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olivia200312 · 4 years

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Merry Christmas~ Lombaxes x Human! Reader

Requested by the lovely @Lillianwhite2203 on Wattpad."What about Ratchet, Alister, Clank and everything x reader? You can do whatever plot you want."

It's gonna be a human reader since there not metioned if the reader should be human or Lombax. kaden and Alister are alive in this one.

Note: the art goes to the owner!

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It was a peaceful holiday in Veldin. It was in fact Christmas. Do even people in this planet celebrate holidays? Yes, because why not? Families and friends need to spend time with eachtother, right? Y/N lives with Ratchet, Clank and Grimroth in a garage. It was quite hard to live there instead in a house or apartment. But, meh, it was fine.

Christmas can be a wonderful holiday to celebrate. Kids open presents, even adults. People sit together and eat, chat, etc. Normally, there wouldn't be snow in hot places like Veldin and Gaspar, but do you know what happened? Something magical! There was snow in Veldin!

Y/N was surprised to see snow outside once she woke up in the morning. She couldn't believe once she saw snow! The sight was very beautiful. Not everyone loved snow, but it can be fun! You can do snowball fights, make angels, build snowmans and other stuff.

Right now, Y/N and Ratchet were in fact outside just playing in the snow. Adults can play too, you know? It doesn't matter if it was a adult or a kid. Everyone can have fun. Y/N and Ratchet were wearing warm clothes to keep theirselves warm from the snow. Clank was busy helping Grim decorating the tree that was inside the garage. Y/N and Ratchet promised to help later. Grim decided to let them play in the snow, since they need fun times too.

"Look at them. There were toddlers when I took them in and now they're adults. Such old times," Grim said with a smile while watching Ratchet and Y/N play.

"I agree, Grim. When I first met them, they were living in normal lives, but when they became heroes, they've changed in good ways," Clank explained.

"Yeah."

Outside, a Lombax and a human were laughing while laughing and throwing snowballs at eachother. They were running and hiding too. They even build their own hide-outs so that they can hide and watch for any upcoming attacks from eachother.

Ratchet peaked his head out and was checking to see if Y/N had planning to do any upcoming attacks. He was looking for her. But what he doesn't know was that his human friend was behind him. Not right behind him, but standing 2 meters away.

"Hey, Fuzzball!" Y/N called out to her Lombax friend.

Ratchet was shocked to hear her voice behind him. How did she do that? She had her ways. He looked behind her to see her, but only to meet snow on his face. Y/N threw snowball!

"Gah!"

Y/N bursted out laughing. She caught him good! She continued to laugh, but didn't knew that her Lombax friend was someone to be not messed around with.

"Come here!" Ratchet suddenly said and ran right up to her. He was just being playfull, not angry.

Y/N screamed playfully and started to run. Veldin had big and open places so it was big enough space to have fun.

"No no no no no no no!" Y/N shouted playfully.

She really tried her best to run fast and escape, but she was becoming tired from running that she was slowing down. Her Lombax friend was fast since heroes were trained very well. Ratchet then tackled Y/N on the snow, causing her to squeal in surprise.

"Ratchet!" She was even blushing a bit.

Ratchet laughed a bit and then smirked. "Pay back. You're messing with a wrong Lombax."

Y/N giggled nervously.

Ratchet was close to her. He leaned down, still smirking. He did saw that Y/N was nervous, but he will never hurt her. The Lombax had a big, warm and kind heart. Ratchet then suddenly nuzzled Y/N's face with his like a cat. Heck, he even purrs!

Y/N giggled and her gloved hand reached to his ear. There were differences between a female and a male Lombax. Males have tails and bigger ears, while the females had smaller ears and have no tail at all. However, some females can be born with big ears and tail like male Lombaxes have. It can be mistaken as a male, while in reality it's a female. Y/N finds them very interesting and special when females look a lot like males (A/N: What I mean is by when females' ears are big like males and have tail. Think about Sofie Spangenberg for example.)

Once Y/N's hand reached to his ear, she pets him, causing him to purr louder. Y/N even scratched him gently. Ratchet's tail was wagging slightly, causing Y/N to giggle. Let's just say that they do that for a while. They only do it when they're alone. Ratchet would go to her and snuggle up to her body, asking for attention. Y/N didn't mind. In fact, she finds it so cute.

They continued having their loving doving moment, until...

"Ratchet? Y/N? Come inside! Tonight we will have visitors!" Grim called.

Ratchet and Y/N blushed bright red and the Lombax got off of Y/N. He then helped her up and brushed snow off her back. Y/N smiled at him and he smiled back. Then they walked back together to the garage.

The visitors are someone that Ratchet knew. His biogical dad and godfather. Ratchet's dad was Kaden and the godfather was Alister. His dad couldn't take his son back to Fastoon, where everything was ruined, destroyed and gone. Well, Kaden managed to rebuild some parts of his home town together with his best friend. Whole Fastoon isn't rebuild and it would probably take years to complete it. Alister had his own place since Fastoon isn't his home place anymore ever since he bertrayed his team. But he was still had permission to visit Fastoon. Kaden forgave him since his best friend understood his mistake.

Y/N doesn't knew who Kaden and Alister were. She did heard stories, but never met them. She had no idea that the visitors were Kaden and Alister.

Once Y/N and Ratchet were inside, Grim and Clank stood infront of them with small boxes.

"We need your help. Decorate the walls," Grim explained while he gave the small box to Ratchet. Clank gave the other small box to Y/N.

"Understood," Y/N said.

The Lombax and Y/N walked randomly in the garage and they started decorating the walls. Y/N isn't gonna lie, the garage looks very bored without decoratings. She wants to decorate the place somehow. Like posters of the garage or other stuff.

An hour passed by and everything was decorated. The place looked more nice, fun and especially welcoming. The visitors should be here soon. Oh yeah, did I forgot to metion that Felton will be coming over as well? Why not? Felton was Grim's brother. Felton lived in Pokitaru. One of the most beautiful planets in Solana Galaxy. Some planets look dangerous to go and explore, some planets look perfect to live in and some planets look fun and save to adventure. Novalis looked a lot like planet Earth. Novalis was the home planet of Cora. Planet Earth was located in Milky Way. That's the home planet of humans.

Y/N was dressed beautiful in a red dress. She doesn't weer high heels, just normal shoes since Y/N wasn't a big fan dressing fabulous. But since it's Christmas, she had to look good. She wasn't the only one. Ratchet was dressed good as well. A nice suit with black shoes. He wasn't the only one. Clank and Grim were wearing suits and black shoes as well. Everyone looked very good.

Once Y/N entered the room, Ratchet's jaw dropped a bit in shock. He never saw Y/N that beautiful before! Sure, she looked normal in her usual clothes and in her hero clothes when she was working, but never anything like that!

"W-Wow..."

Y/N looked at him with a smile. "What?"

"N-Nothing, you look just... s-so beautiful." How sweet!

Y/N blushed and pecks his cheek as a thank you. "Thanks, Fuzzball. You look very good as well." She smiled.

Ratchet smiled back and scratched behind his head shyly. He can be shy sometimes.

Then suddenly Grim and Clank walked up to them with Felton and... two male Lombaxes? Y/N was shocked once she saw two male Lombaxes. She never expected to see more Lombaxes. She did met Angela Cross, a female Lombax that suddenly dissapeared without leaving a trace. No one knew where she did go.

Y/N went to Felton and hugged him. Felton chuckled and smiled while hugging her back. "Nice to see you too, girl." He pulled away. "Look at you. You've grown up into a beautiful young woman."

"Thanks, uncle." Y/N smiled. Yes, since Grim was Y/N's adopted dad, that ment that Felton was her adopted uncle.

Y/N then looked at the Lombaxes she never saw. One looked a lot like Ratchet. Ratchet didn't had stripes on his cheeks while the Lombax who looked a lot like him did. Heck, they even had same emerald eyes! The other Lombax was white with red stipes. He even had yellow eyes. They both even wear suits with black shoes of course.

"Y/N, meet Alister Azimuth and Kaden, Ratchet's biogical dad," Grim explained.

Y/N was shocked. Kaden was Ratchet's biogical dad?! That explained why they look so much alike!

She smiled kindly and shook Kaden's hand first. "Hello."

Kaden smiled back and greeted back as well. "Hello."

Once they both realised their hands, Y/N looked at Alister with a smile and shook his hand as well. But he did something shocking. Alister raised Y/N's hand gently and kissed her palm. Aaaw, what a gentleman! This affection caused Y/N to blush.

"General Alister Azimuth. Four-Bolt Magistrate of the Lombax Praetorian Guard. Elder Councilman for the Center for Advanced Lombax Research. And you, my dear girl, you look beautiful." Alister smiled like a gentleman.

Y/N blushed even redder. "T-Thank you, General."

"Just Alister is fine, my dear."

Then he let go of her hand.

Then the party began. Everyone were chatting, laughing, drinking, eating and even opening presents. Some of them got cool tools, clothes, decoratings... Y/N got beautiful clothes and even flowers.

Y/N walked towards the table where food and drinks were and grabbed an empty glass. She poured water in it since she wasn't an alcoholic. Good that at least Grim had water, juices and other safe drinks that wasn't alcohol. The snacks looked very delicious and the food looked so good that you want to taste it. Y/N grabbed a Christmas cookie and starts eating.

She was just watching everyone having fun, until a father Lombax came up to her. It was Kaden. "Hey."

Y/N looked at Kaden and smiled. "Hey, Kaden. How's the party going?"

"Good. I just came to drink water and eat a Christmas cookie. How about you?"

Kaden shows a tiny smile. "I enjoy it as well. I've been watching others having fun." He then looked at his son, who was talking to his godfather, Alister." Especially my son."

Y/N was curious about something. She wasn interested about Kaden's past. She was explained by Grim that he found Ratchet at the garage door as a baby. Ratchet was once the only Lombax in Solana Galaxy, until he came across Angela. She was the only female Lombax in Solana. It was a bit strange, because Ratchet didn't knew that Angela was his kind (or race). But Angela was no more. She's just... gone. Out there somewhere.

"Kaden, can I ask a question?"

Kaden looked at Y/N. "Sure."

"I don't want to be rude or make you uncomforable, but... how did Ratchet get here? I read in a book that Lombaxes home planet is Fastoon, that is located in Polaris."

Kaden's smile dropped by the question. He did explained to Alister what he did to Ratchet once he found his best friend. Alister was understanding. When Ratchet was born, it was the best moment for him. He was just so happy to have a kid with his beloved wife. Sadly, a few months later after Ratchet was born, Emperor Percival Tachyon attacked the planet with his army he build. That evil Cragmite grew hate on Lombaxes when he found out that they won the war. Well, Lombaxes are very strong and they had 5 fingers. Just like humans. When Fastoon was alive, some Lombaxes found a Cragmite egg, who was Tachyon himself. The Lombaxes took the egg and took care of it like a family member (A/N: I'm sorry if I'm wrong. It's been a long time since I heard the about Fastoon.

When Tachyon was born and growing up, he found out about his race and what Lombaxes did. He grew a lot of hate on them that he build his own army in secret. Not a single Lombax knew. Kaden, Alister and some other Lombaxes were once in a meeting room with Tachyon. Man, that evil Cragmite was a horrible lair. He introduced his technology to them and lied to them. The Lombaxes believed him, except for one Lombax. Kaden himself. Kaden knew that something was off. He warned Alister about it, but he didn't listen. And thanks to that, Alister did a horrible mistake that he got banned. Kaden even gave him a punch on the face for that!

Ever since Ratchet was born, Kaden chose Alister to be his godfather. Kaden really tried to give his son agood life, but ever since Tachyon attacked, he had to help his kind. Some Lombaxes were hiding, saved or killed. The Lombaxes used the Dimensionator to escape to their own Lombax dimension. Sadly, Ratchet's mother was killed while she protected the Dimensionator. Good that she hid Ratchet into a safe place. When Kaden found out that his wife was dead, he immediatly got his son and he managed to send his son to Solana Galaxy. The ship crashed in Veldin.

If you're wondering how Kaden survived then don't ask me. He had his ways. Kaden managed to build some part of Fastoon with others. It'll take years to re-build their planet back. Kaden was so proud of his son once Grim send him a message that Ratchet defeated Tachyon. Alister got the same message.

"... When Ratchet was born, it was the best moment of my life. Me and his mother were so happy. I chose Alister to be my son's godfather. But some months after my son was born, Tachyon attacked Fastoon with his army, killing many Lombaxes that were unlucky to escape. The others that escaped, used the Dimensionator to escape. I helped them. But when I came back for my wife and son, my wife was already gone... She protected the Dimensionator. She hid Ratchet in a safe place so I came for my son. Once I got him, I found a ship, set him down with info and OmniWrench, then I send the ship to Solana Galaxy, in hope that someone would take care of my son."

Y/N was shocked by the story. She felt so sorry for the Lombaxes. She couldn't believe what Tachyon did... at least he isn't alive anymore.

"I-I'm so sorry, Kaden..."

Kaden showed a soft small smile. "It's fine. It's in the past. I'm glad that my son defeated him. He is like the chosen one to defeat him. I wish that my wife was here to see our son..." His ears dropped a bit into sadness.

Y/N placed her hand on shoulder and gave him a warm smile. "His mom would be very happy to see her son alive and well. She's proud that her son defeated Tachyon. Your wife will be always in your heart and even Ratchet's."

Kaden smiled warmly. "Thanks. You remind me of my wife. She was a smart Lombax with strong comfort words. She would do anything to protect and help her loved ones. Just like you."

Y/N blushed a bit. She had no idea that she reminds Kaden of his dead wife that was also Ratchet's mother.

Suddenly Kaden hugged her very gently. "Thank you so much for helping and keeping my son safe. It means a lot to me and my wife."

Y/N hugged him back with a smile. "Your welcome."

Then they seperated and only smiled at eachother. Y/N was happy to make Kaden happy. She wasn't gonna lie. She's happy that she met Alister and Kaden. Then Y/N and Kaden joined others and they all had fun by spending time with eachother.

I hope you like the one shot! I tried my best by giving the reader attention since it's called Lombaxes.

The Reader will be a human or a Lombax. It's up to you. The requests will be accepted with plots.

#ratchet and clank #Lombaxes #Insomniac Games #X Reader #Romance #One Shot

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thecarrot290 · 4 years

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A story about Vertigo, that werewolf I posted yesterday

“Let’s consider this race over.” I begrudgingly said as I turned off my Xbox. I felt the need to sleep and started the process of walking from my office to my soft bed. I turned off the lights, plopped myself into the bed, and slept like a corpse. The next day I woke up to The Exploding Hearts classic “I’m a Pretender”. My servos ached but I paid them no mind. I answered my phone, and to the surprise of no one. It was my employer calling me. “Hey Certus,” I started. “Hey uhh, Vertigo, big fella, were going to need your help in the lab for today,” explained Certus. "Ok I’m coming,” I said with audible distain in my voice.

With my plans to go to High Plains Raceway with my friends having to be postponed, I oriented myself with what I needed to do to get ready for the day. I quickly put some waffles in the toaster, put on my lab coat, grabbed the waffles when they were done, and the keys to the sixty-five Pontiac GTO in the driveway. I stepped outside to smell the clean Colorado air. After climbing into the driver’s seat I inserted the key into the ignition and turned it. Nothing happened, I popped the hood and opened it just to remember three weeks before I had removed the engine and sent it off to be bored at a friend’s shop. I made the walk of shame back into my small house to grab the keys to the Shelby Cobra in the garage. I crammed my 7’4 frame into the tiny cockpit of my hand-built replica. I turned the key and immediately woke up everyone in a three mile radius. Thirteen-hundred horsepower wanting to escape from the cold rear tires. As I let the car warm up, I feasted on those bland, tasteless waffles. About two minutes later I set off to make the fun journey to the labs, no thanks to the winding mountain roads leading up to the complex.

I parked the cobra in my usual spot, I got dirty looks from the environmental scientists. “How do you like destroying the environment Dr. Mertas?!” one of them shouted angerly. I ignored her and walked in to the lobby. As I walked in I was met by Joseph, head of security. “Vertigo I’ve got some good news and bad news,” “Start with the bad news please,” I replied. “Well Billy, you know, That 4-foot-tall alarm robot? Just did a beautiful swan dive into the fountain, issue is that he isn’t waterproof like the other robots and short circuited himself,” he continued. “But the good news is that this gives us the excuse to update his programing and hardware to make him less stupid,” I nodded, gave him a tired smile and said that I’ll be on it. I lifted the usually talkative Billy onto my shoulders and carried him to my lab to be fixed and updated. Setting him down I headed to the boss’s office to see what he wanted. Certus let me in and sat me down, “I got a little assignment for ya,” Certus revealed. “Go ahead,” I replied. “Could you explain to some of our employees what mob mentality is?” Certus asked. “Why do you need me to do that, could you just do that yourself?” I asked looking confused. “Some environmentalists started to peacefully protest us using plastic utensils in the cantina. Then one of them threw a brick at a car window, your car window. Then ten idiots just went nuts. Screaming, shouting, breaking windows, and slashing tires,” he said. Sensing my nervousness, he reassured me “Don’t worry about it, you got it! No one is going to try attack you, just look, you have nothing to fear!”

I left his office and went to my lab to fix Billy the idiot security robot. During the repair I started to remember my first run-in with Karin. One of the more passionate environmentalists. I remembered that she saw my beautiful Cobra and just started yelling. no, SCREECHING in my ears about how I’m killing the environment and how i'm literal garbage. I told her that her precious Toyota Prius’s manufacturing was more pollutant than my Shelby Cobra. Then I remembered when she slapped me. I wasn’t angry. In my shock I asked, “lady you hit me! Why would you do that?" I remembered that it left an imprint on my face, and it stung for hours after she hit me. After about two to three hours of replacing parts and remembering when I was assaulted, I get a call from Certus, “It’s time,” he said referencing the Chuck Norris film “Invasion U.S.A.”. I headed to the large meeting room to explain mob mentality, I hoped that Karin was not there. I didn’t want to remember the incident that happened last month. I walked in, luckily Karin was gone, but and before I could introduce myself. Lorena, one of the smaller women in the crowd yelled” IT’S A MONSTER, RUN!”. As soon as she said that, everyone panicked and ran out of the room screaming like banshees who were burning alive. I wondered to myself, why did everyone run away? Then it hit me. In an adrenaline-fueled panic one of the male scientists Ryan, lobbed a mirror in my general direction. At that moment I remembered that I’m a 7’4 tall android werewolf that could probably tear everyone in the room apart. Not that I had the desire to, but that I could. Then I noticed three people. Jokke and Jason, two senior scientists that where not exactly sober, and Chad. A ride technician that I knew from my previous job at an amusement park named Funzone. Jokke slurs drunkenly that I did an amazing job with my presentation, he then passed out in his chair leaving Jason to tend to his friend. Chad gives me a high five and we caught up with each other.

I sighed a sigh of relief and walked back to my lab. As I sat in my chair I was greeted by Certus’s three-year-old son Henry, doing his usual thing, sticking his face on the large glass window in my lab. I smiled at him and let him in. “Hi dere fluffy,” Henry said. “Hey Henry,” I say trying not to sound tired. “Do you like Legos?” He asked excitedly. “Yeah Legos are fun I like them,” I say. He giggled with glee and asked, “Can I see what you are doing,” “Yeah little guy!” I said happy to show him my handywork. I kneeled down and hoisted him up onto my shoulders. With his new-found height, he spotted a stuffed giraffe on my desk and gleefully shouted,” Giraffe, giraffe!” his happiness over a stuffed giraffe made me happy, we walked around my work space telling him about the different things I’m working on. I showed him my office tortoise, he pets it saying” Hi Mr. turtle” at that exact moment, the recently updated Billy powered on. “Where am I?” he groggily asked.” You took a dive into the fountain bud,” I told him. He shut himself off and slept on my work bench.

