you to feel good too sweet girl.” His fingers toying with the wisps of hair framing her face. “To show you how good it can feel.” He breathed as she kissed him again. “No ones done that for you have they? They just took what they wanted.” Her embarrassed nod broke his heart. “Do you trust me to make you feel good, make this feel good?” She bowed her head and he hooked a finger under it asking her to look at him. When she did he kissed her tenderly, the barely there brush off his lips against hers. “Nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about sweet girl. Sex should be mutually beneficial and enjoyed.” Threading his fingers into her hair he kissed her, keeping it gentle and loving, something new for him and it felt foreign. He couldn’t just take what he wanted, not like Sarah, he had to go at her speed, let her get comfortable knowing he wasn’t going to pin her down against her will.

He deepened the kiss, tongue toying with her lip, requesting, asking for her to come and play. The soft tremble of her body when he devoured her mouth made him continue, sweeping her up in the arousal a good kiss could give. She swayed on her feet when he pulled away and chuckled softly. “I think you liked that.” He murmured nuzzling her cheek, her blush flushing her cheeks confirming it.

“Can I touch you?” He asked again gently, she nodded hesitating slightly as his finger trailed her jaw, down to brush her collarbone. “You can stop me at anytime.” Her eyes looked up and found his. “Mutually beneficial, if something hurts or makes you uncomfortable you need to tell me ok?” She nodded and nibbled on her bottom lip. “I want to make you feel good sweet girl, not hurt you.” With both hands splayed out over his chest she leaned in and kissed him. He felt the fire inside her, the passion and desire skittering below the surface waiting to be unlocked.

Keeping her mouth occupied with his own he rested his fingers at her hips, the slow gentle patterns he stroked her with hopefully desensitizing her. Hugging and holding her was one thing, this was on completely different level. She jumped slightly as fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt to graze the skin at her waist, the low sweep of her ribs. He gave her a moment to process and when she didn’t stop him he continued. His hands drifted under her shirt, the softness of her skin, the scent of her already making him hard. As he dragged his hands up her ribs she raised her arms above her head, a bold enough signal to tell him to remove her shirt.

The weeks of good food and freedom had filled her out. Gone was the bony waif with sharp angles and a pained look, a lush curvy woman stood in her wake. “God you’re beautiful.” He choked, his emotions gaining the upper hand momentarily. His kiss was barely restrained, the hunger for her almost too much to contain. Leaning his head against hers he breathed deeply, reeling it in for her sake. Kissing his way down her neck she shivered as he kissed her shoulder, a finger easing her bra strap off, his lips teasing the swell of her cleavage as he peeled the lace cup down. As his mouth claimed her nipple her hands cupped his head. At first he thought she would push him away, until the soft moan escaped as he rolled the hardened bud over his tongue. “I like hearing those sounds from your lips.” He purred as he kissed his way to the other breast to do the exact same thing. As he aroused her further he unclipped the bra and helped her remove it, her hands cupping his face to bring his mouth to hers.

Wordlessly he looked at her, those sea green eyes full of desire before he slowly kissed his way down her body. Falling to his knees he burrowed his face into her belly as his hands slipped between skin and the waistband of her leggings. He heard her breath hitch and took it slow, giving her enough time to process where his hands were and what she was feeling at his touch before he inched them down along with her panties. Taking his time he was content to taste every inch of her skin giving her the time she needed. Her scent was driving him insane, the hot heady mix of lust and arousal making his cock throb. Kissing his way down further she flinched and stepped back as his tongue licked along her wet folds.

“You didn’t like that?” He asked gently, releasing her immediately. She stood for a moment trying to process what her body felt, that tell tale tremble stopping him cold. “Do you want me to stop?” He asked and she shook her head.

“No.” She breathed, her chest heaving a little with uncertainty.

“You liked it?” Her shy nod made him smile. “Makes you feel good?” He asked as he trailed his finger up her legs from ankle to ass, kissing her hips, tongue trailing over her, he couldn’t taste her enough.

Resting his chin on her belly he looked up at her as a thought occurred to him. “Have you had oral before? Received not give?” He asked quietly, the small shake of her head confirmed his suspicions. “An orgasm?” She bowed her head and shied away, the bright red flush to her face causing her to try and hide from him. “I’ll take that as a no.” He breathed and reached up to stroke his knuckles down her cheek.

She’d simply been something to fuck, no emotions, no foreplay, no enjoyment, just a thing that Allen Raven could fuck and abuse on his every whim.

He could see she was embarrassed and he had to take things carefully now. “Would you like to try?” He looked up into that beautiful face, her hair a curtain around her bowed head, her hands had clasped in front of her mound. Kissing her hands he gave her time to think. “Or we can stop? It’s up to you Ayla.”

