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self-written-god · 7 months

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T | 1980 | f/? Human/lake creature | horror elements | lake cabin vacation, questionable courting gifts, lady of the lake but they're a monster

"Charlie? Dude?"

"Hmm?" Charlie answered, not turning around until her friend ran across the cabin in a blur of movement.

"Call the cops."

Only then did she look at her friend, frantically locking the front door.

"What's happening?"

"There's a foot."

"A foot?"

"Yes, a fucking foot!" She yelled, suddenly in hysterics as she bounced away from the door and towards the phone hanging next to the kitchen wall. Her fingers shook when she dialled 911.

"I'm at Kelpie Lake, the third cabin from the main road. Yes, from Thornfield Street. There's… somebody dropped a severed foot on the dock. Please send someone."

Charlie blanched. She looked at the glass doors looking out into the lake, its emerald green surface sparkling in the sun. They've been cleaning the cabin since their arrival the previous day. She slowly walked towards them, listening in while her friend talked to the dispatcher.

"My name is Sally Bloomfield, I'm here with my friend Charlie May. It's my parents' cabin. We cleaned the deck this morning, somebody had to drop it there later, somebody is here, right now!" she was screaming into the receiver.

There was something on the deck. On the swept and mopped up wood, in a small puddle of water, laid a pale, wrinkled shape. She stared for a long time, listening to her friend's frantic explanations and nagging to get someone here, please, until the shape started resembling a foot. She wanted a closer look, morbid curiosity itching at her fingers to open the door but she knew behind them she was safer if whoever put it there was still around. They must be because just two hours earlier she was sitting at the deck drinking her morning coffee. Since leaving was out of the question she did the next best thing and stood there rooted at the spot, unblinking not to miss anything that might happen.

"There are only these and the front doors, right?"

She flinched and looked away at Sally who walked towards her with the receiver at her ear. Charlie immediately looked back, fear grabbing at her neck and yanking, but the foot hadn't moved. Obviously.

"Yeah," she answered.

"I'll check the windows."

She rounded the cabin, closing all the windows with the receiver clutched at her ear like a lifeline until the police arrived. Similarly, Charlie was clutching to the sight in front of her. A bloated foot decomposing in the summer heat.

Despite a whole day of patrols and questions, despite the police tape, they stayed. The summer season just started and nearly all of the surrounding cabins were occupied and their presence helped to soothe their nerves. More of their friends were due to arrive in a few hours too. They got a direct contact number from the local sheriff and a patrol car was supposed to be circling the area at all times.

“They just want us here for free surveillance,” Charlie muttered as she watched the officer walk back to the car.

Sally didn’t say anything. They waited for their friends in the living room, with the deck in view.

“What’s with all the police tape?” Tommy asked as soon as he opened the cabin door, bags in hand.

“The lake needs to be scanned for body parts.”

“It’s a suspected disposal ground.”

The boy snorted, dropping the bags and approaching his friends but his face fell when they didn’t even turn towards him. He followed their gaze to the deck. It was wrapped in police tape as well. His eyes fell t the trail of muddy footprints leading to the sliding door from the entrance.

“Guys? What the fuck?”

The rest of their friends just walked in, their greetings cut by the weird atmosphere in the room. Charlie was the first to turn towards them.

“We found a foot on the dock this morning.”

“Excuse me?” Tommy sat down and the rest followed so the girls could brief them.

“Some animal probably found it and dropped it there,” Sally finished with an explanation the police gave them.

“But we should report any weird thing we notice,” added Charlie.

“So uh, no drugs?”

“Not while the police are running around, no. Is that your only concern?” Sally frowned at Jim, their usual source The boy just raised his hands.

“Sue me for wanting to relax after the story you just dropped.”

The friend group murmured in agreement.

“Let’s just all hit an early night, okay? I’m tired after the drive.”

Nobody wanted the couches with the lake view, even with the heavy window curtains, so they had to split between the two bedrooms. It was a tight fit but the closeness of friends brought comfort.

By the time all of them were ready for bed, it’s gotten dark. Their friends dozed off quite fast, but Sally and Charlie were too wired up with the events of the day to fall asleep. They sat in the armchairs next to the window while Jim’s sister slept in the bed.

“What are we going to do if we can’t swim in the lake?”

Sally shrugged.

“Next lake is just a short walk away and the area is pretty enough to just chill. Tommy wanted to check out the local farm. They make their own cheese and open a mini zoo in the summer.”

Despite everything, that pulled a smile out of her friend.

“I’d be down to pet some baby goats.”

“Right?” Sally smiled back.

They stood up to join Amy in the bed, and Charlie took a moment to look out the window, at the expanse of water. Most of the cabins had their lights still on, and the orange squares of their windows reflected on the surface. The lights rippled when she was watching like something moved just beneath them. Some fish perhaps. Or more like a snake, she thought, considering the movement. Coils and coils of serpentine bodies, bubbling the surface like boiling water. She blinked and the movement was gone just soft ripples on the water.

She joined the girls in the bed.

The next day started mostly the same. In an unfortunate way.

"At least it's not a body part this time," Charlie commented as she sipped on her coffee in front of the glass doors to the dock.

On the weathered planks, in a puddle of water, laid a dead fish.

"It matches the animal theory, I guess."

"It's in the same space," Charlie observed.

"We're not calling the police, right? It's just a fish." Jim frowned, but Sally shook his head.

"They said anything weird. This is weird enough, I think."

An hour later, an officer walked in, took a hasty photo and pushed the fish back into the water.

"It looks like an animal kill. Nothing to worry about," he reassured before leaving.

Nevertheless, the atmosphere in the cabin grew tense and they decided to leave for the day. When the surrounding areas were properly scouted and their trunk filled with groceries and alcohol, it was already dark. The living room light illuminated the deck and Sally walked to the glass to take a closer look.

There was something on the dock again but the shadows around made the object hard to identify.

"You know, my cat sometimes brings me dead mice. He thinks it's a gift," Tommy muses, squinting next to her. She hums in thought, before turning around.

"I need a flashlight."

Sally stood up to look around the drawers and handed her one. But when Charlie's hand reached for the door, she frowned.

"What are you doing?"

"We need a closer look, we can't call the police if it's just some weed."

"Can't you see from here?"

Charlie turned on the flashlight and pointed it towards the dock. The light was too weak to reach the object.

"Okay, fine."

The doors get yanked open and the smells and sounds of the lake enter the cabin. Charlie steps out. The planks creaked under her feet and the closer she gets, the more solid becomes the object in front of her. It's a pendant, damaged by water but still recognisable. But behind it, tendrils; inky black in the shadows and sliding down towards the water.

She pointed the light towards the water and for a second she could swear she saw a pair of black eyes watching her.

"It's a necklace," she informs them after closing the door and cutting off the cricket orchestra.

"Guess we are calling the cops then," Amy sighs, cheek squished against her hand like it was all just a big inconvenience to her. Not a potential threat to their lives.

It kept like that, random objects appearing now and then. They tried staying in the living room but they could never catch it, whatever person or animal was leaving the items to be found. Nobody seemed to notice anything amiss, no bubbling water or black eyes gaping at them from below the surface. No one except for Charlie.

It’s been a few days, patrols still idly circling the area and searchers finding the first body parts (seemingly from the same body, thank gods) when Charlie stepped out into the night just to observe. She could see the lights from the bathroom upstairs reflecting in the water, giving her a sense of safety as she took a couple of steps on the deck. She was wary of approaching the edge and the inky waters below.

The night at the lake was loud, all the creatures inhabiting it fighting for the loudest sound of their presence. The grass rustled in the soft wind, and water splashed aghast the pails. And yet, Charlie could hear something moving under her feet, below the wood. Something big.

The water splashed louder, bubbled and bulked like it was trying to take shape but its own nature betrayed its attempts. Then, a pair of huge black eyes was blinking at her. Once, then again, like it had two sets of eyelids.

Tendrils, black like tar in the darkness, slithered over the edge of the wood, carrying something, wrapped in dripping algae. It didn’t stop at the usual spot, shuffling closer until the item got dropped at her feet.

The tendrils hesitated, inching slowly toward her, leaving enough time to react, to run, but the curiosity and tenderness of the moment rooted Charlie to the spot.

It was cold and wet in touch but retracted quickly away from her ankle as if scared by its own actions. The item in front of her was revealed. A rusty dagger, probably from the bottom of the lake, lay at her feet like an offering from some fairytale.

He thinks it’s a gift.

Well, it was certainly better than a body part.

“Is it for me?” she whispered before the creature could shy away.

It nodded slowly, and her eyes adjusted to the light enough to notice hair, sleek and long, plastered to the scaled skin like algae.

“Thank you. Were all the other things for me too? The, uh, foot?”

It nodded again.

“I loved the gifts, but let me give you something next time. Tomorrow night?”

It watched her, only its eyes peeking out and she wondered if it was going to kill her, displeased with her refusal of gifts. She heard a sound and for a second worried it was a warning growl, but her brain finally registered it as a very croaky “okay”. She smiled, partially relieved and partially hysteric giddiness at whatever the hell she was just witnessing.

“Great. Goodnight.”

This time she took the gift with her with no hesitation and watched the black eyes widen and sparkle with joy. There was a splash, the body of the creature minutely peeking out of the water, followed by tendrils, or, tentacles. Like it was a very graceful octopus. Octopus-fairy hybrid. Charlie was excited to find out tomorrow.

#monsterlovetober2023 #Tentacles #monsterfucker #creative writing #monster lover #monster romance #original story #monster kink #Lake creature #Lake monster #courting rituals #Sapphic #Kinda #horror fantasy #horror elements #Fantasy #lake cabin #Lake house #The horrors and romances of summer vacation

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plasticflowering · 2 years

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#oneus #v.scans #season's greetings #my new favorite photoshoot #the COLORS #more season's greetings scans on deck #ravn #seoho #leedo #hwanwoong #keonhee #xion

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uvobreakmylegs · 3 years

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Detour

I’m excited that it’s fall but i’m also sad that i won’t be able to swim anymore

Warnings: death, graphic depictions of violence, creepy behavior, groping, mentions of smut, kidnapping

The two guys at the gas station check out counter had been there when Phinks had first walked through the sliding glass doors, and they were still there when he approached the check out himself, having only dropped in to grab another pack of beer. The gas station clerk seemed annoyed while the two guys were pulling their pockets inside out, evidently in search of any spare change that may have been hiding on their persons. There was a sad pile of jenny and some change sitting in front of the clerk while she waited for them impatiently, and she seemed ready to push all of the money back towards them as it became more and more likely that these two didn't have enough cash for the assortment of alcohol and junk food that also sat on the counter.

Any other time Phinks would've been annoyed by the situation. But seeing as he didn't have anywhere to be, he found that he didn't really care all that much. The troupe likely wouldn't meet back up for some time which left his schedule quite open, and he had found it difficult to find something to occupy his time with while he waited for the boss to bring everyone together again.

Phinks had decided that a road trip was a decent way to pass the time. It was something he'd never really done before and so far it was easing his boredom as he had hoped it would. There was no real time limit he had set on himself or any destination that he had in mind. He'd just keep doing whatever he felt like until the novelty of the trip wore off and then go home.

“Would you like to take a few items off?”

The tired voice of the clerk cut through his thoughts, and Phinks found that there had been no progress with the two in front of him.

“No no, we need all of it,” one of the men, a redhead, insisted, “we just, uh....”

Trailing off, the man glanced over to Phinks, who was still waiting with his single pack of beer. Then the man looked over to his companion and then back to the items on the counter.

Phinks could already sense what the man was going to ask of him before he spoke out.

“Hey man,” the guy said to Phinks, “I know it sounds bad, but do you think you could spot me on this? I'm bringing this stuff back for my party. We ran out of some stuff way quicker than we expected. Can't let people down, y'know?”

The redhead started telling him how much more they needed until the clerk interrupted him to tell him off for harassing other customers for money. A mini argument started between the two, with the man insisting that he wasn't harassing anyone and the clerk disagreeing with him. The man's friend joined in shortly after and it was quickly turning into a mess.

What obnoxious fucking people.

If he was in more of a bad mood he'd have probably snapped the necks of all of them. The presence of cameras stopped him from doing that, however, as it would just be too much of a pain to go to the back and destroy the footage after. Still, even though he didn't have anywhere to be, it didn't mean that he wanted to waste his time listening to people bicker. The easiest way out of this was to just give them the jenny so they'd all shut up.

After pulling out his wallet, Phinks slid the jenny across the counter.

That shut the three of them up, and the two men were quick to express their gratitude while the clerk just looked tired.

“Thank you so, so much, man,” the redhead continued after they collected their bagged items.

“Mm-hm.”

Phinks was only half-paying attention to him as he waited for the clerk to scan the beer so he could hand her the jenny owed. That transaction went much quicker and Phinks was soon making his way to the exit.

The two men seemed to be waiting on him, though.

“Hey, since you helped us out, you wanna come to my party?” the redhead asked.

Normally his automatic response would've been to give him a flat “no”. But in this instance Phinks just shrugged.

That seemed to give the redhead hope, and he began listing the reasons why Phinks should follow them back, like his “cool house”, hot women and great beer.

Given the especially cheap brand of beer Phinks had largely paid for, he had a hard time believing that last point. He also wasn't quite sure why this guy was so insistent on getting him to come along. Was it really just because Phinks had bothered to help them out?

“Name's Stu by the way. Back there is Billy,” the redhead told him, sticking out his arm to shake hands. When Phinks didn't do the same, Stu seemed a bit dejected, yet even that didn't make him back down from inviting Phinks.

“So how 'bout it, man? You wanna come?”

“.... I'll think about it,” he told him.

“Okay, but do it fast man. My place isn't that far from here.”

Phinks nodded, and Stu ran off to the car where his friend was waiting. The other guy didn't seem as keen on Phinks as the redhead had, regarding the blonde with suspicion. Phinks could hear him saying something as the two entered the car. Stu seemed to brush him off, and then their car doors closed and Phinks couldn't hear anything else.

The two ended up pulling out of the parking lot before he did, and Phinks found himself following them as they all made the same turn onto the highway.

He still had no real urge to go to some random guy's party, especially when he found him to be pretty annoying. And if it was a party filled with the friends of someone like that, he'd probably get irritated with all of them pretty quick. Better to just ignore them and be on his way.

Although the thought of just driving aimlessly through the night wasn't all that attractive, either. He'd done that several times now, and the feeling of being the only person in the world while he drove on the empty highway had lost its touch by now.

The car in front of him veered off the highway to get onto a side road.

After a few seconds, Phinks did the same, just thinking to himself 'why not?'. It would be something different, a little detour on a trip that was meant to be a distraction, and if it ended up being something that he didn't want to bother with, then he could just leave.

Although the noise level in the house wasn't quiet, it was nowhere near ear-shatteringly loud as Phinks may have expected. At least it had that in it's favor. Other than that, it was a stereotypical frat house party, with everyone talking and drinking as they got more and more shitfaced.

The two who brought him here vanished into the kitchen, and Phinks began to make his way around the house, sipping one of the cans of beer he had bought for himself since he had no interest in the shit the host had him pay for. A girl in one of the upstairs rooms noticed the beer in his hand and begged him to share with her, even going as far as to tug on the sleeve of his jacket when he told her no. He ended up pushing her away, and though he had tried to use as little force as possible, his strength combined with her tipsiness caused her to stumble back into a wall. She was still whining about him when he walked back down the stairs, going on about how mean he was.

He thought he'd been pretty nice to her, all things considered.

It didn't take long for Phinks to lose interest in this particular distraction. Not that he'd been expecting much, but after going around the house and not even seeing anything that might be worth stealing, he figured it'd be best to leave soon. With his short temper being one of his vices, he didn't want to deal with what would happen if some drunk got on his nerves and he smashed them into the wall.

With the sights, sounds and smells became grating to him and seeing no reason to stay any longer, Phinks went about trying to find an exit. Attempting to get out the same way he came in was put to a stop when he saw how congested the front entrance had become. He could've easily pushed past all of them, but since that would likely draw a fair amount of attention, maybe it'd be a better idea to find a different way out. Phinks wandered into the kitchen, walking by Stu who tried to talk to him. A patio door leading to the backyard caught his eye and he ignored the party's host as he walked by several people to get to it.

The cool air outside felt refreshing and he let out a soft sigh as the patio door slowly swung closed. Claustrophobia generally wasn't something he had an issue with, but that seemed to change a little when he was faced with a house full of drunken strangers who didn't understand the meaning of personal space. Another nice thing was the fact that no one else seemed to be out here. He didn't think it was that cold out, but it worked just fine if the people inside thought otherwise.

He stood on a deck with an assortment of patio furniture that sat in front of an in ground pool, and when he looked to the side, he saw the gate within the fencing that surrounded the backyard.

That was his way out, then.

With no more reason to stick around, he was about to head out and back to his car-

But he paused when he heard the sound of splashing water, and he looked back to the pool.

So he wasn't the only person out here.

Some of the patio furniture had blocked you from his sight so he hadn't noticed you at first, but you were now swimming out into the center of the pool and impossible to miss. It was pretty late in the year for swimming, wasn't it? Yet you seemed to be content with yourself despite the temperature and lack of company, swimming around the pool like you owned it. Maybe you did; he wasn't sure what your relation was to the party host.

Then your eyes met, and you smiled as you greeted him.

“Hello.”

“... Hey.”

He hadn't come out to look for company. He was looking to leave.

Yet something about this situation, about you, intrigued him, and Phinks walked forward, continuing with “isn't it a little late in the season for swimming?”

“That's what everyone seems to think,” you said, “it's going to be drained tomorrow, so I wanted to swim one more time before that. It's the last chance I'll get for this year.”

“No public pools around here?” he asked.

“I don't really like public pools,” you told him, laughing a little bit as you continued “the ones around here are never clean, and I don't wanna swim around in nasty water.”

Phinks couldn't say if he really had an opinion one way or the other. He tried to avoid situations where he'd need to be shirtless in public, as the spider with the number 5 on his ribs would've been a dead giveaway for anyone who understood it's meaning. He just shrugged at you as he said “fair enough.”

Phinks now stood at the edge of the pool while you swam up to the edge.

“I don't think I've seen you before. You new around here?” you asked him.

“No. Just passing through. Helped out the host at the gas station and he invited me as thanks,” Phinks explained, “I was expecting this to be taking place at some shitty apartment; didn't think a guy like that owned a house.”

“He doesn't, it belongs to his older brother Jed. Stu just lives with him,” you responded.

“Ah.”

That made a bit more sense to him. Since he hadn't been able to buy beer from a gas station on his own, it didn't seem likely that the guy would've had his own house. So he was just leeching off of his brother.

Despite being ready to leave just minutes earlier, he found that he now had a reason to want to stay here longer. But standing and talking to you was getting a little awkward, so Phinks sat himself down on the concrete next to the pool. So far you weren't annoying compared to some of the others. And despite being by yourself beforehand, you seemed pretty open to talking with him, resting your arms on the edge of the pool.

“You friends with them, then?”

“Jed is in a few of my classes, so I'm friends with him. Not Stu, though. He's kind of an asshole. Likes to play a lot of stupid pranks.”

You rested your chin in your hand as you thought back.

“He's destroyed two of my phones so far, both times by dumping water on me,” you said, “although I guess he did repay me for both, but it's still such a hassle to go through.”

“You're nicer than I am. If some guy like that fucked up my phone I'd kill him.”

You laughed at him, not taking his words seriously.

“You seem nice enough. You helped him out, right?”

“Only because it was the fastest way to get outta there. Stupid bastard started an argument with the clerk.”

“Yeah. That sounds like something he'd do,” you said, tiredness lacing your voice.

A cheer then sounded from inside the house, and though the doors and windows were closed, it was loud enough that the both of you could hear it from outside.

“Things must be ramping up in there,” you commented.

“Guess so,” Phinks said, taking a swig of his drink after.

“Isn't it kinda weird that you're keeping to yourself with an event like this? Don't see the point in going out if you're going to avoid people,” he added.

“But isn't that what you're doing by coming out here?” you asked.

“Nah, I was getting ready to leave.”

“What stopped you?”

“I haven't done much out here beside sitting here talking to you. What do you think?”

You seemed a bit taken aback and a little embarrassed as you realized the reason, but gave him a small smile.

“Oh wow. Are you saying I managed to be charming enough to keep a guy from leaving?” you asked him.

“No. You're just not as annoying as the others I've met tonight.”

Your expression was rather blank as you took in that information.

“..... I'll take that as a compliment, then,” you said, “so what do you do?”

“What do I do?”

“For a job, or just anything in general.”

“I do a couple odd jobs here and there, I guess,” he answered, “every once in a while a bigger opportunity comes up, and I just do whatever I need to.”

It was an oversimplification of his criminal activities, and he hoped that he'd been vague enough without sounding suspicious.

It appeared that he had as you didn't seem to think it was strange.

“You mentioned earlier that you were just passing through. Are you on your way to a job or something?”

“Nah. I'm currently off-duty. And I had a lot of time to kill, so I decided to take a road trip.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” you said, “I work on campus, so I don't really get to do vacations for now. Can't remember the last time I went on one.”

“Job at least worth it?”

“Kind of? Although the other week I needed to go through something stupid.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I got screamed at by a lady.”

Your tone made it seem like that was something happened on a regular basis.

“For what?” he asked.

“Something with her daughter's textbooks. She ordered one that she didn't need on accident but didn't want to admit that she made a mistake, so she just let her mother yell at me for forty minutes and claim that we were the ones who fucked up.”

You sighed a little after the explanation. Evidently that situation still made you frustrated.

“.... Did she apologize after?” Phinks asked.

With a slightly wistful smile, you shook your head as you said “people like that don't apologize.”

“Sounds rough.”

It went without saying that Phinks wouldn't have tolerated anything like that. If it had been him he'd have killed them both and tossed their bodies in the trash. But he kept that rather violent thought to himself.

“Sorry you needed to deal with that,” he added.

“It's okay. It's little things that keep you going,” you said, “I've been looking forward to swimming for a while, so I'm pretty happy right now. Although I guess I'm kinda doing a job right now.”

“How so?”

“Jed's at his job right now, and since he doesn't trust Stu, he asked me to make sure nothing happens to the pool. The last time Stu had a party there was a bunch of trash in it the next morning, and it was a pain to clean up. So in exchange for using the pool, I have full permission to snitch on anyone who tosses anything.”

“Yeah? What's snitching gonna do?”

“Jed's a scary guy. Nobody wants to make him mad.”

If Phinks had felt like being more of an asshole, and if you'd been unpleasant during your conversation with him, he probably would've taken his half-finished beer can and thrown it into the pool just to upset you and also to see if your friend was as scary as you were making him out to be.

But so far he'd been enjoying himself, so as fun as that thought might have been, he decided against it.

You pulled one of your arms off of the rim and back into the water. Evidently you were getting cold, but you held on to the edge to continue speaking to him.

“So how long have you been on your trip?” you asked.

“A few weeks.”

“A few weeks? You must have been all over the place, then. Did you go anywhere in particular?”

“Not really,” Phinks answered, “didn't have any real plan when I set out. Just drove to wherever I thought would be interesting.”

“That's kinda cool,” you said, “must be nice to be able to go wherever you want without any real plan.”

“You can't?”

“Nope. Classes and work means I can't just run off whenever I feel like it.”

“Too busy getting screamed at?” he asked jokingly.

“Yeah, something like that,” you answered, laughing a little after.

You pulled your other arm back underwater and just kept a hand on the side of the wall.

“Cold?” he asked.

“A little.”

“Probably why most people aren't swimming this late.”

“I don't care; it's worth it,” you said, “honestly, the thought of being able to swim was what kept me going this week.”

That.... Was a little bit sad, Phinks thought to himself. That all you had to look forward to at the end of the week was a few hours to swim by yourself in the cold. There were much sadder circumstances in the world – he was certain that anyone from Meteor City would be more than happy to switch places with you – but your life must have felt empty. Although Phinks was technically in the same boat at the moment, at least being with the troupe gave him purpose. What did you have besides a shitty job and presumably a fair amount of college debt? Just the 'little things' to keep you going?