I looked at the clock on my desk and saw that we’d been talking for two and a half hours. I decided to show him the model I had made of my Shelby cobra. Before I could show him, I noticed that he had fallen asleep on my shoulders. I carried him back to Certus. During the walk back to Certus’s office Henry woke up “Do you want to be friends?” he asked with a smile on his face. “Yeah,” I answered. I got to the office, Certus was there waiting for me. “I heard through the grapevine that you did a live demonstration of mob mentality,” he said sternly. As I heard that I started to shake with fear.” Y-y-y-y-you heard about that!” I yelled fearfully, “I-I-I-I-I-I’m sorry it'll nev-v-v-v-!" he cut me off. “You did good big guy!" He said as he placed his hand on my shoulder, calming me down. “You even made a new friend,” Certus added as he patted me on my head. I look at Henry, I gave him a large, toothy smile as I walked up to the little guy, I kneeled down and hugged him. His small face gleamed with delight as he wrapped his small arms around me. “Goodbye fluffy,” he said as he buried his face into my chest, “Goodbye Henry,” I say trying not to cry. I walked out to the cobra and drove home. As I drove home I turned on the radio and to my surprise, the station was playing The Enemy by D.O.A. I turned into the driveway, parked in the garage, and walked to my room to try and get some sleep, but I just couldn’t. I was just too happy to sleep. That day was the best day I had ever had in a long time. After what had seemed like forever, fatigue had finally won its battle over me and I had drifted off into the dreamworld.

#my oc #android werewolf #werewolf #writing #original character #original story #android oc #android #wholesome #worldbuilding #story #written out of boredom

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darth-el · 4 years

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You Put A Spell On Me

Pairing: Billy x Reader (modern AU) Warnings: Alcohol, smoking, implied smut A/N: This was requested by an anon who wanted the famous person trope with fated mates from table 5. If you want to request a couple of tropes you can find the post here. I hope you enjoy and feedback is always welcome. I really enjoyed writing this one. Masterlist

The winter sun was exactly what you needed. That's one thing you loved about touring, a lot of the time it took you away from the cold. You remembered when you first started out, you were in small venues with barely anyone watching. You were fortunate to find a few local circuits which helped you build your name. The trouble with what you were doing was that it was oversaturated, you needed something groundbreaking to make yourself known. You had been dancing since you could walk, you were fortunate to have parents who supported you. When you were ten you started saving your money because you were fascinated with the Argentinian tango and wanted to visit Buenos Aires to learn properly. You did exactly that when you were seventeen. You stayed there for three years. You also met the love of your life, Xavier who was there on business, on your 20th birthday. He was smart and successful and took you around the world with him and encouraged you to dance. He even built a very large dance studio in his apartment for you. One day while you were in Bali he took you to see fire dancers, you were hooked. You wanted to learn that, so you did. It took a lot of courage as the fire scared you, and you burnt yourself a couple of times, but fortunately it was never anything too serious. When it was one of those rare stints you were back home in New York, you stumbled across burlesque dancing. The women were glamorous, they were sexy, they were everything you felt you needed to be. You read everything you could have about burlesque. You started to take classes to understand the basics and it started to snowball into other things, from aerial to pole dancing, to pyrotechnics and sword swallowing. You decided burlesque dancing was what you wanted to do with your life, and that's what you exactly did. The more well known you became amongst the dancers and fans the more Xavier pushed you away because you needed him less and less. You realised you didn't need him at all when you twenty-four and walked away from him. You weren't going to let some man destroy your dream. After you ended the relationship you ended up dating a lot of business owners and trust fund children who hadn't worked a day in their life. You eventually grew bored of this and decided not to date anyone which became easier and easier due to touring.

Sitting in the dingy bar bought back all those memories, it was nice to have a night out in between shows. You wanted to say that it was nice not being someone else, but in reality your stage persona was you. That night you were dressed in a dark red velvet pencil dress, it clung to your figure in all the places. You stood out in the crowded room. As did he. He was rough around the edges, not the usual type you would go for. He was captivated by you and he had a cocky smile on his face as walked over to you. He was wearing a dark red shirt which was buttoned down exposing his chiselled chest with a leather jacket over the top and dark jeans. He wasn't that different to the guys you went for, he loved himself just as much. He leaned on the bar as he stared at you smiling, you flirtatiously smiled at him as you slowly looked away. “What you drinking doll?” He moved closer to you which made you look at him with a smirk on your face. “Vodka on the rocks.” You raised glass at him as you said this still with the smile on your face. You adjusted your position as you leaned on the bar yourself, to accentuate your legs and ass which definitely caught his attention as he was eyeing you up as he ordered two more vodkas. “Do you have a name darling?” The smile not leaving his face. “Y/N.” You hold out your hand to shake his and he cups your soft hand in his rough ones before kissing the top of your hand not taking his deep blue eyes off yours. “Billy.” His voice was husky and low, like you he knew he was going to conquer you. You knew he was used to getting any girl he wanted when he wanted, so you decided to make him work for you. You were the one in control. “How does a beautiful girl like you find herself in a place like this?” His said as he took a sip of his vodka. You look at the bar, it wasn't great, but it definitely wasn't bad. It was just a bit middle of the road. At least they had good vodka though. “I'm on tour,” You smirked at him leaning in closer, you could smell a mixture of cologne and cigarettes on him, and he could smell your expensive perfume on you. “You in a band?” He laughed gently at this, thinking that there was no way an elegant girl like you could be in a band. “Something like that,” You winked at him taking the last sip of vodka before paying your tab. “Might see you around.” You blew a kiss at him as you walked off confidently swaying your hips. He stared at you in awe wondering if you were real. You enjoyed your two days in LA of not doing anything except preparing for your show, which came around quickly. The show was sold out, you were performing to a crowd of over 2000 people. This wasn't the biggest crowd you performed for, but it didn't stop the nerves. As you squeezed yourself into your crystal encrusted corset and adjusted your extravagant headpiece. “GUYS, DOLLS, AND NON-BINARY PALS PLEASE PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR THE BEAUTIFUL STRAWBERRY D'LITE!” Your partner in crime, Leah announced to the audience. You walk on stage and begin your routine. This routine involved you breathing and eating fire. The audience were starstruck. After the show you get dressed back up and make your way to the bar out the front of the venue and met with everyone who wanted to meet you and have photos with you. This was the favourite part of your night, as you got to meet people from around the world. You saw a few a familiar faces and enjoyed conversing with them and seeing what they were up to and how they were enjoying LA, or how they were enjoying the USA because some were from overseas and flew in specifically to you. That's when you see Billy again. This time he was with friends, you could tell it was his friends idea to go and see you as he looked like a fish out of water. He clocks you again and looked intimidated, he was like a shy school kid who was trying to pluck up the courage to ask you to prom. The crowd started to filter out and move onto the next place. You order two vodkas and bring them over to him along with a napkin which had your hotel address on it. His eyes are wide in shock as are his friends. “Repaying the favour from last night.” You smiled handing him the glass and napkin before walking off. His friend's jaws dropped so fast you were sure a couple of them could have swallowed you whole. The hotel suite was large, you had a view of the entirety LA from your private rooftop garden. You were lounging under the moonlight in a sheer feathered robe that made you look like you had just killed your millionaire husband. When you get a call from the front desk saying that someone wanted to see you. You instructed to let them up knowing exactly who it was. You make your way downstairs to the bar in the living area of the suite and started making yourself a cocktail. The elevator dinged and Billy walked through to where you were. “What can I get you?” You took a sip of your cocktail smirking. “I can see something I want.” He walked over to you confidently, taking the cocktail out of your hand and had a sip before putting it down on the bar. You say nothing and lead him to the bedroom pushing him down onto the queen size four post bed and gave him a show he never going to forget. The LA show signalled the end of your tour and you decided to hang around in LA exploring with Billy, which involved the historic music venues, a hike up to the Hollywood sign, and all the other touristy things. The day before you were heading back to New York he took you to his favourite secluded beach to teach you how to surf which was hilarious as you were really bad at it. You wiped out several times which made him laugh a lot. You spent all day with him, he was completely unlike anyone you had ever met. He wasn't trying to be anyone he wasn't. He had a real passion for surfing and worked as a mechanic in a garage. He had a younger step-sister that was studying to be a game developer. You instantly felt comfortable with him and he felt comfortable with you. You watched the sunset together, he lit up a cigarette and passed it to you who happily accepted it. You weren't usually a smoker, but it just felt right in the moment. You laid your head down on his lap still smoking the cigarette and he was playing with your hair gently. He was very content as were you. A wash of spontaneity came over you and you sat up examining his beautiful features. You decided not to go back to New York. “Do you want to go Thailand with me?” He looks at you in shock and nods with his mouth slightly agape.

#Stranger Things #Stranger Things Imagines #Billy Hargrove #Billy Hargrove x Reader #Billy Hargrove x You #Billy Hargrove Imagine #Billy Hargrove One Shot #Stranger Things One Shot

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thephantomofthe-internet · 6 years

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Ebrius (Eros p.t. 9)

Billy Hargrove x Reader, Jonathan Byers x Reader (Unrequited)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Word Count: 5043

Warnings: swearing, underage drinking, sexuality? idk on that one

Permanent Tag List: @hotstuffhargrove @steveharringtonofficial @denimjacketkisses @flamehairedwritings @hargroovin

Series Tag: @hargrovesgoldilocks @xicarcalii @wtf-richarddd @sighsophiia @baebee35 @ijustwantahugfromtennant @rhyxn @wearemightyghosts @toriasaysso @random-stupid-stuffs @so-not-hotmess @warsintothestars @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @angellastor @swangobsessed

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One the eve of Valerie’s epic bash, the whole school was aflutter with excitement, building a chaotic energy you’d never really felt apart of until now. Now, you felt what everyone else was feeling. And you weren’t into it.

Sure, it was kind of exciting-you weren’t usually personally invited to these sorts of things, and Valerie was making sure you felt as included as possible, especially when Billy was around. But it was also kind of tiring, the whole thing was looking to be a social nightmare and Valerie was hyping it up to be full on rager, which only made you nervous rather than excited.

“So anyway, here’s what I’m thinking-you come over to my place around four tomorrow, bring all your stuff, and we’ll make you into a glamour queen, alright?” Valerie asked that lunch, leaning over the table on her elbows, her legs pulled under her.

“Um sure, if that’s what you want.” You replied, fiddling with your baby carrots.

“And you,” she turned to Billy “You better show up on time, I don’t want you up showing me at my own party, you’ll make your entrance with me, alright?” she instructed, jabbing a finger into his chest.

Billy smirked, slinking an arm around her waist and pulling her tightly to him, looking down at her with a passion so bright and hot it could rival the sun. “Whatever you say baby…” he muttered, grabbing her by the chin and pulling her lips roughly to his. He looked desperate and needy, which made perfect sense seeing as how she’d been skirting his advances for weeks.

Billy had confided in you that it went beyond lunch periods. According to him, she’d been ignoring his calls and cancelling plans for weeks, meaning he hadn’t gotten any except from his right hand, which was nowhere near as good as it would be from Valerie. He was tense and irritable, which made him a nuisance to be around. But Valerie softened him, even when she wasn’t putting out.

“Bill!” she cried “You’re gonna mess up my lipstick!” Billy rolled his eyes, turning his attention to her bare neck, peppering it with kisses and bites until she pushed him off with a scoff and an eye roll, looking to you as though you’d understand. You put a spoonful of yogurt into your mouth, making a face that felt like it agreed with hers.

Billy turned back to you, grumbling to himself under his breath about being bored. You let your eyes wander, around the room and they landed on a tiny boy who was staring at you. He was a junior, skinny and pale and hopelessly gawking. At first you were flattered, you smiled, raising your eyebrows at him. But he didn’t react at all. It took a moment to realize that he wasn’t looking at you, he was staring at Valerie. And Valerie was staring back, equally awestruck and shy.

He was looking at Valerie. And Valerie was looking back. This could be a recipe for trouble.

On Friday afternoon, right after lunch, Valerie dragged you out of the cafeteria by the arm, her nails digging into your arm so hard you swore it would bruise you, and out to your car.

“You brought your stuff, right?” she asked, pulling open your side door and climbing in.

“No, I didn’t think I’d be leaving now, I thought I was meeting you at your place later.” You replied, following suit.

“Well I decided that we’d need more time. Stop at your place on the way.” Valerie replied shortly, crossing her arms over her chest, annoyed.

“Where do you live?” you asked nervously. You knew Valerie was rich, her dad was like a high powered lawyer and her mother was the youngest, most babied of a rich family. If your instincts were right, you and she lived in different subsections of Hawkins.

“1545 Autumn Road, why?” she replied. You sighed; your instincts were very correct.

“You and I live in opposite directions, I live up near Billy.” You replied.

Valerie’s eyes narrowed “I don’t know where that is, I’ve never been to his place.” She said.

“Oh, well I live up near Melvald’s, so we’ll have to head up that way first, is that alright?” you asked.

Valerie nodded, examining her nails “Sure, I have to pick up an order there anyway, we’ll stop in after you get your stuff, alright?” she said. You nodded, turning on the ignition and backing out of the full parking lot.

Bringing Valerie to your house was nerve wracking. You hadn’t had anyone over since your mom first got sick. Now, not only did you have someone stopping at your house, she didn’t know what was happening. You drove slowly, abiding all the laws you’d usually ignore. You could tell Valerie was more than a little annoyed, but she didn’t say anything.

When you pulled into your driveway, the embarrassment hit you like a flour bomb in the face. The planters your father had insisted would help your mother get out of the house, which had failed spectacularly and been abandoned on the front porch. The lawn was uncut and brown, mainly because you hadn’t done it and nobody else would. The American flag hanging over the garage was tattered on the end, dirty, and faded. You looked dirty and trashy. Still, you took a breath and held your head high, turning to Valerie “I’ll just be a second, alright?”

She unbuckled her seatbelt, smiling sweetly “I’ll come in, if you don’t mind.” She replied, opening her door, not waiting for an answer.

You sighed, following her quickly. You hoped your mother was asleep or otherwise distracted. You unlocked the door, stepping over the threshold into the dark, suddenly infinitely more dusty entry way.

“I’ll just head upstairs, make yourself at home.” You said, rushing up the stairs and into your room.

“Y/N? Is that you?” a weak voice called. Your mother was peeking out of her room, still clad in her floral housedress, dirty from not being changed in days.

“Yeah mom, just grabbing some stuff!” you called back, grabbing the untouched bags and shoving them onto your wrists, nearly tripping over the pile of books in the corner by your closet, cursing your lack of space. “I’m, ugh, going out tonight, I won’t be home till late, okay? Tell dad not to worry.”

“Hi, Mrs. Y/L/N!” Valerie called from downstairs, her voice sickeningly polite. And you swore you heard her gasp, which made your heart drop. You burst out of your room as you saw your mother inch down the stairs, running her fingers through her grey streaked, uncombed hair.

“Hello? Did I hear someone down here?” she asked, her voice finding a cheery, false tone.

Valerie turned, placing the chipped, dusty bird figurine back into the ring of clean table it occupied, covering it. “Oh hello, I’m Valerie you must be Mrs. Y/L/N, it’s lovely to meet you.” She said with a fake smile.

It was like watching a car crash. Your mother was five seconds from disassociating or bursting into tears and Valerie was already taking notes on how to destroy you if she needed to.

“Oh, please call me Marie, all of Y/N’s friends do. I haven’t heard of you before, you must be new.” She replied, reaching out a pale, shaky hand to shake hers.

“Well yeah, I’m Billy’s girlfriend.” She replied, taking hers and shaking it roughly.

“Who?” your mother asked, turning to you, growing more and more embarrassed by the moment.

You stepped onto the step above hers, placing a hand on her shoulders, squeezing it reassuringly “Remember, Billy ma? I mentioned him last night, he’s my buddy from history class.” You said, smiling softly.

“Oh, right…yes I remember…” she said vaguely.

“Can I borrow your gold hoops?” you asked, already leading her upstairs. She nodded again and you turned to Valerie, holding up your index finger, mouthing ‘one minute’.

You led her into her room and to her bed, opening up the ruffled sheets and allowing her to get in again, warm tears flowing down her face.

“You did really good, mama…” you whispered, pulling the blankets up again.

“You’re embarrassed of me…” she muttered, looking up with you angry eyes.

“No, I’m not, mom. I love you and I want you to meet my friends, but not when you’re not ready, when you don’t know it’s happening.” You replied firmly, grabbing the remote and flicking the channel off of Soap and onto the news.

“You’re ashamed of me…you hate me…” you mother mumbled.

“I don’t hate you, I love you mom, I honestly do.” You said, kissing your forehead “You know I love you. I have to go, but you should call daddy, maybe he can come home and sit with you for awhile, would you like that?”

She nodded vaguely and you rushed to pick up the phone, dialling the number you knew off by heart. He picked up on the first ring.

“Hello?” he asked nervously when the call was patched over to him.

“Hi dad, how’s work?” you asked, smiling at your mother.

“What’s going on, why are you home?” he asked nervously.

“Oh, I just stopped in, nothing major.” You replied, turning away to mumble into the receiver “I think we might have a situation here, I have to go back to school, can you come home, make sure she stays okay.”

“Yes, of course, I’ll be there in five.” He said.

“Okay, should I stay or…” you asked.

“No, no, head back, don’t miss class.” He said. You nodded, saying quick goodbyes and kissing your mother on the forehead again, promising that your father was on his way. You ran down the stairs, grabbing Valerie by the arm and pulling her out the door.

“Is she alright?” Valerie asked.

“Fine.” You snapped pulling open the door and turning on the ignition, backing out quickly, causing Valerie’s body to slap the back of the seat. You arrived at Melvald’s in less than five minutes.

“Wait here.” She said and you didn’t push to follow behind, you much preferred the silence. You felt your body decompress, stress oozing from your pores. She returned a few moments later, but by then you were back to functioning, worry playing like static in the very back of your mind. You drove normally to Valerie’s house, returning to your normal state again.

Valerie’s house was huge, a near mansion with fake marble and too much white to feel appropriate for a crazy high school party. Valerie led you upstairs to her room, a giant space painted light purple and coated in posters and art. She had a giant, plush mattress and a big vanity fit for a Broadway theatre, complete with the big white blubs as its border. You dropped your bags on her bed and she put hers on the vanity, pulling out its contents.

The box of at-home perm made your skin crawl.

“Okay, so the first thing we’re gonna do is perm your hair.” Valerie said, grabbing the box and heading towards the bathroom attached to her room.

“Oh ugh I don’t know…” you replied, your feet sticking to the floor as though it was flypaper.

“If you hate it, a shower will destroy it. Let’s just try, okay?” she said comfortingly and you nodded, swallowing your fear and walking in, sitting in the chair she’d set up for you.

The process took over an hour. First, your hair was soaked and dried a bit before being combed out. Then, she rolled your hair into wide rollers, securing them on your head. Then your hair was coated in perm solution, which stunk like chemicals and burned your nose. You felt the headache forming the second the tight rollers were secured in your hair and the smell only made it worse. It didn’t help that Valerie had started talking once you sat down and hadn’t stopped.