Her fingers eventually unclasped and touched his face, they shook slightly. “You’re a little nervous?” She nodded. “We’ll take it slow. Oral for you is better laying down when you’re ready, if you want to try it.” He left it at that and continued to kiss her, the gentle strokes of his fingers easing her jitters. Every so often his tongue would swipe through her slick folds, the pleasurable jolt of something so new it had her breathing hitch, a frantic scramble to process what she was feeling. As she warmed up to the new sensations he was freely giving her she started to relax, her hands and fingers gripping at him urging him to take more, give more. “Sit on the edge of the bed sweet girl.” He said and only let her go long enough for her to sit.

She shivered as he kissed her knees the tender request to open them. As she did he kissed along her inner thighs until she relaxed further. “Lay back.” He said softly as he rose up on his knees and kissed her, tongue darting in to flick hers playfully. “Let me make you feel good.” Lowering herself back he followed, his eyes not leaving hers. “You can stop me at anytime ok? You’re in control. You tell me to stop, I’ll stop.” He kissed her until that soft moan filled the room, hoping there were more it in their future.

Traveling the length of her body he kissed and teased her until he was on his knees between her legs. One ankle at a time he sat them on his shoulders and ran his hands the length of her inner thighs to spread her wide open for him. “Relax your legs.” He purred and trailed a finger along her thighs until she did, they shook the entire way, nerves getting the better of her. Trailing his hands up her torso he cupped her breasts and gently pinched the nipples, rolling the buds between his fingers. God he wanted to taste her and then feast, her scent was hypnotic.

He sampled her, tongue softly grazing her entrance, building her arousal, her confidence. Her hips started to move with him, urging him to take more, to go faster. With one hand on her breast he skated the other down her body, finger gently teasing her entrance. As he circled a finger a soft whimper came from her, arousal not fear. “Let it come sweet girl.” He murmured as his finger slipped just inside her before stroking her clit. “This will feel so good, I promise.” It would also prime her body to take him fully without hurting her. As her whimpers grew stronger he added a second finger and teased her opening, not ready for him to plunge them in just yet. Fingers circled as his tongue stroked her clit, drawing out as much pleasure for her as possible, slow and gentle. He felt her peak, her body writhing against his mouth, her hands grasping at him desperately. As her body tensed for release he slipped his fingers into her, the long digits stroking her core as his lips suctioned around her clit, tongue flicking. She bucked against his fingers as they took her apart slowly, coaxing her orgasm out and letting it linger as it rolled through her. The soft cry of his name as she came hadn’t been what he’d expected.

He brought her back to reality with soothing strokes and tender kisses, letting her brain process what he’d just done to her, given her. Placing her legs back down he kissed his way up her torso to claim her mouth. “You liked that.” He grinned and her nod had him chuckling. “I hope to give you a few more of those tonight.” She trailed a finger along his scruff and kissed him, that sweet tenderness his undoing.

She kissed him until she was sitting and urged him to stand up, he stopped her as she went to kneel. “You don’t have to, Ayla.” He said knowing she would have been forced to suck cock regularly, and not very pleasantly. She kissed his chest and looked up at him before sinking to her knees, this was her choice. Raking his fingers through her hair she slipped his jeans off, taking his briefs with them and freeing his thick erection. Once he’d stepped free of the denim her fingers wandered, taking her time exploring his body, his reactions to her touch. He groaned as she stroked him, those slender fingers wrapped around his shaft, the feel of them igniting all his dark fantasies. He hissed as she took him into her mouth and he had to resist the urge to grab her hair and thrust deep. She felt glorious, that soft sweet mouth sucking him into oblivion. He pulled back as she went to take him deep, the hesitation stopping her.

“If you take me like that it’ll be all over, I won’t last.” He said huskily, chest heaving as he struggled for control. Holding out his hand for hers he helped her to stand. He kissed her, long and deep. “Another day maybe, but tonight I want to be inside you when I come. I want to feel you.” She went to bow her head, but he stopped her with a gentle finger under her chin. “I liked it Ayla, you did nothing wrong, I just want to last a little longer.” He sat on the bed and urged her to stand between his legs again, his erection spearing upward. His lips played with hers, the soft nibble relaxing her, showing her that this was how sex was supposed to be, fun, sensual. Hooking a hand behind her knee he guided her to straddle him, her petite figure pressing against him. He let the moment build taking the subtle hints when she gave them to move forward, that she was nearly ready to take him in.