Maybe he was presuming too much; he'd only just met you after all. But it bothered him regardless.

“What are your plans for after college?” he asked.

You seemed a bit startled, and you looked away from him for the first time.

“Not really sure, actually. I'm still undecided on my major,” you admitted, “I need to figure out soon, though. I'm going to run out of the basic coursework that I need to get through, and my family is getting mad that I haven't made a decision yet.”

So you didn't have any direction and were being pressured by others. Still not the saddest circumstance ever, but if it had been him, Phinks was certain he'd have been miserable.

You clearly didn't want to keep going on about that particular subject, as you began to ask him questions about his trip, wanting to know where exactly he had been so far and how much longer he planned to drive for. The change in topics was obvious, but he decided to go along with it.

As the night grew darker while the two of you talked, he decided that he liked you. You could hold a decent conversation, even if the things you two talked about weren't all that meaningful.

You were pretty cute, too.

The party behind him still seemed to be going strong, but it was largely going ignored by you both, in part by the fact that you were still the only ones outside.

Your face lit up as a thought came to mind.

“You should come in!” you told him.

“No thanks.”

“Come on! It's really nice!”

You grabbed at his free hand, tugging on his arm lightly as you tried to encourage him to get into the pool.

“If you get my suit wet I'll drown you,” Phinks said told you.

You giggled, once more not taking him seriously. Though he was only half-serious about it at this point.

“Then take it off and come in,” you insisted.

“I don't have a swimsuit.”

“That doesn't stop most people.

“Good to know,” he said flatly.

Though you'd stopped tugging on his arm, both of your hands remained on his wrist as you looked up at him.

“Can you not swim?” you asked.

“I can swim fine,” he said, “I just don't feel like it right now.”

You seemed a bit disappointed, but you had yet to let go of his wrist.

“Should you really be that surprised with the temperature being what it is?” he asked you.

“It isn't that bad. And the pool is heated,” you insisted, “didn't think a bit of chill would scare off the most interesting person at this party, though.”

The corner of his lips curled a bit at that. He wasn't one for meaningless flattery, but he didn't mind hearing you say things like that.

“Is that why you're not letting go of me?”

“You don't seem to be doing much to shake me off.”

“I could if I wanted to.”

“So you don't want to?”

You were teasing him. And while he could tease you back, he went for a different approach.

He yanked his wrist out of your grip and grabbed your own wrist just as fast, and lifted you up until you were eye level with him. To say you were flustered by the action would've been an understatement, and your free hand grasped at the arm that held you up to lessen the weight on the arm that he had trapped.

With you partially out of the water, Phinks allowed his eyes to travel over your form, following the trails of water that dripped down your skin and imagining exactly what you looked like under that swimsuit. His grin got wider when he saw your body reacting to the cooler temperature and the way your nipples showed through the material. It hadn't been on his mind when he first approached you, but after spending time with you he found himself liking the idea of fooling around with you. Probably not in the house, and he doubted you would want to do anything in the pool due to that friend of yours you had mentioned. Maybe there was some dark corner around here where he could take you to do what he wanted.

You were squirming a little, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“It's cold,” you whined.

“Yep,” was his reply.

“Come on, let go. I'm only in a swimsuit.”

“You weren't letting me go,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but I didn't pull you into the water.”

“Because you're too weak to do that.”

“That's not fair!”

“Don't think this is a situation where fairness matters, sweetheart.”

With that he let you go, and you dropped back down into the pool. You pushed away from the wall after, giving him a slightly sour look.

“Problem?” he asked.

“It's cold,” you repeated.

He just smirked.

“You're gonna need to deal with it at some point,” he told you.

“Yeah, but I wasn't ready for it then!”

You had to have noticed the way he looked at you, right? There was no way you were so oblivious to have not seen how he had blatantly looked you over. Yet you weren't mentioning it.

By now you were more at the center of the pool, pointedly out of his range.

“You done talking?” Phinks asked.

“No, but I don't want you pulling me out again.”

Then you looked away like you were embarrassed.

It clicked for him. You must have liked it, but you were too shy to say anything about it.

Your reluctance was cute, though Phinks knew he'd get tired of that game pretty fast.

“Come back over,” he told you.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to.”

You shook your head.

“You're going to do that again, right?” you asked.

“Maybe.”

“Then no. I don't wanna get out yet.”

“How long are you gonna stay in there?”

“Until I feel like getting out.”

“And if I want you out of there now?”

“Then you'd have to come in and get me.”

…. Oh

That's what it was.

A ploy by you to get him into the pool.

That's what you had to mean by those words, right?

“.... What the hell,” he said to himself as he stood.

It got your attention when he began to remove his clothing, throwing them over to a few neatly folded articles of clothing that sat next to a bag on the patio, which he assumed belonged to you. You were watching him closely, and he could sense a growing interest in you when he removed his shirt. Your eyes lingered a little when you caught sight of his spider tattoo, but there was no hint that you recognized what it meant, which was preferable.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked.

“You were looking at me earlier,” you answered defensively, “you're not allowed to get mad when I do the same.”

“Didn't say I was mad.”

You acknowledging the way he had looked at you then just reaffirmed in his head that you hadn't minded, and after stripping down to his boxers, Phinks jumped in. The water felt just as nice as you had said, but he didn't take much time to focus on it as he was quick to approach you. Within moments, he had wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in close, lifting you a little so you were at eye level with him. You seemed flustered again, but you didn't make any move to get away, and were resting your hands on his chest.

“I don't think you told me your name,” you whispered to him.

“Phinks.”

“Phinks,” you repeated, smiling afterwards, “I like it. It's cool.”

“Thanks,” he replied, “and how 'bout you?”

You gave him your name, which he also repeated to himself.

“Not as cool as 'Phinks', I guess,” you said.

“It suits you,” he said.

You smiled at him, then shifted slightly in his grip.

“Are you just gonna keep holding me?”

“You said I needed to come in and get you.”

“And what did you want to 'get' me for?”

Despite the question, you clearly had an idea of what Phinks was after as you began to move in closer to him. Phinks did the same, and slowly, the gap between the two of you was closed as your lips met together in a kiss.

With the heavy scent of pool chemicals that surrounded you two, it was hard to smell much else, but your lips were soft against his. The kiss was a bit tame for his liking, but he let you do what you wanted for now as you readjusted your arms so they were wrapped around his neck.

One of his hands slid down your back to reach down and squeeze your ass, and you gasped into the kiss. He slipped his tongue into your mouth for a brief moment before you pulled away, your hand over your mouth as you looked away in embarrassment.

“I'm not sure we should do much more here,” you said, glancing up at the house behind him, “there are people watching. I'm not into that.”

“Where do you wanna go?” he asked. It didn't surprise him much that you two might have attracted an audience, and when he heard the door to the patio open from behind him, he chose to ignore it.

“I don't think we'll get much privacy here, so how about my place?” you asked.

“Do you usually bring home strangers?”

“Only the really cool ones.”

He grinned.

You were leaning in to kiss him again when you suddenly froze and turned your attention to something behind Phinks.

“Don't do that!” you yelled.

Phinks turned his head just in time to see his and your clothes land in the water, with the guy who'd invited him – Stu, he remembered – pointing and laughing after having thrown them. The annoying woman from earlier, the one who had whined at him for his can of beer, was also there, standing behind Stu and running off with him towards the gate in the fence.

Phinks saw red.

He let you go and swiftly exited the pool, following after the two even as the chill of the night air nipped at his skin. He barely felt it, and he didn't give a shit that he was running around barefoot either. All of his focus was on catching up to those two assholes who'd dumped his clothes in the pool.

He was angry enough that he didn't notice the sound of feet following after him.

The two perpetrators were in an alleyway between two rows of houses, drunkenly laughing their asses off. Their demeanor didn't change when Phinks caught up to them. The woman actually began to laugh harder, probably because Phinks was still wearing only his boxers.

Stu was trying to contain himself a bit, and put his hands up as an offering of peace.

“Hey man, it wasn't anything personal. Just a prank,” he said, “you can use the dryer, and I'll lend you some clothes-”

His sentence was cut off when Phinks grabbed both sides of his head and twisted it completely around, the cracking of his broken neck ringing out in the empty alley.

The sight of Stu falling to the ground with his head facing the wrong way had the woman instantly sober up, and she looked to Phinks as she opened her mouth to scream.

Barely a whisper of sound was able to escape as he did the same thing to her, and now Phinks was standing half-naked in an alley with two dead bodies.

“Obnoxious fucking people,” he muttered to himself.

Then there was noise that came from behind him.

Phinks turned and saw the other guy who'd been at the gas station on the ground, his arms barely supporting himself as his eyes were wide at the sight of his friends dead before him.

His eyes widened even further when he spotted the spider on Phinks' ribs, clearly recognizing what it meant as he whispered “oh my god.”

Make that three bodies, Phinks thought to himself as he rushed forward to snap his neck as well.

Three bodies that he needed to get rid of. If anyone else from the party came out here and found them, the police would be called immediately. He had no intentions of staying here any longer, but it'd be best to put a bit of distance between himself and the crime scene before the police were inevitably called.

He was dragging the other guy by his ankles and in the process of collecting the woman's body when someone walked out into the alley through one of the other entrances. An older woman, who was definitely not from the party and had come from another house, carrying a bag of trash walked out in front of Phinks, and like the guy right before, her eyes grew wide as she saw the sight of the dead before her.

She made a move to run back to her house, but Phinks picked up a pebble that he infused with nen and launched it at her head. It traveled through her skull and the fencing beside her, and blood sprayed out from the exit wound and splattered onto the fence as well as she fell to the ground.

This was turning into a goddamn mess, and after Phinks had thrown now four bodies over into a different backyard, he heard a voice calling out “mom?” from the direction that the woman with the trash bag had come from.

Fuck this. He needed to go.

When he returned to the backyard to retrieve his clothes, he found you on the patio. You were holding his jacket over the concrete, desperately trying to wring out the water that had soaked it completely. You were visibly shivering as you did so, with goosebumps running up your arms and your teeth chattering. He noticed his pants hanging off the fence that surrounded the patio, and while they weren't dry by any means, you had clearly done your best to get the water out of them. Meanwhile your own clothes laid in a soggy heap by your equally soaked bag.

You noticed him when he walked closer.

“I'm sorry,” you told him. You looked guilty for some reason.

“You didn't do it,” Phinks said, considerably calmer now.

“No. But I made a big deal about you getting in with me, and with Stu around I should've been paying attention. I'm really, really sorry.”

He was about to tell you to stop apologizing when he heard a shout coming from the direction of the alleyway.

Fuck. He forgot that he needed to leave.

Luckily you were the only one who noticed, as the rest of the party goers still had the doors and windows securely shut. He pulled on his pants and his sopping wet tank top, and the sensation of wearing those wet clothes was just as unpleasant as he had anticipated. At least his shoes were still dry.

You were still holding his jacket, looking confused as you looked off in the direction where you'd heard that voice. Phinks was about to just take it from you and leave, but when he looked you over again, he thought over the things you two had talked about, the things you had said and how you'd acted around him, and he came to a split second decision.

Grabbing your clothes and bag, he shoved them into your hands before he grabbed one of your arms and pulled you after him. You seemed startled, but you didn't question him as you were too surprised to think of anything to say. He led you out through the backyard and down to where he had parked his car, opening the passenger side door and pushing you inside. He then walked around to the driver's side, and within moments you both were speeding out of the neighborhood.

By the time he came to the highway there was a strong smell of pool chemicals that filled the car, and both of the front seats were slowly soaking up the excess water that dripped off of the two of you.

You seemed to be in a mild state of shock, as you had yet to say anything. You just sat in your still wet swimsuit looking rather confused while you still held onto the soaked clothing Phinks had forced onto you.

After a while you shuddered and finally spoke up.

“Do you think you could turn up the heat?” you asked him.

“Oh. Sure. Sorry.”

Phinks turned the heat up all the way, and after a few moments you seemed to relax a bit, though now you were glancing over at him while smiling nervously.

“Uh, so, there's a lot that I should probably be questioning,” you began, “but I'll start with if you knew why there was yelling?”

Should he lie? No, that might be weird if he pretended not to know.

“I punched that guy in the face. I think I broke his nose,” he told you, “that was likely his friend after he saw him.”

“Ah. Okay,” you said, “that's..... Not very good, but I think I get why you did that. You're gonna get charged with assault, though.”

Fat chance.

“I'll deal with that when I come to that,” he answered, “sorry if I put you in a tough position.”

“It's okay. Well, not really. But Stu's pranks have always been pretty bad and what he did was shitty, so I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Think you can forgive me?”

“... Yeah, I think so. Just promise you won't do anything like that again.”

“I promise.”

“Okay,” you said as you nodded, “so second question: where are we going?”

“.... Not sure. Didn't have much of a plan besides getting out of there and going back to what I was doing,” Phinks admitted.

“So you're just back to driving around going wherever?”

“Seems like it.”

“Why did you bring me along?” you asked.

“.... Didn't want that to be the last time I saw you,” he said.

“Oh.....”

His answer ended up making you flustered again, and while you did seem to be holding some reservations about him with his admission of violence and the fact that he really had just kidnapped you, he could see you rationalizing everything in your mind and convincing yourself that this wasn't all that bad.

It was preferable if you did that. It made taking you with him a lot easier.

“Luckily for me I don't work tomorrow,” you said, “and since the day after that is Sunday and the campus store isn't open then, I also have that day off. So I think it's okay if I drive around with you for a bit. Just get me back by Sunday night, alright?”

“Don't worry. I'll get you back safe and sound,” he told you, and you visibly relaxed at his words.

You were a little naive, a little too trusting. But that was fine. Phinks liked that about you.

“Okay so third question,” you announced as you looked down at the wet clothes in your lap, “what should we do about this?”

“Right. Let me pull over.”

He stopped the car beneath a streetlight, and you sat sideways on the passengers seat while you held the clothes out of the car and wrung the water out of them as best you could. Phinks took the opportunity to change after you handed him his jacket, and he threw the mostly damp clothes in the backseat.

Glancing over at you, he did appreciate how much your swimsuit showed off while you tried to dry out your own clothes. But while he liked the idea of you staying as you were for the rest of the trip, you probably wouldn't be as big of a fan of that. Going over to his trunk once more, he dug around through his bag before he found what he was looking for.

“I don't have anything that will fit you well,” Phinks said as he made his way over to you, “but this should cover you up.”

What he handed you was the long white robe he wore on occasion, usually for combat or missions.

You seemed a bit surprised when you saw it, but you accepted it gratefully. Your gaze went to the jeweled eye that hung near the neck of the garment, and he heard you mumble about it being pretty.

He wondered briefly what you might think of the snake headpiece he usually wore with it, but the time for that would come later as you were currently slipping his robe over your head.

“Thank you,” you told him again as you threw your clothing in the back as well.

Then your attention went to your bag, and you frowned.

“What's wrong?”

In response to his question, you tilted your bag to the side and water began to pour out of it.

“Ah.”

“How much do you wanna bet that my phone is dead?” you asked as you reached inside.

As was expected, your phone screen stayed black when you hit the power button, and you sighed.

“And that's phone number three that Stu has destroyed.”

“Don't worry. It won't happen again,” he told you.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

You tossed the now useless phone into your bag and looked back up to him as if to say “so what now?”

Phinks had an idea for that.

“Wanna go to a motel?”

“A motel? Wow, you sure know how to treat someone,” you said sarcastically.

“You really think I can get you into a nice hotel with you looking like that? You don't even have shoes,” he said.

“I didn't get a chance to grab them,” you responded, though you seemed to concede a bit.

“Could we stop somewhere tomorrow so I can get shoes or something?”

“I'll buy you a whole new wardrobe if that's what you want.”

You laughed at that, shaking your head and saying that you didn't need that.

Before too long, Phinks was back in the drivers seat while you watched the streetlights as the car passed them by, your fingers idly playing with the jewel on his robes as you did so. He had turned down the heat and turned on the radio, and though it still felt strange to be sitting in the wet seats, it wasn't bothering either of you as much anymore. The smell from the pool was mostly gone after driving a bit with the windows opened just a crack.

Except for the occasional car that drove in the opposite direction, you were the only ones on the highway.

“How far are you gonna drive?” you eventually asked.

He wanted to get out of the state at least. Phinks didn't want to deal with a confrontation with the law while also taking you along with him. He wanted to get as far as he could while you were still cooperative, and whenever you realized that there was no chance he'd be taking you back, he'd go to more extreme measures of keeping you with him. Your phone being dead was a good thing for him; you wouldn't be able to try and get help as easily.

“I think we've passed by three or four motels already,” you added, “was there something wrong with them?”

“No. Sorry. I got a bit distracted,” Phinks replied, “I've come to really like the highway at night. There's something soothing about it, I guess. Wanted to stay like this for a bit longer.”

You nodded in response and looked back out the window, your fingers still playing with the jeweled eye.

“Can I borrow your phone at some point tomorrow? I need to call someone just so everyone back home knows I'm okay. Don't want them to worry,” you said to him.

“Sure,” he said.

Arguing with you over that would seem strange. He'd just need to avoid that subject tomorrow.

He noticed when you yawned.

“Getting tired?” he asked.

“A little,” you said, laughing a little as you added, “this wasn't how I was expecting my night to go.”

“Same here.”

“I hope you decide to stop soon. I might not be up for it tonight if you're planning on continuing where we left off at the pool when we reach that motel.”

“That's fine. We'll have all day tomorrow, right?”

His words made you embarrassed again, and you shyly answered with a yes as you smiled to yourself.

So that was the plan, then. Drive as far as he could tonight, fuck your brains out tomorrow, then get away further before you figured things out. You would likely object, not liking the idea of being taken away from everything you'd ever known. But he was certain that after spending enough time with him, you'd prefer it. Your current life wasn't any good, but he was prepared for you to not understand that at first. And if he needed to tie you up and shove you into the trunk to keep you compliant, he could do that. Seemed like a pretty fool-proof plan.

You were yawning again.

“Get some sleep if you need to,” he said, “I'll wake you up when I find a place I like.”

You nodded. Soon after he saw you settling back into the seat and closing your eyes as you attempted to get some rest.

He liked the sight of you next to him, sitting in his clothes while you nodded off in his car. And when he turned his attention back to the empty highway, he was once again hit with the feeling like he was the only one in the world. A feeling that only came with seeing an area that was typically full of people seem completely abandoned.

But this time, though, he wasn't alone.

#reader insert #yandere #yandere hxh #phinks x reader #yandere phinks #phinks magcub #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere x reader

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ilyasorokinn · 3 years

Note

You and Freddie just had a quarantine baby and then he left for the bubble. When the leafs return home he's all hand on deck, learning to take care of your little one and tend to you guys every needs and you can't get over how incredible he is with the little peanut.

STEPPING UP TO THE PLATE

important note: this takes place in toronto

“ANDERSEN ADVENTURES” SERIES MASTERLIST

tw: mentions of quarantine/covid, babies

elias andersen was a covid baby. he was born during quarantine. you wanted to keep him a secret from the world, so you didn’t post anything on the internet.

whenever you would make an instagram story, you would scan every inch of the photo to make sure you were in the clear.

if it somehow did get out, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but you just wanted it to be between you, Freddie, and your close friends and family.

when you found out you were pregnant, he would do everything for you. he would go out to get you food, make sure your drink wasn’t too hot, make sure you were comfortable.

when the season started back up again, he was very upset and didn’t want to leave, “do i have to go?”

“freddie, i know you love him, but i don’t need toronto to come after me,” you told him.

he pouted, and went back to packing his bag, “but he’s so cute.”

“i know.” you nodded, cradling elias to your chest, “freddie, you have to go. we’ll be here cheering you on,” you reassured him.

he sighed, looking down at elias, a frown on his face, “i know. i’m going.” he nodded, his eyes sad and still on your son.

“we’ll see you when you get home.” you smiled at him.

freddie picked up his suitcase, and walked behind you as you headed towards the front door, “i love you.” you told him.

“i love you, too.” he smiled, leaning down and kissing your forehead.

“and he loves you too.”

freddie leaned down, and pressed a soft kiss to elias’ head, “i love you too, little man.”

he slung his backpack over his shoulder and opened the door. he looked back at you, a sad and longing look in his eyes, “we’ll call and facetime every chance we get.” you reassured.

“i know.” he nodded, smiling at you once more, then walking out the door.

you watched every leafs game in bed, wearing your andersen jersey, and elias sleeping soundly most of the time.

after every game, you face timed him and told him he played well. you always ended it by blowing him a kiss and telling him you love him.

then the leafs lost and were sent home. freddie felt sort of relieved because it meant he could go home to see you and elias.

the moment the door was unlocked, he almost ripped the door off the hinges, “frederik andersen.” you reprimanded, “you cannot tear our house apart like that.”

“oh, you can be angry all you want later, but right now, we can celebrate me being home.” he beamed, practically running over to you, and squeezing you tight.

“you have no idea how much i missed you.” he let out a relieved sigh in your hair.

you laughed, hugging him back, “i think i have an idea.” you pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“so, where’s little eli?” he asked.

“he’s asleep upstairs. jasper won’t leave his side.” jasper, your dog, trotted down the stairs at the sound of the door opening.

“well, our knight in shining armor just did.” freddie joked, bending down to pet jasper, and greet him.

freddie had been home for a few weeks and was getting used to being home. elias was happy to have his dad home.

he took care of everything. he got up in the middle of the night to change diapers, fed him for every meal, was in charge of bath duty, everything.

you liked having time to yourself and found it sweet that he felt the need to do everything.

you watched as freddie fed elias his dinner of mashed-up peas and sweet potatoes, and smiled at the noises and faces he was making to encourage elias to eat.

“there you go.” freddie encouraged, “good job.” he flashed elias an over-exaggerated smile.

you smiled, taking another bite of your chicken, “what?” freddie asked, looking up at you.

“nothing. you’re just—you’re a really good dad, freddie.” you smiled.

freddie looked speechless, “you really think so?”

“of course i do. you got back, and you knew exactly what to do.” you told him.

he looked at you with tears in his eyes, “i love you.” he leaned over.

“i love you, too.” you leaned in, meeting his lips.

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 3 years

Text

@stargazingfangirl18 put a thought in my head and this is what is taking over.

Chris Evans Characters As Seasons Aesthetics

Spring-

Steve Rogers- I know many people would probably think of him more as summer, but in my mind he is spring time warmth and rebirth. I can see Steve stepping into the new sunlight warming the earth and soaking it into his tired body, the rays curling through his system to give him brand new life. A rebirth. There is always hope if someone is willing to believe in it.

Steve sat under the tent, downpour raining all around him. There was no real way to keep dry in the mix of rain and snow drizzling all around him. The ground beaten and muddy disaster as the troops marched through before he arrived. Everything to the eye was a desolate grey and brown, war ravaged everything that could be beautiful.

Except he found a struggling life, it unfurled in the sun trying its hardest to break through the last grip of winter. Tiny blossom straining to find the light, fighting beyond the mud to reach for hope. Steve could be patient, his pencils lead mimicking its movements onto paper with a patience he didn't normally have. You would drape over his shoulder, chin resting there while you scanned his work, humming softly how his talent made it truly come to life.

Summer-

Frank Adler- The epitome of late summer nights having a beer after a sweltering day. Hes speaks a bit of comfort laziness in the heat after a day of hard work staining the back of his shirt. I can see Frank easily slinging his arm around his partner, smiling to himself satisfied because life doesn't get better then seeing the sun set after a day well spent taking care of his family.

Heavy thuds of boots carried him across the dock till he reached the current project he was hired for. Swinging himself onto the deck, he reached for the part needing replacing, grease stained fingers tracing the part, a red rag pulled from his back pocked to swipe it over. Gleaming in the hot sun baring down above him.