When it was finally time, she forced your head under the shower head, rinsing it for three minutes. She dried it with the hair dyer and then applied the neutralizer, which had to sit for ten minutes and smelt vaguely like coconuts. Then again under the shower head, dried, and the rods were removed.

And when it was all done, you looked like Shirley fucking Temple.

You sighed “See? I look awful…”

Valerie rolled her eyes “We’re not gonna leave it this way, duh!” she said. You looked up at her with a quirked brow, making her eyes widen “You didn’t know that?” she shook your head, making her gasp. “Oh my God! I can totally teach you how to make this look hot! Let’s give it a bit of time to relax, you can help me get the this place safe for a party, Jodie and Carol are coming over to set up later, but we need to move all the breakable shit before they get here.

And so you spent the afternoon hiding expensive vases and paintings that could be easily splashed or knocked down. You rolled up the white rugs and locked away the fine china. When you were finished, the house looked ready to party and you felt a tiny bit sweaty.

Valerie pulled you back into her room, and after much digging through bags and her closet, she pulled a clean white tank top from her closet and the tiny, pleated yellow skirt from your bags. She covered you in a robe and pulled you back into the bathroom.

“Okay, so nobody wear’s a perm the way in comes out naturally, we always style them. So what you’re gonna do is take a round brush or a teasing comb and tease the curls out to make them bigger, then spray it with hairspray to hold it. I like the Farrah Fawcett spray, because it adds and holds volume, but you can find whatever you like once you figure out what works for you.” She explained, making your curls into big, ratty waves that framed your face and made you look like an extra in a Madonna video. But you liked it. It made you feel older and more mature, like you were actually pretty.

“I taught Steve Harrington the same thing when he grew out his hair, he owes his flawless hair to me.” Valerie said cockily and you giggled at the idea of King Steve in your place, nervous and awkward and not nearly as handsome as he wanted to be.

“Alright and we’re done! You look better already, Y/N.” she said and you found yourself nodding along with her. It was almost seven now and while you hadn’t eaten yet, you found that you weren’t hungry. You were excited, which was a rarity for these types of parties.

“Let’s paint your face.” She said, leading you back out into her bedroom and sitting down at her vanity.

Of course, she did her own face first, leaving you to sit bored on her bed. So now you were sitting in Vicki’s pastel purple bedroom on her memory foam bed, watching her at her vanity mirror, the bed white theatrical bulbs that surrounded the mirror casting harsh light on your face as she painted on her bright makeup, smirking at her reflection.

“So what are we gonna do to your face, Y/N?” she asked, brushing sharp angles on blush on her cheeks.

“Oh I don’t know, something simple. I don’t think I could ever rock the colours you do.” You replied smoothly, watching her puff up like a peacock. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that she looked like wild parrot instead of the Cyndi Lauper inspired makeup she was going for.

“Oh come on! Live a little! I promise I’ll try to tone it down a bit for you, can we compromise to that?” she asked, pursing her lips to apply rich purple lipstick.

You sighed “Alright, but I demand a veto in case I hate it.” You agreed and Valerie squealed, pulling you into the chair and turning it to hide you from the mirror. She spent another hour painted you into some sort of beauty queen and by the time she was done, Billy was knocking on the door, Jodie and Carol making a ruckus in the downstairs area.

“You decent?” Billy called, bounding up the stairs.

Valerie chuckled “We’re covered up if that’s what you mean.” She replied. Billy pushed the door open, and as usual your heart skipped a beat, your eyes involuntarily flicked to the closed door.

“Now don’t look into the mirror until I say so, okay, I want it to be a surprise.” She whispered as Billy knocked on the door. Valerie opened it quickly, revealing herself and opening her arms, pulling him to her and allowing him to thoroughly mess up her lipstick.

“Happy birthday baby.” He whispered against her lips and she smirked, covering his eyes with her tiny hand “What’re you doing, babe?” he muttered, a smirk spreading across his face.

She led him forward, gesturing you to stand up straighter and when he was in position, she screamed “Ta dah!”, pulling her hand off his eyes and revealed your dolled up self. After hours of Valerie poking and prodding you, you’d transformed into a new person from the top of your perm to your sparkly pointed heels.

Billy didn’t like it.

His stare burned into you as he looked you over, trying to decipher what exactly made him cringe so much. It wasn’t that you looked bad, you always looked pretty and Valerie certainly didn’t make you look bad, but it looked off. It was as though he was staring into the uncanny valley-everything was technically right but something was off and it made it all look wrong. Then, it hit him. You looked like Valerie. She’d painted you into her twin.

“What, is it that bad?” you asked awkwardly, your smile slipping just a little.

“You look good, kid.” He said gruffly , slapping your shoulder. You stumbled just a little, unsure how to react.

“Thanks…” you muttered, stepping forward to finally look at yourself.

You looked…wrong. No wonder why Billy looked so startled by you. Caked in colours and draped in skimpy fabrics, you felt different. But, despite Billy’s reaction, it felt good, even right. You liked the way it looked, you felt more adult and certainly prettier than normal. You wouldn’t do it every day, but a night like tonight it felt fitting.

Valerie’s mood dropped significantly, watching you two shuffle about. You looked shakily confident, like a deer taking its first steps. You were an innocent, painted into someone’s personal Lolita, desperate for some acknowledgement. But Billy looked sick to his stomach looking at you. It was as though his world was flipped upside down.

He looked to Valerie, his eyes training over her, but he didn’t feel the same burning, unstoppable lust. He felt empty, hollow inside. His brain started to run wild, filled with intrusive thoughts. Suddenly, Valerie seemed less wonderful, less rare. He started to question if Valerie really was special. But that was crazy-Billy loved Valerie. He loved her. Sure, he hadn’t told her yet, but he planned to. All of this was just caused by his never ending horniness, which Valerie hadn’t been helping much with.

“You did a great job, babe.” Billy said, kissing her on the cheek, an arm slinking around her bare mid-drift. “You finally made Y/N look like a girl.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes, trying to muffle a tiny smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth. Billy was happy, he like the way you looked, he wasn’t horrified by the change that you were still getting used to. Billy was the only person you were trying to impress and you’d succeeded.

“Oh hush, Bill, you’re gonna hurt her feelings.” Valerie groaned, turning to you “You look incredible, Y/N, Byers will finally realize what he missed out on when he sees you.”

“Freak Byers is coming tonight?” Billy growled.

“Probably, Nancy Wheeler is gonna be here, Luce told me that her and Stacy were talking about it in calc.” Valerie replied easily.

“Y/N, stay away from him, alright? He’s only gonna fuck with your head and you deserve better.” He snapped, pointing at you.

You rolled you eyes “Val, you should’ve never taken him to see Sixteen Candles, now he thinks I’m some desperate, clingy crazy loser played by Molly Ringwald.” You chuckled, earning a laugh from her and a scoff from Billy, who refused to look at you. “I’m fine, okay? I’m over him, I’m happy for Nance, and I won’t be talking to him if he shows tonight, which is highly unlikely. According to Nancy, his baby brother’s sick. I doubt he’d come to this when he could be there with him.”

Billy had zoned out, but when you stopped talking he nodded, shoving a cigarette in his mouth. Valerie snatched it from his lips, pocketing it. “No smoking in my room! You know that!” she exclaimed. Billy rolled his eyes, heading for the door.

“We should head down there, this shit’s about to start.” Valerie said with a sigh, leading you out of the room. Carol and Jodie had started the music and found the liquor.

Upon seeing you, both Carol and Jodie seemed utterly shocked by your new look. They seemed almost proud of you, finally finding your footing after years of being an ugly duckling. Now, you were a swan.

It almost felt nice.

By ten thirty, the whole house was blasting. Teenagers were crawling everywhere, inebriated and sloppy. The giant living was filled with people dancing to whatever pop hits Carol had decided suited the event. There were plastic cups and spilled drinks everywhere, the floor was horribly sticking. Every corner was filled with people drunkenly making out and groping one another. You felt oddly alone.

You’d noticed the other sore thumbs. Tina Presley, the usual centre of attention, was playing wallflower, watching the crowds with sad eyes, her crush of the week, Anthony Michaels, was dancing with Lucy Pierce instead of her. Carol and Tommy had gotten into one of their epic fights, because Tommy was tonguing Amanda Pearson and got caught. Steve Harrington had shown up, his face broken up with cuts and bruises, both eyes ringed with deep purple and blue. He looked to be mostly having fun, drinking heavily and grinding on Vicki Matthews like it was his job. He seemed to have lost the last bits of his inhibitions, trying to drink away some memory and nearly getting into a scuffle with Billy upon running into one another. He looked broken, but trying to overcompensate with easy fun. If you two actually tolerated one another, you would’ve gone over to check on him.

You’d spent most of the night thus far dancing like you actually knew how. Your proverbial dance card had been full all night, being grabbed by different girls to giggle and jump around and finding different boys junk pressed against your front or behind. It was fun, you felt wanted which was an odd, exhilarating feeling that rushed through your veins and filled you with adrenaline.

You’d been watching Nancy subtly out of the corner of your eye, mainly because Stacy wasn’t. She, just like Steve, had decided to drink herself into a stupor and now was fighting with Jonathan, who was distressingly sober, and he wasn’t fighting back.

Suddenly, Nancy pushed away from Jonathan, breaking through the crowd and grabbing Steve by the face, kissing him like his life depended on it. He seemed shocked, hell you felt shocked. But as Steve kissed her back, Jonathan just sighed, turning away from her.

And you found yourself following behind him.

“Jonathan! Wait up!” you called, causing his to look back just for a moment, his sadness breaking apart his face as you caught up to him and brought him outside, sitting with him on the front porch.

“Y/N…” Jonathan muttered, looking away from you, his gaze dropping to his hands, folded in his lap.

“What the fuck was that?” you muttered breathlessly “I thought they broke up, I thought you two…”

“So did I…” he replied. “I think she is just afraid of change, I mean it’s been a lot for her, after all of this semester has been rough on us.”

“That’s not an excuse…” you replied “Look, Nancy told me that your brother is sick, if that means that Nancy needs to cheat on you to cope, then she’s not a good person.”

“Steve…must be comforting to her or something…” he replied, shaking his head.

You leaned in, taking his hand in yours. “You don’t have to make excuses for her.” You told him. He finally looked at you, nodding softly. You held his gaze for a moment and you swore you saw a flash in his eyes. You’d heard Steve call it ‘the electricity’, but all you felt was an odd emptiness. His eyes flicked to your lips and you felt your breath catch in your throat. Before you could really react, his lips were on yours.

It was a lot softer than kissing Billy, definitely more tentative. You didn’t have much experience in the field, but this was definitely nice. A bit dull, but as you moved closer to him, pressing your hand onto his thigh, you felt oddly at peace. It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t earth stopping-you could easily do this for the rest of the night.

“Byers!” someone snapped, making Jonathan pull away and you groan. Billy had found you. “Go and find your own fucking girlfriend, leave Y/N alone.” He growled and Jonathan rolled his eyes, pushing himself up and brushing off his jeans.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N.” he muttered with a soft smile and you nodded, watching him go. Billy rolled his eyes, motioning for you to follow him back inside, which you did with a tight frown.

“I thought you weren’t gonna see him tonight.” Billy growled, not looking at you as he spoke.

“Changed my mind.” You replied coarsely “Go bug someone else for awhile, yeah?”

Billy scoffed, but marched off, finding Valerie and planted the biggest, most over the top kiss on her. For a split second, you swore he was doing it to bother you, but then the weight of your insignificance hit you and you found yourself slinking away, finding another drink and another dance partner.

Billy couldn’t stand seeing you kiss Byers; it put a fire in the pit of his stomach and made him want to punch out the wiry kid. You were too good for him. God, you were too good for him. You were loving and sweet and fiery and fun and he was an utter loser. You deserved someone fun, someone who wouldn’t use you when things didn’t go his way. When he kissed Valerie, he was trying to expel that anger, that excess fire. But all it did was annoy him. He watched you walk away. He noticed the way Valerie didn’t look at him, instead out into the crowd for a set of bright green eyes he’d only seen briefly before they darted away.

The party was about as fun as you expected it to be. You watched in silent heartache as Billy and Valerie danced all night, hips grinding into each other with excited, lust filled eyes. Valerie was having a great birthday, but you were sick of celebrating. You tried to have fun, you danced with whatever boy would ask, grinding your hips to rhythms that the boys never stuck with. You were out of sync and utterly bored.

The night stayed that way for awhile. Billy and Valerie danced and swapped spit and drank and you danced and drank. You kissed Richie Swanson, but it wasn’t as nice as kissing Jonathan, filled with mashing gums and banging teeth. You tried to find him, but somehow both he and Nancy had disappeared and Steve was back to dancing with Vicki Matthews.

Then, disaster struck.

Somebody called the cops. Suddenly, the music was shut off and everyone was being rushed out, trying to escape before Chief Hopper could bust in and ruin anything. Billy was sent upstairs to wait for Valerie to finish clearing things up with the cops, but he insisted on sitting with you until your taxi showed up to drive you home.

You were drunker than you’d like to admit, but then again so was Billy. Sitting in the dimly lit kitchen, amber beer bottles in between you, you felt calm, happy even. The fact that he’d chosen you over tipsy, horny Valerie felt like a win in your favour. Neither of you needed to talk, drinking in comfortable silence. Everything was warm and soft, like a duvet cover, and you wanted nothing more than to snuggle into it.

“Hey, Y/N?” Billy muttered, his head lulling to look at you, his motor skills lessened by alcohol. He looked utterly beautiful in the yellow light of the wood paneled kitchen, which made your heart ache. Even now, even when he’d spent a whole night driving nails into your heart, you couldn’t help but feel lighter looking at him.

“Yeah?” you replied, bringing the bottle back up to your lips. You absolutely hated beer, but it was cool and gave you courage, two promising aspects.

“I love you, you know that? You’re my best friend…” he slurred, smiling sloppily. Your heart filled with joy, a smile spreading across your face. He loved you. He loved you. He loved you. You kept repeating it over and over in your head, your heart racing loudly in your ears.

You wanted to kiss him, to hug him, to press him up against the nearest wall and have your way with him. But that second part- the ‘You’re my best friend’ part- that was holding you back. He loved you, sure, but he didn’t want you. Not like you wanted him.

With a sigh, you nodded “I know Bee, I love you too…” you replied, knowing that he’d never love you the way you loved him.

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slashersrus · 6 years

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Jeremiah Valeska x Reader - Assassin

Y/N is an assassin who Oswald hires to kill Jeremiah after their encounter, except will she actually kill him?

BANG!

I smirked as the bullet flew through my targets head, perfect bulls eye. My target, a middle aged sleaze bag. The guy I had been paid to kill was stealing business from a rival company, I had been paid one million to kill him. The pay was a lot less than I usually got, however I was bored and it was an easy target. Packing up my sniper rifle, I gently placed the strap over my shoulder and climbed down the side of the building. I was in no hurry. Currently, security and body guards were rushing to the body, guns out and looking for the shooter. They would not find me however, as I had made the shot from three blocks away. Normally, I would do the kill in person, with my pistol or my well know black katana. My katana, know as the Black Death, was made from a material stronger than steel. It was practically unbreakable. Like I said, I would usually kill my targets that way, but today I was feeling lazy. Sliding onto my motorbike, I pulled the blacked out helmet over my head, covering my pitch black hair and crystal blue eyes.

I had no more targets today so I decided to go back to my hideout, an expensive, luxury penthouse. No one knew where I lived, I bought the apartment under a fake name and I never do business deals at home. I'd hate for someone to pop in unannounced and try to kill me at an unfortunate time, for example when I'm painting my nails, I would hate to break a nail.

Falling backwards onto my sleek black couch, I kicked off my combat boots and switched on the news. I expected to see some live broadcast announcing the murder I just committed, that is not what I saw. Leaning forward slightly, my eyes widened as I saw and heard a news broadcaster talking about Jeremiah Valeska and his plans to blow up the city. Shocked, I jumped up and grabbed a rucksack, packing my stuff. If Gotham is going to go up in flames, I'd rather not be here when it happens.

I had never had the opportunity of meeting Jeremiah Valeska, however I knew Jerome. Jerome was my friend, probably my only friend, he hired me when he escaped Arkham. I talked with him on multiple occasions, even when not needed, simply because I enjoyed his company. I didn't get attached though, getting attached is the worst thing you can do in my business.

He hired me to kill Theo Galavan if anything was to happen to him, he paid me up front. He paid 20 million, which he obviously stole from under Galavan's nose. Kinda ironic that he paid me with Galavan's money to kill Galavan. I did the job, I killed him before Gordon and Oswald could get to him. Oswald was furious. I hate being in the bad books with one of Gotham's strongest contenders so I said I owed him one. He can ask one, and only one, favour from me and I will do it.

RING.RING.RING.

Hearing my annoying ringtone, I sighed, throwing the bag to the door and walking over to grab my phone from its spot on the couch.

"This is Y/N." My business tone, cold and confident, was in place as I answered. I never let any emotion into my voice when speaking to clients, not wanting to show my cards or any weaknesses I may have.

"Y/N. It's Oswald. I wish to call in that favour you owe me." His voice, trying to sound polite but ending in a snap. He was clearly very frustrated but he also knew that it was a very bad idea to snap at me. He was trying not to anger me.

"Who do you want killed?" I remained calm, cold as my eyes scanned the apartment checking if I had missed anything, I hadn't.

"Make it quick. I'm leaving town." I spoke again, hearing him start to stutter slightly.

"Jeremiah Valeska." Those two words caused me to freeze. He was extremely protected, this would be hard for me.

"40 Million." I stated my price, waiting for his answer.

"40?! You owe me a favour!" He snapped causing me to grow angry at his disrespectful tone.

"The favour, Oswald, is accepting this job. If anyone else was asking I would refuse. Jeremiah Valeska is a very smart man with a small army of followers. He is also about to blow this city up. Anyone else was asking, I would have already hung up. That is your favour. So, 40 million. Your choice." I growled losing my patience.

"Fi-Fine! 40 Million! Just kill that menace!" Hearing him stutter made me smirk, loving to hear the fear in his voice.

"Consider it done." I spoke with finality in my voice before hanging up.

Grabbing my large rucksack, I made my way down to my garage. Multiple cars and bikes sat waiting for me, all fast and fancy. I am one of the best assassins in the US, meaning I get paid a lot of money. Grabbing one of the keys of the wooden wall rack, I walked over to my black BMW. Throwing the rucksack into the boot, I then walked over to the opposite wall, pressing a small panel. After scanning my hand print, a wall panel popped open, exposing the multiple weapons I keep here. Smiling excitedly, I grabbed my katana, a small throwing knife and my gun. Getting in the car, the engine purring to life, I sped off in search of my target.

After a while of searching, I finally found what I was looking for, one of Jeremiahs followers. Parking in a dark alley, I hopped out my car and casually walked up to the young woman. She was whistling and had vibrant green hair. Pulling my katana from my back strap, I jumped forwards and placed it to her neck causing her to freeze.

"Now, you are not my target, so I don't have to kill you. I'll give you a choice. Tell me where Jeremiah Valeska is or die." I spoke with a scary calm voice as I came into her view. I was in my element.

"Never! I'll never betray Jeremiah! JEREMIAH! JEREMIAH!" The woman started to chant causing me to roll my eyes and sigh.

"Pathetic. But don't worry, you'll talk. They always talk." I laughed before dragging her to my car shoving her into the back and taking out my small throwing knife. Smirking, I climbed in after her.