She watched him as she sank down on her knees, her hand stroking him along her heat. His eyes never left hers as she lowered and took in his mushroom tip, the girth stretching her open. Her heat wrapping around him nearly sent him over the edge as she inched her way down, impaling herself on his cock. When he was fully seated he held her ass cheeks so she couldn’t move and groaned as she kissed him. So unbelievably tight and wet, he could feel her throbbing for him. “Fuck Ayla you’re so tight.” He mumbled into her shoulder as he nipped her neck. “Stay still a moment.” He urged as his hands held her on him as she tried to rock, he was teetering on the edge. Her kiss was tender as she sat, his cock buried deep, her arms wrapped around his neck. “Go slow sweet girl. I don’t want to hurt you.” He said softly and guided her hips as she started to rock. Enjoying the ride he watched her take her pleasure, the way he moved with her, the tiny gasps when he hit that one spot inside her she didn’t know existed. He felt her orgasm build, the tremble of her body as it started to spiral out of control, the soft whimpers that made his cock twitch. “Let me feel you come sweet girl.” He kissed her. “Just like before, let it take you.” Reaching between them he circled her clit with his thumb and watched her eyes widen at the sensation. “Relax and let it come.” Keeping the same rhythm she peaked, her body going taught before the euphoria swamped her. Writhing and bucking he guided her hips as she came, keeping the rhythm going to prolong her pleasure and build another.

“Can I lay you down?” He asked as she collapsed into him.

“Yes.” Her breath ragged. Flipping them he wrapped her legs around him and gently thrust in until he was buried to his hilt. With long slow strokes he took her, deeply and gently, he would pull this climax from deep within her. Busy fingers and the plunging strokes had them both on the edge. “Let me watch you come sweet girl.” He whispered as he slipped his hand between them, finger circling her clit, her cry one he hoped to hear again and again. As she threw her head back and came, his name on her lips, he dipped down to suck at her pulse, his hips pistoning a little faster before he groaned his pleasure and emptied himself inside her.

They lay there sated and pleasurably wrecked, and Karl had to admit he’d enjoyed the slow burn more than he’d anticipated. “I like it when you say my name.” He mumbled into her neck as he nibbled the tender flesh there. Lifting his head he looked down to see tears streaking her cheeks. “Ayla?” He couldn’t keep the panic from his voice. “Did I hurt you?” He asked gently, mind reeling, cursing himself for even entertaining the idea of sex with her. The vehement shake of her head was a strong indication she was ok. Pulling out of her he rolled and curled her into him, pulling the covers over them both. “A little overwhelming?” Her nod set him at ease. “Did you like it?” That nod made him smile. “Me too.” Shifting down a little he kissed her, long and tender, wrapping her up tightly in his arms. He’d never been one for post coital snuggling but this, with her, this he liked.

“Karl?” Came her soft voice, husky from disuse.

“Mmmm.” He couldn’t deny he loved how his name sounded on her lips.

“I love you.” It was simply said, her face buried in his chest as if she was expecting a blow, verbal or physical. He had no response other than to hold her tightly and kiss her head. For the first time in a long time, he was speechless. She had a right to voice her feelings, he just didn’t know how to voice his to her.

“Sleep now.” He murmured, reaching over to turn off the lamp. She snuggled in closer as if the darkness had pushed her against him. “You’re safe sweet girl. He can’t touch you ever again.” He dropped into sleep like a stone once Ayla was out cold, sex a sure fire way to give him the release he needed to clear his head.

******

They slept until six and he only woke because of Ayla’s pretty mouth around his cock. He had no chance of holding off as the cobwebs of deep sleep muddled his brain. Lightly fisting his hand into her hair he thrust up, fucking that beautiful mouth until he emptied himself, body still jerking as he released his grip on her. She kissed her way up his body and lay flat against him. “I’ve never had such a nice wake up call.” He growled softly, fingers trailing her skin. “Shall I return the favor?” He asked and kissed the top of her head. “Shall I give you an orgasm to start your day sweet girl?” She lifted her head and looked at him slightly unsure. Keeping his gaze on hers he rolled slowly so she was under him and felt her tense. Kissing her softly she relaxed, her hands flexing over his chest, he gave her a moment. “Just like last night.” He breathed, her face already flush with arousal, and traveled south, kissing every inch of her.

She was already wet for him and although he took a slow and steady approach like last night he added a third digit and filled her. The gentle come hither motion rubbing her g spot, his mouth on her clit, her hand gripped his forearm and the cry of his name from her lips as she came made him smile. That, he decided, was his new favorite sound.

They curled up, he the bigger spoon, and she plummeted into sleep again. Laying there he kissed her hair and breathed in the scent of her, fingers trailing bare skin. “I think I’m in love with you sweet girl.” He whispered. “And that should terrify you. It should make you want to run. I’m no good for you.” He raked his fingers through her hair and kissed her temple. “I’m no good for you but I’m willing to try to be the man you believe I am.” With her on his mind and in his arms, he drifted to sleep and dreamt of uncertainty.

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden

#Karl Strand fanfic #a softer side #gustaf skarsgard #sexy as fuck

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