Nearby was his reward after he finished this project. Cold six pack swimming in ice, the sweltering heat rolled droplets of sweat down his forehead and along the back of his neck to drench into his cotton tee. A shower tonight would be good, wash away the days work to circle the drain. After tucking in Mary, him and his cooler would sit out on the porch step and let all the days worried drain away, enjoying the moment of a day finished while you stepped between his thighs, tilting his head back to catch the wet droplets encasing his mouth.

Late Summer-

Ari Levinson- He speaks of golden rays and letting things go for a while. There is almost a lazy rush to accomplish what needs to be finished. Last minute get togethers bring people together, goals accomplished and settling into saying goodbye to the long days of summertime.

Coming up the beach, beads of water roll between his shoulder blades to be whisked away under the sun. Mornings were for preparations for later, the sunshine putting on a charade of easy times are still to be had. Its sneaky though, Ari knows as his hand runs along the auburn covering his cheek and along his chin.

The sun would leave sooner, encasing the dark enabling them to move, escape, and like the sun, time for him was running out. It was now a matter of days before it was all going to end. He knew it, you knew it. When you brushed up against his side, glancing up at him with question, he let his fingers skim your equally golden skin, the sun had been nothing but good to you. “Todays the day, now or never.”

Autumn-

Ransom Drysdale- He comes in with a cool breeze that will sting your lungs at first. Sharp snaps of long coats and scarves will swarm around him while he looks you up and down, his tone will have a bit of a bite, kind of like a cinnamon stick burning the tip of your tongue. Hes on the move, changing everything before him with a single touch. He can be a mix of ice coldness or hints of summer warmness.

Leaves crunched under his footfalls as he descended upon his families home, his hands curled in his pockets to keep the days chill from turning his fingertips red. The wind blew lapels of his coat slightly while he descended the stairs. He never hesitated with a pause at his grandfathers door. Sweeping in as if he belonged in the manor, this was his time, it was coming to him, he just knew it.

“Ransom...” A greeting from you curled warmly in his chest, fighting back the frigid chill his family brought. The rare moments Ransom would loosen his bite chill was with you, you became the soft warmth undertones that made him more tolerable to others.

Late Autumn-

Andy Barber- Rolling through in a way that cant be stopped, no matter how hard one tries. Ice edges the water and frost curls over in a finite way that you are left having to watch the ending coming. You can see life trying to hold on, dig deep and persevere, but hibernation is coming. I can see Andy, in his strive to continue with his everyday life having to witness it starting to shut down, sleep for a time to protect itself.

He sat there, clinks of ice in his glass melting and watering the liquor down till its bite no longer was satisfactory. He wanted that pain, it would match what he was dealing with every day. Tiredly he let it wash over him for a moment, a loss that sat in his chest while everything continued on without him.

You've seen him slip into these chilling spells, his eyes turning glassy at the memories and you would slide next to him, first your hand would slide up his back that made him quiver and then along the back of his head till you could turn him to look at you. Hollowed in that moment eyes bore into yours looking for forgiveness. A soft smile you would give him while you removed the glass from his trembling fingers and your lips would press to his while whispering. “Sleep Andy.”

Winter-

Curtis Everett- He matured in the darkness and cold, survived where death wanted to curl stiffly, sucking out anything that could possibly spark life. Sometimes things thrive in the harshest of elements, turning them to sharp edges and harsh truths about life. Not everyone survives. Sometimes his touch can and will be pain, searing ice to dance along your skin in furls of promise that if you survive, you to can battle the fiercest of elements. The light will be weak, filtered but its the connection to life.

Those he passed sank away from his path, not from fear but respect. Whispers would howl through the trains car much as the wind did in the weak places. It was a dark promise of revolt, of a war coming in the strive for survival. And it all followed this man, he was walking darkness to those that crossed him.

But you were the bit of light shining in his darkness, cool as he was, when his harsh hands softened around your face and tilting up to look at him, he found the reason not to let himself succumb to the harshest of elements. Rough fingertips softened for you, a intricate snowflake, one of a kind and the most beautiful made entirely from everything trying to encase life in a frozen memory. If he was not careful, you would cease to exist, forever just a moment.

#curtis everett #ransom drysdale #frank adler #ari levinson #steve rogers #amber writes #sweater writes #thoughts #randomness #andy barber #seasons

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oh-ranpo · 3 years

Text

mistletoe wishes.

pairing: owen joyner x reader an: this is the first in my little Christmas collection that I have ideas for, so I hope you enjoy it! please let me know what you think! if you want to be added to any of my tag lists, please let me know! word count: 3.7k+

The Christmas party was already well under way by the time you arrived. It had taken you over an hour to decide on which Christmas sweater you wanted to wear, as you had way too many, but you were happy to see that you weren’t the only one who was decked out in the holiday spirit as almost every single one of your friends were wearing an ugly sweater of some kind.

“Look who decided to show up,” a voice greeted you, and you grinned when you turned to see Charlie heading in your direction. He had a drink in his hand and a Santa hat on his head, so you knew that he was already having a good time.

“Sorry I’m late, my wardrobe decisions got the best of me,” you replied as he pulled you in for a hug, his hand holding his cup away from your body so as to not accidentally spill anything on you.

“Well, it looks like it paid off. That sweater is amazing,” Charlie complimented when he pulled away and he saw exactly which one you had picked out. “Owen is going to die when he sees it.”

You had gone with your festive Star Wars sweater that had Darth Vader on the front wearing a Santa hat similar to the one perched on Charlie’s head. The red and green font across the front read, “I find your lack of cheer disturbing”, and it was one that you had adored ever since your other friend, Owen, had bought it for you the year before.

“Is he here?” you asked, and Charlie nodded, the smile on his face growing as you both heard Owen’s voice fill the air.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine! I’ll just be hanging around the mistletoe waiting to be kissed.”

“I think he’s still a little bummed that he’s one of the few people here without a date,” Charlie chuckled, and you giggled yourself, despite your heart falling in your chest. You knew exactly how he felt as this was the first year in a couple that you were showing up to Christmas parties by yourself as well.

Your last boyfriend, Jake, had recently broken up with you in October just before Halloween. You had been devastated, as the two of you had already put together your coordinating costumes and you had been looking forward to the holiday season together. You were sure that, when he ended things, your holidays were going to be ruined, only to be proven wrong when Owen had shown up at your apartment that Halloween in his bright yellow jacket and short shorts, ready to pull you out of your own personal misery. Surprisingly, it had worked, and now you knew that you owed him a holiday saving grace.

“I guess I’m gonna go find him,” you told Charlie a few seconds later, and he nodded as you assumed that he went to find the girl that he had been talking to for the last few weeks that he had brought along as his date for the night.

It didn’t take you long to find Owen, as you headed down the hallway in the direction that you had heard his voice. The familiar blonde was leaning against the wall, his phone in his hands as his finger swiped across the screen, seemingly lost in his own little world.

“That doesn’t look like mistletoe to me,” you teased, as you referred back to his previously shouted words, and Owen looked up at the sound of your voice.

“Yeah, well, I needed to say something to help myself feel better in the midst of this little Christmas love-fest,” he replied sarcastically, as his eyes trailed down to your sweater. A smile immediately formed on his lips as he pushed himself away from the wall and slid his phone into his pocket. “Wow, what a great sweater. Whoever picked that out must have great taste.” He was teasing now, and your heart lifted as it seemed that whatever little mood Owen had been in was starting to dissipate.

“I know, I’m quite the sweater connoisseur if I say so myself,” you teased back, and Owen rolled his eyes playfully.

“Right, cause you picked it out,” he drawled and you grinned even more.

“I did actually. Just a few minutes ago.” This earned another eye roll from your friend before he gestured back the way you had come.

“Did you want to get a drink?” he asked, and you nodded eagerly. Your first mission had been to find him, and now that you had, you were ready for a drink.

The two of you headed towards the kitchen while Owen started ranting at the lack of single people that had shown up to this particular party.

“I know it’s like, cuffing season or whatever, but come on. Does everyone have to be in a relationship?” he groaned as he leaned against the kitchen counter while you poured yourself some punch. You were thankful in that moment that he couldn’t see the look on your face, as your back was to him, because you were sure that there had been a quick flash of hurt that had formed on your features at his words. It wasn’t like you didn’t agree, but it was a painful reminder that you were also newly single, and you were one of the few that was spending the best holiday, in your opinion, alone.

“Come on, it can’t be that bad,” you replied when you turned around after regaining your composure. Owen had a red cup in his hands now that you knew was filled with the same liquid that was in yours, but he didn’t seem to pay it any attention as his eyes scanned the room. There were a few people hanging around, but they were all so engrossed in the conversations they were having with their dates that none of them seemed to notice either one of you.

“I mean, it’s fine, obviously. Like, good for them. But you can’t blame a guy for hoping for a romantic Christmas miracle.” There was a flash of something in his bright blue eyes when he looked over at you, but before you could place it, it was gone.

“Romantic, eh? Oh, Owen, I didn’t know you were into stuff like that,” you teased, and the corners of his lips turned up slightly as he finally lifted his cup so that he could take a small drink.

“A guy can dream sometimes. I blame the holiday atmosphere,” he responded coolly, and you nodded as you tried to quell the racing of your heart with a sip of your own punch. The feeling was one you had been experiencing a lot since Halloween night, primarily when you were in Owen’s presence, but you pushed it aside and ignored it, just as you had been for the last several weeks.

Eventually, the two of you moved into the living room where most of the rest of your friends seemed to be, and you took the next few minutes walking around and saying hello. You didn’t miss how Owen stayed close behind, though you were sure his reasoning for it was because you were one of the only other single people around, and he didn’t want to get stuck with a big group of couples where he had to pretend like he didn’t feel incredibly awkward being alone.

“Oh my god, look at you!” Savannah cooed when she saw you. “And look at your sweater! Wait, is that the one Owen got you last year?” When you nodded, a small gasp slipped from her lips as she grabbed your hand and quickly pulled you to the other side of the room, away from everyone else. The movement startled you, and the wild look in her eyes made you nervous.

“What are we doing?” you asked apprehensively, just as Savannah spun back around to face you.

“Is there something going on with you and Owen?” The question caught you off guard, but also made your heart clench at the same time.

“No? Why would you say that?” you asked, and Savannah gave you a pointed look. You had no idea where all of this was coming from, and it seemed like a stretch to say that it was caused simply by your choice in sweaters for the evening. It wasn’t like it was the first time you had worn it out.

“Ever since Halloween, the two of you have seemed… different. I mean, I always thought that Owen had a thing for you, but Jake was always there. But now that he’s out of the picture-“

“Wait,” you interrupted, your hand coming up to stop her. “What do you mean, you always thought Owen had a thing for me?” Your heart was racing again, and when Savannah gave you a sympathetic look, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder to try to find the boy in question.

Owen was standing a few feet away, talking with Charlie and Charlie’s date, but the second your eyes landed on him, his eyes lifted to meet yours. It was as if he could feel you looking, and a smile immediately blossomed across his features just before you turned away.

“See, things like that! He’s always looked at you with literal heart eyes, and I was sure as soon as Jake broke up with you, he was going to make his move. I think he’s just been hesitant because he doesn’t want to rush you.”

You couldn’t believe what Savannah was saying. You and Owen had been friends for a while now, and there was never a time where you thought he might like you. Sure, the two of you had grown quite close, but you just thought that your friendship was special. When he came to cheer you up, he was just being a good best friend. There were no other emotional motives, right? No, there couldn’t be.

“Savannah, I think you’re reading a little too much into our friendship,” you sighed, as you tried to reason with both yourself and her. “Owen doesn’t like me like that.”

“But how do you feel about him?” she pressed, and that was the topic of conversation you really didn’t want to reach. While, before Halloween, you had never seen Owen as anything other than your closest friend, recently you had started seeing him differently. It all started with the fluttering in your chest when he was around, and slowly it had progressed more and more, but you had gotten quite good at suppressing it. You thought, at first, that it was just because you were lonely after having been in a relationship for over two years. But now, as the feelings grew, you weren’t so sure that could be to blame any longer.

“We’re just friends.”

It was clearly not the response Savannah was looking for, but just before she could protest further, she glanced over her shoulder, and another smirk formed on her lips.

“Hey, what are you guys talking about over here? I hope it’s more interesting than what Charlie and his date are carrying on about.” Owen’s voice made your heart stop, and when you felt his arm brush against yours, you did your best to hide your immediate emotional reaction.

“I was actually just about to go and get another drink. I’ll catch up with you guys soon,” Savannah told him before giving you a quick wink and walking off. You and her were going to have to have a serious conversation about subtlety later on.

“What was that about?” Owen asked, as you turned your attention to him.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” you replied quietly, before lifting your cup to your lips once more. You hated that you felt a little weird standing alone with Owen now, and you did your best to shake the conversation you had just had from your mind. “Did you want to maybe go find a game to play?”

“I thought you would never ask,” Owen responded brightly, and you couldn’t help but smile as you both went in search of something to entertain yourselves.

There were several different games that were being played throughout the house, but eventually, you and Owen found a game of charades that you were able to insert yourselves into. Anytime you had played this game, it had always been with Owen because Jake thought that it was stupid. More times than not, you and Owen won, and it had become an almost unsaid rule that you would be partners anytime you played.

“This isn’t fair,” Tori groaned as you jumped from your seat on the couch in victory when you and Owen won. “It’s like you two can read each other’s minds.”

You grinned as Owen lifted you from your feet and spun you around quickly in a tight hug before setting you down, his arm remaining wrapped around your waist as he turned to face his friend.

“You just wish you had a connection like us,” he taunted, and even though you knew that he was just being cocky, you still felt another pull in your chest as you slowly moved out of his embrace. He didn’t seem to notice what you were doing, which you were grateful for, as you didn’t move too far out of his reach for it to be obvious.

“We’re just really good at being on the same wavelength with these things,” you added, and Tori gave you a look that was similar to the one that Savannah had given you earlier in the night.

“Clearly not all things,” you heard her murmur, but you didn’t ask for her to elaborate because you were sure that you could already guess what she meant.

“I’m not really ready to go watch everyone be all couple-y again just yet. Did you maybe just want to… walk around?” Owen asked when the rest of the charades group started to disperse. You nodded, though you weren’t sure where exactly you were going to walk as the house wasn’t that big, and it was too cold outside to walk around out there. However, Owen reached out to take your hand as he guided you back down the hallway, away from everyone else, and you didn’t pull away as you followed him.

“You know, I thought this party was going to be a drag as one of the few single people here, but it’s actually been quite fun,” Owen mused as you walked through the hallway. You nodded as you looked up at him, your fingers still laced with his.

“You’re welcome,” you joked, and when he looked down at you, he laughed.

“I mean, obviously I’m having a good time because you’re here. We just hadn’t talked about the party or anything, so I didn’t know… I wasn’t sure…”

“Wasn’t sure of what?” you asked, as his voice trailed off and he seemed to get lost in his thoughts. Owen’s gaze was fixed on the floor in front of him while he walked, and he didn’t look back at you when he spoke again.

“I wasn’t sure if you would find someone else you could bring so you wouldn’t feel lonely too.”

Your heart jumped in your chest, as you let your eyes scan across the various pictures on the wall as you passed.

“And who in the world would I bring on such short notice? It’s not like I’ve been hanging out with anyone since Jake broke up with me. No one but you, anyways,” you replied, and it took half a second after the words came out of your mouth for you to realize how bad it sounded. “Which I’ve loved, of course. I love spending time with you.”

Owen slowed to a stop in the doorway for the stairs that led to the basement as he dropped your hand and lifted his to rub the back of his neck nervously.

“Actually, about that…” he started, but before he could continue any further, there was a gasp from behind you, and when you both turned to see what was wrong, you were surprised to see Savannah at the end of the hall, a wide smile on her lips.

“What’s going on?” you asked nervously, but instead of responding with words, Savannah just pointed above your head. You and Owen both looked up at the same time, and your stomach rolled when you saw the familiar green plant dangling from the doorway above you.

“Mistletoe,” you whispered, and Owen inhaled sharply from next to you. You hadn’t actually thought that anyone would have put up mistletoe, as it was incredibly cliché, but it was also no surprise that since they did, it would be over a high traffic area like this particular doorway. You hadn’t known about it, and it was clear that Owen didn’t know about it, and now, you felt stuck.

“Umm,” Owen started again, and you looked up at him to see that his cheeks were flooded pink, and you were sure there was embarrassment and awkwardness written all over your face.

“We don’t have to do this,” you replied quickly. “We can just pretend like we never saw it.” When you glanced back down the hall, you saw that Savannah was gone, which was also surprising given that you were sure she would have loved to witness this particular moment, even though you weren’t sure which way it was going to go. It was probably for the best that you didn’t have any kind of audience when you had your heart broken in the middle of a Christmas party.

“I mean, it is tradition,” Owen spoke up a moment later, and you gave him a quizzical look. “I mean, this isn’t how I really saw this happening, but now that we’re here…” His words only confused you more as you tried to piece together exactly what was happening.

“How you saw what happening? Getting a kiss under the mistletoe? Of course, I’m sure it wasn’t with me,” you laughed half-heartedly, and the small smile on Owen’s face quickly disappeared as his blue eyes bore into yours.

“That’s not what I meant,” he insisted, his voice serious now as he took a half-step closer to you. “You’re the only person I could ever imagine wanting to kiss under the mistletoe.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the look he was giving you now, and you found it hard to formulate a response. You had no idea what was happening, and even though Savannah had insisted there was something that Owen felt for you, you hadn’t really allowed yourself to believe it. However, if you truly had heard his words correctly, maybe you were the wrong one.

“I, I don’t understand,” you replied lamely, and Owen’s hand reached out for yours once more, this time more hesitantly than the first. You could see the conflict in his eyes, and while you were hopelessly confused, you could make this emotion out better than the rest. He was nervous.

“You know that I would never, ever want to do anything to ruin the friendship that we have. But, I’ve pretended like I don’t have feelings for you since the first day we hung out, and I gotta be honest, kissing you here, right now, would possibly make me the happiest I’ve ever been.”

You didn’t know what to say. Savannah had been right. You thought that you were so good at reading him, and yet you had missed the mark completely on how your own best friend felt about you. Sure, he was an actor and you were sure that he was great at hiding his feelings, but you felt quite dumb that you hadn’t noticed before. Not that it would have mattered then. But it sure mattered now.

There were a few, long seconds that passed between you as his confession hung in the air before you made your next move. He was waiting for you to make the call on what happened next, and instead of spilling your heart to him with words, you leaned up onto your tiptoes, curled your free hand around the back of his neck, and pressed your lips tenderly against his.

You could feel him kiss you back immediately, and his free arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him as you smiled against his lips. It felt perfect, though incredibly cliché, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Owen had been the one that had always been there for you. He had been the one to cheer you up after your first heartbreak, and he had been the one to stitch the pieces of your heart back together. The connection you shared was deeper than friendship, and you saw that now. You could feel it pass between you as your kisses continued, and even when he pulled away to rest his forehead against your own.

“For the record, you make me the happiest I’ve ever been as well,” you whispered, causing an even bigger smile to form on Owen’s features.

“Maybe coming to the Christmas party alone wasn’t such a bad idea after all,” he mused, and you giggled as you buried your face in his neck. “Even better, now I don’t have to leave that way.”

Butterflies raged in your stomach as he kissed you again, but then a few seconds later, the sounds of someone clearing their throat behind you caused you to jump. Both you and Owen turned to see who had just walked into your moment, and you were greeted, once again, by Savannah’s smiling face.

“Just friends, huh?” She asked simply as she slipped past you, and you hid your face in Owen’s shoulder. You could feel him look down at you and then back at your friend, but he didn’t say anything as the blonde disappeared down the stairs.

When you looked back up at Owen, he was smiling down at you, and your heart skipped in your chest as you immediately smiled back.

“What do you want to do now?” You asked, and Owen pulled you closer with the arm he had wrapped around your waist before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“We can do whatever you want. I already got my Christmas miracle. I’m good to go.”

tag list: @alexpjoyner, @crybabyddl

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creativeashproductions · 4 years

Text

Reluctant Vacation // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: The niece of the infamous Kenny Ortega had its advantages and disadvantages, you received insight on his projects but felt guilty saying no. Kenny seeing the exhaustion pulling you down invites to the set of Julie and the Phantoms where you rediscover your love with the field.

Warning: Swearing and fluff.

Words 2.2k

A/N: I do take requests. It may take a bit to get to them but I’ll post some.

Please ask to be tagged in my inbox because I can’t promise you will be through commenting on the posts!

Masterlist

The sigh came from deep in your chest wanting to drop to the floor for an exhaustion induced nap, but an airport wasn’t the best place. Large sunglasses obscured people from seeing the deep bags under your eyes on the way to the film lot. It was coming full circle, the change different from the frantic schedule you had had recently. When Kenny called you hadn’t hesitated in packing and buying a ticket.

“Miss Y/L/N?” The voice pulled you from your thoughts as a man holding a card with your name displayed. He was of Puerto Rican descendent with a young girl beside him with similar features, “I’m Ricardo. This is my daughter Madison.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m-“

“Y/N Y/L/N.” Madison supplied with a beaming grin on her face having recognized you from your role as Sabrina in The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina along with movies.

All you could do was send a fragile smile in response after a long sleepless flight to Canada.

Madison’s eyes saddened at the exhaustion you carried, “I can fangirl later. You looked really tired.”

“Kenny saw and asked me to come over the guise of help, but he knows I need a break. He’s lucky I don’t need to be on set for a few weeks.” You replied, covering a yawn as you found yourself at a car, the walk a blur.

Unintentionally you found yourself asleep in the backseat the moment you settled back there for the drive. You had filmed in Vancouver before, so it wasn’t a huge deal, and the Reyes’ duo didn’t have the heart to wake you up.

“We’re here,” Madison whispered with the back-car door opened. Your eyelids fluttering at her voice, giving Madison a closer look at your face.

Walking on set, you saw Kenny giving one of his pep talks before he cut himself off at the sight of you. The actors surrounding him furrowed their brows as the legendary director power walked to a person concealed behind Mads.

“Sweetheart.” Kenny beamed, pulling his niece in for a hug before leaning back to scan her features, “You need a nap.”

“I need to meet your new cast.” You snickered stepping around the man to the three actors he had abandoned to see you. You found amusement in their widening eyes at the sight of the Y/N walking to them.

“Oh, my shit.” Owen gasped freaking out as the actress co-starring in the new Spider-Man trilogy came closer.

Last night Owen, Charlie and Jeremy had hosted a movie night in the rented apartment the first two rented. They had quickly made their way through Captain America: Civil War before watching the following movies with Spider-Man. You had a cameo in Captain America: Civil War before becoming a star in Homecoming and Far From Home.

“We manifested her.” Charlie hissed frantically fixing his set costume growing a blush at the smile you wore. He could feel the hair stylist on standby glaring at his tousled locks.

The girl in question came to a stop before the three guys portraying the phantoms of the show in the second season. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the expressions each one of them had.

“Hello.” You greeted flattered when the tall blonde one turned a blossom pink at the voice of an angel. Charlie and Owen had developed celebrity crushes on you.

In revenge, Tori, a returning choreographer and background character, saw Charlie’s expression along with a familiar girl. After filming season one ended the previous year you had stopped by during the filming process of CAOS to catch up with Kenny. Tori had been there and you two became friends.

“Hey!” Tori grinned, pulling you into a hug, “These three binged your MCU movies last night, and Charlie’s wallpaper is you.”

“Tori!”

“This is what you get for telling Booboo about the poster!” Tori called to the Canadian boy jogging out his area. Charlie’s cheek darkened more than Owen’s as your smile grew bigger.

“No worries Ghost. Luke definitely my favourite character and gotta say you should have been on Charmed more than two episodes.” You supplied walking backwards to Kenny once more yearning for a night’s rest after the flight.

“Holy shit.” Charlie choked smacking Jeremy’s arm repeatedly, “She knows me. Oh, oh, OH. She’s seen me-“

“-Getting it on for a scene.” Jeremy snickered as his friend grew more and more flustered, “That was tame compared to her and Tom going at it.”