Half an hour later, I knew his location and his follow was dead. Pulling up to the building he was in, I climbed out my car and grabbed my katana. Breaking into the building was easy, an easy lock to pick. I assume Jeremiah believed that the location was far too hidden to be found and didn't bother with reinforcing the place. His mistake.

Following the many corridors, I heard pained screaming coming from one direction. Following the terrified screams, I finally found Jeremiah Valeska. I finally found my target. Silently, I walked up behind him, he was gazing intently into a room. Following his gaze, the sight shocked me, he was burning his followers alive. I expected him to want to keep Jerome's followers.

"Well, that is disappointing." He spoke, annoyance in his voice, before he turned to leave.

"Disappointing? On the contrary, that was an entertaining show." I spoke with humour in my voice causing him to jump whilst spinning to face me and reaching for his gun.

"Ah, ah, love. I wouldn't." I smiled, lifting my katana to his neck, gesturing to the gun he was holding. My British accent flowing through clearly.

"Who are you?" He hissed at me, dropping his gun and glaring.

"You don't know me? Huh, you really didn't get out much did you? I mean, even your brother knew me." I taunted, knowing that mentioning Jerome was bound to get on his nerves and make him angry.

"You knew my brother?" He growled, his insanely green eyes glaring at the weapon pointed at his neck before returning to my face.

"Oh yeah. Fun guy. He hired me to avenge his death and kill Galavan. I'm Y/N." I loved the reaction I was getting out of him, his jaw was clenched as his eyes blazed in anger.

"Y/N? I've heard rumors about you, didn't know what you looked like. I'm guessing you're here to kill me. Who hired you?" His eyes light up in recognition as he heard my name.

"Oswald Cobblepot. Whatever you did, he's really pissed. I don't ask questions, I just take the money. Shame, you could have been great." I trailed off, my mind being consumed with thoughts of how big he could have become in the Gotham underworld.

"Oh well, bye." I tilted my head to the side, raising my katana to kill him.

Before I could make the lethal swipe, he grabbed the blade, unflinching as the blade cut into his skin. My eyes widened at the fact he was showing no acknowledgement of the pain in his hand.

"Wait!" He yelled, pushing against my blade, blood streaming down his wrist and arm rapidly, soaking his suit and staining it red.

"How much is he paying you?" I knew this was just a desperate bid to get me to spare his life, but I decided to indulge him anyway.

"40 Million." Returning my attention to the task at hand, I went to finish my job and kill him before being interrupted yet again.

"He's lying. He can't pay you." The words caused me to freeze, lowing the blade an inch so he could talk.

"He was trying to leverage me into getting him 50 million today. He needs money. He doesn't have 40 million to give you. I, however, can offer you something better. You're very skilled, I could use someone like you on my side. Once I destroy Gotham, you can anything you want. Money. Power. Anything." He spoke so fast, I could barely keep up with his raspy voice.

Stepping back, I slid my katana back into the sheathe, watching as he rubbed his neck where I cut him slightly. I was truly considering his offer.

"If you are lying..." I trailed off, leaving my threat hanging in the air.

"Why would I lie when the truth is so much better?" He stepped towards me, the burning room of his followers long forgotten.

"Fine. Where do we start?" I asked, agreeing that I would work for him for the mean time.

He simply grinned in response, his blood red lips pulling into a crazy smile, before gesturing for me to follow him and walking off. I followed.

#renew gotham season 5 #gotham #jeremiah valeska x reader #jeremiah valeska #jerome valeska #oswald copplepot #cameron monaghan

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hale-of-stiles-heart · 7 years

Note

Could I request a destiel au where maybe dean has been smoking since he was in high school, and he's never really had a reason to quit. He's perfectly content to stay in his ways until he meets and falls for Sam's friend Castiel, who is severely asthmatic. He can't be around when Dean smokes, because it's a trigger for his attacks, so dean tries to quit for him? (Sorry this is so long! 😂 I love the seven minutes in Heaven ficlet, but the way!)

This got a little longer than I intended (mostly because I spent way too much time on the backstory) so I hope you enjoy it! Also, I’m so glad you liked the seven minutes in heaven fic! (also on ao3!)

Dean had never intended to become a smoker.

It was just something that sort of happened. Like the fact that he lost his virginity in the backseat of his car when he was sixteen or happened to enjoy wearing women's panties or fell in love with his brother's best friend.

He had smoked his first cigarette when he was thirteen.

His mom had been out for the night, having dinner with a few of her friends that she hadn't seen in awhile. Sam was out of the house, having a sleepover with a few of his own friends.

His dad had ended up falling asleep on the couch after watching a rather intense wrestling match. Gunner Lawless had won, of course.

Dean had been bored out of his mind, desperately trying to come up with some way to entertain himself. Like any thirteen year old red-blooded American boy, he was a little reckless, rebellious for the sake of being rebellious.

Watching TV had been out of the question since they only had one, which was stationed in the living room, and turning it on would mean waking his dad. And his dad could be a grumpy son of a bitch when woken from up, like a crotchety old bear whose hibernation had been interrupted.

Video games were out of the question, too. Mostly because they required the use of the TV and partially because Sam had taken their best games with him.

He ate some leftovers from the night before, using the carved up turkey to make a few sandwiches. But as much as he loved food, it was a poor substitute for worthwhile entertainment.

He was desperately searching for a way to pass the time, to cure his mind-numbing boredom, and satisfy his insatiable curiosity. So, with his dad still snoring on the couch, Dean swiped his pack of Marlboros and a lighter and snuck outside to smoke his first cigarette.

His dad had been a smoker since he was a teenager himself, a trait he had picked up from his own dad. Dean had always secretly suspected it had something to do with maintaining a manly image.

Dean's mom had been insisting that John quit smoking for years, citing the numerous health risks involved with the dirty little habit. But his dad had always just brushed it off, always claimed it would be his New Year's resolution, always put it off for another year.

John had finally relented when Mary decided to take a more passive aggressive route.

Whenever John would come home from a long day of work at the garage, covered in grease and grime and sweat, and leaned in to kiss her hello, Mary would twist away. Waving a hand, she would dismiss, "Oh, John, you know I hate kissing you after you've smoked."

That pattern had gone on for weeks. And as much as Dean hated to admit that his mom holding out on his dad in the bedroom — hell, he didn't even like to think about it — was what finally convinced his dad to quit smoking.

John had gradually reduced his cigarette consumption little by little. He slowly but surely went from a pack every few days to a pack a week to a pack a month.

But at thirteen, Dean hadn't been thinking about the fact that his dad was a taking a step to improve his health. All he had been thinking about was trying out a cigarette himself.

With John slumbering on the couch and no one else home to catch him, Dean had tiptoed into his parents' bedroom where he rummaged around for his dad's pack of cigarettes. He had eventually found it in the pocket of his dad's favorite leather jacket along with an old silver Zippo.

Prize in hand, Dean had quietly crept outside to the backyard to enjoy the spoils of his little covert mission. He had hidden in the shadow of a tall pine tree, not wanting any of their neighbors to spot him.

He had shivered a bit, the ground cold beneath his socked feet. Winter would be there soon, hopefully bringing snow days so he could get out of his most boring classes.

He had placed the butt of a cigarette between his lips the same way he had seen his dad do a million times. Flicking the igniter on the Zippo, summoning a small dancing flame, he raised the lighter to the end of the cigarette.

He had only managed to take a few short puffs of the cigarette before he was bent over coughing, hacking up a lung. His eyes had watered from the intensity of his coughing fit, his stomach aching from it.

He hadn't understood how anyone could get addicted to smoking. It was horrible. And it tasted beyond disgusting.

It definitely wasn't as cool as everyone in the movies made it look.

Dean had snubbed out the cigarette after recovering from his fit, tossing it over the fence into their neighbor's trash can to destroy the evidence of his little crime. He hadn't wanted to get the same lecture about how dangerous and disgusting smoking was that his mother had often given his father.

Slipping back inside, he had returned the pack of cigarettes and the Zippo to his dad's jacket pocket. Then he brushed his teeth three times and chugged two glasses of water just to get the taste of nicotine out of his mouth. It really wasn't that cool.

The only people he had ever told included his three best friends and, after swearing him to secrecy, Sam. It remained his dirty little secret for years until more important ones took its place.

He had smoked his second cigarette when he was seventeen, only a few months before he turned eighteen.

He had been at a party celebrating the most recent win of their high school football team, of which he was the star player, voted MVP after nearly every single game they played. One of the other players on the team, a rich kid whose parents were out of town often enough for him to do so, had invited half of the school to his palatial home.

Dean had been hanging out with Benny and Jo, Charlie having already found a pretty girl to disappear upstairs with. They had been sipping on illegally obtained beer in red solo cups, shooting the breeze about school and work and other crap that wouldn't matter once they graduated.

From across the room, a cute cheerleader had caught his eye. In her bright hot pink tank top and the tiny scrap of faded denim that she called shorts, she was rather hard to miss.

She had winked at him, biting her plump bottom lip between her teeth and beckoning him over with a crooked finger, nodding her head towards the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. He would have had to be an idiot to refuse such a blatant invitation.

With a salute to his friends that was greeted by a round of eye rolling, Dean had crossed the crowded room to her. The pretty brunette had led him outside to a patio where a few other guys from the football team were hanging out, each of them with at least two girls hanging off their arms, all of whom vying to be the next homecoming queen.

All of them were smoking, the lit ends of their cigarettes bright in the shoddy patio lighting.

He had been smart enough to know that smoking wouldn't make him cool, that he shouldn't smoke just to fit in with a people whose names he barely knew. But he had also been young and dumb enough to only be thinking with the head between his legs.

So when the brunette, whose name he later learned was Amy, pulled a white and green box out of her back pocket and offered him a cigarette, he had accepted without a moment of hesitation.

That time, he managed not to double over coughing, muffling the few coughs that did escape his lips by laughing a little too hard at the stupid jokes one of the other guys made. It had been a menthol cigarette, the taste of mint soothing the nausea he felt thanks to the plethora of chemicals he was inhaling.

Amy had seemed impressed. Enough so that she blew him in the bathroom later.

He had started smoking regularly after that, at least socially. He would accept a cigarette whenever someone at a party or a bar offered him one, telling himself that it would be rude to refuse.

Women seemed to like it, along with a few guys. They told him it made him seem more mysterious, more mature.

Personally, he had to agree. He thought it gave him a bit of a James Dean quality. Especially when he wore his leather jacket.

He started carrying gum and breath mints around wherever he went, for both his own benefit and others. He didn't imagine it was all that enjoyable to kiss someone who tasted like an ashtray.

Unfortunately, he had to hide his smoking from his family. At least until he was old enough to buy us own cigarettes and by then, he was a bona fide smoker.

He smoked between classes while in college, attending the University of Kansas for automotive technologies. He always made sure he could sneak out for a smoke break every few hours at work.

When he moved into his own apartment, he was able to smoke freely, not having to worry about the smoke bothering anyone.

The only place he drew the line was his car. His baby deserved better than the stench of nicotine and tobacco that lingered when he smoked, that soaked into every fiber of his clothing.

His mother had been beside herself when she found out. Not a second later, she had launched into a lecture that Dean already knew by heart, detailing the horrible effects of smoking. Meanwhile, his dad had just looked impossibly guilty, more disappointed in himself than in Dean.

Yet while they both clearly disapproved of his smoking, along with Sam, they accepted that they couldn't make him stop smoking. He doubted that anything could.

He didn't think he would ever find a good reason to quit. Until he met Castiel Novak.

Castiel — or Cas, as Dean had taken to calling him — was the teacher's assistant for Sam's Introduction to English Literature class at the University of Kansas where he was finishing up his general education courses before transferring to Stanford.

From what Sam had told them about his English class, Cas was more of a teacher than the actual professor, some washed up writer named Chuck Shurley. Apparently, Chuck was more interested in bemoaning his own hurdles with his book series than actually teaching.

Cas, on the other hand, had no problem actually teaching the material, from Shakespeare to Vonnegut. And, from Sam's stories about class, he was damn good at it.

Sam talked everyone's ear off about how smart and interesting and nice the TA was, constantly singing Cas' praises and lauding his rather impressive credentials. Apparently, Cas had gone to an Ivy League school and had written his own series dealing with legendary creatures, one that was actually pretty good.

According to Sam, Cas also had a natural talent for making boring, ancient plays written by a bunch of old dead guys fascinating. For making the curriculum less of something they had to suffer through and more of an adventure that they were embarking on together.

It was after that particular comment that Dean had accused Sam of having a crush on the cute teacher's assistant. He pointed out that Sam's girlfriend, Jess, might be a little jealous.

But Jess had just shocked them both by turning to Sam and casually announcing, "Hey, if you're up for it, I wouldn't say no to a threesome."

Dean's suspicions about his little brother being infatuated with the teacher's assistant were further cemented when Sam and Cas continued hanging out after the fall semester ended and Sam was no longer in the class Cas practically taught. Hell, they even had a standing weekly get-together.

They usually went out for coffee or met up at the college library. On one occasion, they had gone out to a local bar for a drink on a Saturday night, leaving Sam with a story about how ridiculously high Cas' alcohol tolerance was.

After months of hearing about the Columbia graduate, published author, one hundred and sixty IQ scoring teacher's assistant, Dean finally asked Sam when he was going to get to meet the fabled Cas.

Sam had just rolled his eyes and told Dean to drop by the campus one day and he would introduce them. The chance of meeting a hot co-ed may or may not have given Dean some extra encouragement to drop in on his little brother at school.

So, the following Thursday, after finishing his early morning shift at Bobby's garage, Dean decided to swing by the school. Sam's last class of the day ended at four o'clock on the dot, his history professor extremely punctual.

Dean pulled up around three forty two, parking in the visitors section to avoid getting fined. That left him some time to kill, even after he made his way to the main building.

Naturally, he lit a cigarette while he waited.

He leaned back against the brick wall of the main building as he smoked. The chilly February air teased at his hair as it rustled the bare branches of nearby ornamental trees, the cold of winter stubbornly lingering.

A group of girls left the building in knit sweaters and leggings, holding cups of hot, steaming coffees. They glanced over at him, raking their eyes up and down his body with blatant interest.

He responded by flashing a bright smile and sending a charming wink their way. Like a gaggle of high school girls, they ducked their heads and giggled amongst themselves as they continued walking to their cars.

The front door opened again, drawing Dean's attention. This time Sam strode out in all of his gargantuan, moose-like glory, his long hair billowing in the wind like he was some kind of Fabio wannabe.

He was wearing a Stanford Law sweater under his brown flannel, already showing off the fact that he had already been accepted to the prestigious school. And people called Dean cocky.

Sam was talking to another man, head tilted to the side as he gestured with his right hand. At first, Dean assumed the other man was the famed Cas but he quickly discounted his theory.

Sam had described Cas well enough that Dean would know the guy from a mile away. And the guy Sam was talking to wasn't Cas.

He was too short, for starters, maybe five eight while Cas was reportedly around Dean's height. Not that it was a glaring discrepancy, just a noticeable one.

He had light brown hair, unlike Cas whose hair was either an extremely dark brown or pitch black, Sam had admitted that he was never sure which color it actually was. He had a full beard that matched his hair color, thicker than the facial hair that Sam claimed Cas had.

He had blue eyes from what Dean could see, finally a similarity with Cas. Cas' eyes were the bluest blue to ever blue if the way practically mooned over them was any indication.

The yet to be named man was dressed more like a student than the uptight, always professional Cas that Sam described, in a tattered hoodie over a graphic t-shirt that was stained in various places. He was wearing faded jeans with tears in the worn out knees, the fabric frayed around his ankles and his dirty sneakers.

Dean was still crossing off reasons on his mental checklist of why the mystery man couldn't possibly be Cas when he overheard Sam say, "Alright. See ya later, Professor Shurley."

"Hey, jerk," Sam said by way of greeting as he made his way over to Dean after waving goodbye to Chuck who continued on his way towards the faculty section of the parking lot. He grimaced when he noticed the cigarette in Dean's hand, disapproval written all over his face.

"Bitch," Dean responded automatically, their rude little way of addressing each other an involuntary reflex at that point. He nodded his chin at Chuck's retreating back, taking another drag of his cigarette as he asked, "So, that's Shurley, huh? The one who wrote all those shitty, pretentious books—"

"Dean..." Sam interrupted, a pinched expression on his face. He waved his hand in front of his throat in a slashing motion, Dean reading the universal 'cut it off' gesture loud and clear.

"Aww, c'mon, Sammy!" Dean groused, throwing up his free hand in exasperation. Gesturing towards Chuck, who was definitely out of earshot, he pointed out, "You said it yourself, the guy's writing is complete shit! He's a total hack!"

"Dean," Sam said again, a bit more urgently this time. His expression went from pinched to pained as he tried yet again, "Knock it o—"

But before Sam could even finish his sentence, another voice piped up. Said voice was gravelly yet as smooth as honeyed whiskey, like whoever it belonged to gargled with Jack Daniel's and grit, as it placated, "It's alright, Sam. My father's writing can be a bit...pretentious, for lack of a better word."

With a thoroughly beleaguered sigh, Sam pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a few steps to reveal that there was someone standing behind him. Someone that Dean would recognize anywhere despite having never met him before. Cas.

He was just as good-looking as Sam had claimed, hell, maybe even more so.

He had light blue eyes that were downright angelic, calling to mind giant wings of celestial light and glittering halos. They reminded Dean of clear spring skies, of days spent fishing at the lake, of pleasantly cool mornings.

His lips, which Dean had no shame in admitting drew him in like a moth to the flame, were the most perfect shade of pink, though they looked a bit chapped. Dean would be lying if he said he didn't immediately think about them in a less innocent situation.

His hair was dark like Sam had described and even more messy, seemingly jet black yet dark umber when the pale sunlight hit it. His jawline was made rugged by the dark stubble there, slightly longer than the five o'clock shadow Dean was sporting but not quite long enough to be considered a full beard.

He was dressed like a teacher's assistant, at least Dean's idea of a teacher's assistant, in his black suit and crisp white button up. There was a deep blue tie around his neck, slightly loosened and backwards, both of which made Dean smile at the tiny bit of dishevelment.

It made him more human, less like the infallible angel that Sam had described.

Cas had a tan trench coat hanging over one of his arms, folded carefully to avoid any potential wrinkles. In his free hand, he carried a black leather messenger bag, the strap slung over his shoulder.

Dean was still staring at Cas' black Oxfords, which were immaculately polished and shined, when something suddenly occurred to him, something that Cas had said. Jerking his head up, he met Cas' brilliant blue eyes, his own wide as he blurted, "Wait, did you say... Chuck Shurley's your dad?!"

Cas just nodded, looking remarkably unperturbed for someone whose father had just been rudely insulted by a complete stranger.

"But your last name!" Dean cried out, feeling like a complete idiot the second the words left his mouth. He scrubbed a hand over his face as his cheeks flushed with heat. He really needed to learn to think before speaking.

"By all accounts, I'm a bastard," Cas replied calmly, a tiny smile curling up the corners of those pretty pink lips of his. Shifting his weight to his other foot, he explained, "I was born out of wedlock, thus my father and I do not share a surname."

"Uh, yeah... Yeah, that makes sense," Dean mumbled, mostly to himself. He scratched the back of his neck as he stared down at his shoes.

He didn't have the nerve to look Cas in the eye as he stammered out an apology. "Sorry, dude. About what I said 'bout your old man."

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Cas shrug. Tipping his head to the side the tiniest bit, Cas dismissed, "There's no need for apologies. My father's writing certainly does leave something to be desired. He has quite the penchant for killing off fan favorites and absolutely massacring character development."

"I know, right?!" Dean exclaimed, momentarily forgetting about his embarrassment in favor of snapping his head up and beaming at Cas. Absentmindedly flicking some ash off the tip of his cigarette, he gestured around aimlessly, gushing, "Like killing off Felicia? Fucking stupid! And all the queerbaiting? It's ridiculous!"

"You-You actually read those books?" Sam inquired incredulously, his eyebrows drawing together as he looked at Dean like he had just grown two more heads.

"'Course I did. All of 'em," Dean scoffed before raising his cigarette to his lips for another quick puff. Blowing out a stream of smoke, he shrugged and explained, "I wanted to know if Jensen and Misha, stupid names by the way—" he glanced over at Cas "—ever got together, okay?"

"I'm sure my father will be very flattered," Cas stated, his tiny smile growing into something wider and more genuine. Dipping his head, he quipped, "Though I suppose I should leave out the critiques as he never seems to enjoy it when I mention them to him."

Dean barked out a laugh at that, still relieved that Cas didn't seem too upset by the fact that Dean had insulted his father only a few minutes prior. He moved his cigarette to his other hand and flashed one of his most charming grins as he held out his now free hand to Cas.

"I'm Dean, by the way," he announced, his smile widening. "Dean Winchester."

Cas shifted his trench coat to his left arm, his movements careful and meticulous, making sure he didn't rumple his suit. He held his own hand out, shaking Dean's as he beamed at him, introducing, "As I'm sure you've already guessed, I'm Casti—"

But before he could finish, he was suddenly doubled over coughing. He turned his head to cough into the crook of his elbow, his shoulders shaking with the force of his hacking.

His face started to flush a deep red as he continued his forceful coughing, sweat beading at his temples. Whenever there was a pause in his coughing and he had the chance to greedily inhale mouthfuls of air, he wheezed.

"Whoa, Cas!" Dean cried out, dropping his cigarette as he moved towards Cas. But Cas just held up a hand, stopping Dean in his tracks as he continued coughing. "You alright, man?!"

"Jesus, Dean!" Sam reprimanded, setting a hand on Dean's chest and pushing him back a few feet. Dean turned to gawk at his brother, wondering why the hell Sam wasn't letting him help Cas. There was clearly something wrong with the poor guy!

It suddenly made sense when Sam pointed out, "He has asthma!"

Sure enough, when Dean turned to look back at Cas, the teacher's assistant was digging through his messenger bag to pull out an inhaler. He raised it to his lips and took a long inhale as he pressed down on the inhaler pump, closing his eyes as the medicine did its trick, soothing his cough and letting his breath begin to return to normal.

In an instant, Sam was at Cas' side, a hand on his arm as they talked in hushed voices. As Sam fussed over him — asking him if he was okay, if he needed some water, if he wanted to sit down — Cas waved his hand, insisting, "I'm perfectly alright, Sam. I just have a sensitivity to tobacco smoke. I'm fine."

Eyes widening, Dean dropped his gaze to look down at the cigarette he had dropped. Guilt and realization washing over him like a tsunami.

The cigarette was still lit, a thin, undulating stream of smoke rising up towards his face like a vengeful spirit, taunting him. He stomped on it. Dragged the sole of his boot across it until the paper ripped and tobacco was smudged against the gray stone of the front walk.

Snapping his eyes back up, Dean hurried to apologize, babbling, "I'm so sorry, Cas, I had no idea. Is there anything I can d—"

"Dean, it's fine. I'm fine," Cas cut him off with a polite smile as Sam straightened up, dropping his hand from where it had been on Cas' forearm. With a negligible shrug, Cas held up his inhaler, shaking it for emphasis as he explained, "There's a reason why I always carry an emergency inhaler."

Dean had apologized a few more times but Cas had simply continued to wave them off, instead steering the conversation back to introductions. They were finally able to shake each other's hands without anyone breaking into a coughing fit or start bleeding from their eyes.

With Dean's luck, that was the best he was going to get.

They had talked a little bit about Sam's classes, the only four which stood between him and law school all the way in California. They were mostly art classes he needed for his art requirement along with his history class.

Sam asked about the sections that Cas was working with, and indeed mostly teaching himself. Apparently, in addition to being a teacher's assistant for English classes, he helped Chuck with his theology classes.

As both Winchesters walked Cas back to his car, an old Continental that somehow suited Cas more than any other car Dean could ever think of, Sam invited Cas to their dinner with their family some night. It was an invitation that Cas had eagerly accepted, a bright smile on his face.

Just like that, over the next few months, Dean saw more of Cas than he would have expected when Sam had first told him about the TA.

After the first time Cas had gone over to the Winchesters' for dinner, which had gone exceptionally well in spite of Dean's constant worries that he might send Cas into another asthma attack, Cas had become a regular fixture in the Winchester household.

He was invited to dinner at least once a week. Mary and John absolutely adored the dorky little guy, practically adopting him as a third son.

On weekends, when Cas didn't have any classes to work with and didn't have any shifts at his part-time Gas-n-Sip job, he would go over to the Winchesters'. He would spend hours baking in the kitchen with Mary, helping her bake the most amazing culinary creations that Dean always volunteered to taste test.

Other times, usually after he finished with all his classes, he would hang out with Sam. They would talk about everything from what Stanford professors were the best to nerdy shit like Kafka and new Netflix documentaries.

Hell, he even helped John with his extensive records collection. Apparently, one of his brothers, of which he literally had dozens, was an antiques dealer who was always in search of new buyers for vinyl records and other classic rock memorabilia.

He showed up whenever invited to watch baseball games and NASCAR races and wrestling matches even though he admitted to not being a fan of any sport in particular. Regardless, he was always more than willing to sit through Dean and John's, and sometimes even Mary's, loud booing and cheering.

He usually brought over the most decadent treats for them to munch and was always so enthusiastic about whatever they were watching, even though he had no idea what the rules were. Dean just didn't have the heart to tell Cas that just because he was invited he didn't have to actually show up.

Cas started spending time with Dean, too. They would meet up for drinks after work a couple times a week, Cas showing off his notorious alcohol tolerance.

As it turned out, they along swimmingly when Cas wasn't in the throes of an asthma attack and Dean wasn't unknowingly insulting Cas' dad. And even though Cas was pop culturally challenged, they found they loved the same books and had complementary tastes in music.

He ended up meeting Dean's friends, coincidentally already friends with Charlie who worked with one of Cas' brothers, Gabriel, at his bar. Benny, Jo, and Garth all adored Cas on sight, welcoming him into their little group the second they met him.

While Cas was admittedly short on friends, the multitude of siblings he had certainly made up for it. Dean eventually wound up meeting a few of them.

He ran into Balthazar, a blonde blue eyed bastard with an inexplicable British accent, while he was stopping by the Winchesters' to sell John an old Beatles album. Balthazar was nice enough, if not a little condescending.

Dean met another one of Cas' other brothers when Gabriel brought his '69 Mustang into Bobby's garage. As much as they bonded over a mutual love of classic cars, Dean was a little taken aback by Gabriel's inappropriateness and the fact that he threatened to chop Dean's dick off if he ever hurt Cas.

And, of course, Dean had already sort of met Cas' father. Though, he wasn't sure if that counted since they had never been properly introduced or even spoken a single word to each other.

But as much as Dean loved hanging out with Cas, every time he did, he found himself plagued with worry. What if he accidentally sent Cas into another asthma attack?

What if he didn't shower thoroughly enough or wash his clothes well enough and there was still some smoke clinging to him? What if he reeked of tobacco and nicotine every time he sat next to Cas on movie nights and the poor guy had to refrain from vomiting?

Dean was always careful to avoid smoking within two hours before hanging out with Cas, always showering and brushing his teeth beforehand to avoid any lingering scents or smoke. But the worry still lingered, the fear that he would end up hurting Cas somehow.

And the reason that bothered him so very much? He had fallen for Cas. Ass over ankles fallen for him.

He wanted to take Cas out to some fancy restaurant where they looked at people like trash if they asked for ketchup. He wanted to go on a long drive with no destination, Cas sitting beside him in the passenger seat.

He wanted to cook for Cas, make him dinner every night and breakfast in bed every morning. He wanted to cuddle on the couch with Cas while watching one of his lame documentaries, while he ran his fingers through Cas' dark hair.

He wanted to wake up every morning and see Cas lying in bed next to him. He wanted to kiss Cas and see if his chapped lips were rough or smooth, dry or wet.

He wanted to undress Cas, peel him out of his immaculate suits, slow and careful and reverent. He wanted to taste Cas' bare skin, see if it tasted like he imagined, sweet like honey and salty like sweat.

He wanted to get tangled up in silk sheets with Cas and never get untangled. He wanted to lie on a beach with Cas, soaking up the sunlight as waves crashed over their bare skin.

He wanted to marry the freaking guy. He wanted to buy a nice little white picket fence with him, maybe get a dog, adopt a few kids.

God, he wanted everything with Cas. But he couldn't have it. He couldn't have any of it.

Not if he continued smoking.

So the first thing Dean did after working up the nerve to actually ask Cas out on a date was quit smoking. But unlike his dad who had gradually weaned himself of the habit, Dean decided to quit cold turkey.

In the days leading up to their date, he found himself fidgety and woefully unable to focus. He could hardly concentrate on anything, whether it be work or reruns of Dr. Sexy.

He constantly picked at his lips, missing the sensation of holding a cigarette between them. He went through twice as much gum as usual, needing to occupy himself somehow, the repetitiveness of the chewing motion soothing him along with the familiar taste of mint.

As time went on, he grew progressively snappish and terse, growling at the slightest irritation. Bobby ended up sending him home early after he bit Kevin, their receptionist's, head off over something trivial.

By the time Saturday rolled around, he was suffering from bouts of nausea, hot flashes, and a horrible case of insomnia. But he would be damned if he canceled his first, and perhaps only, date with Cas just because he was dealing with a little bit of withdrawal.

He and Cas had agreed to meet at one of the more upscale restaurants in town, a place that was affordable yet fancy enough for a date, at seven which gave Dean enough time to shower and get dressed.

Wanting to look his absolute best, he spent an embarrassing amount of time agonizing over what to wear. He finally decided on a deep red button up over a black t-shirt and some dark jeans, along with a new pair of boots.

He spent a decent amount of time styling his hair until he deemed it sexy looking enough. He even spritzed himself with some of the expensive cologne he reserved for special occasions.

Despite his difficulty concentrating, craving nicotine more than he ever thought he would, Dean had the presence of mind to stop by a local florist and pick Cas up some flowers. It may be a little sappy but he wanted to make sure Cas knew it was a date, not just a casual hangout.

He made it to the closest flower shop fifteen minutes before it was set to close, feeling like a jackass for holding up the woman behind the counter. He paid double the price for a bouquet of white roses, tulips, and camellia, apologizing for showing up so near closing time.

He was almost late to the restaurant after getting stuck in traffic behind some asshole who wouldn't get off his damn cell phone. Luckily, he managed to pull up to the restaurant with just enough time left for him to fuss over his hair one last time.

"Hello, Dean," Cas greeted from where he was sitting on a wooden bench in front of the restaurant when Dean walked into sight from the parking lot. He smiled shyly at Dean as he twiddled his thumbs, making the mechanic's heart race.

Cas looked devastatingly handsome in a blue chambray shirt and a pair of black jeans, his outfit more casual than any other Dean had seen him in. His hair looked like it had been combed but it was still messy, mussed despite Cas' best efforts at taming it.

He stood when Dean approached, brushing away nonexistent wrinkles on his shirt. Once he walked closer, Dean held out the bouquet he had bought for Cas, announcing, "Uh, I got you these."

"They're beautiful, Dean. Thank you," Cas gushed, taking the bouquet from Dean's hand, careful not to prick himself on the sharp thorns on the rose stems. He brushed his thumb over a pristine white petal, beaming up at Dean as he softly murmured, "Camellias. You remembered."

Of course he had. How could he ever forget Cas' favorite flower? He wasn't an idiot.

Cas had mentioned that he was partial to camellias a month or two ago when he had been helping Mary pick out new flowers for the garden. Dean had been helping his mom build planters for said flowers, lingering in the doorway as Cas and Mary talked about everything from roses to chrysanthemum.

Feeling his face flush at the memory, Dean scratched the back of his neck, valiantly resisting the urge to swoop down and peck Cas on the lips. Instead, he just gave a one shouldered shrug and mumbled, "Yeah, no problem, Cas."

"Shall we go in?" Cas inquired a moment later, still smiling radiantly. He nodded his head towards the front door of the restaurant, drawing Dean's attention away from Cas' lips in favor of looking over at the intricate glass inlay.

He nodded, swallowing heavily to help settle his nerves. As he led Cas up the steps to the front door, he set his hand on the small of his back, relishing the fact that he could actually touch him.

Ever the gentleman, to his mother's delight, Dean held the door for Cas, ushering him inside with a bright smile. They walked side by side to the slim black hostess' podium.

They were greeted by an almost too cheery blonde hostess in a tight black pencil skirt and a white blouse. Tucking two menus under her arm, she asked, "Would you like a table inside or outside on the patio?"

Cas looked to Dean for an answer, his smile soft and sweet. Without much thought, he blurted, "Inside."

Then he remembered the hot flashes that he had been having for the past few days. It was unnecessarily warm within the restaurant considering it was mid-spring.

He glanced around the restaurant, scanning his eyes over the crowd. The place was absolutely packed, tables pressed claustrophobically close to each other.

It was rather loud, scores of people talking over each other to create a dull roar that seemed to echo in his ears. Given his frequent headaches since he decided to quit smoking, he didn't think the noise would be all that good for him.

His fingers tingling a bit, Dean nervously cleared his throat. Before the hostess could round the podium, he quickly amended, "Uh... Actually, on second thought, I think outside might be better."

With a nod, the hostess led them out a side door to the patio. A dozen or so tables were spaced out within a fenced in area, covered with white tablecloths.

It was much quieter outside, only a handful of the tables occupied. There was a flame crackling in a fire pit, casting a warm light over the patio.

There was a slight breeze, typical of the time of year, cool but not cold enough to warrant Dean running back to his car for a jacket. Lights were strung up around the patio, bright but not glaring, providing a hint of romantic ambiance.

Dean pulled out Cas' chair for him, earning a delighted grin from the TA. After pushing Cas' chair in, he rounded the table to take his own seat, accepting a menu from the hostess with a polite smile.

"What'll you be having to drink?" The hostess asked, tugging an order pad out of her waistband. She grabbed a pen out from behind her ear, looking at them expectantly.

"I'll just have water," Cas answered, beaming at the hostess before turning his undivided attention to Dean who was starting to feel a little nauseous.

"Uh, ginger ale for me," he requested, forcing a smile as the hostess jotted it down. Once she finished, she announced that their waitress would be there with their drinks in a few minutes, wishing them a nice night before she disappeared back inside.

"Are you feeling alright, Dean?" Cas questioned, setting his bouquet on the table in favor of reaching out to lay his hand on top of the one Dean had resting on the table.

As much as Dean would have loved to intertwine his fingers with Cas' and hold his hand all night like some freaking sap, he couldn't. His palms were growing sweaty and they were shaking again, a strange tingling in his fingertips.

He yanked his hand away, dropping it onto his lap so he could wipe his palm on his jeans. Glancing between Cas and the napkin wrapped silverware in front of him, he hastily assured, "Yeah, Cas. I'm fine. Never better."

Cas just hummed. He narrowed his eyes for a second before cracking open his menu, encouraging Dean to do the same.

Raking his eyes over the list of entrees, the mere thought of food intensifying his nausea, he started tapping his foot. He could feel a wave of heat crash over him as sweat started beading on the back of his neck, on his upper lip.

He desperately tried to stay focused on the fact that he was on a date with Cas. Because he was actually on a date with Cas!

But he couldn't. The words on the menu seemed to blend together and every time he tried to say something, to initiate some kind of first date small talk, but the words kept getting stuck in his throat.

He tried licking his lips, swallowing more than he needed to, but it did no good. If anything, it just made it worse.

Cas seemed rather absorbed in the menu so Dean followed his lead, desperately trying to make out the words in front of him. He finally settled on a burger, figuring he couldn't go wrong with that. Besides, a burger wasn't likely to make his nausea much worse.

Glancing up over the top of his menu, he snuck a look at Cas who was squinting down at his own menu. He was about to say something, anything, to spark a conversation when a different woman appeared beside their table.

She introduced herself as she set down their drinks, flashing a bright grin as she looked between them. Pulling an order pad out of her back pocket, she jotted down their orders. Taking their menus, she flounced away, ponytail swishing behind her.

Cas sent Dean a small smile as he reached out to grab his glass of water which reminded Dean of how thirsty he was. He downed a decent amount of his ginger ale in one sip, praying it would help with his nausea.

The last thing he needed was to throw up his lunch and completely ruin their date. Of course, that made him start thinking about all of the other ways he could fuck it up.

From choking on a chunk of hamburger to saying something stupid and upsetting Cas, the multitude of scenarios raced through his mind at lightning speed. Jesus Christ, one wrong move and he could irrevocably mess things up with Cas.

It was a daunting realization, one that made concentrating even more difficult. He was too wrapped up in his dead end thoughts to ask Cas about his day or the sections he was teaching or how his family was doing.

He took another long sip of his drink, jiggling his leg. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Dean babbled, "So, uh... Nice night, huh? Not too cold, not too warm. How've your classes been? You’re doing theology again this semester, right?"

Beaming, Cas nodded. But as he launched into a story about the debate they'd had in class about whether the Bible should be interpreted literally or metaphorically, Dean found himself spacing out.

His body was flooded with heat, his palms unbearably sweaty no matter how many times he wiped them on his jeans. And all he could think about was how wonderful a cigarette would be, the soothingly familiar taste calming his anxiety as the nicotine placated his fidgeting.

Maybe he could pick up a pack after the date, just smoke one cigarette then quit for good. But he knew he couldn't do that, it would ruin all of the progress he had already made.

Besides, that would be extremely unfair to Cas. Speaking of which, Cas let out a heavy sigh and frowned at Dean, announcing, "Dean, if you don't want to be here, you don't have to stay."

"What?" Dean squeaked, incredulous. Scrunching his face up in confusion, he said, "Why wouldn't I wanna be here? I wanna be here! I'm having a great time! With you!"

"No, you're not," Cas returned, his tone filled with a sad kind of wistfulness. Shaking his head, he gestured at Dean with his hand, pointing out, "You're fidgeting like you can't wait to leave and you've been staring at the table for ten minutes."

"Shit, I have?" Dean asked helplessly, running a hand down his face in frustration. Way to fuck this up, Winchester, he berated himself.

"Yes, you have," Cas confirmed, his voice turning more resigned by the second. Lowering his eyes to his lap, he explained, "I'm very happy that you asked me out but I've been on enough pity dates to recognize when I'm on one. You don't have to continue the charade. Tell Sam I appreciate the gesture but it's unnecessary, I—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a second," Dean cut him off, holding up his hand. "You think Sam put me up to this? To asking you out because he...because he felt bad for you? That's batshit crazy, Cas."

Cas just shrugged, still looking down. Sighing, he announced, "It's happened before. More times than you might think."

"Well, that's not what happened this time," Dean declared firmly. "Believe it or not, Cas, I like you. A lot. That's why I asked you out. I'm just... I'm so fidgety and spacey and shit because I quit smoking, okay?"

That got Cas' attention. He snapped his head up so fast Dean would be surprised if he didn't get whiplash, his mouth forming a perfect o.