Charlie’s face dropped being reminded of the explicit scene you had done with Tom Holland in the movie that came out near the end of 2020. The Devil All the Time was the only film out of the MCU you had done with Tom. You had played the promiscuous daughter of a devout, loyal churchgoer and close friend of the preacher.

“Didn’t they date for a few months?” Owen questioned thinking back to the media mayhem during the virtual press for the film.

Owen was correct with the chemistry between you and Tom it was natural you would do interviews together via shared video chats. Charlie watched every single one that came out with interest. He hadn’t even expected the film to do so dark and explicit, but you had a natural talent.

“English, handsome, actor-“ Charlie started to list off on the English actor with a far more extensive list of credits. Charlie felt like a Canadian child in the city of Los Angeles compared to your leading man.

“-runs a charity with his family.” Jeremy continued raising one eyebrow, “At least he isn’t tall. You’d be fully screwed.”

Charlie shoved his teasing friends away with a smirk of his own as the trio continued on to the film. Charlie put his feelings on the back burner to focus on the storyline and emotions of the scene.

“Spider-Man Three baby!” The English accent shouted from the phone with only an ocean separating the two actors. Tom hadn’t even greeted you before screaming at the news you both received; despite the scripts from a few weeks prior the sequel had fully been greenlighted

Your head tossed back at the childlike glee on the older adult, clearly displaying the two years really mean he was two years old. After meeting on the set of Civil War along with Harrison, you had become friends. Followed with the following MCU appearances, it had been a surprise to be cast in Devil All the Time.

“Insane.” You started making your way through the set to where Kenny had texted you from. It was closing to the end of your vacation.

In the few weeks, you had reconnected with Tori on her breaks along with becoming good friends with the cast members. Something clicked between you and the core four of the show even if Madison sometimes still got starstruck.

“Did you read the script?” Tom questioned quirking his infamous eyebrow his fans wholly adored. You found it amusing, to be honest, that every character he portrayed had the same eyebrow.

“Not fully. I’m surrounded by people, and unlike you, I prefer not to jeopardize my career with marvel.” You teased glancing up as Charlie and Owen made their way over, “I’ll be flying out in a few days for filming.”

Tom nodded his head, “I got get back. Jacob and Haz are visiting. Remember to film the announcement! Bye Love!”

You gave a thumbs up before Tom ended the facetime glancing up at the duo who each raised their eyebrows. Charlie’s mask nearly breaking at Tom’s goodbye. Charlie could feel the cover of his feelings falling more and more each day.

“Announcement?” Owen questioned, slipping his jacket on over his shoulders having changed from his Alex outfit.

“Nothing.” You waved it off, starting to walk backwards with a smile that Charlie thought made your eyes shine brighter than stars.

The boys followed behind on the walk to the house Jeremy and Carolynn had decided to rent during filming. You had been crashing there as Jeremy didn’t want Carolynn to be alone with his filming schedule. It also gave the perfect place for your plan. Last few nights you had binged the marvel movies again ending with Far From Home.

The living room was decked out by Carolynn with your help from earlier as she was the only know that knew. Everyone settled in the living room with Mr Reyes there as well who had quickly become a father figure to you.

“So, I wanted everyone here for a reason. I’m sure you’ve noticed I’ve been reading a script and I have something to open.” You started thanking Jeremy as he brought in the package, he had no clue of the contents, “Now nobody says any spoilers for season two.”

You turned on the camera Paul Becker had supplied with a small smile having already filmed the opening sequence. You sat on the floor in the camera shot, opening the big box to hand out the smaller boxes to your friends. Charlie, Owen, Jeremy, Madison, Savannah, Booboo and every else glanced at the non-descript red box.

“Open them.” You urged grinning as the room went silent except for the tape ripping off the packages.

In each individual box was marvel themed candy, a plushie of Spider-Man along with signed cards from the Avengers actors and the MCU Spider-Man cast. At the very bottom, all it said was to look up at you. Instead of facing them with their looks of shock, you addressed the camera.

“Tom and I are so incredibly happy to announce that Spider-Man 3 is in the beginning process of filming.” You beamed at the camera listening to the intense noise of your friends screaming, “we can’t reveal anything else about the film, but the script is immaculate as usual. You’ll get to see Harper on the screen once more.”

“WHAT!” The collective scream behind you came as you waited a second before ending the video. You’d have to replay it before sending to marvel for the finishing touches with Tom’s version and then you could post it on Instagram.

“Surprise!” You spoke to the group behind you all in states of excitement, “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to tell you guys! I got the script a few days before I came.”

“Holy shit.” Owen spoke, laughing at he shook his head, “You managed to get autographs from fucking Iron Man himself.”

“I got connections.” You snorted meeting the gaze of Charlie, “Nah, Downey’s kids came for a visit, and I kept them company. Downey offered to do anything, and I took the favour.”

The surprise wore off as the group mingled, but Charlie’s eyes stayed pinned to your form as you sent a message to Tom. Locking your phone to noticed his eyes.

“Hey Charlie.” You smiled, sitting on the couch next to him. His expressive eyes showing a silver screen of emotions you couldn’t quite decipher.

The corner of his mouth tilted up in response to the way his name rolled off your tongue, sending his heart stuttering. A cold sweat appearing when you grasped his hand in yours in a confident manner.

“So, you leave soon?” Charlie murmured moving closer to hear you among the chatter of the group. Your lips turned down for a split second as you felt the sadness of leaving.

It was refreshing to be on set without the demands of makeup, costumes, filming and choreography. To see the action and magic but not be part of it was a definite change you had needed desperately. But to leave Charlie hurt.

“My call time is in three days. Need to get ready to bring Harper Osbourne back to the big screen.” You replied, loosening your grip on his hand, “I don’t really want to go back. I’m gonna miss you…and everyone else of course.”

Unaware to the eyes watching in anticipation you and Charlie conversed further on the upcoming months. To the great disappointment of the house began to clear out, Owen for an early call time. Savannah was meeting with her brother, and Mr Reyes was taking Madison home.

It left Jeremy and Carolynn to retire to their bedroom while you stayed on the couch with Charlie for longer. The emotions building from the prior weeks, bubbling to the surface. Hearts thudding in their chest Charlie leaned in glancing at your lips; yours glancing at his.

Who moved first couldn’t be known, but as your lips brushed together just barely you felt grounded and peaceful. If he leaned closer, you wonder what the kiss would make you feel.

“I’d like to kiss you.” Charlie murmured startled at the confidence he had gained, “But before I do. Do you have something with Tom?”

“Other than onscreen chemistry? Absolutely nothing.” You spoke barely louder than a whisper to the boy that had become so much more than some actor.

He was Charlie. The goofy boy that put a smile on anyone’s face with an impromptu concert in the middle of a crowded street. He lived life to the fullest without any regrets. He was passionate about his work, music and the environment.

Those thoughts evaporated when lips met another pair of lips in what might be described as the best kiss ever. No fireworks felt as Wattpad would say, but instead, it was the heady warmth of hot chocolate on a cold day; a warm shower after a long stressful day. It was home and perfect.

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#charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie #jatp fanfic #luke patterson imagines #caitsy and ash productions

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toraashi · 3 years

Text

‘tis the damn season (ft. oikawa tooru)

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: angst, fluff, implications of sex (there’s no sexual dialogue, the most explicit it gets is i use the word “whimper” once but theres not even graphic descriptions like i rate this PG-13), a couple swears

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: part two to this fic. Oikawa visits for the holidays after leaving for Argentina years ago. Catching up with his old flame brings back memories and reminds him of a love lost

Author’s Note: this is inspired by ‘tis the damn season by Taylor Swift. It’s so good, please listen to it, it’ll add so much to the story because I reference it lots :) also i’m dedicating this to @hikariakaashi bc she agreed to be my valentine this year hehe 🥰 also @u-make-my-heart-tsumtsum thank you for hyping this up in the discord :))

“the road not taken looks real good now, and it always leads to you.”

"Hey, it's Tooru. I'm in town for the holidays. I'd like to see you."

The sound of his voice as the audio repeated left an unpleasant feeling in his chest. It burned like longing but twisted and lurched like nervosity, a sensation he pretended he wasn't familiar with. Oikawa wasn't a nervous person. He was a confident, suave man with the world in his hands, but for some reason, leaving a voicemail for someone this dear to him, who could see through him like glass, left a slight tremble in his fingers.

The ding of his phone startled him, muscles growing taut.

10:36am

It's been so long! I'd love to see you. Would 4 at that old coffee shop work?

received

Holy shit.

It was almost embarrassing how his breath caught and his heart stuttered. It had been years, but yet here he was, hooked in with every word.

10:40am

I'll make it work

sent

10:42am

That's a first ;) i'll see you then

received

The coffee shop hadn't changed much since he'd last been. The walls were still straining with the wooden roof's weight, the floor still comprised of creaky floorboards that screeched at each drag of a chair. Sparkling red and green lights decked the rafters, hanging low and casting unique shadows across the residents. The lobby was relatively empty, and he was seated quickly at a metal table near the window. The round teapoy rocked on uneven legs when he put his arms on it, but nostalgia made up for the shoddy furniture quality. The poignant smells and whispers of piano music wafted over him like a tender memory, leaving him with visions of your sunrise smile and golden touch breezing over his fingertips. Content was the next emotion that settled over him, but before he could melt too far into it, the bell on the door jingled. Chilly winter air rushed through his hair, waking him up from the dream that was the last few years and bringing him back home. In the blink of an eye, a familiar arm was pulling at the seat in front of him. It took his brain far too long to process the rosy cheeks and snow-dusted hair before him, but once he did, an infectious grin tugged at his lips.

"Long time, no see." Your gaze was cautious and guarded, and it burned holes in his euphoria.

"Long time, no see," you repeated with a light smile, "How have you been?"

"Ah, you know, just capturing the hearts of every person in Argentina, how are you?" That earned him a tinkling laugh, and his heart beamed at the reward.

"I'm doing okay, just living my life." You greeted the waitress, plainly speaking your order, pausing to glance at him before ordering his old favorite. Honey hues glittered with unspoken fondness when you caught his gaze; he couldn't help it.

"You remembered my order. I feel special."

"Shut up. You are special, Mr. Pro Volleyball Player." You teased, inching your fingertips towards him on the table. It wasn't enough to be wanton, but he noticed, and he couldn't help but reciprocate. Eyes flicking to his hands and back up, that cautious glaze returned. "So, are you staying in town?" A warm hum in affirmation thrummed in his throat.

"I'm staying at my parents' house."

"For how long?" The words seemed full, but he wasn't sure with what.

"Just the weekend." He held your gaze like a taut string tugging you closer and closer. The air felt heavy, and his heart ached with a longing he'd suppressed for years. You opened your mouth to speak, but before anything came out, he interjected boldly. After all, what was he, if not bold? "I got your letter." Hues big and lips parted, a pink flush climbed your cheeks. If he was the same person he was years ago, he would've teased you, but now? With his heart on his sleeve and your eyes staring into his soul, how could he muster that courage up?

"And?" The single word was meek and tentative, fragile like the little bird of your unyielding love.

"Well, for one, your attempt at scratching out the last line wasn't great." There was the teasing. He couldn't hold it back for long.

"Shut up." You shied away from his crinkled eyes, pinker than you were when you stumbled in. God, he missed this.

"I won't." He drawled, closing the narrow distance between your fingertips and enveloping your hands like it didn't electrify his nerves. "And for the record, I missed you too."

"Did you?" He rubbed a calloused finger across your knuckles, holding your eyes confidently.

"How could I not miss that pretty face?"

"Stop teasing." You pouted.

"I'm not." Pensively, you stared back at him, and he admired the furrow of your eyebrows, the puff of your pouted cheeks. Your smaller hands were quaking in his, and just as he considered laying off, you spoke a conglomeration of words that shuddered up his spine.

"Would you like to stay at mine for the night? We can catch up more? I don't want to leave you just yet." A genuine smile simmered up his lips, and he linked his fingers between yours.

"You know I can't say no to you."

"Didn't seem like it when you left." The magic in his chest faltered at the blow, but the regret was evident in your expression. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I know it was about more than me." he hummed, the affectionate graze of his thumb against your knuckles resuming.

The conversation felt much too short, every move you made clenching his heart, brimming it with innocent nostalgia and longing. Before long, you were tugging him out the door, leading him to your apartment in a movie-worthy montage. The silver moonlight caught your hair like silk, your gossamer grip on his wrist balmy and familiar.

"My, you're eager." When you glanced back, your eyes sparkled like the sequins on your prom getup from so many years ago.

"Is it stupid that I missed you so much?" The way his heart caught in his throat was almost painful. Chest aching, he concluded that this was what happiness felt like, a hummingbird flutter he'd never find in the falsities of fame. You, who knew him like the muddy road to your secret high-school hangout spot, looked ethereal beneath the moon's knowing smile. As you approached the door, he couldn't help but dip his toes into the subdued desire he'd grown to ignore.

Your chest pressing into his, your back to the door, his fingertips firm against your waist, and finally, the brush of your reposeful kiss against his needy lips, it left him with frantic desperation clawing up his body. You broke away with a similar gleam tucked into your gaze like a secret just for him. Swinging the door open and fumbling with your jacket, you found your place in his arms again, a mutual craving for a love that was cut so short.

He did many things that night he'd only remembered in dreams, his frame pressing your familiar figure into the bed, lips tracing every line of your silhouette, the dips and curves in your skin, sealing each forgotten memory in an envelope for him to read later. Just for tonight, he'd bask in your entirety, the glow of your smile, the whimpers that spilled past your pretty lips, everything that was purely you. When everything was done and gone, the flaxen glow of your lamplight flickering out, you pulled him into your arms, twirling the chocolate strands of his hair, breathing in his adoration, your own lulling him into a long-awaited, dream-filled slumber. He dreamed of his past self getting lost in the empty arms of another, the void carved out by your existence impossible to fill. He dreamed of the life he'd lead if he'd remained in your embrace, waking up to you every morning instead of cold sheets.

He awoke with the December sun, your bare skin blinding in the morning's glow. Glancing at the red numbers on your nightstand, he stretched his arms. It was almost ten, but the warmth of your body reeled him back in like a fishing pole, his mouth splattering kisses across your visage like freckles. Swelling with delight, he collected you into his arms, setter's fingers revisiting the map he drew on your body like the ink was still drying, greeting you with a grin as your eyes lolled open.

"Morning, babe." Oikawa scanned the love-struck expression painting your features, the scrunch of your nose, the quirk of your lips; he inhaled it like it was his last breath, coming to terms with the time and its draining sand. Raising a lone finger, he followed the shape of your jawline, locking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Sleep well?" You neglected to respond, searching his gaze.

"If this is the last time I ever see you, I want you to know that I've always loved you, and I won't ask you to stay." The last grain of sand in the hourglass tumbled through the glass gap, the alarm clock on your nightstand beeping abruptly, stealing Oikawa's breath.

And as he looked upon your effervescent figure, shattering his own battered heart at the realization, Oikawa decided the road not taken never looked more appealing than now.

#hqradiostation #oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa imagine #oikawa scenario #oikawa haikyuu #oikawa fluff #oikawa angst #oikawa fanfiction #hq x reader #hq oikawa

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now-im-a-belieber · 3 years

Text

No Place Like Home For The Holidays

a/n: I've been SO excited to post my first secret Santa fic in this fandom! And it's finally time! Here is some absolutely tooth-rotting Christmas themed fluff for the darling @easy-company-tradition Really hope you enjoy this, luv! Happy holidays to you.

══════════════════

You'd been thrown into the depths of another holiday season, but this one was unlike any other you could think to compare. The war had only just ended. Some parties had already been thrown. Some soldiers had already been welcomed to the serenity of their neighbourhoods and paraded around town by family members like they'd just brought the boys home from being born.

But the most lavish party on your block had, for decades now, been saved for Christmas night. Young folks whose parents were fast to fall asleep after big Christmas lunches, and families with nothing better to do rushed to celebrate year after year in the same well decorated flat big enough to host. You knew the homeowners, some of your closer friends. But even if you hadn't, you would've found a reason to come and spend Christmas night crammed into the holly decked halls between your pals from all over town.

There, every year, glasses clinked and records scratched as eager, tipsy friends raced to pick the next soundtrack of the evening that had only just begun. Each year, teachers and doctors and dancers and mechanics mingled, passing kind smiles your way as you floated from one space of the party to the next. You settled between them all talking about the usual things. But what was different about this year was the sight of the occasional soldier saunter through the door. They were each met with warm welcomes, claps on the back, kisses on the cheek. But one man was greeted more fondly than all the rest.

Dick was some kind of hometown hero. He appeared in the local paper more in his time away than he ever had growing up here. Articles all about his achievements and those of the fellow Americans at his close working hand. If you hadn't already sort of known Dick before he left, it still would've been impossible not to recognize him as he crept in the door of the most anticipated party of every December.

Before, you'd seen him in town, when he used to ride his bike to the lake. When he went to an early dinner with his family and friends, before heading out to whatever was playing at the theatre you might've also been keen to see. And times like then, when he was close enough to hold a door open for you, or help you reach for the jar of jam on the shelf at the market you couldn't quite reach, he'd always flash you a grin.

His smile was etiquette. A simple well-timed reflex. You knew that. But no matter the reason for his lips up turning in your direction, the effect was always the same. Your palms clamming up. Your heart buzzing to life. All the while, you passed him by. You'd nod to him all the same but turn the other way. Because he would too. And if he'd meant anything by it, you would've known more than that famous grin by now.

The party around you seemed to freeze in time, most of the already tipsy attendees turning to fawn over the man dressed like all the returning soldiers, but who hardly blended in with the crowd. That recognizably demure grin set Dick apart by miles. And where it had always used to send your heart into overdrive, the expression made your heart sink ever so slightly now. He flashed that polite smile to everyone he shouldered passed. Only, he must not've seen you. And that was probably for the best.

You excused yourself from the chatter you were holding with friends in the parlour, eager to find a drink to calm your nerves that'd sprung to life at the sight of the man you'd always sorta known. The man you'd always watched pass you by. Were you the one meant to break the cycle? Were you supposed to leap out of your comfort zone and extend a hand to greet him, officially? You needed a drink before even considering going out of your way to stutter something embarrassing to the guy; and ruining your chances of continued small talk with your inevitably awkward greeting.

In the kitchen, you chose from one of the many sparkling glasses that lined the counter, scanning the crowd for a familiar face to occupy your time so you could stop overthinking so pathetically. All of your friends had been left near the record player, and no one in the kitchen seemed familiar enough to approach on a whim. Just as you whipped around, desperate to fly back to the first acquaintance you might've recognized, someone stood blocking your way.

"Whoa, there. What's the rush? Got a better party to be at?"

Oh, God. Of course this would happen to you. Of course Dick was the warm body blocking your escape path. With both hands behind his back Dick settled his stance, cocking his head your way as if he genuinely wanted to know the answer to the question he'd asked you. All you saw was the blue of his eyes, closer than ever before. And the slosh of your drink, dangerously near the rim. You brought the glass to your chest, sucking in a breath and hoping everything around you would feel steady afterwards. It didn't.

"Welcome home." You managed to say after realizing Dick wasn't going to step aside, and you couldn't dare move out from under his gaze either. And then as if he knew it would be the nail in the coffin you were being buried alive in, his grin grew wider as he looked right in your eyes.

"No one's said that to me yet, but you."

Your brows furrowed at Dick's words. The most he'd ever really spoken to you. All those meek "hello's" past diner doorways he might've held open didn't count. He'd held the door open for everyone close enough in his path. So surely he'd received half a dozen overly warm welcomes since arriving back. He must've noticed your expression, as the man went on to say...

"I just got in. I've only heard a couple welcomes back. But, home..." Dick said, and seemed to reminisce as if the place he spoke of now was much further away than right under his feet.

"Well this is home, isn't it?" You shrugged, tightening the grip on your glass, closer to your chest; to keep your heart caged in from beating right out into the open and mortifying you, on this the merriest night of the year.

"Not for long. I accepted a job a while away." Dick explained, speaking to you almost as if you'd shared one thousand words before now. "Making my rounds. Hellos and goodbyes." He gestured to the room full of people. Some oblivious to his presence. Others waiting with wide gazes to approach the soldier like some kind of celebrity.

"Well, everyone will be anxious to steal a moment of your time, I'm sure. You're all this town's talked about since, ya know..." You shrugged, starting to get the hang of unfreezing, planning your mad dash away before you melted into a puddle at the man's feet, or worse, misspoke.

"Oh?" Dick rose a brow, waiting for you to say more, like he hadn't been aware of his own status. Just then, in the brief pause before you'd managed to escape, a couple stepped in, closing off your only way out, each set of eyes beaming toward the soldier before you.

They talked over each other, thanking the man for all he'd done. Asking how he'd been. Asking what was next. Dick didn't say much more to them than he'd said to you. And his vague answers to their questions sent them shuffling away before too long. Finally, you could too. But you knew better than to leave without a polite parting word.

"Well, I won't keep you from your people." You grinned, turning as if to leave. But Dick spoke up again, holding the attention you'd reluctantly allowed the man to capture.

"They weren't really my people. I didn't know either of their names." He looked as if he was holding back a chuckle.

"You don't know mine either." You pointed, by slightly lifting your glass before him. And then, after one of those famous grins, he took you by surprise.

Dick said your name. Not like he was repeating it from a memory he'd managed to recall in a flash. But like the title was always swirling in his consciousness... like it was obvious. You felt as if you'd only heard it for the very first time, like he'd gifted the name to you, one you'd not thought much of in comparison to now.

"It's a small town," He reasoned, and you swore he might've started to wink. But right as your heart began to burst, another set of frineds clamoured to tell Dick hello. He seemed to recognize these bright eyed faces, turning to greet them with a combination of a modest yet regal sense of excitement that only Dick possessed. And as you stood, trapped by his magnetism, Dick introduced you to the friends of his he had come here to see. They were glad to find the man safe and well, and managed to rope you into the conversation they shared with Dick, somehow. It wasn't too long before the folks who'd already been partying for a while decided to head out.

But you hadn't even noticed, that as they left, you and Dick were carrying on the conversations they'd started up. Talking about how the town had changed. How it hadn't. You talked with the guy for what felt like forever, trading rumors about the local haunts and remembering the elders who'd mattered most to the community.

But of course it wasn't long before someone else bound close to catch the guys attention. You were wise enough then to slip away, not daring to overstay your welcome, or keep the man from the others who'd missed him just as you had.

Back in the parlor, your friends were still going on about whatever it was you'd been discussing before, arguing over records and future plans. Slowly, as all the albums had been played and after all the drinks had emptied, the party ended. Snow fell into a thin blanket across the street you flooded out into, your route home lit by the occasional flickering lamp. As you pulled your coat tight around your waist and made your way down the porch steps, another pair of feet matched the pace of your own.

"Leaving so soon?" Dick mused. Walking in slow time with you, but keeping his eyes on the blackened horizon.

"It's nearly one in the morning. Santa won't come till we're all fast in bed, you know?" You joked, too tired to worry over how silly your statement might've seemed.

Dick's grin blossomed into a smile as he nodded... It was almost a laugh. You could tell by the gentle shrug of his shoulders. You'd almost made him laugh.

"You're going my way?" You wondered, then, noticing the way he kept walking too as you started across the street.

"I've got to make sure you get home safe and sound. Santa won't do that much. He'll pass you by if you're not where you're meant to be, you know."

And that made you laugh, a little. A sleepy sort of chuckle. A dazzled breath of a laugh. Was this some kind of waking dream? How'd you get so suddenly lucky?

Dick walked you home. He talked a little about how pretty the snow seemed in the light of the street lamps. And he asked if you thought so too. You agreed and didn't try to fill the quiet that followed. It was almost just as magical to share in silence with Dick as it was to share a word or two. And when you made it to the drive of your place, he wished you well and waited for you to make it to the door before sauntering back the way he'd come.