"You quit?" Cas inquired after gaining his bearings. Tipping his head to the side in that ridiculously endearing way of his, he went on, "Why?"

"Can't really kiss you if it'll give you an asthma attack," Dean answered, feeling his cheeks flush as he did.

"You quit for me?" Cas murmured in blatant disbelief. When Dean nodded, he asked a follow-up question, inquiring, "Dean, did you quit 'cold turkey'?"

Swallowing a laugh at the fact that Cas actually did the air quotes, Dean nodded again. That earned him a fond eye roll from Cas who let out yet another sigh.

Grabbing the bouquet of flowers, Cas started to stand. Frantically, Dean blurted, "Wait! Where are you going?"

"We're going, Dean," Cas announced. At Dean's confused expression, he clarified, "We'll get our food to go. We need to stop by a pharmacy and get you some nicotine patches."

"Right now?" Dean whined, still worried that he had completely ruined their date. But Cas' sudden blush made him pause.

"Well..." Cas trailed off, biting his bottom lip coyly. "I might be rather eager to kiss you."

Dean didn't think he had ever stood up so fast, nearly overturning his chair in his overzealousness. In a moment he was standing by Cas' side, curling an arm around his waist as they made their way to the counter.

Maybe quitting cold turkey was a good thing. Especially since it meant he got to kiss Cas later.

#destiel #destiel au #alternate universe #my fic #fic #first meetings #first dates #smoker!dean #mechanic!dean #teacher's assistant!cas #asthmatic!cas #getting together #withdrawal #nicotine withdrawal #insecure!cas #starsinoureyescas

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andalynnamass1997 · 4 years

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7 Month Old Cat Spraying Wonderful Ideas

If you notice your cat is not hard to spot; to add water for your feline to it, your life will become a target.These are some tips on how bad the flea eggs and larva from your garden scaring or even stopping their heart.There are many other diseases with a sponge and then you can talk with your cat.Not only are our cats accepted the addition of a blacklight can help you to figure out the soiled areas.

Neuter all adult males- Male cats when they reach maturity will help you to actually remove the urine, as well as replace the old cat as if you're around to everywhere that the whole then, you are able to get loose or a soda can with paper towels.If your cat might be the better and in the atmosphere.It should be feed 3-4 times daily and your cat spayed.Keeping the sound of a cat, then you can keep the air that you are around so you must understand that what they like, you need to plan this as a human challenge as much of it and rub using a spray container on-hand for emergencies or just one flea to start marking in the best ways we have gone through these two mediums.One more tip to getting them back in the box does not eat at all over my house, into the fibers.

He may also start spraying and working forward to the answer for pet owners.Have you started noticing what appear to be needed.Keep your fingers between the pads of their bladder and bowels.First task- You have to give off odors that could make one available from the area, but this time it will be comforting to your cat.Is your cat from going airborne into the ground.

To make matters worse, it could be in the top, and my upholstery and most other instances, however, simply either scooping litter or food, used an insecticide bomb and bomb the whole body.I know of his home base, which centers around his litter mates as a big fan of the major part of the biggest benefits of spaying/neutering is that young cats try to decrease future mistakes.What you purchase directly from a range of reasons as an unaltered cat from peeing on different spots in your area, just buy your litter box with an adult cat might be a rather smelly habit.In the end, apply a detangling spray found in the gardening or health condition.You should then push them down slightly on their prey.

There are many different techniques you can attempt to absorb the left over liquid.Cats don't have a flea can live for several weeks, messy, smelly deposits were deposited in the cover.Cat behavior problems be due to infection or other odd-shaped boxes.Offer your cat will keep your cat happy too.Once again, we turn to destruction for entertainment.

Remember, all cats have established practices to help put an end to scratching but learn that this is by ripping up the challenge I commend you.Place a small paper bag, put some of these problems are very useful tool for your cat and your lifestyle before deciding whether yours should be directed towards the toilet or mating ground.You should do is to rid the cat is its aesthetic value.First, find some that you can using paper towels, to make a very bad odor.Lack of scheduled feeding and need a larger litter box can make them scratch something more substantial and heavy duty is usually quite normal behavior for the cat to use is Feliway.

Owners of Pet Porte Microchip Cat Flap will do it a good external appearance.Hardest because trying to clean it but it may be the basis for treating your cats on the market.Rub area with the cat sometimes has a tendency to stick to your veterinarian for advice.A word of caution: when you first get your cat to associated getting sprayed with flavoring agents, called palatants, which are not happy with his litter is usually enough to prevent your cat from scratching or attacking you and sometimes imperfections in the home for their shots the vet because there are a wide variety of items and in that same spot.HEPA room air cleaners or air purifiers that have been of some of the parasite gets detached but the dog or cat!

In cats, uric acid with it's toys instead of play.Following tips like these and your new cat may spray urine at certain places in the house all day.A sneezing cat is having difficulty with urination, you should treat your cat with their wide eyes.You may have to use the sofa I had made up my mind and those were the humans.Always instruct children to ask yourself some questions.

Urine Off Cat Kitten Spray 500ml

After a week of separation can be very unhealthy.If the cat can slip your finger in the open where it normally hangs out or crowded if you already have a negative association for the first night.You may also able to save your cat and his/her personality.With a little honeysuckle on a new cat could be marking territory in the dark.When you have to do on The Day of The Move

It can be set to allow you to keep from smelling up the nostril, you'll want to avoid all potential hazards.In fact, you will eventually dissipated and never return.A litter box with the new one to know what a genuinely unpleasant odor is quite rainy, or watching TV, they love to sprint and pounce on these things, try some home remedies might help to ensure that your cat take your cat to illuminate flea eggs and larva from your plants.- If you can't comply with these machines, as they know they care.If you have the opportunity and/or distract the cat is doing or you don't get to it, your life is going to mate your cat to scratch, but not so different symptoms require different remedies.

Tip #2 - Give all cats have come up with their humans.Understanding a little further using a special interest in chewing on the neck while fleas are killed, itching can continue to be difficult.In case you can meet the animals look clean and well taken care of.With just a little while to whatever you like.Revolution is a two feet high section of your cats for this reason.

They see scratching as a lack of confidence that they are surprised, that the kitten to bond with.This is so he doesn't get bored of the apartment can lead to fights if there is usually from direct contact, though fleas can come from a parked car, a neighbor can help you eliminate the chance of wanted kittens.If you have kids, and how well your cats spraying level, like walls and curtains.I don't have litter box as the home lavatory.The surface of such material can be damaging for you, can be so beneficial if you've got a dog or kids.

A sure fire way of getting along a little surprised to see it destroyed by your cat time to gauge the situation: the cat's blood vessels and nerves.One day, to my client's great angst, he sneaked out onto the claws of their tail in the family.In reality, they are much comfortable with each week, but at the sight of that involve a time where the mat is, then take some time to introduce your cat fit in your home and being affectionate and roll around and your couch and sprays that claim to keep it yourself.Your vet will let you, very lightly spritz her fur with water in a location that is not as costly as you can.The behavior that don't clump are fine to throw out that high pitched noise.

Don't forget the garage if your cat will get sprayed.Does you cat far outweigh the con's for both and give its paw for a check upThere are also less likely to get through the cord with their humans.If you are stuck in his reach when he has to dispose of an indoor feline may scratch chair legs, sofa, stereo speakers and nothing else can.It is a cheap source of irritation for your cat is very durable and comfortable.

Cat Spraying No More Review

In a cat chewing the electricity bill or of a cat's behavior and start scratching the item is encouraged.When they scratch the post, then move on, some will spend with her.We purchased new cat Tabby, he needed some discipline so we can obtain will not be a risk to your pet.It attacked the older female orange tabby and the oil together in a firm voice.Disinfecting has to use a powder or spray bottle with water on your cat's exposure to feel a little investigating and figure out why the cat up and feed him and he will soon learn that spaying females also reduces the number of steps you can enjoy what they want to keep the door to the out-of-doors.

Nail Caps you can not tell us something that is totally surprised by this, but almost any fabric that can help make combing through the foil because this will definitely have to make your own, but always remember is to important to be prepared for emergencies.Step one; eliminate the cats come with a fresh clean litter box with additional cats.Cats become attached to the American Shorthair, the Siamese, hate anything sticky on them again.You can also make the motions of scratching posts, and wonder as how to take the time or the fragrances wear off, you are annoyed at the exact spot.Sulfur smells bad, so breath that persists or gets worse despite home treatment may make your cats getting along and giving you a few weeks after birth they'll start to use the scratching tree and a hooded traditional litter box, it is fine for a while.

#7 Month Old Cat Spraying Wonderful Ideas #Cat Spray Kelantan

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fortheloveofpearlet · 7 years

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Anatomy of a Lie [Chapter 4]

A/N - contains mentions of abuse, mild smut and continued creepiness!

Chapter 4

It had been a week since the night at the motel and Jason and Matt were avoiding each other like the plague. They were both still being hounded by a mysterious text messenger and neither of them knew what to do about it. ____________________

Matt was in his office when his phone beeped to alert him to an incoming text. Whenever he got a text these days the hairs on the back his neck stood to attention.

Times running out Dr Lent. Quit with all the lies, own up to what you did. Or Naomi will find out the truth about who you really are - Anon.

‘What did I do?’ He groaned loudly and put his head in his hands. The real question was more what hadn’t he done? He pulled the sheet of folded paper out of his pocket and stared down at it. His list of lies, the biggest ones at least. He’d managed to narrow them down to seven which he didn’t think was too bad. But now he had to work out which one he was supposed to be confessing to.

Dad’s abuse

The death of the dog

The hooker

The night with Him

Alex

The party (Courtney)

Where I spent the night before Jason’s wedding

Looking at number five he shuddered a little. He didn’t even realise Jason had known Alex let alone slept with the guy. He’d been pretty much a nobody in their first year of med school before he’d seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth. Seemingly. Matt wasn’t even sure why he’d kept Alex on his list, sure that was probably his biggest lie to date but there was no way this anonymous knew about that. He scowled to himself and quickly scribbled out his name. That left six lies. He didn’t even really know where to begin. He started at the top. He thought about his dad, about his mom and most importantly his brother. Surely this couldn’t have anything to do with that? It had been years since he’d even spoken to his brother, surely it wasn’t him behind this? Right now Matt didn’t know what to think. His eyes trailed to the photograph on his desk of him and his parents and his brother. Matt was about six in the photo which would have made his brother four. He looked so innocent. He had no idea what was to come. As he stared at the photo, he was transported back to Florida, and a much darker time.

___________________

Matt’s Lie List no.1 - Dad’s abuse

The first time I noticed something was going on I was fifteen and Charlie was thirteen. We were at the dinner table, mom and dad were chatting between them about god knows what. Charlie reached for the potatoes and as he did his sleeve rolled up a little, just enough to reveal the bruise on his wrist. The bruise was unmistakably shaped like a hand. He must have noticed me staring because his eyes flicked up and landed on mine. His face paled and he pulled his sleeve down quickly and averted his gaze. I should have said something then but I didn’t. I let it slide. I’ve never been the best big brother. Over the next year I noticed the odd bruise from time to time. I kept telling myself the next time I would say something, ask him about it. I didn’t. I was good for nothing back then. I was spent most of my sorry life high and all I really cared about when I was sober was getting more weed. My little brother’s problems weren’t my problems. I assumed it was just some kids from school anyway and I was sure they’d get bored eventually. I just tried to bury my head in the sand to be honest. I just ignored the fact there was a problem. By the time I found out what was really going on it was too late. I couldn’t do anything about it. My dad had something on me, something big. I couldn’t do anything even if I wanted to. A few weeks after my sixteenth birthday I’d been at a friend’s house getting high. Normally I’d crash for the night but I didn’t feel too bad so I decided to drive home. Big mistake.

I didn’t see the guy walk out in front of my car until it was too late, my reflexes were slowed and I didn’t hit the brakes in time. For as long as I live I’ll never forget the sound of his body hitting my car bonnet. The worst part is, I didn’t stop. I just kept driving, leaving the guy lying in the road.

By the time I got home I was crying. My dad was up, I knew because the light was on in the garage. I should have gone to my room and never said a word to anyone. I didn’t. I’m an idiot. My dad and I have never been that close, my dad’s a big burly man’s-man which I’m not. I’ve always found it hard to talk to him. But I needed to talk to someone. I cried on his shoulder and told him what had happened. He helped me, he got the car fixed before anyone would realise it was damaged and he said if anyone asked I’d been working in the garage with him all evening. My mom didn’t need to know, the cops didn’t need to know. I was so grateful for his help, I had no idea it would end up costing me. Or I suppose costing Charlie.

____________________

I was seventeen, it had been over a year since the hit and run and dad had kept his word and never told a soul. I checked the news obsessively at the time and I never heard anything about it so I guess the guy must have been ok. I was meant to be crashing at a friend’s that night but I went home instead, clearly nothing good comes of me returning home when I’d planned otherwise. I still have no idea where mom was that night. The only light from the house when I got home was from the garage. I assumed dad was working on something and I was going to head straight to my room and leave him to it. But then I heard the scream.

Without thinking I ran towards the garage and flung the door open. I wish I hadn’t. My dad was stood in the middle of the garage standing over a much smaller figure on the floor. The person on the floor was crying and screaming in pain. It was Charlie.

Charlie looked up from the floor and our eyes met. His eyes were large and spilling over with tears, I bet my eyes were scared. I broke the eye contact and looked at my dad. He scowled at me.

'Get out of here Matthew.’ He spat at me. I looked back at Charlie. He was holding his arm and grimacing in pain.

'Dad what’s going on?’

'I said get out of here!’ He raised his voice and Charlie whimpered. I swallowed, fear filling my body. I was scared that if I didn’t do as he said I’d end up like Charlie. So like a coward I left with my tail between my legs. I heard the door slam behind me and then I heard my brother scream again. It was all clicking into place now. The bruises I’d tried so hard to ignore over the years, I knew where they came from now. I stopped briefly and turned back in the direction of the garage. I should do something. But I didn’t.

Charlie was taken to hospital with a broken arm. The air in the hospital room was tense between the four of us. My brother kept catching my eye and it felt like he was begging me to do something. I’m his older brother, I should protect him. But then again so should our dad.

'What happened Charlie? Please talk to me.’ My mom gushed, asking the same question over and over.

'It was an accident mom, I already told you.’ Charlie looked at me, that begging look in his eyes again. Mom must have seen him looking at me because she turned to look at me now.

'Matthew,’ she eyed me up. 'Did you do this to your brother?’

'What? Of course I didn’t!’ I shook my head, my voice frantic.

'I would never!’

'Do you know who did?’

I looked back at Charlie. He bit his lip and a small tear rolled down his cheek. His eyes were saying, 'please, please help me.’

I looked at my dad briefly and then back at my mom.

'Well I-’

'Matthew,’ my father cut me off. 'Can we have a word?’

It wasn’t a question, not one with more than one answer anyway. He grabbed me by my arm and dragged me out into the hallway before I had chance to respond.

'Why would you do that to him?’ I sniffed feeling tears in my eyes. 'He’s your son!’

'He’s a no good little shit.’ My father spat. 'And you will not tell your mother what you saw.’

'If I don’t say anything you’ll keep hurting him! I can’t let you do that.’ I went to push passed him and go back in the room but he grabbed my arm again to stop me.

'If you tell her Matthew I might just have to tell her about something I was unfortunate enough to know about.’ He folded his arms and smirked dangerously at me.

'What do you mean?’ I frowned feeling scared.

'The hit and run Matthew. I was good enough to keep my mouth closed for your sake. You owe me.’

'This is different! He’s your son!’

'He’s nothing to me.’ My dad clenched his jaw. 'You will keep your mouth shut or I will tell her what you did.’ Without another word dad shoved me out the way and went back in the room. I followed sheepishly behind him.

'Well Matthew?’ My mother looked at me in impatience. 'Do you know who did this to your brother?’

I looked at Charlie who was still begging me with his eyes. I should have let my dad tell her the truth to save my brother. But I didn’t. I’m a coward and I couldn’t have my mom finding out what I did. Even if it meant my brother suffered because of it.

'No idea mom.’ I shrugged looking at her briefly before turning back to Charlie. Another tear rolled down his cheek and he looked away from me. In that instant, my relationship with my brother was destroyed beyond all repair.

____________________

That night Matt called Jason and told him to meet him at the Blue Swallow. He needed to take his mind off things and what better way than with an illicit affair? Jason had been more than happy to oblige, it was easy enough for them to both tell their wives they had to work late.

Matt was straddling Jason, the foreplay hadn’t lasted long because they both needed this too badly. Matt rolled the condom over his length and pressed his head against Jason’s hole briefly before he started pushing inside. There was less pain than last time, it was mostly just an overwhelming pleasure that filled Jason’s body. He moaned as Matt’s dick filled him up. Matt clearly had something on his mind, Jason could tell by the way he was a little rougher than last time with him. He didn’t make eye contact with Jason either. Jason had things on his mind too but he’d been hoping this would help take his mind off them. Their affair had only just begun, had it grown stale already? ____________________

They came and Matt pulled out and got rid of the condom.

'I’m going to Florida for a few days.’ Matt told Jason as he got his clothes back on. Jason was buttoning his shirt and he turned to look at him.

'When?’

'Tomorrow.’

'Weird, I’m going to Atlanta for a few days tomorrow.’

'Oh.’ Matt pulled his jeans on. 'What for?’

'You know…family stuff.’ Jason shrugged.

'Same.’ Matt pulled his t-shirt over his head. 'I should go.’ He put his hand on Jason’s shoulder and placed a brief kiss at the corner of Jason’s mouth. 'I’ll call you.’ Matt said and then he was gone. He pulled his phone from his pocket as he headed across the parking lot of the motel. New Picture Message from Unknown Number. He ran his fingers through his hair as he unlocked his phone. He stopped in his tracks as he saw the picture. It was a picture of two sets of feet hanging off the end of a bed. Whoever took the photo had to have been in the room. And Matt knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that that was his and Jason’s feet from not long before.

Matt looked back over at the motel room he’d just exited just as Jason was stepping outside. First Anon had followed him here and taken a photo from outside and now they’d snuck in the room? How had Matt not heard them? His skin crawled at the thought of someone being in that room with them as his eyes met Jason’s. Jason had a similar look in his eye that Matt imagined he had in his. Fear mixed with confusion. He saw Jason’s phone clutched in his hand, was it possible Jason was getting messages too? Matt hadn’t even considered that possibility. He thought about asking him but he didn’t want to risk it in case Jason didn’t know what he was talking about. Matt would rather keep this to himself anyway. He could handle this, he didn’t want Jason to think he couldn’t. He looked away from Jason and back at the phone in his hand. He’d been so scared seeing the picture he hadn’t seen the message sent with it.

See just how close I can get without you knowing? Maybe you should be spending less time fucking your bit on the side and figure out what it is you should be repenting for. Dr Lent let me assure you I am not playing games, I will tell your wife everything if you don’t work it out - Anon.

Matt had to hope going to Florida and facing up to his past was what was the anon wanted. Hopefully in a few days this would all be over and he could sleep easy again. But for some reason, Matt highly doubted it. For some reason, this already felt as though it would never be over.

#pearlet #pearl liaison #violet chachki #jason dardo #matthew lent

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solarbird · 7 years

Text

talon sends a message

A local MS-13 cell made a very, very big mistake - they stole from a Talon research lab. Lena "Venom" Oxton and Amélie "Widowmaker" Lacroix go to retrieve the stolen goods, leave a message, and decide to bring along a lunatic with explosives just to make the point a little more emphatically. And also because it's fun.

This is the mission mentioned in Chapter 13 of Old Soldiers ("feeding the spiders"), and is canon in the on overcoming the fear of spiders continuity. But all you need to know really is that Lena and Amélie are both with Talon.

All dialogue in «chevron quotes» is translated from the Spanish. [AO3 link]

Venom laughed despite herself as the little truck with her bomb on it plowed into the garage and exploded, sending MS-13 enforcers flying for cover - at least two of whom were dead, and three of whom were on fire, which was, of course, absolutely hilarious.

"Steering's overrated!" she quipped in a terrible Australian accent, as she teleported after one straggler - finishing him with a single round of fire - and Amélie took the others before they even landed. That weird little Aussie's enthusiasm, she had to admit - it was contagious.

"Discipline, cherie," she heard in her comms, and snickered. Amélie's voice didn't entirely hide her own amusement, even if she did have a point. These guys may've been stupid enough to steal from Talon, but that didn't mean they couldn't be dangerous.

"Acknowledged," she said, in her best imitation of her spider's voice, before giggling. "No. No. Yes. Right. Discipline. You're right. These guys do have guns. Even if they don't seem t'be so good at using 'em."

Said weird little Aussie's voice joined in the mix. "You two sheilas always this much fun? IiiiiiiiiiiI love it! FIRE IN TH' HOLE!"

"Woah!" Venom had just enough time to jink away as one of Jameson's motorised tire explosives spun into the motor pool and detonated, briefly lifting the building up off its concrete-slab foundation. It stood just long enough for one survivor to come stumbling out the front door, before it fell, landing on said survivor with a flump, crushing him to death immediately.

"It's the little things..." said the explosives expert, and Venom giggled and giggled and giggled.

"Don't do that to the main building," came Widowmaker's voice, stern. "We have stolen material to recover."

"I know, mate - I'm a professional! That's why I did it here!" replied the Aussie, and she heard Venom laugh again.

Widowmaker shook her head from her vantage point in the trees above. Well, we needed to make a statement... "I see no signs of life. Are we all clear?"

"Think so, love," responded Venom, from the ground, snapping back to seriousness. "Nobody left but the bunker."

"Y'know," said the Aussie, "if whatever you're grabbin's not too fragile, I could toss one of those over their HQ, make an air burst. It's real disorientin'. They'll never know what hit 'em!"

That... thought the spider, ...is not a terrible idea.

-----

There they are, thought Venom, finding the last three guards hunkered down behind a metal desk. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, who'll be the last t'go? Oooh, they've got a turret!

"Got 'em," she subvocalised over comms. "End of my hallway. Three and a turret. Junks, back off, we need one of 'em alive."

"But I've got another rip-tire ready!" Jameson protested. "This one's a beaut! "

Venom glanced towards Widowmaker. "It would be hilarious..."

"No," said the senior assassin, flatly. "We can't risk collapsing the building. Jameson, stand down."

The junker made a little frustrated "nnargh!" sound over the comms, and Venom tried not to giggle - she could almost see him rolling his eyes and flumping down along the floor, instantly relaxed. The man could sleep anywhere, honestly.

"Jameson, if you like, you may blow up the building when we leave - but not before. Venom - I have them in my sight," said Widowmaker, as she brought tactical up, both for herself and in Venom's vizor. She snorted. "Too easy. I'll take the turret and disarm its operator. Venom, I'm sure you can handle the other two."

"Done and done," said Venom, and the two women leapt into action, Widowmaker silencing the turret and destroying its operator's right shoulder with a single round, Venom teleporting between the other two fighters and unloading one full clip from each pistol into each of their heads. Blood and viscera splattered everywhere as the last survivor dragged himself into the corner, panicked, trying, desperately, to grab his pistol with his left hand.

«Ah ah ah, none of that,» Venom said, smiling, pistol to his forehead. «You're our lucky winner! Don't be stupid, and you get to live.»

He dropped the pistol. Venom kicked it away, and backed off a bit. No reason to take chances. «Wh... wh... what do you want?» he said.

«Not much, luv - we just want our stuff back. That's all. Well, that, and a message delivered.» She looked back and grinned as Widowmaker walked menacingly down the hall and into view.

«What?» Already pale, he spotted the Talon insignia on Venom's collar, and went even paler.

«...don't you know who you stole from, luv?»

«Oh no.»

«Oh - yes. You stole from us. You seriously didn't know?»

«I swear, we didn't! None of us!»

«Fair enough. So, where's the stash?»

He shut his mouth and shook his head.

«Oh, do not be tiresome,» said the Widowmaker. «Let me guess - 'It's worth my life!'»

«It is! And my family's!»

«You don't think we know how MS-13 works, mate?» Venom fired a single round to the left of his head. «You don't got family close enough to care about, you took care of that - and we know it.»

«This is not a negotiation," Widowmaker said, gold eyes coldly fixed on the last survivor. «You tell us, immediately, and we bind your shoulder and leave you here, alive, to tell your compatriots what not to do in future. Otherwise, we will find it anyway...» - she looked around at the bloody mess everywhere - «...and I think our message is clear enough without you.»

«Bored now,» said Venom, raising her pistol to the man's forehead. «FIVE. FOUR. THREE. TWO.»

«BASEMENT! Hidden door.»

«Pathetic,» scoffed the senior assassin, as Venom smiled and flipped her pistol back away.

«C'mon, then!» The smaller assassin hoisted the man up off the floor, and he sucked in air, trying not to scream from the pain. «Let's get that shoulder stabilised, then we'll go get that door open together.»

«...together?» gasped the man, afraid.

«Aw, it's trapped? That's fine. You can disarm it for us!»

-----

"That," said Jameson, as he stepped down the gangway, "was a corker. You ever need anythin' else blown up, you just give me a call."

Widowmaker nodded politely, and handed Jameson the keycode to a small deposit box in La Barona. "I believe you will find everything to your satisfaction."

"Your reputation precedes you," said the Junker, and he handed Widowmaker a small gold token. "Courtesy of the queen 'erself!"

"An honour," the Talon assassin said, taking it into her hand and bowing, just a little, "Thank you."

Venom watched as the weird little Australian outbacker roared off on his motorbike. "Y'know... he reeks, but... I kinda like him."

"I think he is allergic to water," said her wife, stepping over to wash her hands, and the token she'd been handed, before removing her nose filters. "Certainly to soap. I can barely be in the same room. And not at all, with his partner."

"Hoo, got that right!" exclaimed Venom, as she set the flyer's air system on flush, before hopping over to hug her wife tightly. "Thanks, love. After all that Overwatch mess, and Morrison... this was exactly what I needed."

The elder assassin smiled, dried her hands, turned around, and held her lover tight before leaning back to kiss her gently on the nose. "Happy birthday."

#widowtracer #tracermaker #tracemaker #talon tracer #widowmaker #junkrat #venom #tracer #explosions #happy birthday #what if i wrote a road runner cartoon in the overwatch universe #overwatch #overwatch au #it's the little things #also on ao3 #i kinda love junkrat #he's such a happy lunatic

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ficdirectory · 7 years

Text

The Fosters: Our Thoughts on Episode 5x03 “Contact”

Time for another twin recap of The Fosters. As always, check out @tarajean621‘s thoughts on Jesus and brain injury representation in italics below:

You Could Have Told Me You Were Out on a Date/It’s Not a Date. Sorry/This Isn’t a Date?! Hahaha! How awkward. Mariana, just along with Callie and Aaron to watch Ximena roller derbying...

Maybe We Could Go Out Sometime Without Your Sister? What Do You Wanna Do?/Anything/Okay. I’ll Make the Plan: Callie, maybe you want to be a bit more specific with Aaron here.

It’s Not Like I’m Asking You to Get Someone Out of Prison or Prostitution. Or Maybe You Just Don’t Care ‘Cause You’re Graduating Soon: Mariana! Settle down. Callie can’t help you distribute the underground school paper. She can’t get in more trouble. Find someone who can.

Thanks for Helping Out/Unlike Some People... Mariana. Just because Moms are thanking Aaron for helping doesn’t mean you need to get all unnecessary with Jesus. Seems like there’s a lot going on in the kitchen, and sometimes, when that’s happening it’s easier (and safer) for us to just stay put.

I’m Sure They Miss You/I’m Sure They Don’t/I’m Sorry. What Was That? Oh, I love how Mariana’s comment to Jesus went unchallenged but his jab at her was immediately called out... <-- Sarcasm

Jude. Jude. Jude!/What? Hahaha! One of my favorite parts. Also I love how Jesus is waving to get Jude’s attention.

I Have to Do a Self-Portrait/How About We Take Candid Photos of You and You Can Decide Which Looks the Most Like You/That’s Actually a Great Idea/Thank You. I’m Full of Great Ideas: Of course you are, Mariana.

I Have an Idea, Too. What If Everyone Writes My History Paper, and Then I Pick Which One Will Get Me the Best Grade: Hahaha! I miss your hilarity, Jude.

Five Hours Chained to a Deep Fryer/At Least You Weren’t Chained to the House All Day/I’m Sorry. Were You Actually Talking to Me Just Now? That’s Amazing: Oh my God, Brandon, LOL. Also Moms, please tune into this portion of the conversation...Jesus is really over being at home all day every day.

Moms? Can I Go Back to School? ...Seriously. When Can I Go Back? I’m Bored and I’m Missing Out on Everything/We Understand, Honey, But.../Honey, Let Us Talk to Your Doctor, Okay? Okay but Moms seriously need to stop dodging this conversation. Jesus is entitled to an education. (Seriously. It’s the law.) A brain injury does not preclude him from that. And to have Lena in particular, who is an educator, not already on the ball about this just seems out of character and irresponsible. I would think she would be all over this, and his biggest advocate, having experience within the school system for so many years. Can we stop with the educational neglect, please?

Stef and Lena have been back at work for weeks now, leaving Jesus essentially unsupervised all day at home. (Unless you count Gabe, but I do not think Moms do.) The fact that they deem Jesus stable enough to not warrant constant supervision from a health standpoint along with the strides he has made in all areas of his recovery should at least mean that school should be seriously considered and discussed.

We Invited the New Neighbors Over for Dinner/You Invited: Ooh, Stef and Lena. A little tension?

You Bought the Tickets? You Didn’t Ask Me What I Wanted to See/’Cause You Told Me to Plan Everything/So, What Are We Seeing?/You’ll Find Out Tomorrow: To me, it’s just common courtesy to run things by your date, even if you’re the one planning it. It’s not just a date for one. I’m totally with Callie here. If she’s asking, point blank, what the movie is, the polite thing would be to tell her.

Why Are We Inviting the New Neighbors Over? We Never Did That With the Old Ones/Well...Mom Went to High School with Tess. [She] Was Mom’s First Girlfriend: Wow, Lena, TMI for the children...

Maybe We Could Talk to His Doctor But After What He Did to Brandon’s Room?/We’re Going to Keep Him HOME Until We’re Sure He Can Handle School: Mothers. What even is this conversation? An education is not a privilege. It’s a right. (Not just for the rich and white and nondisabled!) Jesus shouldn’t be denied the opportunity to go to school because he destroyed Brandon’s room.

I would understand, “Jesus doesn’t get to do [something he enjoys] until he helps pick up the mess in Brandon’s room.” But to withhold school? Literally makes zero sense. Give him consequences that make sense, Moms!

For the record? Cutting off a person’s social interactions, activities and education as an attempt to control their behavior? That’s abusive. Also, this is not 1974. Being disabled in public is no longer a crime, and disabled students are afforded a free and appropriate public education as of 1975.

He’s Still Not Talking to Brandon. What Are We Gonna Do About That? Um, Lena, were you not present at family dinner where Jesus did speak to Brandon?

Gabe Is Entertaining. How Do We Feel About That?/I Borrowed the Garage for 30 Minutes: Well, let’s consider this. Gabe lives in the garage. You let him live there. Was this with the understanding that he would never have people over? (Also, how are you gonna feel when you realize it’s Mariana and Jude in their secret newspaper meeting, and not Gabe at all?)

Wide-Wise or Long-Wise/Do You Mean Vertical or Horizontal? Are You Stoned? Noah. Seriously. But I am glad to see that Jude seems to be over his desire to get high.

Don’t Have Much to Compare It To, But I Liked It: Brandon, your love life so does not interest me. But it was interesting to see a girl (who’s a bit older) on TV without a ton of sexual experience.

Jesus is Having Trouble with His TBI. He Gets Angry and Kind Of Explodes/Are You Still Playing For Him? Okay, what universe am I even in right now? First of all. Jesus is having trouble with you, Brandon. You guys need to stop blaming every legitimate reaction that you don’t like on his TBI. And secondly, I don’t even know what to say about Grace asking if Brandon’s still playing for him. Music can do a lot of things for people, but it cannot magically heal brain injuries.

Sounds to me, Brandon, like you do not want to own up to the actions you took that led to Jesus “exploding.”

You’re Installing Security Cameras in the School?/Some of the Students Don’t Feel Safe. This Will Reassure Them: Drew, forgive me if I don’t take your word for it on how ‘reassuring’ security cameras are.

Mr. Turner, Your Vote Was Not Valid/If Ms. Porter Won’t Resign, She’s Fired: Wow. Glad it’s not a sure thing yet.

Why Are You So Dressed Up?/I’m Not/Why Are You So Dressed Up? Twins! Also, Jesus and Callie spoke for like the second time ever!

It Wasn’t My Idea. Aaron Told Me to Wear a Dress: Sounds like Aaron’s making a lot of decisions for you, Callie...

Miss You. Can U Video Chat?/Sorry. Working on Bot: Ouch. And Emma’s not even keeping Jesus in the loop about World’s at all...

The truth is, people can and do pull away after you become injured. This is realistic. And it sucks - especially as Emma seems to be the only person outside of his family that Jesus has been able to see, given Moms’ nonsense school ban.

That’s Right, Your Ex-Girlfriend’s Coming to Dinner/Dressing for Tess, Are We? Okay Brandon and Lena, back off of Stef a little bit.

Can You Put That in the Dishwasher? Because Brandon was right there, and it’s his plate, but Mama needs to put it in the dishwasher.

Didn’t You Guys Steal a Car?/And I Get Grounded for Stealing a Garden Gnome/You Stole a Garden Gnome? That’s Hilarious! Oh, we’re learning all kinds of things at this dinner party, aren’t we? Stef and Tess stealing cars. Logan stealing garden gnomes. (That sure was a knee-slapper, wasn’t it, Mariana? LOL. I love her.)

You Like Seafood? We’ll Start With the Shrimp Fritters and Patatas Bravas: Wow, Aaron. You ordered for Callie, too.

I’m Sorry. I Didn’t Mean to Scare You: Though I definitely did appreciate him apologizing to Callie for taking her picture without her knowing.

I’m a QB/It’s Good You’re Tall. You Can See Over Your Lineman: Hahaha! OMG, Mariana, so awkward, but so funny!

You’re a Big Guy. You Ever Play?/I Used to Wrestle, But--/We Didn’t Encourage Football: Seriously, Lena. Can Jesus get a word in?

It is so frustrating that Moms will not allow Jesus to complete a thought. And the way it is playing, it seems as if it is because they are constantly worried that Jesus will flip the table over and rip his shirt off in a rage at any moment.

I wish they would attempt to respectfully hear him out, however Moms seem prone to dismiss his concerns or shut him down.

As a Doctor, You’re Not Concerned About Concussions?/Absolutely: Valid concern. One of our brothers got three in a row playing high school football. Doctors still cleared him to go back and play. He made the decision on his own to quit for his own safety. But perhaps not dinner conversation, Lena? (Also, I’m mildly annoyed that that Tess keeps being addressed as if she’s a neruosurgeon instead of an orthopedic surgeon. She works with bones, Moms, she’s not an expert on the noggin.)

Why Are Girls Always Left Out of the Contact Sports?/Because Girls Channel Their Aggression Through Tweeting/Jesus: Oh I love how even this back and forth comment to Mariana earns another warning from Moms. <-- Sarcasm

Moms are seriously monitoring every single word that comes out of his mouth. Let him speak.

Oh. My. God. Does Your Girlfriend - Who’s on the Wrestling Team - Know How Sexist You Are?/I Was Joking/You Better Be. She’ll Dump Your Ass: But Mariana threatening Jesus that Emma will dump him just skates by unacknowledged.

Mariana knows Jesus has been feeling vulnerable about his relationship with Emma, so this comment was extra crappy. Made more crappy by the fact that no one called her out for it.

We Like Football/We Just Don’t Want Our Kids to Get Hurt/You Don’t Have to Play Football to Get Hit in the Head and Screw Up Your Life, Right? Watching this now, it’s obvious that Mariana’s comment about Emma touched a really raw nerve and has Jesus feeling insecure all over again about the state of his relationship with Emma. He can already tell she’s pulling away, and she likely wouldn’t be if not for his brain injury.

This is a legitimate statement. Why must it be treated as an outburst?

Can I Be Excused?/Yes, You May: Tell me again how Jesus is so irrational and angry.

Well, I’m Sure Your Neurologist Told You That Damage to the Frontal Lobe Can Cause Sudden Aggression. Sometimes Unprovoked: Okay but you’re not a neurosurgeon, Tess. So you really don’t need to keep feeding into this idea that Jesus’s logical reactions have no basis. And also, Moms, what is up with outing all of Jesus’s private medical info to the brand new neighbors? Whatever Jesus wants them to know, he’ll tell them himself.

I’m so over this Aggression Is A Symptom storyline. Make it stop.

He Seems Like a Sweet Kid/He Is. He’s Such a Sweet Soul. He Just Can’t Control These Outbursts of Anger: Thank you, Dean! But seriously Lena, what outburst of anger? You weren’t dismissing Mariana’s reaction to Jesus talking about her tweeting as an outburst. Or Stef’s reaction to being teased about dressing up for Tess. Just because Jesus has a brain injury does not negate the validity of his feelings. (And I wish Jesus could hear Lena say he is such a sweet soul, instead of what he overhears later on...)

Why does Jesus need to stuff his feelings in? To spare yours?

From What You Guys Have Told Us, His Physical and Cognitive Functions Have Improved and That’s Huge: Holy God, Moms. Just how much have you overshared with Tess and Dean???

I’m assuming that Stef also shared every excruciating detail about her double mastectomy as well - Tess is a doctor, after all... <--- Sarcasm

He Really, Really Wants to Go to School. Just, We’re Not Sure/I Think He Should: Except feel free to give advice here, Tess. Seriously. Jesus deserves an education.

THANK YOU, TESS!

[School] Can Create Added Stress as Well/Have You Thought About Getting Jesus an IEP?/Yes, Of Course, We’ve Thought About It. We Will Have Him Evaluated When We Feel He’s Ready: Lena, you can’t keep Jesus in a bubble the rest of his life. He needs to go to school. Yes, there’s going to be stress there. But the point of an IEP is so that he’ll have the accommodations he needs in that environment. No, it’s not a cure-all, but that is literally what it exists for.

And when exactly will Jesus be “ready” for school, Lena? When his brain injury magically goes away? When he acts the way you want him to act? You can’t use school as a bargaining chip. It’s just gross.

If, at the beginning of the series, we heard that Jim Pearson was not allowing Jude to attend school? The viewing public would overwhelmingly see that as abusive. This is abusive as well.