///

Everyone was convinced he'd fallen in love with you. For the next few days, all your friends swore it. "I'm pretty sure he'd only just learned my name, that night," You argued with them.

"And so maybe he'd only just fallen in love with you. But it was more than obvious he had." Your friends shot back. They wouldn't let up. No matter if you ignored them, or begged them to change the subject. The chatter about Dick Winters only died down after your closest friend announced their throwing a New Years Eve bash that Dick had been invited too.

He wouldn't show, you knew. He had a new place all lined up. A life to live. He was just a name in the paper, here, now. He didn't have a single reason to stick around after telling everyone the news of his moving away. You'd only gotten lucky, to have spent such a drawn-out encounter with the man you'd so long pinned after.

So with your friends having finally stopped yammering on, and your mind made up about fate, you were pleased at the way the week had settled into silence. And you only hoped the new year would treat you so kindly.

Of course you were eager for your friend's party. Another excuse to spend an evening laughing till it hurt with everyone you adored under one roof. A brand new year to welcome in. So much to finally move on and away from. So much hope to gain and hold tight to. As yet another party raged on, you wondered if the world was really changing, and for the better. You laughed over the same old jokes with friends, and traded recipes with people you'd always waved to in passing. You floated from room to room, knowing moments like this would be memories you'd recall most fondly days and decades from now.

And as if you weren't already steeped in so many fond feelings, you saw him again. And you were somehow more surprised to find Dick Winters standing alone in the middle of this party.

Now you wondered how to tell the difference between fate, and fortune. Was this meant to happen, either way? Now, for those reasons you hadn't yet been able to tell apart, you weren't afraid to cross the crowded room and meet the man where he stood. Dressed sharp as ever. Standing just as stoically. Seeming ever as inviting, too, though.

"You're not gone by now?" You jeered, stepping closer to the space Dick had claimed in the corner of the celebration where a few balloons hovered close to the raised ceiling. You were the one catching his attention now. And nothing could quite compare to the warmth you felt when Dick turned and smiled right at you. Didn't he know what that grin of his did to you? He must've. Because he let a heavy silence linger, as you relaxed in place at his side.

"They say that how you spend ringing in the new year will predict the outcome of the rest of the year." Dick seemed to banter, standing in place, looking truly at ease amidst another rowdy crowd. This scene didn't seem like one he fit into. In fact, you knew it wasn't. So why was he really here?

"And you didn't want to see the calendar change in this mysterious new place you've got lined up?" You shrugged, daring to steal a glance that held his own for longer than you'd expected. And without missing a beat, he responded...

"I was much more hoping to see you." Dick spoke, matter of factly, like he did. Like nothing was a big deal. Even if you could see by the look in his eyes that his words held a weight you'd never felt till now. The collective buzz of the people around you seemed to grow louder, even though Dick seemed to be the only person in the room, all else fading away.

You watched the man search your face as you felt a blush appear there was no use in hiding. You didn't much feel like hiding away from Dick any longer.

"Well, here I am." You sort of shrugged, after you breathed out your every confidence in a whisper you hoped Dick managed to hear. His gaze was set on yours, and it hadn't much changed in intensity after you spoke.

Then someone started counting seconds down to single digits. And the crowd shouted along. And while you turned toward the commotion, you felt Dick's eyes still stuck on you.

"Happy New Year!" The small crowd cheered and hollered and started to sing. You beamed at the sight of your friends celebrating making it another set of days together, jumping into each other's arms and dancing about the room as music rang louder. As your eyes scanned the joyous scene, they landed on Dick. He'd not left your side, or sprung to life in celebration. He'd only kept looking at you. And when your eyes met again, your breath caught at the sight of the glimmer in his gaze.

He didn't ask. He just leaned in. And of course, you let his lips meet yours. With a kiss, the door opened to a thousand questions, a handful of your wildest wonders came true. The war was over. The year was new. And the man of your dreams was flashing his famous grin right at you. Dick watched you smile back just as brightly before leaning in to steal the second of what you hoped would be a zillion more kisses; and many more new years together.

#gross who let me drink wine and write at the same time #anyway happy christmas!#band of brothers #secret santa #dick winters #dick winters x reader #richard winters #richard winters x reader #band of brothers fanfic

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irwintry · 4 years

Text

the air before a storm

Warnings: just a bunch of good old fluff, swearing, alcohol

Author’s Note: yes this takes place in the outer banks no u are not allowed to mention the show—they are nothing alike. anyway i’m back :) hi

Summary: Y/N and Luke are neighbors in a beachside town where tourists are annoying and tropical storms aren’t rare. And they just can’t stop flirting.

Word Count: 5.6k

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Pelican Perch was a dead-end street.

It was well-wooded, wax myrtles and river birch kissing sandy chunks of pavement while homes too small for the average nuclear family were nestled behind thick, invasive vines. Quaint homes designed to keep the rain and the bugs out. Local homes. Each had their own shimmering windsock hung out front that was already tattered from storms, gifted to them by the neighborhood community last spring. Personalized homes. Beach homes that shared every aspect without even trying. Almost every shingle had been defaced by weather damage throughout the years. And the air always smelled of hot gravel and honeysuckle on breezy days. Homes on this road were loved.

You loved yours most of all.

With a front porch stuffed full of plants—ferns, strawberries, tomatoes, the lot—and knick-knacks you had collected throughout the past year, it was easy to love and call home to something that had once been temporary. The baby blue bike perched against a yaupon bush was proudly your preferred mode of transportation. Snuck far up the driveway sat a rusting 2005 Toyota Corolla with sand painted across its rear, and it was not well-loved, though it had been well-lived. The windsock hung off of your porch matched the color of your bike.

The last house on the street never put their windsock up. That house was right beside yours.

He had been there longer than you—you weren’t entirely sure how long, but your arrival prior to last season was greeted with his kind smile. A kind smile, gentle words, and eyes that melted into the ocean, far beyond the whitecaps where the sky touched the sea. All of that beauty, and you never caught his name.

For months on end, you watched him when he wasn’t looking. He left for work during your kitchen stumble for cold brew, nothing but a plain white tee and mesh shorts as he climbed into his jeep, sunkissed and sleepy. Minutes later, you would bike to work and find his Jeep along the way. He worked at the Island Rescue Squad, a small building that held more responsibility than being a simple motel receptionist. He paid his bills by saving lives; you paid yours by telling guests that they couldn’t swim naked in the swimming pool.

You didn’t know him beyond the sights through your kitchen window. But the evenings you crossed paths were treasured.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he’d ask, a nonchalant smile gracing his cheeks before darting his gaze the other way.

After some time, you found enough confidence to reply, “Not bad—you?” as you knocked out the kickstand on your bike.

He was always in the middle of hoisting a backpack over his shoulder. And then he would shrug, smile never fading, and say, “Not bad,” right back. That would be it.

You knew that his blond curls were your favorite thing before you even knew his name. But you also knew, in good faith, that the latter half was going to change.

That was why you should at his door late in the evening in July, a saran-wrapped plateful of coconut macaroons in your hands while your eyes scanned the details of his front porch. A white surfboard beside the front door had experienced its fair share of weather discoloration on the tail. At the end of the deck, withered plants were lined up along a wooden shoe bench. The doormat beneath your feet had nylon paw prints stitched in beside the welcome lettering. When you knocked on the door, a heart-stopping voice called out, “Just a minute!”

You tucked your ankles inward as his face appeared behind the screen. His smile was bold and bright, and from up close, you could hardly breathe.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he asked in his normal fashion, opening up the screen door so he could step outside with you. His gaze fell to the plate of macaroons while he leaned up against the door. “You’re kidding—did you make those for me?”

Six more words than the usual conversation; you were off to a successful start.

“Yes,” you said, fingers brushing his beneath the ceramic plate when you passed it over to him. “I had to figure out a good way to come over here and formally introduce myself. A whole year later. Better late than never, I guess.”

He smiled along to your words and nodded. “These look so good. Thank you.” He held out one of his hands for you to shake.

His name was Luke. He was only a few years out of school. Taller than any man you knew and flirtatious with his grin, and he kept his eyes locked on you as you spoke. He shared information through little words yet maintained a steady conversation. Talking to old friends was harder than this.

It was difficult to stomach—the way his quiet chuckles and wide smiles were decidedly the best things in the world and how your heart was a concrete block in your chest. It occurred to you, after waving goodnight on your way down the porch steps, that his smile never died. But you pinned it all on his kind heart over anything else.

Life between the two of you felt cyclical. Until one morning he caught you on your way to work.

“I’m gonna be up in Manteo,” he began, tossing a duffle into the backseat of his Jeep with a quiet grunt. “Just a few days. Some ridiculously boring conference that could probably be summed up in a Skype or whatever. Better than leading rope rescue trainings again though.”

Your lips pulled down into a playful frown. “You’re leaving me?”

Luke’s responsive laughter was a good start to your morning. “I’m sorry. Promise I’ll be back. They’ve got us all in some four-star inn. Free wifi and breakfast.”

“Oh, look at you. Living like a king.”

“Right? I’m tired of paying for my own Cheerios.”

It was nice to have someone to talk to, you thought, but you knew you were searching for more than a friend in him. Your heart was warm under his company. You didn’t know how, but it felt easy with him.

“Would you be able to do me a favor?” he asked as he leaned against his car. He kept his distance, his driveway to yours while the patch of dry grass between you watched with intrigue.

“Anything but mowing the lawn, yes.”

Luke cracked a grin. “I’m not that mean. No. Could you—uh, could you water a few plants for me out front? Just once or twice. I’d pay you back in macaroons, but I’m a shit baker.”

“No worries,” you said and situated your bike against your thigh. “I’ll water your plants. But that just means you’ll have to make up for the macaroons somehow. I’ll let you think on it.” You started off down the driveway before he could answer.

“Hold me to that!” he called after you. You sent him a smile in response and sped off toward the main road.

Later that evening, you found that Luke had left a note beside each potted plant on the shoe bench. Betty – allow to dry between waterings next to the Begonia, Calum – keep moist for the Caladium, Tom – water twice a day for the newly planted tomato plant, and Babe – water sparingly for Basil. Each note was signed with a smile and a heart.

—

The next time you heard from Luke, he wasn’t alone. Four days plus a hankering for human interaction—aside from tourists that asked for restaurant suggestions every hour—had left you craving a different kind of intimacy. An intimacy that didn’t require physical touch but was only fulfilled through his presence. Just knowing that he was next door comforted you in ways you couldn’t explain. You didn’t know him, but you knew that he was someone you could rely on.

You heard his car door slam before anything else. Through the window of your kitchen sink, you peeked out into the darkening night, searching for his lanky figure only to find a small animal instead. A dog. You forgot that you had been staring when Luke came into view. His wave tore you from your gaze.

You cracked the window open before you could hesitate. The overwhelming buzzes and clicks of cicadas were immediate to greet you.

“Are you gonna introduce me?” you called out to him, grinning wide as you pressed your elbows down onto the window sill. With the edge of the sink digging into your abdomen, the position was less than comfortable, but you didn’t think about it.

Through the waxing darkness, Luke’s smile was bright. “Only if you come give her a head scratch—then she’ll fall right in love with you,” he said.

You were outside within a few seconds. The side screen door slammed behind you as you hurried over, knees meeting the rough grass so the lovely lady could easily bound over to you. She nestled her nose into your palm and let out a snort. Above you, Luke chuckled at the sound.

“Name’s Petunia,” he said, bending down beside you to pet Petunia’s bum. “A friend of mine is moving ‘cross country—couldn’t keep her. I love the damn girl, so I immediately wanted to take her in. How’re the plants doing?”

“She’s the sweetest,” you mumbled. To him, to yourself—it didn’t matter. You were captivated. “And Betty, Calum, Tom, and Babe are great. The names, by the way? Genius. You have a talent. I’ll have to get you to name my plants. So far, I just have Candace and Big Mama.”

“Big Mama?” Luke’s short giggles filled the air. “I think you’ve got the talent, too.”

Petunia leaned into your scratches before turning back to Luke. So, you stood, brushing sandy dirt from your knees, and Luke soon followed.

“If you ever need someone to take care of her,” you said, “I’m always around. And I won’t make you bake anything. I’m a big dog person, so that’s already enough. I mean, I’m not opposed to a few cupcakes every now and then.”

A lopsided smile grew on Luke’s cheeks. “Red velvet?”

“It’s like you already know me,” you gasped out. “How was Manteo? That’s where you were, right?”

“Well, nothing beats free Cheerios in the mornings, so it wasn’t too bad,” he told you as he wrapped Petunia’s leash around his wrist. She nudged herself between his legs. “Manteo actually has a real downtown, so that was kinda nice.”

“You better not be thinking about leaving me.”

“Leave you? Never.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest.

“Besides, tourists down here are the reason any of us even have a job.” He scratched the corner of his eye as he spoke. “I’d rather not be saving drunk middle-aged men from rip currents, but I’d never leave Hatteras.”

The corners of your lips twitched upward. “Good, cos’ if you leave,” you said, pointing to your other neighbor’s house, “then I’m stuck with Judy and Ted. You can’t do that to me.”

“Oh, God, no.” His eyes widened as he shook his head. “I’d never do that to you. Or I’d just make you come with me.”

Now, your heart was on fire. You raised a brow in reaction to his statement, and his eyes widened again. The words had slipped out—that was easy to understand, but he couldn’t take them back. You wouldn’t want him to.

“Um, yeah—” Luke placed a hand on the back of his neck and backed away toward his home, Petunia following in tow. “Thanks for watering my plants. Expect cupcakes soon.”

“Don’t you dare.”

His grin reached his eyes. “Goodnight,” he said.

You were certain that you were a fool.

—

NC-12 was worse on Saturdays. The highway was congested with incoming and outgoing travelers, some careless and some too careful. On the way to work, you were among its passengers. Your baby blue bike was swallowed up whole by the minivans and SUVs that occupied the road. Somehow, you made it out alive every time. All it took was a spontaneous sharp turn from a truck to send you rolling onto the pavement.

It was a miracle you ended up with a dozen scrapes and a sprained wrist. The medical bill wasn’t worth missing a few days off of your paycheck, no matter how horrible the weekends could be. A few members of the rescue squad had shown up at the scene of the minor accident—you were glad that Luke hadn’t been with them. But you also wished that he had.

When you powered through the pain as you pedaled home, you weren’t sure if you wanted to see him. You weren’t sure if you wanted to see his reaction—mild injuries and all, and you weren’t sure if you wanted him to buy out all of the cupcakes on the island to make you feel better. Nevertheless, you didn’t have a choice. He was already getting out of his car once you pulled up.

He waved and smiled, and then his eyes grew wide. The scrape on your left cheek told all.

“Shit, love, you okay?” he said, walking towards you slowly. He kept his movements careful and calculated—he had seen the tears fill your eyes before you realized they were there.

“I’m dandy,” you replied breathily, waving your hand to shake off the emotions. The faux smile you put on only faltered, and the skin beneath your eyes stung.

Luke looked horrified. You could see the twitch in his hands, the way he almost reached out for you as he approached, but he held back. And you could see it in his eyes—all he wanted to do was make you feel better.

“You don’t happen to have any cupcakes, do you?” you asked with a sniff. Your smile wavered, and a small tear slipped down your cheek.

When he chose not to hold back—when he chose to pull you in close, then you decided not to hold back either. With his arms circled around your waist, you didn’t care about soaking through his t-shirt with your tears. You didn’t care that your breathing had picked up to near hyperventilation. You felt safe and warm, so you couldn’t care.

The hug lasted until your quiet sobs calmed. Luke’s chin pulled away from the top of your head as you wiped your cheeks with the back of your wrists.

“What happened?” he said, voice soft.

“Dumb vacationers—” Sniff. “—can’t use a fuckin’ turn signal.”

Luke let out a quiet sigh.

“I’m fine, I just… hurt.”

He glanced at his home over his shoulder and then back at you. “Would you wanna come over? I don’t have any cupcakes, but I have frozen pizza. And Petunia misses you.”

You could hear the unspoken words in his voice. I miss you.

This was what happened when you finally learned someone’s name.

You didn’t know how to explain it, but his living room looked like him. Light blue, wooden walls with collected posters unevenly nailed onto the panels. An old couch was the centerpiece, tan and woven with Petunia snuggled onto it with a blanket beneath her. Bookshelves full of CDs and vinyl records stood on either side of the room, but they had been untouched for some time. The home smelled like him, as strange as it sounded. Warm, woodsy, and comfortable.

From the couch, you sat up straight once the oven door shut. You counted each smell beep as the timer was set. Luke walked into the living room a moment later.

“You sure you don’t want some Advil or something?” he asked. “Or—I dunno—a beer? Maybe? I don’t have a lot, but—”

“A beer actually sounds good,” you said to him, folding your hands over your lap. “It’s been a bit of a shit day.”

He continued talking to you as he headed back into the kitchen. The home was small enough for any voice to carry, and you were glad he could maintain a conversation. That alone told you how much he cared. Despite how long you had lived on the island—a year and four months—and despite how long it took you to know him, it mattered greatly to you that he cared. You cared about him, too. It would be hard to see such a friendly face every day and think otherwise.

“Where’d they take you to get checked out?” he called to you from the next room over.

“Urgent care in Nags Head.”

“You’re kidding.” The sound of bottles clinking on the counter followed.

“Wish I was.”

Pop tops landed into a quiet clatter as he said, “how long were you there?” He joined you in the living room a few seconds later and handed you a bottle of Corona.

“Six hours.”

“Six hours?”

You nodded, sharing your best laugh before taking a sip of the fizzing liquid. “You better believe it. All for some cuts and a sprained-frickin’-wrist. And I’ll bet you my bill is gonna be chewing me up for the next year.”

Luke furrowed his brows and kept his gaze low. He appeared to be thinking about something else. “Did they call my squad?”

“A few guys showed up, yeah.”

He bit his bottom lip. “Dunno why they didn’t call me. I would’ve just took ya home.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. He didn’t know that everything he said made your heart race pick up. If your day hadn’t been so long, then your nerves would’ve eaten you alive by now. You were lucky, for the katydid calls outside masked any hint of tension between you.

“Thanks for the drink,” you said, words heavy in your throat. Thinking about your nerves only made them worse. And being around him only made you want him more.

He had called you love earlier; it had to mean something.

Luke’s smile was small, but it said enough. “Anytime.”

Although the pizza was cold in the middle and the taste of your drink had gotten old, what mattered to you was the company. Not the sprained wrist that ached with each movement. Not the tight bandages that tugged at your skin because you shifted a certain way. Nothing about the day mattered because it brought you to this.

His laughter was hypnotic—intoxicating almost—and it took away your breath every time. Making him laugh was addicting. Getting to see those few moments when his eyes light up with joy put shame to the ocean only a mile or two away. You wondered how on earth it had taken so long to know him.

And still, you didn’t know him. Just a name, a face, and a dog named Petunia.

“So, the rescue squad, huh?” you teased at one point as you situated yourself closer to Petunia. You learned that her nickname was Piggy and that, while she was cute, she also had the stinkiest farts—according to Luke. Nevertheless, you pressed your face close to hers and smacked a kiss to her forehead. She rolled over to give you access to her tummy. “What’s it like?”

Luke’s soft smile was etched into his skin. “Fuckin’ stressful,” he answered. “But great. It’s like a family.”

“I can imagine it’s not the prettiest job.”

“No.” He shook his head, and his smile fell. As he spoke, he twirled his bottle on the edge of the coffee table. “It’s not. A lot of tourists just don’t pay attention to the ocean, y’know? We put a million signs out there, and they just think that it will never happen to them. Suddenly you get waves going different directions, and you’re floating out with the current. You never know what’s gonna happen.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you listened. He took his job seriously; some people didn’t.

“It’s just—uh, s’just terrible to see it,” he continued, keeping his head down low. “When you save someone from the surf, but they’re not breathing… and then their families are there—their fuckin’ families are screaming and crying. They just wanted a fun day on the beach. And you gotta make sure that no one dies. I’m just lucky to not have seen it much.”

“It’s horrifying.”

He hummed. “Yeah. And I don’t like it when people call us heroes. Cos’ we’re not. I’m not. We’re doing our job. We wanna keep people safe. We wanna make sure no one has to go through that. B-but when it comes down to you, and you have someone’s life in your hands—” Tears pricked at his eyes, and he swallowed thickly before continuing. “—how the hell are you not gonna try to save them? People over-glorify hero moments. We’re all just trying to take care of each other so we’re not mentally scarred along the way.”

“I’ve seen it.”

“You have?”

“I used to vacation here as a teen with my family,” you said, “before I officially decided that tourists are the fucking worst. I just wanted to live here and be on my own. And you’re right—about the screaming and crying. The families stand there to break your heart. I bit my tongue until it bled when I saw that jet ski go out on the water. It doesn’t happen every day, so I just never assumed it would happen around me. Didn’t think forty minutes would pass with nonstop chest compressions. Didn’t think anyone would give up either. Maybe ‘hero’ isn’t the word, just ‘good people’.”

Luke’s eyes were glassy, but he smiled through it. His fingers twitched in your direction on the neck of his bottle. “So—” He cleared his throat. “—what do you do?”

“Oh, it’s my turn now?” you said, biting back a smile. “Just you wait until you hear about all of the trauma I get from being a motel receptionist. I’ll have you beat.”

Once again, his laughter filled the room. All you felt was warmth.

The house rocked after then, lights flickering with the gust, but the wind quickly died. You and Luke shared uncertain glances.

“I’m guessing it doesn’t usually do that.”

Luke shook his head. “Not usually.”

An empty bottle of Corona sat between your palms, moisture growing on the surface from how he made you feel. You asked yourself it was normal to feel this way, if it was something more than the sudden admiration of a mysterious neighbor. You liked him, but how much?

You wanted to spend every moment with him to figure it out. But the last thing you wanted was to overstay your welcome.

“Thanks for this, by the way,” you said, ducking your chin. “For the pizza and stuff. Maybe you’re not a bad neighbor after all.”

Luke smirked. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Your knees creaked as you stood, bones still aching from the impact of the pavement. You wondered how many bruises would appear on your body by morning. Luke stood along with you, towering high but keeping his presence small. He had to know how much he affected you.

“Love you, Piggy,” you mumbled to Petunia with a quick scratch behind her ear.

She huffed in response.

Luke laughed. “She said I love you, too.”

“I’m gonna have to learn how to bake doggie treats for her.”

“But then she’s gonna love you more than she loves me.”

You smiled over your shoulder on your way toward the front door. His eyes had already been burning the back of your head. “That’s the goal,” you told him with one hand on the doorknob. “See you tomorrow?”

He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. You swore you could see a hint of pink tint his cheeks. “See you tomorrow.”

—

A tropical storm was set to hit two days later. It became a hurricane overnight. Category 1. Category 2. It finally settled on 3, its path set for the Outer Banks before it was meant to swing up the East Coast. A mandatory evacuation was set in place by the next morning.

The air was thick, trees restless and wind loud as it picked up. The sky was a permanent dark gray, and the clouds looked like something one would see in a disaster movie. It wasn’t your first time dealing with tropical storms and hurricanes, but they never failed to make your heart race. The unpredictability—the fate of your home, your belongings, and so on—always scared you.

You loaded as much as you could into your Corolla. The wind didn’t care about your disheveled hair or how high it blew your shorts. It didn’t care that it was tossing sticks off of trees, down onto the roof of your home. You said a quick goodbye to the shingles while you were at it; a few were bound to end up in Pamlico Sound by the end of the week.

As you shut the car door, another door opened behind you. Luke rushed out of his home with Petunia toddling behind.

“You okay?” he called to you. He had two bags over his shoulders, another in his hands before he tossed them into the back of his Jeep. “Know where you’re headin’?”

“Think so,” you said over the wind. “Can’t wait to pee my pants in traffic. Any of the guard staying?”

Luke nodded as his curls danced around his chin. “They’re gonna be spotted up and down the coast. You stay safe out there, all right?”

“Yeah, you too.”

It wasn’t the preferred way of saying goodbye, but the hot, stale air trapped itself in your lungs. You were ready to greet the clicking air conditioner of your broken car like an old friend, and then one turn of the ignition turned into two, three, four, and many more. The headlights flickered off and on, yet the light never stayed long. You hit the steering wheel with the base of your palms in frustration.

A sudden knock at your passenger side window took all of the frustration away.

Luke opened up the door and said, “come with me.”

That was how you ended up beside him, stuck in two-hour traffic while you thought about the way his lips molded around words. Soft rock played quietly on the radio as you sat without making a sound. But it was comfortable silence. Thankful silence. The air before the storm disguised the thick tension.

Petunia wandered around the back seat, on occasion whining before flopping back down onto her blanket. Every so often, you would lean back and scratch her head, and Luke would smile at you. Unspoken words were better than no words at all.

“Tell me about yourself,” you said after a while. With the Bodie Lighthouse to your left, the ocean to your right, the wasn’t much else to keep you occupied. “Not like, childhood trauma stuff, but basic stuff. Favorite color, favorite food—that stuff.”

Luke had one hand on the wheel, the other pressed against his chin while he leaned on the car door. He faced the road yet had his eyes trained on you. “Well, what if I really wanna open up about my childhood traumas?” he asked playfully.

“Hey, I’m all ears. We’re gonna be stuck in traffic until the mainland.”

He chuckled and rubbed beneath his lips. You didn’t know that such a small action could make your cheeks flush. “Favorite color? Hm. Blue, I guess. Favorite food has gotta be those damn macaroons you made me. They were absolutely delicious, babe.”

Your smile lit up the car.

“If you wanna know everything about me, all you gotta do is check out my mum’s Facebook,” he said. “Liz Hemmings. She posts every photo I send her and talks about my love life when she’s bored.”

“Love life, huh?”

He huffs quietly. “Her profile has been a little dry lately then, I guess.” When his eyes found yours, a small smile grew on his lips. “She’d love you. I’ll have t’let you know when she comes to visit next.”

“Oh man,” you said. “I’m already meeting my neighbor’s mom.”

Luke chuckled. “Uh oh. I didn’t push it too far, did I?”

“Didn’t know we were there yet, s’all. But I’d be happy to meet her.”

He set his hand down on the gear shift. Inches away from yours. “She’d just wonder what the hell you’re doin’ around me. Tell you that you’re too good for me. Stuff like that. I mean, it’s true.”

“Just tell her that I can’t afford to move, so I’m stuck with you.”

“Aw, you don’t mean that.”

“Unfortunately, no. I don’t mean that.”

“Good,” he mumbled, glancing out the window. “Cos’ I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

—

The hurricane made landfall at two in the morning. The hotel walls of the Quality Inn shook and rain pattered hard against the window. The alarm clock beside the bed turned black. From across the room, you could barely hear Luke stir in his own bed. And despite the storm, your heart still tugged at the thought of him there with you.

The wind was the worst thing of all. You thought about your home, the plants you dragged inside, and the windsock you forgot to take down. Maybe Luke would let you borrow his. But all that mattered, in the moment, was the voice calling your name through the pitch-black night. Somehow, it carried over the storm, over the howling wind and the rain coming down in sheets. It pulled your heart right out of your chest.

Your eyes were heavy with sleep as you said, “Luke?

You could hear him turn over in bed, but through the dark, you could only make out the edges of his figure. You hoped he had turned to face you.

“Hey. You okay?” His voice was soft, and you felt the storm slowly slip away.

“Can’t sleep” you answered. “Not a big fan of storms.”

He was barely awake, quiet words of “wanna come over here?” floating in the air-conditioned air. Your own words were stuck in your throat. So you didn’t answer. You rose from your bed instead, feet padding to the opposite side of his bed before crawling under the sheets beside him. His warmth radiated off of him.

Luke’s hand was right beside your hand. You swore you could hear his breaths over the wind. If you were able to see his features so close to yours, you would cease to exist. Your heart had found a comfortable home in your throat.

Fingers wove in between yours, gentle and warm like they were barely there, but they were all you could feel. Rough in the right places. Luke’s hand rested on yours, his pulse beating low and steady.

You knew that words would steal the moment away.

As his fingers traced your skin, the heat in your chest grew. It was normal. It was beautiful. And it was yours. So you held his hand right back.

When his forehead met yours, you knew you were done for. The storm completely faded from your mind. Noses touched and breaths fell into sync, but your heartbeat was loud in your ears. All you could think about was the feeling of his lips brushing yours. You couldn’t remember when your eyes closed. The last thing you felt was Petunia nudging your foot at the end of the bed, and then you fell asleep in Luke’s arms.

The kiss was nothing but a dream.

You were allowed back on the island three days later. Unsaid things invaded your mind on the ride down the coast, but you couldn’t bring it upon yourself to say a word. Luke was busy humming along to every song that came on the radio. That was all you needed to hear.

Pelican Perch road was covered with leaves and natural debris, but the homes were well intact. As the car neared the end of the street, you caught a glimpse of your windsock swaying in the breeze. It was a miracle it hadn’t blown away.

Luke helped you with your bags in silence, a small exchange of smiles and brushing hands to fill in the empty space instead. This wasn’t how you wanted it to be. Yet, you never said anything.

Once the night crept in, you could no longer distract yourself with streaming movies through overused cellular data. The power was still out on the island. Everything in your fridge had gone bad, and your phone was near death by ten o’clock. And the winds, despite the long-gone storm, carried on.

You slipped on a pair of flip-flops—never mind the wet, sandy dirt caked around the edges—and walked over to Luke’s. The bugs were especially loud that night. There were no lights to guide you, no way of knowing where you were stepping, and then something hit you. Someone.

“Jesus,” he muttered, gripping your elbow to balance you.

“Luke?”

“It’s me.”

You set your hand on his arm just to feel him. His hold on you never left. “What’re you doing out here?”

“Well—” His hand slipped down to your wrist as he chuckled. Beautiful. “Comin’ to find you, I guess. You okay?”

“I’ve got a hankering for ice cream, but it’s all melted,” you said. “But I don’t suppose your freezer is working anyway. I just didn’t wanna be alone.”

“Me either, darling.”

“Darling. That’s nice.”

“Yeah?”

“I like it.”

He stepped closer to you, slow hands finding yours.

“Coming to find me, huh?” you asked.

Luke hummed and set his forehead on yours. Now, you didn’t know what to say. You figured it was best to not say anything at all. You leaned into the kiss and allowed his lips to mold against yours. Every moment you were apart was replaced with another kiss, excelling in desperation and satisfying any need through its touch. It was heavenly and full of heat and desire.

He cupped your cheek, pressing himself closer to you as he deepened the kiss one last time. You were breathless and cold without him near.

“I still owe you cupcakes, don’t I?” he asked quietly. You could see his smile through the night.

“At least two dozen by now.”

His chuckle filled your heart with warmth. “Anything for you, love. Would you like to come inside?”

You tightened your grip in his hand. “Gladly.”

—

hey! thanks for reading! since i haven’t been in the game for a while, i’m gonna tag a few ppl, if that’s ok! @goth5sos @irwinkitten @sublimehood @softforcal @cxddlyash @wildflowergrae hi y’all <3

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moos-cow · 3 years

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’Tis The Season For SMUT

Like what I’ve posted before, I’ll be participating in @voltage-vixen‘s ’Tis The Season For SMUT Challenge!

So, without further ado, my first post for the challenge:

Day 1 Prompt: Kiss me under the mistletoe

Pairing: Lancelot Kingsley / Reader Fandom: Ikemen Revolution Genre: Fluff-SMUT Word Count: 2021 Warning: Graphic

“Zero! Over here!” you yell from across the street, waving a hand overhead to the wandering Ace of Hearts. Once your eyes met, he immediately walks over to you with a couple of bags in hand.

You had volunteered to head in the decorating of the Red Army Headquarters for Christmas-- a job usually taken by Jonah due to his ‘high standards of style’ as he’d call it. But like all the other officers, the closing holidays made him busier than usual; events with the nobles happening one after the other, and meetings with the Black Army for their joint Christmas event for the citizens topped his already packed-to-the-minute daily work.

Now that December has finally kicked in, you don’t hold back in your decor shopping escapades; you’d been waiting for this day to come since Halloween anyway. So, you go from shop to shop with Zero, buying all the decorations and trinkets on your list that you'll need to dress up the Headquarters.

“What’s this?” Zero questioned the new bag you have in hand. It was a small, light-looking, brown bag that was sealed neatly with Christmas designed tape-- a standout from the colourful paper bags you carried.

“It’s a secret!” Excitement beaming from you as you began skipping back towards headquarters, looking forward to a certain Christmas tradition you'd surprise Lancelot with. “Come on, Zero!”

As huge as the headquarters is, with the help of some of the soldiers and maids, it took you over two weeks to completely decorate the manor from top to bottom, and inside out. It was a winter wonderland.

“One last piece,” you spoke to yourself, clutching the little brown bag you had when you went out with Zero. Where you’d choose to hang this little decor had to be special, not only to you but also to Lancelot, so you walk around the building to scan for viable locations. “Where, oh where can I hang you…”

“Y/N,” Edgar’s chipper voice called out to you just as he left Lancelot’s office with Jonah, wondering why you were walking aimlessly around the halls with a small bag in hand. “Anything the matter?”

“Edgar! Jonah!” You spun in surprise as the two sauntered towards you, Jonah’s eyes were immediately drawn to the bag in your hands, probably thinking that Edgar has given you a part of his stash of contraband sweets.

“I’m just looking for a nice place to hang these…”

Jonah arches a brow questioningly, and Edgar’s smile unwavering, as if asking you what the contents of the bag were. Your words slip out to answer the unspoken question, “... decors.”

Jonah frowned as he held out his hand, asking you to hand the bag over. You promptly hide it behind your back; but as you shift it around you, Edgar snatches it from your grip. His grin reaches from ear to ear as he and Jonah take a peek into the bag.

“Edgar!” You reach out to take the bag back, but he holds it just a little farther back and higher away from you. He may be the shortest among the officers, but he is still a good couple of inches taller than you.

“Now, now, Y/N. Why don’t you leave the hanging of this to us, hm? Besides, you’ve done a wonderful job decorating headquarters. My, you’re even better than Jonah here!” Edgar teases and chuckles at his own statement.

“Hey!” Jonah scowls at the younger man, then pouts as he turns to you, trying to get his composure back. “Anyway, Y/N, mistletoes are poisonous. It’s better to have Edgar poisoned rather than you.”

“You hurt my feelings, Queen.” Edgar banters back, waving a hand as he turns to walk away with the bag. Jonah soon follows in suit, excusing himself from you to head to his troops’ training session.

Another week has passed, and the red and white manor now basked in the scarlet rays of the Christmas Eve setting sun. Up until now, there was no sign of the mistletoe Edgar took from you that time. After searching high and low, you finally shrug in defeat, resigning yourself to the idea that the little ornament would never see the light of Christmas that year.

A little mistletoe won’t ruin my Christmas! You commit yourself to that simple idea as you walk back to your room to get dressed for the evening’s party. A red and gold embellished off shoulder cocktail dress laid on your bed, with a small note and a single white rose. Your heart raced at the simple gesture-- Lancelot always knew how to make you smile.

You added a scarf to your ensemble and headed out for the common area. The delicious scents and joyful sounds filled the halls of the Red Army Headquarters. Soldiers and officers alike greeted you with smiles and laughter-- long gone was the Red Army you knew when you first arrived in Cradle.

“You look beautiful.” Lancelot greeted you the moment you arrived in the common room.

“Who do I have to thank for then?” You wrap an arm around his waist and pull him close into a hug of sorts, chuckling into his chest. “Thank you, Lancelot.”

“Well, isn’t it Mr. and Mrs. Claus!” Kyle, clearly tipsy already, raises his voice as he saunters closer to you and Lancelot with a Christmas hat in hand. He swiftly decks it on Lancelot’s head and looks at it as if it were his prized masterpiece. “Perfect.”

To your surprise, Lancelot doesn’t dare move, nor remove the said hat; prompting you to turn to him with a slightly confused look on your face.

“The idiots made me into Santa this year,” Lancelot answered with the straightest face imaginable. You lightly cough to try to hold back your laughter; alas, your shoulders shook, giving you away to the man beside you. He was just too adorable.

“I’m sorry, it does fit you.” you laugh and fan your face with your hand, fighting back the tears of joy threatening to fall from your eyes. “You’ll make a great Santa, Lancelot.”

A smile graced his features as the events of the night started. Overflowing food and drinks were served, music and chatter filled the air, and gifts were exchanged. You scan the room, burning the scene before you into memory-- Kyle, already on his umpteenth bottle of beer, started challenging soldiers to an arm-wrestling challenge, while Edgar and Zero stood by to watch and further insight until the whole thing goes down in flames; Jonah was receiving gifts from the soldier members of ‘Jonah's Heart Defenders’ at the other end with a fresh plate of mille-feuille before him; and, Lancelot… You strained your eyes to look for him in the busy crowd, and finally, find him alone by the Christmas tree, tinkering with one of the hung ornaments.

You saunter to him, bringing two flutes of champagne for each of you. He turns to you just as you arrive. With a clink of your flutes, you greet each other just as the grandfather clock struck 12 in the main hall.

“Merry Christmas, Lancelot.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

Lancelot cupped your cheek in his hand and gently pulled you close to meet your lips with his-- a soft and delicate kiss that started to heat up with every passing second.

“Ahem- King Lancelot,” Jonah interjected, prompting you to cut your quick make-out session with Lancelot. The Queen’s brows furrowed and his eyes looked away, yet his cheeks contradicted his expression as he blushed a light shade of pink, “Your speech.”

Lancelot gave Jonah a curt nod before facing back to you. You smile at him and lightly squeeze his hand, “Go get ‘em, Santa.”

His hand never left yours for the duration of the party-- through the officer’s speeches, to the farewell greetings. He only let you go as you both stopped in front of your bedroom door, twirling you in the hall and straight into his arms.

Hands to the small of your back, Lancelot pulls you in closer for another kiss.

“Mm- What was that for?” you look up to him, only now noticing that his eyes were red, and not their usual blue. "Hey!"

He chuckles and points a finger up towards a floating mistletoe over your heads, the mistletoe you've been looking for the past week.

"Oh- Why is that with you?!" Your cheeks warm up from the thought of Edgar handing the little bag to his King.

Drat. Edgar.

You wanted to surprise Lancelot by kissing him under the mistletoe, but now, the complete opposite seemed to happen.

"I’ve always wanted to try that." Lancelot suddenly confesses, eyes locked onto the floating mistletoe above.

"You know you have to ask first, right?" you chuckle at his innocence.

"I suppose." he straightens up and holds you closer, tilting your head up with a finger to meet his gaze. He starts again, "Y/N, may I kiss you under this mistletoe?"

"Of course."

You meet his lips in a fervent kiss, and when you break, Lancelot's lips travel down, leaving a wet trail to your neck as he rids the scarf off your skin. His warm hands make their way down to the curve of your sides, eliciting a sigh from you as you call his name.

"Mistletoe kisses don't always have to be on the lips, you know." He says between nips, breath blowing against your heated skin; sending shivers straight down to your core.

"Mhmm," you hum at the feeling of his fingers brushing the underside of your clothed breast, and you lightly tug at the front of his uniform before reaching up to run a hand through his blonde locks.

Lancelot bites down and sucks onto your flesh as he pushes you flush against the door. A soft moan escapes your lips at the sudden mix of pain and pleasure; "Lance-"

"Yes?" he drags his sultry reply as slowly as his hand travels down to the front of your skirt, raking the clothing up until his fingers could skim across your skin.

"We're in the hall." You shudder in his hold as the heat between your legs started to grow more intolerable, throbbing at the need for more.

"So?" he teases, bringing his lips up to your ear to nibble on your lobe while his hand continuously skims across your inner thighs, purposefully missing your clothed womanhood.

Words won't get to him, so you reply in kind-- hand skimming over his uniform before resting over the growing tent of his pants. He growls and slightly bucks his hips against your hand at the faint touch, chasing the friction his body longs for.

He catches your grin in a hungry kiss, swallowing your moans as he presses his fingers against your clothed sex, coaxing agonizingly slow circles against the little bundle of nerves. You tremble in his grasp, panting heavily from every shock sent throughout your body.

"Lancelot," you whine, instinctively grinding against his hand. He doesn't stop, nor does he speed up. His clear blue eyes lock into yours for a moment, heavy and full of lust.

He strains his ears to hear the approaching sound of company-- muffled footsteps and faint chatter coming from the west wing. Your eyes widen once the sound reaches your ears.

Lancelot quickly wraps an arm around your waist and opens the door behind you, causing you to both stumble gracelessly onto the carpets of your room with a thud.

You find yourself laying on top of Lancelot, with his arm still wrapped around your waist protectively. Both of you were still caught in a daze from the last minute's incident.

You break into a smile, then burst into a laugh; prompting the man beneath you to laugh as well.

"So?" you spoke, trying your best to impersonate Lancelot's earlier reply despite your intense laughter.

Tears rolled freely down your cheeks from the laughter, and Lancelot wiped them with the pads of his thumbs before pulling you into another kiss.

A Merry Christmas indeed.

#ikemen revolution #ikemen kakumei #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen revolution fanfiction #lancelot kingsley #lancelot x reader #ikerev lancelot #edgar bright #Jonah Clemence #zero #kyle ash #IkeRev Jonah #ikerev edgar #ikerev Kyle #ikerev zero #’tis the season for smut

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starryeyes2000 · 2 years

Text

Retribution: A Very Bad Plan

Previous Chapter | Masterlist

Pairing: Christopher Pike x OC

Rating: Mature

Warning: This story contains references to a bioengineered virus. It is not contagious and can only infect one person.

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Years ago, Lieutenant Christopher Pike and his team’s classified mission failed changing the course of two peoples – the Estess whose planet was strategically important to the Federation and the deeply spiritual Gileseians whose out of the way home was location and resource poor. The price for his involvment will be steep and the debt is about to be called in.

This story takes place after the Season 2 finale. Control was defeated and all the events of Season 2 occurred except for Discovery travelling into the future.

ooooo

A Very Bad Plan

The Next Morning

The lieutenant scanned the morning’s news over breakfast. Every major service carried some version of the same story – the sentencing for those charged with murdering the ambassador. The Andorian justice systems moves swiftly, the officer assigned to Enterprise mused. Subsequently the same individuals would face another trial in a Federation court for attempted hijacking.

Wait. There it is. A column titled A New Day Dawns. There was no need to read the accompanying article about insignificant changes to a little-known government program.

The signal was late, but that was of no matter, the reasons for the delay were unimportant. It was time to execute Plan C.

ooooo

“I want to go on record one more time … I think this a bad idea.” Keyla repeated emphatically. “It’s a line you shouldn’t cross and one you may not be able to come back from.”

“It’s foolproof,” Tilly confidently assured her friend. “I want to solve the mystery. And something’s wrong, I’m sure of it. I mean to try and help if I can.”

ooooo

Keyla Detmer looked away from the file she was reviewing and rubbed her tired eyes. I should take a break, she thought but then discarded the notion. Later, we may be running out of time.

This was the most surreal assignment of her career.

A week ago, Enterprise’s XO passed her a handwritten note while they were alone in the flight simulator. It read – Meet me for dinner, 20:00, be discrete. Deck three, 8-A. At the time, the young helmsman thought, the command deck, is it possible Commander Una shares my attraction? The delicious anticipation of that possibility sent a chill down Detmer’s spine. Two hours later the anticipation morphed into apprehension as Keyla conceded the potential difficulties of a physical relationship with a superior officer, and not just any superior officer but the woman who was second in command of the flagship and rapidly becoming a mentor. Repeatedly she asked herself, Oh, I do want to make love to her but am I ready for this?

Detmer had arrived at the requested time and was perplexed, unsure and, yes, she admitted to herself, a bit intrigued on upon finding the Captain’s Yeoman present as well. Not that I have ever participated in or even, for that matter, contemplated something like this before, but maybe I should be open to experimentation; as Captain Pike says, be bold, yada, yada, yada.

Number One’s greeting was blunt, “This is code word classified and may not be discussed outside of this room.

Classified sex? OK, that’s hot, Keyla thought. Slow down, you don’t know if Una, or Mia, enjoy being with women … Mia is really cute in a soft delicate way …

Una continued, “Captain Pike trusts you …”

Why would the Captain’s trust matter? Keyla asked herself.

“… and has granted you clearance.”

The evening turned out quite different than she was imagining, and Keyla was eternally grateful neither Commander Una nor Mia Colt possessed the Betazed gift for reading thoughts.

Una had succinctly explained the situation with Mia offering additional details here and there. “The hijacking was not a fortunate random choice by a disorganized team. It was carefully planned, and the hostage was specifically targeted in a way that suggests, no, required conspirators. One or more of whom are likely aboard Enterprise.”

“What?” Keyla muttered, stunned. “A member of Starfleet deliberately hurt a fellow crewmember? And betrayed Captain Pike? It’s … it’s just not possible.”

Una continued brusquely. “We don’t know what they wanted. The Captain believes they will try again. Soon. We have little time to find and stop them.”

“But, the press, the ship, the gossip, everyone believes it happened very differently. That the resulting the injuries were minor,” Detmer protested.

“A fiction that is being carefully nurtured. Our only advantage at the moment is allowing them to think they got away with it,” Una responded.

“Does that mean?” Detmer asked quietly.

Mia nodded. “Her … injuries are serious, perhaps grave.” Then she added, “Your role in thwarting the hijacking and your previous posting to Discovery rather than Enterprise clears you. And there is an enormous amount of data to comb through in order to find those involved.”

“I know you have the maturity to push your feelings aside and get on with things. The Captain and I both have confidence you are ready to handle such a sensitive assignment. You will work with Mia, here in her quarters, reviewing personnel data. Pass anything suspicious to me.” Una’s expression was stern. “No one outside of Enterprise’s senior staff is briefed on this, not even Command. At this point we don’t know whom to trust.”

“So we are alone against an unknown number of hostiles. With no backup. We don’t know who the enemy is. And we cannot trust those we serve with,” Detmer summed up.

“Yes,” was Una’s sad confirmation.

ooooo

With the constant stream of senior officers, as well as Matt and Tracy, coming and going from their quarters over the past two weeks, Aalin had stopped asking who was at the door and in response to this chime simply called, “Come.”

Smoothing her uniform, Tilly took a deep breath and walked into Captain Pike’s quarters.

“Ensign? I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.” Aalin said in greeting as she self-consciously pulled the sleeves of her sweater over her bruised and still healing wrists.

“Tilly, ma’am. I never had a chance to apologize for the things I said on the transport. They were wildly inappropriate.”

“Thank you, but an apology isn’t necessary.” Aalin smiled but Tilly noticed the smile didn’t reach her eyes, “It will be our secret, both what you said and that I agree with you.” Having a confidence shared with her assured Tilly her apology was truly accepted.

Aalin waited as Tilly continued to stand and stare. “Is there anything else?”

“I noticed …” Tilly drifted off, surprised at the difference in the woman standing in front of her from when they met on the transport before the hijacking. Then Aalin’s eyes were lively, her mannerisms were warm and friendly, and she smiled easily. Now she was thinner, and the spark was gone.

“You noticed what?” Aalin prompted a bit impatiently.

“An anomalous power reading.” Tilly quickly blurted out and then continued with more confidence, “A power spike. It’s probably nothing, but I came to check it out.”

“Oh, OK. I’ll get out of your way.” Aalin retreated to the sleeping area.

Now that you are here, what are you looking for?Tilly asked herself, starting to doubt her plan for going to the source in order to investigate the odd feeling on the ship and unraveling the mystery. She looked around the neat room that was bathed in soft light and decorated in the neutral colors of a desert night. It was fascinating to get a glimpse into this personal side of their Captain.

There were few knickknacks in the room, aside from a couple of framed pictures, a row of cactuses in ceramic pots on the long coffee table, and a few books lying on side tables. Without thinking Tilly picked up one of the pictures and examined it. Unposed, at night under fairy lights, it appeared as if the Captain had just draped his jacket around Aalin; his hands rested on her upper arms and she was looking up at him with a faint smile. Tilly quickly put it down, feeling guilty for invading their privacy. Maybe Keyla is right, and this is a bad idea, she thought.

Tilly was about to make an excuse and a hasty exit when the door chimed again and Aalin walked through to answer it. Instead Tilly quickly aimed her tricorder at the wall and busily studied its readings. She caught a glimpse of dark hair and a neat beard when the door opened before hearing Aalin exclaim happily, “Spock!”

Oh no, Tilly thought, what should I do?Michael’s foster brother had, from the moment they met, and still did, intimidate her. Keeping scanning, maybe you will find something. At this close distance, it was impossible not to overhear their conversation.

“We didn’t expect you back from leave until next month. I ought to say you should be with your family, but it is so very good to see you.” Aalin put her hands out, palms up in the ritual Vulcan greeting for close friends and family. Spock returned the gesture with a very human embrace.

Wait, did Spock just hug her? Tilly thought. I thought Vulcans avoided intimate touch.

“When I learned what happened I immediately started back.” Spock replied. His eye caught movement in the corner of the room and he stepped to the side to investigate. “Ensign Tilly?” he called, “what is the purpose of your presence here?”

“There was an odd power reading,” she responded timidly, hoping to sell her cover story.

“Given the location of this so-called reading was the Chief Engineer informed?” He asked.

“Ummm, I was going to call him as soon as I gathered more information?” Tilly ventured, heart sinking and thinking, I am in so much trouble.

Spock crossed to the intercom, “Louvier, please come to the Captain’s quarters.” Turning his attention back to Tilly, Spock admonished, “This is a serious breach of protocol. Remain here to deliver your report to your superior.”

Phil Boyce decided if he had been blessed with a granddaughter, he would want her to be exactly like Sylvia Tilly – energetic, brilliant, vivacious, blunt, and with that endearingly unique perspective she brought to everything. In the short time since Commander Una asked him to take on ‘giving the Ensign a little extra supervision’, the young officer had enchanted him. And he had already experienced her talent for unintentionally getting into scrapes.

He exited the turbolift on deck three planning to check on Aalin before meeting Tilly for an afternoon expresso. And was surprised to see Louvier, Spock, and Tilly standing outside Pike’s quarters having an animated quarrel while Aalin tried to mediate. Well maybe I’m not surprised.Sighing he walked over to join the fray.

“Ensign, explain again, this time using concise sentences, your reason for being here.” Louvier said through gritted teeth.

“I … sir … I mean … yes sir.” Tilly stammered. “I was walking by …”

“You were taking a stroll on the command deck?” Spock queried with a raised eyebrow.

Tilly looked unsure, “Oh, I wasn’t aware of that sir. That this is the command deck I mean.”

“Perhaps we should call Number One.” Spock suggested.

“There’s no need for that, she’s busy and this was a simple misunderstanding.” Aalin said soothingly as she jerked the sleeves of her sweater over her injured wrists.

The chief engineer glared, “Continue Ensign, what were you doing here?”

“I …” Tilly started again.

“Rene, I noticed something off about the replicator and Ensign Tilly happened to be walking by. I asked her to take a look,” Aalin explained while shooting the CMO a meaningful glance and tilting her head towards the lift.

Boyce leaned in and whispered to Tilly, “Let’s go.”

“But …” She started.

“Later,” he said firmly as he guided her down the hallway. In the background they could hear Aalin finish, “I’m sorry for violating procedure and worrying you. I just didn’t think it through.”

Rene Louvier crossed his arms and stared. When Aalin didn’t look away he gave in. “OK, Spock stay here until Scotty comes.” He waved a finger at Aalin. “Scotty’s going to check every inch of your quarters until I am satisfied nothing is wrong.”

“Of course, thank you,” she replied serenely.

ooooo

Tracy Pollard looked up when she heard a familiar voice in Sickbay.

“Hugh?”

Her former colleague from Discovery flashed his brilliant smile. “I just arrived, with Spock. I thought I could be of more help here than working remotely on Vulcan. Paul’s here too. He’s looking for Reno, I think he misses baiting her.”

“Your presence and help are very welcome.” Tracy responded with a tired smile.

“Any progress on beating the virus?”

She shook her head sadly. “On a cure? None.”

“Have the symptoms changed?”

“Changed, no. Settled is a better word. Into a cycle. Similar to malaria. There is a period of remission for a day or two. Then her fever climbs to 102 or 103 degrees for twelve to twenty-four hours. After that breaks overwhelming fatigue is the primary symptom while the virus cannibalizes her body to produce the drug. Within six hours the heighted emotional responses begin. Remission returns in a couple of days. I expect the fever will set in later this evening. And …”

“It gets worse?”

“She gets weaker with each cycle. There isn’t enough time to build her body back up in between flare-ups.” Tracy finished.

“Prognosis?” Hugh asked.

“Not good. We’ve changed our efforts from developing a cure to finding a way to lengthen the remission period. If we could stabilize her, boost her strength between bouts, well, it would be chronic but at least manageable.”

“I’ve had some success unraveling the genetic code of the virus. That will help us retroactively sort through the process that created it. And Paul has ideas about using his spore farm to grow a counteragent for the drug.”

“Reducing or even perhaps eliminating the intense fear she experiences?”

Hugh nodded. “That will help us better manage the physical and emotional toll the virus is taking.”

“Have you spoken with the Captain yet?” Tracy asked.

“No. We were briefed by the XO and understand the need for the ongoing secrecy. It’s mind bending, the possibility of one or more enemy agents among the crew of the flagship.”

ooooo

The ride in the turbolift to the deck housing Phil’s sickbay office felt interminable to Tilly. The kindly doctor’s expression was stern. And his eyes look tired, Tilly thought. Once in the office, he opaqued the windows, turned to her and asked quietly, “What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know.” Tilly replied.

“That is a little girl’s answer. Do you realize how close you came today to losing your posting on this ship? Spock and Louvier on their own could ensure you never serve on a ship or even a Starbase again.”

“I thought I found a problem,” she winced inwardly at the white lie, “and I didn’t think it through.”

“I can’t speak to the routine on Discovery. But Enterprise is not a science vessel. She’s a heavy cruiser and military vessel charged with a deep space exploration mission.”

“I get it,” she answered, this time defensively.

“I don’t think you do. A junior officer reports any problems she discovers to her supervisor. She doesn’t investigate them on her own. The Chief Engineer dispatches repair teams to the Captain’s quarters, not the Ensign who joined the ship ten days ago. Especially now.”

“Sometimes I act rashly,” Tilly admitted.

Phil sat down in the chair beside her. “Yes, and if you don’t learn to curb that tendency, there will come a time you act and then can’t talk, finesse, or save your way out of it. You are too talented to throw away your career so thoughtlessly. Impulse control is vital for a commander.”

“How do you think Captain Pike will react?”

He rubbed his chin. “He will never know about it. You appear to have the luck of the Irish, or a guardian angel. Today, that was Aalin. She covered for you. Neither Spock nor Louvier will challenge her explanation and they will respect her request to drop the matter. If Una had been called, I don’t know, she may have given you a second chance or you might be packing your bags right now.”

“That’s the second time Aalin, sorry, the Lieutenant has covered for me.” Tilly admitted.

“Oh?”

“It’s not important right now.”

Phil narrowed his eyes, a niggling doubt pushed him to demand an explanation, another cautioned him to let it go. Before he could decide Tilly asked, “You said ‘especially now.’ What does that mean? Because things seem off. That was why I … I wanted to find out …”

“Go on.”

Tilly decided it was time to change the subject. “That’s not important right now either.”

“Very well.” Phil sighed. “Promise me the next time you think, ‘Eureka! That’s a great idea’, you will come ask me before acting on it.”

“Eureka? Really” Tilly laughed. “What an old-fashioned word.”

“I’m an old man. This crew has turned my hair grey, you are rapidly turning it white. And you are attempting to wiggle out of the promise, hoping I will forget. Believe me young lady, I’ve dealt with others more head-strong and stubborn than you.”

“You’re referring to Captain Pike and Number One, aren’t you?”

“A CMO never tells. About that promise?”

“Yes, I will.”

Phil shooed her out of his office. “Go then and let me have some peace. Try and stay out of trouble for the rest of the day.”

“I always try,” Tilly remarked as she left.

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sebastiansmistress · 3 years

Text

꧁𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞 𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨꧂

NOTE: these are made up but are influenced by previous headcanons i’ve seen before.

these headcanons are mainly my ideas so if you post about them please be sure to tag me!

also, you can follow my tiktok. it’s the same user as this one!

be sure to tell me what you think and comment who else i should do ☺︎︎

—

how he asked you out:

akaashi asked you out while you were both at the library studying for an exam the next day. you were in your favourite sweats, crocs, your hair wasn’t done. to put it plainly, you weren’t dressed up in anyway shape or form. you were a stressed out mess; constantly procrastinating and complaining. he of course, went out of his way to assure you that you were doing fine but it wasn’t working. he couldn’t help himself but laugh at you which ticked you off slightly; only making him laugh more. in that moment, akaashi realised that you were the one for him.

when he finally brought himself to pop the question after hours of studying, your tone completely flipped. you were a flustered mess because you felt the same way. ‘akaashi! why would you ask me now? it’s supposed to be a special moment!’ which is when he replied ‘but this is special because i’m with you right now’. you appreciated the sentiment but you still detested the idea of him asking you at that moment.

he promised he’d make up for the fact that he asked you out at such an inconvenient time for you but he said that it felt right in the moment. but he was over the moon when you said yes

your first date:

akaashi made sure your first date was going to be one for the books because he wanted to make up for the library fiasco.

it was early september, nearing the end of summer and akaashi wanted to savour the last days of this season. he asked you out to a picnic date where you promised to supply a beverage of choice while he handled the food.

upon arrival, akaashi greeted you with a hug that was pure and innocent.

he was carrying a picnic basket which stood out to you. it was very plain yet it was laced with a sage green ribbon and had a lavender plant intertwined in the straw. it was definitely akaashi’s style.

when you asked him about the picnic basket, he said it was his grandmothers. he told you the story about how she used it when she went on dates with his late grandfather. it was supposedly tradition for them to go on dates and use that very basket. ‘that’s such a beautiful story akaashi. i’m so sorry for your loss..’ he replied with ‘don’t worry about it y/n. perhaps we can carry out their legacy and make it our very own tradition’ . the sentiment was very sweet making your heart thump. you also yearned for a romance like theirs.

you both settled down at a spot under a very large weeping willow tree, secluded from everyone else. you brought out a checkered baby pink picnic blanket and set everything down. akaashi opened up the basket and revealed its contents. he had specially prepared bento boxes for the two of you and even packed additional snacks. it was perfect. when you asked him if he’d made the boxes himself, he smuggly said ‘yes i did’ with a fat smirk plastered on that pretty face of his. in that moment akaashi unveiled his self-approving side. the bento was delicious but you were too stubborn to admit it.

when he asked where the drinks you chose were, you pulled them out of your bag rapidly. you decided that ramune sodas were the most fitting for the date so you brought a whole variety with you. the flavours ranged from melon, lychee, strawberry and grape. ‘pick which ones you want!’ akaashi picked two; lychee and strawberry. he was clearly a man of taste.

after you both finished eating, he pulled out a deck of cards. it was only fitting for you both to burn off those calories by playing a competitive game of uno. ultimately, it wasn’t a very good idea considering you both were merciless when it came to any form of competition. even still, you were no match for him. he was the undisputed king at the game. he happened to be effortlessly good at everything; including uno! ‘y/n, i’ve never met someone as bad as you before!’ he made multiple remarks about how your technique was flawed and how you just weren’t good at playing the game at all. ‘oh shut up keiji! you’re clearly cheating!!’

after multiple rounds of uno; which ended with akaashi’s winning streak of 7, he pulled out two small canvases, an old book and a water paint pallet along with some glue. akaashi never admitted it but he loved painting in his spare time, along with reading old novels. so he decided to mesh the two things he loved the most: ‘okay, this is some old rinsed out book i had lying around, how about we use it to make something beautiful?’ he proposed that you both make small paintings of your surroundings while including sappy quotes from the romance novel. in the end, you’d both exchange your works and cherish them as keepsakes in loving memory of your first date.

when it was nearing towards the end of the date, the sun began to set radiating soft hues of orange and pink across the skyline. the view was a sight for sore eyes and as you both sat their admiring the sky, you noticed akaashi looking over at you, staring at you contently. you didn’t want to say anything so you just pretended like you didn’t notice but in reality you could feel your cheeks go bright red. you looked over at him and he gave you a reassuring smile.

as you both packed up your belongings, you were hesitant to leave. you really enjoyed your date and akaashi noticed that you didn’t want it to end. so as a cute gesture, he carved out your initials on the tree with the fork he’d used earlier that day. ‘akaashi.. what are you doing?’ you looked over at him, tilting your head slightly at an angle. he looked back at you and gave you a soft smile ‘marking our territory. this is going to become our tradition remember?’

akaashi escorted you out of the park walking with you; side by side. you two were very close to each other, on the verge of coming in contact. you walked together in silence and admired the views. that’s when you slowly felt his fingers reaching out for yours. you gazed back at him in confusion. ‘c-can i hold your hand?’ his voice was light and tranquil yet it was clear to you that he was nervous. you nodded in response. akaashi took you by the hand and led the way; interlocking his fingers with yours delicately.

akaashi’s love language:

akaashi isn’t big on the eccentric things in life. he’s never been one for big parties or going out to densely populated places. he’s very reserved and prefers to spend his time with you alone. you could be doing anything together but as long as you are within reach, he’s more than happy. some of your best memories together are in your livingroom, cuddled up watching romance animes.

he doesn’t say i love you very often but he truly loves you with all his heart. a way he communicates this love for you is by recommending books for you. he’s been a bookworm his entire life and his favourite thing to do after reading novel is giving it to you to read. on numerous occasions, he’d give you a book just for you to finish it within a couple of days. nothing warms his heart more than hearing that you enjoyed the book. he loved discussing ideas and debating beliefs after finishing the books. sometimes you have conflicting ideas which really expands his mind in a way he never thought anyone could.

another way he loves to show you he cares his by hand crafting you care packages whenever you’re feeling under the weather (whether that’s monthly due to mestruation, or when you’re feeling sad). akaashi’s other guilty pleasure is arts and crafts and over the years he’s gotten especially good at it. so another way he loves showcasing his love for you is by making you a basket filled with goodies when you’re feeling sad. he’d hand deliver them to your door like a gentleman and sometimes leave cute notes with them too. (all those romance novels have gotten to him clearly)

favourite memory together:

his first time saying ‘i love you’ was when you were both babysitting. you were babysitting bokuto’s nephew who was practically a mini bokuto who’d just discovered the skill of walking. he was running around, constantly knocking things over. this mini bokuto was a falling hazard on his own but he was a ray of sunshine just like his uncle. due to his wild mannerisms, you both made sure to baby proof the whole area to ensure his safety.

you left him to watch cartoons and you went to tend to akaashi in the kitchen. he’d hidden while you were both preparing dinner. this left you both in a state of confusion and worry. you were sure you didn’t see him leave the livingroom.‘come on little guy! you can’t stay hiding for ever!’ you called out. you scanned the whole house in search for the little munchkin, but nothing.

that’s when akaashi went to the kitchen and returned with a bowl filled with small fish shaped crackers. ‘oh, i see how it is, i guess i’ll have these crackers all to myself!’ he called out. that’s when the little smurf emerged from behind the couch with a bright smile plastered on his face. ‘BOO!!’ he called out. ‘there you are! you little bedbug! you’re getting good at hide and seek aren’t you?!’ you bopped his nose delicately and he giggled. you were relieved to see him. akaashi reached out to him and sat him next to him, while he snacked on the crackers.

the three of you ate together, played games and watched some more cartoons. bokuto 2.0 was very fond of you and insisted you cradled him to sleep. at this point it was getting late and he would’ve been very tired after a day filled with festivities. you yourself were exhausted and found yourself deep asleep. akaashi had just finished cleaning up and walked in on you both asleep on the arm chair. he admired your willpower when handling him and he grabbed the boys little owl ‘blankie’ and placed it above you both; cocooning you both in the fabric. he planted a small kiss on your forehead and that’s when he said he loved you. he was so overwhelmed with emotion and his mind trailed off; thinking of you two of you in the future, having a family of your own.

i hope you guys enjoyed these headcanons, it’s currently 3:35am and for me it was worth staying up late :)

i’m all for doing a second part or starting a new character but please tell me what you guys think of them!

#anime #haikyuu #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi headcanons #akaashi keiji #hq akaashi #headcanons #romance #couples #y/n x haikyuu #anime aesthetic #sports anime

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itsthemoofacewriting · 3 years

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A postcard home

This is for the Tumblr event the wonderful @zonamievents organised, today’s prompts are postcard and hot cocoa. I picked the former.

Summary: Nami thinks she’s so smart and cunning, but she can’t pull the wool over her own sisters’ eyes. Rating: K.

This can also be found on AO3 and FFN.

I’ve never written a no dialogue story before and I wanted to try it.

Enjoy.

Snow had finally settled over Cocoyasi village. It was late this year and everyone in the village had wondered if this would be the first year that they wouldn’t have any before Christmas. It was a big topic for weeks and Nojiko was slightly relieved when it did arrive so everyone would stop talking about it. Although, it certainly did highlight a change for the better. Gone were the times of discussing Nami or hiding from Arlong and his crew when they rampaged or banding together when someone was short on money.

It was a lovely, mundane difference.

The only issue with the arrival of snow, other than villagers now moaning about how hazardous the snow was, was that it was a tough season for Bell-mère’s mikan orchard. Don’t get her wrong, it looked beautiful, snow settled on top of the trees and hints of orange poking through the white, but it meant smaller than usual mikan’s.

Nojiko’s brought out of those thoughts when she heard the crunching of shoes against snow and it’s the mailman looking slightly out of puff. It wasn’t really a quick trip to her house from the village and the snow only made it harder. But she doesn’t dwell on that, because seeing him meant that it could only be one thing being delivered and it had her skipping towards the door to meet him there.

The door’s shutting quickly after his first knock and it’s probably a bit rude, he had clearly wanted to chat, but they can do that anytime, she wanted to look at this as soon as possible. Her fingers are itching.

It had been a while since she’d heard from Nami.

The envelopes open and she’s greeted by the picture of a large Christmas tree, decorated to the nines, on the front of the postcard. It’s a generic picture but it’s normally whatever Nami can get hold of but Nojiko’s still slightly impressed she managed to predict when it’d get here and find one to match that. Their postcards could take anywhere from a month to six to get to the other.

Flipping it over, she scanned the message:

Everything’s good. Nothing new.

Nami’s messages were always short and to the point. It was hardly like Nami could go into great detail. Firstly, where would she find the time? And secondly, information was brief so nothing could be traced should the postcard be intercepted. And that was fine, it was enough just to know her sister was okay. Also, it meant if information was brief Nami would send photos along in an envelope with the postcard and she loved those.

And low and behold, there they were behind the postcard.

They were hardly ever works of art, but they were always fun and just from those still images Nojiko knew Nami was having the time of her life. Like she deserved to. Also, it was nice to see her sister, even if it wasn’t in person.

But the photo she’s currently looking at is a stark contrast to her sister’s words on the postcard. It’s a group shot of the crew and its chaos, some looking at the camera like good models, others laughing or bickering or extra limbs were sticking out of them, but that’s not what caught her attention.

It’s the man standing next to Nami.

Roronoa Zoro.

She remembered his stern expressions well from back then, always ready for the worst and, she reckoned, hoping for it at times if the blood thirsty gleam in his eyes she’d seen briefly was any indication. But she’d seen first-hand how all of that would melt away after victory or when he was offered alcohol and would laugh at the antics of his crew. A brute with a soft heart, it seemed.

To an average person, with no knowledge of the people in the photo, it would look like nothing, but call it a sister’s intuition… and, okay fine, the trashy gossip magazines she’s been buying to keep tabs on her sister between postcards, it’s certainly not an accurate description of Nami’s words ‘nothing new.’

They’re stood close together in the chaos, much closer than what one would deem friendly (Maybe she’s being over critical, sue her), neither facing the camera as they looked to be arguing. Nami’s finger is pointing at his chest and their faces are close as they exchange words, Usopp’s next to them looking exasperated. So nothing new apparently.

She’d seen the way those two were around each other before they’d left the village and she’d quietly hoped there would be some development. She had to play it cool with Nami though, show too much interest and she’d never find out without a face-to-face conversation. But with how brief their postcards are, she’s left analysing photos and trashy magazines with blurry photos of the two of them together. One time, it looked like they had been kissing off in the distance, but the quality was so poor most people didn��t believe it. But Nojiko could spot her sister anywhere.

Was it too much to ask for photographers to focus their damn snail before taking photos?

Nevertheless it was enough for Nojiko. Flicking through the rest of the photos she was disappointed that there was no more of the two together. Nami was such a tease, dangling a carrot in front of her just out of reach. But she couldn’t be too disappointed when she came across the photo of Nami with her mikan trees… and if she squinted, was there a splash of green hair she saw hidden in the trees?

Nojiko wasn’t born yesterday, Nami’s definitely playing with her. She’d spent her childhood growing up with Nami, she knew her sister like the back of her hand. But it still amused her that Nami tried to trick her, make her work for the information. It’s so like her.

A real witch, you might be tempted to say.

Quite fitting really. A brute and a witch, both too soft for their own good at times.

In the quiet of her little home, she went back to the first of the photos and was still as she gazed down at the photo, almost like she was trying to soak it all in. Her gaze occasionally taking in the rest of the crew, but ultimately it stayed on Nami. Taking in her long orange hair playing in the wind, eyebrows furrowed and mouth open like she’s in the middle of a lecture. Despite the expression, there’s no weight to Nami’s expression, like there used to be back then. It made Nojiko happy. That was what she’d always wanted for her, wanted her to be where she belonged- at sea, even if it split them apart.

And it seemed Zoro had a part to play in that now, even if it wasn’t one hundred percent confirmed (To Nojiko it was but try telling that to the other villagers).

With one last long look at her sister, Nojiko was opening the envelope again to slip in the postcard and photos, ready to venture down to the village to show the others. However, as she did, the items were met with resistance and when she peered in, she’d missed something else.

Another photo.

With the new photo in hand, Nojiko’s serene smile curled into something much sharper. A mixture of glee and smugness that screamed ‘I knew it!’. It was probably for the best Nami wasn’t here, because that look alone would have her back up, like a cornered cat.

There was less of the crew is this photo, only the five that had been at Arlong park and it looked like they’d finally got their act together. All of them looking at the camera, Luffy’s arms stretched around to bring them all in and even with less of them, it still managed to be just as busy.

But that’s not what caught her eye, no. It’s the arm that’s wrapped around Nami’s waist and a Nami’s head resting on a shoulder. An arm that belonged to Zoro and Nami’s head on his shoulder. Both of them are smiling at the camera, leaning into one another and Nojiko doesn’t have to read between the lines this time to have her confirmation that they are indeed together.

She doesn’t stop to stare at it like the others because she’s too giddy and excited to stand still.

With a skip in her step, she’s shoving the photos and postcard into the envelope and slipping on her coat as she made her way towards the door. All the while thinking about how she wanted to play this with Genzo, so she could get the best possible reaction from him. He’d be horrified no matter what, but she really wanted to milk it. She had to get her kicks somehow.

And, she had some money to collect from some villagers. She was Nami’s sister after all, she’s always down for some easy cash- she just has no idea why they bet against her.

Two months later

It’s warm, the sun’s high and they’re making good progress towards the next island. For the time being, it’s something that doesn’t require her attention and she’s just about to walk across the deck to join Robin for some sunbathing when she heard the familiar cry of the News Coo.

Looking into the sky, it circled a few times before starting its descent and Nami was walking over to meet the bird at the railing.

Unlike the normal newspaper she bought weekly, it was a sealed envelope and Nami was quickly paying off the bird, barely taking notice of the price increase, so she could quickly open her letter. There was only one person this could be from.

The postcard was simple, just a picture of an orange cat, but based on the photos that slipped out of the envelope, it’d been sent around Christmas. Nojiko and Genzo were in one of the photo’s surrounded by snow.

She looked at it for a moment longer, thinking about where she would frame the photo before turning her attention to the letter. Nami had thought it was hilarious when she’d sent her postcard off to Nojiko, just leaving enough crumbs for her to figure it out so when she flipped the card to read the message, she gave a short, sharp laugh.

Nojiko had figured it out alright.

Nice try. Since when did you take an interest in plant life?

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

By plant life, am I referring to Zoro’s nickname Marimo? Yes, yes, I am.

I love the thought of Nami and Nojiko sending little postcards and photos to one another.

As always, please forgive any errors (especially as I rushed this to post on time).

Thanks for reading.

#ZoNaHoliday2020 #ZoNami #ZoNa #ZoroxNami #opfanfic #opwriting #One piece #Zoro #Nami

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lokimostly · 4 years

Text

Polaris (Ch.16/?)

Loki x Reader, Pirate!AU

Word Count: 4,466

Warnings: violence, language

Summary: Your life has always been set in stone. Born to a wealthy merchant family in the Caribbean, you’ve spent your years as an heiress in the daytime, escaping at night to wander the streets of St. Thomas. Now, on the eve before your life settles into mundanity for good, you discover someone who could change everything– if you choose to trust him, that is.

A/N: As promised, this chapter is entirely from Loki’s perspective! Don’t worry, we’ll get back to our debutante reader soon. For now, this is his part of the story. Let’s let him tell it.

Chapter One ~ Chapter Two ~ Chapter Three ~ Chapter Four ~ Chapter Five ~ Chapter Six ~ Chapter Seven ~ Chapter Eight ~ Chapter Nine ~ Chapter Ten ~ Chapter Eleven ~ Chapter Twelve ~ Chapter Thirteen ~ Chapter Fourteen ~ Chapter Fifteen

The sun was making its first appearance over the glass sea, turning the sky pink and lighting on the waves with a rosy glow. The clouds were as pale and wispy as stretched cotton. As the sunrise dimmed the map of stars above, it burned bright in the reflection of Loki’s bloodshot eyes, staring out at the waves as they turned to gold.

His hands were already blistered from rowing. The sinew of his muscles had been stretched to their limit a few hours ago, and so he had let go of the oars to hold his head in his hands instead, filled with a despair that felt larger than the ocean around him. Hot, frustrated tears fell from his eyes, more to try and soothe their dryness than to curb the aching in his chest. Perhaps it was a mix of both. It was only in raising his head to dry his eyes, blinking away the water and fatigue, that he saw the merchant ship approaching.

Loki’s brows pulled together. It was a trading company ship; not Odin’s. Rather small. The bell on deck was ringing, signaling a man overboard as they approached, and a few seconds later, a rope landed in Loki’s lap.

Several pairs of hands helped haul him over the side, pulling him onto the deck, but they were quick to leave him; Loki’s reddened eyes and haggard look gave him a frightening aura, one that the men obviously weren’t keen to hang around. He slowly straightened his posture, rolling his sore shoulders and looking down at the Captain, standing in front of him.

Loki gave him a single glance, surveying him without much consideration. He was small and portly with receding hair, hardly intimidating– though clearly he was doing his best to look nonplussed by Loki’s sudden and unexpected arrival.

“Glad to have you aboard, sir,” he greeted, as warmly as he was able. “I’m Cap’n Montgomery, and this’s my ship The Duchess. How’d you wind up all the way out here?”

Loki didn’t answer. He stood still on the rocking deck, his posture stiff, looking out at the pale dawn sky with a hardened expression.

Captain Montgomery waited awkwardly for his response, shifting his posture. Then he cleared his throat. “Perhaps you’d like to talk elsewhere?” He gestured to the doors that led to the Captain’s cabin.

Loki’s eyes trailed to the left, and he nodded. He followed the Captain inside, walking slow and cat-like with a look of apprehension as he stepped over the threshold. His eyes were quick in surveying the small room, unadorned by lavish decor. The only notable object of interest was the mahogany desk that Captain Montgomery sat himself behind, setting his elbows atop its surface and waiting for Loki to close the door.

He did so, and stepped over. The ship’s charter laid open-faced by the Captain’s hand, and Loki’s dark eyebrows pulled together. “Where is this vessel headed?”

Captain Montgomery’s eyebrows raised and he held out his hand in a stopping motion. “Now, hang on a minute. I have some questions to ask you first–”

Loki reached forward and spun the paper to face him, scanning the lines. “Kingston?”

The Captain’s eyes flickered. “Aye, that’s right, sir.”

Loki’s frown deepened. “That is exactly the opposite of where I need to go,” Loki muttered in annoyance.

The man shifted in his seat, visibly uncomfortable. “Well–”

“What day is it?” Loki interrupted again, looking up at him. His gaze was sharp enough to cut glass. They might have been a different color, but when he wanted them to, Loki’s eyes could hold just as much chill as his father’s.

The Captain blinked. “Uh– the first of August, sir.”

“What was your name again?”

“Mont– Montgomery. Captain Montgomery.”

Loki hummed shortly, leaning on the desk. He glanced back at the closed doors, then returned to the paper in front of him, running a finger over his lip in thought. The captain watched him uneasily as he stood there, still as stone, with nothing but the rocking of the ship to mark the passage of time.

Suddenly Loki reached forward and grabbed the captain by the collar, slamming his face into the mahogany and twisting his arm behind his back in one fluid motion. The Captain shouted in surprised pain, only to be silenced when Loki twisted his arm further, his lips curled in a snarl.

“Listen to me very carefully, Montgomery,” he threatened between his teeth. “It is in our mutual best interests that you take this ship to St. Thomas immediately. One more inch in the wrong direction and this arm will break. If you don’t do as I say, the same thing will happen to your neck.”

The Captain struggled fruitlessly beneath Loki’s grip, his face squashed against the desk in a contorted expression of anger. “You – you bastard!”

“Pirate,” Loki corrected, applying the slightest fraction of pressure. It was enough to make the captain gasp and pant in pain. “Do we understand each other, Montgomery?”

“It’ll–” The Captain wheezed, struggling to speak. “It’ll take more’n three days to get there. The wind… the wind’s against us.”

“Then you should bear a hand and tell your men to come around,” Loki suggested coldly, and let go of him. Captain Montgomery stood up so fast that he stumbled backwards, holding his arm and staring at Loki with frightened eyes. He darted past Loki and out of the cabin, running faster than Loki suspected he ever had in his life. Judging by his portly stature, it was probably a good thing for him. Nothing like a healthy fear of death to keep you fit.

Loki stood in the empty cabin and listened to the muted sounds of the captain shouting orders above, and he tightened his jaw, reaching into his pocket. The cold coin was there, safely stowed away. He rubbed it between his fingers, smoothing over the serpent’s pattern with the pad of his thumb. His eyes drifted to the window. Somewhere, out there, you were being held in a cell – stuck behind rusted bars while the sand in the hourglass slowly sifted through.

August the first. That meant he had until the end of the month to secure your safety, with at least four days already spent by the time he reached St. Thomas. Loki’s grip tightened on the coin. If fate had pushed you together – and he firmly believed that hit had – then fate would keep you from being pulled apart.

Nearly a week later, The Duchess floated into the rainy port of St. Thomas. The sun peeked out occasionally behind the clouds while it showered. It was one of those odd, rainy summer days before hurricane season where the weather couldn’t quite whip up enough energy to storm with full rage and intensity; not yet.

The sailors were still tying the small merchant ship to the dock when the gangplank dropped and Loki descended from the ship, running down the slippery wharf so fast that he nearly stumbled. He dodged the men loading crates, ducking underneath a load of lumber carried between two sailors, and climbed the cobble stairs with exhausted determination.

Home was only a few hours away, but Loki wasn’t headed there; not yet. Instead he headed up the street, doing his best to keep his tired legs from giving out underneath him. He made a right and found the corner bar, stumbling inside. This was the place you and Loki had first encountered one another, but also somewhere that he’d frequented long before your fateful meeting. The creaking floorboards beneath his feet were as familiar as the mattress of his own bed, and the heady smells of mahogany and beer reassured his senses that he was safe. Home.

Being the middle of the day, the corner bar was totally devoid of customers. Light streamed in through the fogged windows while the building’s only occupant, the bartender, polished glasses behind the counter with monotonous repetition, glancing up only when Loki pulled himself into one of the barstools and leaned against the counter, his hair and clothes dripping wet. The only sounds were the steady shower of light rain outside and the squeak of fabric rubbed against glass.

“You’re a bit early in the day, young master,” The bartender observed curiously. The man sported a heavy accent behind his mustache, but his tone was good-natured and amiable. He was as much a part of the bar as the polished countertop and neatly lined bottles on the shelves behind him.

“I need a drink,” Loki said hoarsely, dropping his head into one hand and massaging his temples. His whole body ached, inside and out. Beating slow inside his chest, Loki’s heart weighed him down as though it was made of lead.

The glass slid down the counter and Loki caught it with his free hand: cold, polished glass with dark liquor inside. He tilted his head back and downed it in one go, setting the empty cup down on the polished wood. The bartender refilled it without asking, handing it back to him before returning to his former task. He polished the cups until they sparkled like crystal, despite the fact that they were already clean; no doubt it was a soothing, repetitive notion to help the empty afternoon hours pass by. “You ‘ere to talk, or just drink?”

Loki scoffed. “What’s there to talk about?” He asked, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing them tiredly. Dull sparks floated behind his vision, signs of dehydration and an oncoming headache.

“Fair ‘nough, sir. I won’t press you.”

Loki dropped his hand and regarded the man with a flat expression. His mouth pressed into a thin line, and he dropped his gaze, spinning the glass of liquor in his hand. He stared at the distorted wood pattern of the bartop through the brown liquor.

The bartender watched him with soft, dark eyes for a moment longer before he tried again. “Is it a woman?”

“Of course it’s a woman,” Loki snapped, though his words didn’t have much bite; they never did when he was telling the truth. He thumbed the rim of the glass. “It’s the woman,” he admitted, more quietly.

The bartender nodded knowingly, tossing his rag aside and fetching a fresh one. “She leave you?” He asked, his tone conversational and unassuming, from decades of practice with discussions far more delicate than this one.

Loki shook his head. His wet raven hair slipped past his shoulders when he did, falling in gentle waves past his ears and smelling of saltwater. “No. I lost her.” He frowned at the sudden blurriness in his eyes, downing his second glass and setting it down with a gentle thud. He sniffed. Straightened in his seat. “I’m getting her back.” Whether he said this to reassure the bartender or himself, Loki wasn’t entirely sure.

The city bell tolled out the hour, bringing him back to a state of clarity. It was later than he’d thought. Loki reached into his pocket for money to pay – and then realized he didn’t have any, apart from the serpent coin. The coin he couldn’t give away. Loki stalled, his elegant fingers still at his sides while he tried to think of a solution to this sudden dilemma.

The bartender noticed his hesitation and extended his hand with a polite shake of his head. “You’ve been generous in the past, young master,” he stated. “I trust you’ll be back.”

Loki met his eyes. Normally he would take offense to a gesture of charity; Loki had never lacked for money, not once in his life, and he never intended to. But if he’d learnt anything from the past weeks, it was that even his best intentions didn’t guarantee the future. He met the bartender’s eyes and found them to be soft and reassuring. He bowed his head. “Thank you.”

The man shrugged, like it wasn’t any problem to him, taking Loki’s empty glass and polishing it alongside all the rest. “Bring your woman next time.”

Loki laughed once, humorlessly, and stood. “I will,” he promised, with a final nod of thanks before he turned his back to the bartender and walked back out towards the drenched cobblestone street, feeling renewed somehow – perhaps by the drink, though more likely by the man’s kindness. Not everyone in the world was bloodthirsty and rotten.

Not everyone in the world is a pirate, Loki thought. Of course, he considered himself a rare exception: Loki was a pirate, yes, but a reputable one. Honorable, even. However – somewhere deep in his heart – Loki was beginning to come to terms with the fact that getting you back might permanently soil that reputation. He intended to do whatever it took, however foul, even if it meant killing Vane and all his crewmen with his bare hands.

Would you be able to love him, if it came to that? If he became a murderer? Would you let him touch you with bloody hands, or would you turn away in fear and disgust?

The thought disquieted him, and he shook his head to clear the thought. Whether you hated him or not at the end of this didn’t matter, so long as you got out alive. He owed you that much.

His seaglass eyes looked up instinctively towards the road that he knew lead home, but he turned the opposite way instead: there was still one more errand to run.

In order for Loki to both save you and maintain a clear ledger inside his father’s business, he had to find a way to combine the two. That meant enlisting in his family’s help, while simultaneously making it look like he wasn’t involved at all. During his time floating adrift in the waves, waiting for the sunrise, Loki had surmised a plan of action. With some skill, and a great deal of luck, it would prove itself successful.

He hoped his luck hadn’t run out yet.

Loki found himself in a familiar backside alley, the entrance hidden behind empty fruit crates stacked six feet high. He stepped carefully down the narrow cobble path, wrinkling his nose at the stench of city sludge and old bathwater dumped unceremoniously onto the ground. The clotheslines above hung limp in the afternoon, the fabric heavy and wet from the rain – whoever put them out had neglected to retrieve them. He found the heavy wooden door with gold hinges and knocked, twice. Then he stepped back into the rain, no more than a light mist at this point, and waited.

He was considering turning away when it finally opened. The man who answered the door had dark skin and eyes that shimmered like copper. His hair fell over his broad shoulders in locs, decorated with metal clasps. His face wore a stern expression that revealed exactly nothing, and he waited with one hand on the door – prepared to shut it again at a moment’s notice. “Yes?”

“Heimdall,” Loki greeted solemnly, and glanced out at the alley for listening ears.

“You don’t have an appointment.”

“This isn’t my usual business,” he explained, squinting as misty rainwater dripped down his face and clung to his eyelashes. “It’ll be quick. I only need one page; no forgings, no signatures. It just can’t be my hand.”

The dark man hesitated, gripping the door while he considered this. Loki’s clothes stuck to him, and he silently wished that Heimdall would at least let him inside, but he knew not to press the matter. Their relationship was a strictly professional one, and he knew how much he was asking. “I’ll pay twice whatever you ask,” he added.

Heimdall’s copper eyes met Loki’s, his expression still flat, and then he opened the door further. “Come in. Don’t sit. You’ll ruin the chair.”

Loki obliged, stepping in quickly. The room was dark and smelled of leather, lit only by candles and the narrow, cross-hatched windows that lined one wall. The other three sides of the small, square space were lined by bookshelves, lined with bottles, parchment, and bookkeeper’s tools. Less conspicuously, there were a few shelves full of antiquated volumes, which he knew to contain ledgers upon ledgers of signatures and scripts. A forger’s library.

Heimdall sat down at the desk, dipping his quill into the inkwell. “You’re lucky. I’m not busy today.”

Loki nodded in agreement, feeling relieved. “Yes, I know – it’s short notice.”

“So,” Heimdall began without looking, pulling a clean sheet of plain paper from the desk drawer. “This isn’t a false shipping charter, or an inventory log, or a bank note. What is it?”

“A ransom letter.” Loki regretted revealing this information the moment it left his mouth, but he had no choice – better to tell it now, rather than when Heimdall started realizing it halfway through writing and risked blotting a page.

Heimdall’s metallic eyes flitted up and he frowned at Loki, setting the quill down and leaning back in his chair. “Now, why would you want me to write that?”

Loki looked up and set his jaw, shaking his head slightly. “That, I can’t tell you.”

Heimdall regarded him silently. Whether it was judgement, scrutiny, contemplation, Loki couldn’t say for certain. Heimdall’s expression didn’t change. While Loki respected his ability to be discreet, Heimdall’s strong-and-silent personality made reading him nigh impossible. Finally, he raised one eyebrow. “It’ll cost extra.”

Loki’s mouth opened slightly and he nearly rolled his eyes. “I can afford it,” he grated, feeling a flicker of agitation in his chest that the man would even be concerned about such a thing. “This isn’t a fleeting interest. Give me what I want, receipt it under my private catalogue, and I’ll be on my way. ”

Heimdall sighed and picked up his quill again, leaning over the desk. “Fine.”

Loki inhaled deeply, raising his eyebrows and directing his gaze to the ceiling. He’d been devising a speech from memory for a week, running it over his tongue inside his mouth and sounding it out when no one was around. He dropped his eyes and began reciting the words from memory, watching Heimdall’s skilled hand start painting the words on the page almost as soon as he spoke. “To his esteemed grace who receives this note …”

“... I hope it finds in a prosperous enough position to enable us both to get what we want,” Thor read aloud, his elegant brow furrowed in both concentration. He unfolded the letter further and skimmed a few more lines silently. Flipped it over, and found no return address. He looked up at the maid standing at the door and held it up in the air. “What is this?”

Her eyes were wide with innocence and confusion. “I – I don’t know, sir, it was delivered with all the rest.”

Loki sat silently at one end of the long table, holding a spoon in his hand and stirring the bowl of soup before him in slow, disinterested circles. Green flecks of some kind of vegetable rose and fell from its cream-colored surface; neat chunks of tomato, too, alongside pale meat cooked to perfection and pulled apart.

It was a favorite of his. He knew this, somewhere in the back of his mind, but even the smell of it wafting up in gentle curls of steam failed to appetize him. Every ounce of his focus was bent on looking unassuming as Thor continued to read the note aloud; the note that he’d carefully hidden amongst the other letters, delivered at breakfast every morning.

“I have in my possession one soon-to-be bride of your eldest son. I understand she means a great deal to you, so let me get to the point: in exchange for 12,000 guineas, I will return her unharmed, so long as the exchange is made at the end of August…” Thor’s brow furrowed further.

Loki had been home for three days– it was the ninth of August now, and an otherwise ordinary Wednesday morning. It felt strange to know the date again after being stuck on an island, where the only sense of time could be ascertained in the rise and set of the sun.

Only last night had he decided to risk delivering the note. Waiting to reveal your situation to Thor and his father was agony, but Loki couldn’t afford to take any kind of risk. The coincidence of his arrival and the note’s arrival on the same day would have been too close for comfort. Loki was cautious to a fault, and he was painfully aware of that fact: he was treading on your borrowed time, after all. His stomach twisted, feeling physically ill, and he abandoned the spoon entirely, staring out the window with a thinly veiled expression of discomfort as Thor finished reading.

“Otherwise, she will die gruesomely, after her usefulness and entertainment to us has been spent. With a letter V as the signit,” he added as an afterthought, setting the letter down carefully, like it might bite him. He reached for the envelope it had been delivered in and tilted it, and the serpent coin fell into his palm. He gazed at it in silence.

Loki was practically crawling out of his skin. “V,” he repeated, breaking the silence with false curiosity and looking between Thor and his father. “Like Charles Vane, perhaps? The pirate?”

“No doubt,” Odin replied amiably, reaching across the table for the letter. Thor handed it to him, his expression stony, waiting while their father read the ransom note over for himself. He let out a derisive scoff and shook his head, letting it drop. “Twelve thousand guineas.”

Thor’s handsome face lit on confusion. “You will pay the ransom, won’t you? Her ship was supposed to arrive in Norway weeks ago. Who knows how long she’s been held captive.”

“That much for one girl?” Odin said skeptically. “A girl who wasn’t keen on marrying you either, I recall. Ungrateful thing. The whole arrangement has been nothing more than a bad business venture.”

Loki’s face was dangerously pale, anger lighting up his veins like fire on alcohol. “But we have the money,” he argued, trying to keep his vocal tone only mildly invested. It cracked. “And you made a deal with her father.”

Thor nodded in agreement, though clearly exhibiting a great deal more patience. “Loki’s right, Father. We have a duty of care–”

“Silence!” He interrupted, and they both shut their mouths. Odin set down his fork to eye both of them with a steely grey stare. “There is nothing we can do.”

“But we can,” Thor argued, leaning against the table on one hand and gesturing with the other. “We’ve seen the bank ledgers – Loki and I both,” he added, nodding to his brother. “Your wealth would hardly be dented. I don’t see why –”

“I will not deal with pirates,” Odin groused firmly, his voice icy and cold.

Something inside Loki snapped. He stood abruptly, turning to Odin. The chair scraped on the ground behind him.

“So that’s it, then,” he began. He was smiling, but in more a baring of teeth than an expression of joy. “You would first resign her to marry a man she doesn’t know, and then let her die when it’s inconvenient to help?” He pointed an accusing finger. “You’re just afraid Vane will slip through your grasp, the same way he did before, and wound your pride more than he ever could your prospects.” Loki realized that he was snarling, his lip curled and tone venomous, cheeks flushed uncharacteristically red but he didn’t care – it was too late now. The man who he called Father stared back with equal animosity, the two of them locked in heated, palpable silence.

Thor excused himself from the dining room with a quiet, grumbling apology, and Loki followed.

When he exited the room and the doors shut behind him, he saw Thor walking down the hall – but his footsteps were slow, and he clearly didn’t know where they intended on taking him. Loki’s eyes flickered, and he sighed, loud enough to draw Thor’s attention and halt his steps.

He turned around and came to Loki’s side. He watched his brother reach up and press at his eyes, rubbing them none-too-gently, and he glanced back at the gilded door. “It sounded like you know a great deal about her,” he stated quietly, breaking the thin silence between them. His large hands were restless at his sides, wanting for actions instead of words.

Loki dropped his hand and cleared his throat, and his eyes were distant. “I spoke with her at the ball before she left. You remember.”

Thor grunted, looking out the window. “I didn’t get the chance. I had business to attend to.”

Loki’s lips upturned in a bitter smirk. “You always do.” His gaze found the window, too, staring out at the palm fronds as they blew in the humid afternoon wind. His chest tightened with the reminder of your island – the trees and the cave, of your smaller body pressed beneath his, smelling sweet and tinged by saltwater. Of feeling complete.

Loki could only guess at how much his father knew. Thanks to his outburst, Odin knew Loki was aware of his true parentage – which meant it would only take one line drawn in the sand between Loki and Vane to connect the dots and undo all his work. Your life and Loki’s livelihood, felled in one devastating blow.

Thor was uncharacteristically still, a sign that he was deep in thought. His wide arms were crossed over his barrel of a chest, brow furrowed, and he shook his head almost imperceptibly, silently dissatisfied. “We have to do something.”

Loki scoffed and rolled his eyes, picking at the dark green fabric of his wide sleeves and spreading his fingers, staring disinterestedly at the faint scars that lined the back of his hand from years of seamanship. “Don’t humor me. You would never act outside father’s orders.”

“I would,” Thor argued, and paused, glancing over his shoulder at Loki. “If I had help.”

Loki’s expression flickered and he looked up, meeting Thor’s gaze. The two of them shared a silent exchange; the same kind that they had since boyhood, a silent discussion and a mutual agreement. Perhaps your cause wasn’t lost after all.

The corner of Thor’s mouth turned up in a smile, and he shrugged his broad shoulders, returning his gaze to the window. “Besides,” he added, “What kind of husband would I be if I couldn’t keep her alive?”

At the same time as a humoring chuckle left his lips, Loki’s breath was punched from his lungs. Realization hit him like a hollow bell – something he had forgotten to consider when he decided to enlist Thor’s help. The two of you were, by all accounts, still engaged. If Thor and Loki succeeded in rescuing you, you would wed him all the same, hopelessly stuck in the same trap as before. His mind searched frantically for an easy solution, some weakness in this sudden and unexpected obstacle, but to his growing panic he found none, and a feeling of utter hopelessness rooted inside his chest that was too deep to claw out.

Loki might yet be able to save your life. But it wouldn’t be a life with him that you’d return to.

~~~

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