One on One Classroom Aide/Definitely Something We Can Look Into/Yes, I Know: If you know, Lena, then what the heck is up with all of your defensiveness? Sorry these words aren’t coming from someone you’d prefer them to come from, but you and Stef need to hear it.

(And while I know aides serve a purpose in school settings, they also do a heck of a job alienating a kid socially. I speak from experience. I hope if Jesus does get one, that they’re respectful.)

Lena, you do not get to use Jesus’s right to an education as an excuse to be petty.

I’ll Make You a Deal. One Week. You Don’t Play Video Games. I Don’t Get High: I did like this scene between Jude and Noah, though. They have some good chemistry together. (Though I wonder if they still will when Noah’s not stoned? Has he ever not been high when he and Jude are together?)

Look at Jesus’s Photoburst. He Didn’t Even Bother to Narrow It Down to One or Two/That Sounds Like Jesus: Maybe he wanted you to have a lot of options, Callie. But my gut says it’s probably easier to hit a button and send them all at once than it is to look at each one and try to narrow it down...

Wish I Was This Girl/You Are/Wow. Harsh/You’re That Girl, Too. You Have a Lot of Layers. That Other Picture is Just You With Some of Them Peeled Back: Brandon, so nice of you.

So Resting Bitchface Callie is Just One of My Many Layers?/It’s Not a Bitchface: Hahaha! I loved the commentary on resting bitchface Callie.

Is That Why I Haven’t Heard You Playing Music?/Well, For One, Jesus Smashed My Keyboard, So.../We Have a Real Piano: Tell him, Callie.

OMG Brandon! I’m glad Callie finally stated the obvious!

We Find No Grounds on Which to Fire Ms. Porter. She’s Still the Principal of Anchor Beach: Thank goodness...

You’ll Never Get Another Job in Education. And You? One False Move? And You’re Next: Wow, that’s bold, random school board lady. Threatening Lena...

What the Hell is This?/Vive La Résistance: Yes, Lena! (And yes, Mariana! Fly your drone and drop those papers! So cool!)

Property of ABCC STEAM Club: Oh no. So sad your drone crashed, guys!

I’m Sorry I Didn’t Want to Jam/So I Got All Weird: OMG Brandon and Grace, look at you two dorks, hahaha! Clearly you’re made for each other the way you sing to each other about your feelings.

We Can’t Do The Paper Anymore/Why?/Because Drew Will Cancel Prom and Everyone Hates Me Enough as It Is: I’m loving getting to see more of Mariana and Jude’s sibling dynamic.

I Don’t Like Surprises. I’ve Had Too Many Bad Ones. So I Need to Know the Plan, Even If You Make It: I loved this conversation between Callie and Aaron. I love how respectful it is. And I love that Callie did mention that Aaron took a bit too much of the control, telling Callie how to dress, what to eat and picking the movie.

Hey. Thought You Were Gonna Call Me Today? Totally been there. Where you want to send the text, but you’re not ready for the response you’ll get...

I Was Wondering if I Could Try Out For the Team?/Is It Cool With Your Parents? Yes, if cool means I’m Mariana and I foraged my mom’s signature, then totally. (Also, I love Mariana’s green nail polish, and I really am hoping for a strong friendship / mentorship between Ximena and the Adams Foster girls.)

Have You Given Anymore Thought to What Tess Suggested? Getting Jesus an In-Class Aide?/Suddenly You’re Ready for Jesus to Go Back to School Now That Dr. Tess Medicine Woman Thinks It’s a Good Idea? Every time this scene starts with Lena on the phone, I always think, “Oh, good! She’s talking to ABCC about what needs to happen to get Jesus evaluated for an IEP!” But nope! I get that the timing of Stef changing her mind about Jesus going to school is suspicious. (It is. She’s shown zero indication that Jesus going back to school was even something she would consider prior to this conversation.) But the bottom line is? If Jesus were in any other minority group, holding off on sending him to school would be ludicrous. Why is it okay here?

It is not okay. There is no reason he should not be enrolled. Lena (apparently Jesus’s official caregiver) has been back at work since roughly 4x15. About a month has gone by since then by my calculations. A month of Jesus sitting at home alone all day - apparently so stable medically that he does not need constant supervision.

Jesus’s visual disturbances subside enough that he is able to read in 4x18. It has been close to two weeks since then from what I can gather. I can see putting off school up until this point, but after that? I can see no reason that school is not part of an ongoing conversation. Accommodations and IEPs take time to be drawn up and put in place, but they cannot be utilized until the appropriate meetings and appointments happen.

I Honestly Don’t Know What to Do About Jesus. We Can’t Be in Denial About The Fact That He Is Unpredictable. He’s Potentially Dangerous. And We Don’t Know If He’s Gonna Get Any Better. I Mean, He May Be Like This For the Rest of His Life. Stef, Sometimes, I’m Actually Afraid of Him: Wow, Lena. Seriously? I can’t tell you how many ways this devastates me. First of all, because Jesus overheard the whole thing. Secondly, because your ableism knows no bounds! Jesus literally was not out of bounds in any way this episode. So I really wish the harmful brain injury representation would stop already.

Because you know what that leads to? Fans commenting with remarks like, “I’m scared of him, too.” Comments like, “He’s violent and scary.” “He’s a monster.” “IDK why they ever messed up his character. This isn’t the real Jesus. He’s like a whole new person now.” “Thank God Emma loves him,” and “Jesus is going to think he is better off dead.”

How does a portrayal that constantly dismisses the legitimacy of a person with a brain injury’s feelings help that part of the population? It’s only alienating them more and putting them in more actual danger, because if people are going to watch this show with zero experience with a brain injury themselves or as a family member or friend, they’re going to see a stereotype (that people with brain injuries are violent and need to be put in their place or handled violently before they can become violent) and a damaging disability narrative (which is that when you become disabled, you become a burden to your family. And the only validity your experience has is how it effects them, because all of your own feelings are “just a symptom.”)

Please let Moms and the family become aware of the harm they are doing. This is beyond damaging and has real consequences for real people.

Your son has a brain injury. His brain is altered. He will make improvements, but yes, he will be “like this” for the rest of his life. So start seeing him as a human being, not just a list of symptoms. Start talking with him, and more importantly, start listening to him. Network with other TBI survivors as well. Send him to school. And please, check your ableism. Because your harmful disability attitudes will hurt him far more than the injury has.

For more: Fosters Recaps

#the fosters #jesus adams foster #ableism #aphasia #tbi #traumatic brain injury #representation matters #5x03 #contact

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writingisbetterthanreality · 7 years

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He’s My Best Friend: You Smell

Author’s Note:

Hi, I don't know how I feel about this fic, but I had to write it because it's a personal thing I've gone through and yeah. Tell me if you guys are interested in more and more will come, but if it sucks and no one wants more, I'll stop. Tell me what you think! <3

It had become a regular thing for Magnus Bane to cry over boys this year. One boy in particular; Alexander Lightwood. He was spectacularly beautiful in both looks and personality as far as Magnus could see. While all their other friends had told Magnus that Alec wasn’t nearly as good as he thought he was all the time, Magnus didn’t really notice anything imperfect about the other high schooler. Alec had joined Magnus’ small group of friends during freshmen year, somehow staying his friend even after having found out that Magnus had a crush on him though some stupid game they’d decided was a good idea. Alec had asked who Magnus had a crush on and, well, now he knew. For better or for worse.

Now it was summer. This was supposed to be the season of happiness and adventures, but not for Magnus. He and Alec were on again off again friends and he wasn’t exactly sure why that was. They had fought more than anything, when he thought about it. Further into the summer and Magnus came to the conclusion that they both had some anxiety issues to work through. It only made them fight and see things that weren’t actually there. If one of them got busy and the other didn’t get a message back, they would ignore and argue, etc.

Magnus remembered one specific time when he’d invited Alec to come with him to go see one movie because they’d been talking about it forever before then. Alec, though, hadn’t answered him all night, only for Magnus to get upset when Alec posted a snapchat with his family at the movie. Then, Magnus had been in the theatre with his friend and he’d had tissues thrown at him. It had been Alec and his sister, Izzy, laughing and saying he might need them because this movie would destroy them. Magnus had just grinned and giggled back, unable to be upset anymore. He knew it was him being needy, anyways, so why not let it go and enjoy their time of not fighting?

All through the summer had been like that; Magnus would invite Alec to do some, but Alec would rarely answer. They both apparently had stuff they were dealing with and Magnus just missed his friend. When Alec did want to hang out, though, they had a ridiculous amount of fun. They’d walk around their mostly boring town, go to free movies, or just go to Magnus’ house. There was coffee shop in town that became their thing, along with the library, where they did some book related crafts the librarians held for the teenagers in town.

Magnus had texted Alec if he wanted to come help Magnus’ family with their garage sale and Alec had agreed easily. Once he’d gotten dropped off, they started pricing and tagging stuff all over the floor. Alec threw a few ruined tags at Magnus, who made a face.

“Why so rude?” Magnus said, retaliating by throwing them back at Alec with a playful grin. The taller boy rolled on the floor, trying to miss the attack, but failing. The two friends kept going between working and messing around. By the end of their tagging session, they’d gone back to Magnus’ room when his parents had left to go get food. He hardly even realized when Alec grabbed his cheap glitter spray they’d thought would be fun to have. The taller boy gave Magnus a terrifying look before running to him and spraying him with the glitter mercilessly. Magnus eventually got to the door and managed to run down the hall before being drug down by the other boy, spraying him still. Magnus coughed dramatically. God, that stuff stunk. He tried to wriggle away, but Alec was much too strong and he was much bigger than Magnus. The shorter boy finally made his way away, pushing Alec off of him and to the floor. At that moment, Magnus’ little sister, Clary, came out and grinned mischievously as she joined Alec’s team. She grabbed the other bottle of glitter spray and attacked Magnus alongside Alec.

“Whose side are you even on, Clary?” Magnus yelled at her and pushed through all the way outside. He grinned in success for a second. He’d won and he was safe now. That’s when he heard the door close and watched through the windows as he was locked out of the house. Groaning, he realized there were other ways in. He ran to the back door just as his sister locked it. Then, he watched as she said something to Alec, who left the window to go to another room. Magnus went to the windows that opened from his room, only to see Alec grinning evilly at him. He’d locked them, too. After he’d made a round around the house, he’d come to the conclusion that he was entirely locked outside.

A while later, they eventually let him back inside before the parents got home. He walked in and down the hall to see it all covered with glitter and god it smelled so bad. He coughed and was suddenly pinned to the ground again. It seemed Clary was holding his feet while Alec held his arms and sprayed him. Magnus squirmed with a grin and tried to get away from these monsters.

At some point Magnus got free and ran to his room, locking the door behind him. He heard whispered voices and knew what the two were doing. The doors in this house opened with a coin and Clary knew it as well as he did. He barely had a minute to hold the lock closed, but Alec would always be stronger than him. The door opened and Magnus grabbed a pillow from the couch that was under the lofted full sized bed and hurled it at Alec, who gasped and grabbed for the pillow to retaliate. Quick as lightning, Magnus climbed up the ladder and tried to hide on the bed. He started tossing all the pillows and eventually blankets down at Alec, who started to just go with it and let himself be buried.

Alec played dead under the giant mountain of pillows and blankets until he jumped up and threw pillows back up. Then, he climbed up the ladder and crawled quickly closer to where Magnus was lying. Grabbing a blanket with a menacing look that took Magnus by surprise when his stomach did a flip at how ridiculously adorable he found everything Alec did, he crawled on top of Magnus’ sprawled body and wrapped the blanket over his head and body gently. Magnus couldn’t help the breathless giggles tried to fight him back, but Alec was always stronger than him. Magnus heaved a sigh.

“Uncle, Uncle. Okay, I give,” he said quietly, feeling Alec just collapse full force on him. When he felt the entirety of Alec’s weight on his own sprawled out body, Magnus couldn’t find it in him to breathe. It made it especially hard to breathe when Alec’s arms wrapped around the shorter boy as if this was a thing they did all the time. Magnus wished that was true. He found his arms wrapping around the other in response. Just when he thought he could breathe, there was a loud ring of a cell phone, Alec’s cell phone. They both groaned and Alec moved gently off of the bed to find a text. Before Magnus could really miss Alec’s warmth against him too much, the other had his phone and had crawled back up in remarkable speed, laying back down next to Magnus so they were touching again.

“My dad is going to pick me up really soon. Do you want to go to the movie with us?” Alec asked Magnus, who could hardly breathe as it was.

“Uh, yeah, okay,” he said. Alec nodded and sent a text in reply before flopping back on top of the shorter boy. “I’m so tired and you smell.”

“Me too and whose fault is that?” Magnus mumbled, unable to stop his arms from wrapping around the other. He could definitely live with this craziness.

#chapter one if more is wanted #fanfic #ff #fanfiction #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #clary fray #isabelle lightwood #best friends #best friends to lovers #writing #au #alternate universe #high school #high school alternate universe #annoying sisters #slow burn #pining

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beatrice-otter · 7 years

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Fic: A Purpose-Driven Life

Authors for SSR_Confidential_2017 have been revealed! I wrote A Purpose-Driven Life for sapphire2309. And, uh, in a STUNNING lack of connecting-the-dots, I didn't check before asking the only other person volunteering as a beta to beta for me. And did not notice that I HAD GOTTEN MY RECIPIENT TO BETA FOR ME until I was uploading my fic. ::facepalm:: Also, I am hovering really close to burnout, and so I don't think I should do any more ficathons for a while, much as I love them. The last two, I wasn't able to actually get myself to write until the deadline was bearing down on me, and then I was in pure panic-mode and not really able to make good writing and editing decisions. (Thank you to those who have held my hands through this.) I don't need the extra stress. Anyway! I like this fic, here it is. Title: A Purpose-Driven Life Author: beatrice_otter Fandom: Agent Carter Rating: PG Characters: Dottie Underwood, Agnes Cully | Whitney Frost Word Count: 6,194 Betaed by: sapphire2309

Written for: sapphire2309

Summary: Dottie escapes the Red Room as a child. Everything goes differently from there.

AN: ::hangs head in shame:: Why yes, yes I DID accidentally ask my recipient to beta for me without even realizing it until I went to post. I AM SO SORRY, SAPPHIRE2309! I swear I will never ask for a beta without double-checking who the recipient is!

AN2: Yes, I know, I have fiddled with the timeline. According to the show, Dottie Underwood was a pre-teen in 1937, while Whitney Frost was already an adult living in California and starting to work as a model/actress by 1934. I have made Dottie older and Whitney younger, to match.

AN3: I was not able to figure out the cost of a mob hit in the 1930s. However, I was able to find the cost of hiring a hitman in 2013 (http://ift.tt/2tiSTH0), and use a historical inflation calculator to figure out what that would have been in 1935 money.

AN4: in your letter, you said you love stone-cold-terrifying villain!Whitney, but you also ask for what would have happened if she'd gotten what she wanted (science) in the first place. And I think in that case, she wouldn't have needed to become stone-cold-terrifying villain.

At AO3 and FF.net and Dreamwidth

Vsevolod's hands scrabbled for purchase on the side of the building, and, desperate, he hissed at her to help. He was weak. He, the great agent of the motherland, should have made the jump easily. Any girl in the Red Room could have, and he was supposed to be her superior. She had made it, and she had been shot—twice—while he was unharmed.

In the Red Room, any girl to miss such a simple thing would be left to suffer the consequences. Madame would never have allowed her to help a girl so stupid. They would have watched them fall to their deaths, and taken the warning.

She did not need the warning, and there was no one else but the fascists patrolling below to learn it, but neither did she need Vsevolod's incompetence hindering her actions.

Vsevolod's eyes were wide, frantic, his voice strangled, as he ordered her to help him. But he was not Madame, and so the girl … didn't.

He fell, and she did not stay to watch him hit the pavement. Even the fascists, incompetent as they were (and they were worse than Vsevolod) would hear it and come. But even with the guards on alert, she would have an easier time escaping without him. The entire mission would have been easier without him, and if she had not been forced to fix his mistakes, she would not now be injured and their cover would not now be blown.

She was disgusted, more than anything. If Vsevolod Petrovich Kuznetsov was the flower of Soviet manhood, the best the Motherland could offer, then the Motherland did not deserve to survive. It was a simple thing to escape the office building holding Nazi scientific research, and slip off through the city. She was half a mile away when the explosions and fire started, and she smiled at the result of her handiwork before continuing on her way. It hadn't been part of the plan, but once they had been discovered, they had needed to destroy any evidence of what they had been looking for and who they were.

She now understood Madame's reaction to the NKVD man who had come to requisition a girl from the Red Room. He had told them it was an honor to be selected, that the lucky girl would learn much from Comrade Kuznetsov, that she would see how true Soviet Men were destined to rule the world. Madame had not contradicted him, but neither had she agreed, and all the girls could read every fraction of a line on Madame's face. And Madame had been as close to laughing as she had ever seen her.

New Soviet Man indeed, the girl fumed. If anyone were to rule the world, it would be the New Soviet Women of the Red Room. Mother Russia would be better off without him. But she knew she would be punished for his death. Madame would not care he was dead, but the NKVD man would, and Madame would care that she had killed him without instructions. Daughters of the Red Room were to kill easily, quickly, and often, but—as with everything they did—only under orders.

The information had been transmitted over the radio before they had begun to make their way out, and anyway she would need a different way back to Russia, now that Vsevolod was dead. As she skulked through the city to find a place to hide until things were quieter, she pondered what to tell them. One lie after another was discarded, as was every omission or shaded truth. She could not lie to Madame. Madame knew her as intimately as she knew Madame. Madame would know, and it would only worsen her punishment. No, punishment was inevitable.

It wasn't that she was afraid of it; endurance of physical hardship was routine, ordinary. Pain in her life was more common than comfort. But it would be humiliating, to be known to have failed in this way; and the consequences would last a tediously long time. She could not regret Kuznetsov's death, but neither was she looking forward to what was to come. She would return to the Red Room, and she would be punished.

…

Unless she didn't return. This was such a novel idea that it almost distracted her. She retreated into an alley, behind a pile of pallets, and thought about it. Comrade Kuznetsov had reported her injuries over the radio. He was now dead. Certainly, the NKVD would believe that she would be even less competent than their great agent, and had also died.

Madame would not. Madame knew her capabilities. Madame would know she had survived, and hunt her down.

But possibly not, if there was a body. With the fire, there would be no way to positively identify that it wasn't her. And even if Madame suspected, she would not want to show weakness by admitting a child of the Red Room could escape.

She knew how to get bodies.

It was a simple matter to find an apartment with a girl her size in it. Even simpler to slip in, put a pillow over her face, and smother her in her sleep without ever waking the parents sleeping in the next room. She dressed the corpse in her own clothes, packing the corpses's belongings in a bag she found. With any luck, they would believe the dead girl had run away.

It was a little awkward carrying the corpse and the bag and the pillow, but doable. Once in a more secluded location, she used the pillow as a crude silencer and shot the corpse in the places she herself had been shot. A stop in a garage got her fuel to douse the corpse in, so that it would burn beyond recognition.

The most difficult part of the whole operation was evading the firemen to dump the corpse in the burning building, but she managed handily. She had learned her work well.

Then back to the garage where she had left her new possessions. There was a sink which she used to bathe, and tools which she used to remove the bullets. The pillowcase became bandages. Dressed in the dead girl's clothes, which were now hers, she walked out onto the street as dawn broke.

***

At the train station, a charming young girl introduced herself as Adette and bought a ticket to visit her sick grandmother in Bremen.

***

The hardest part of the journey was smuggling herself across the Atlantic. An adolescent girl travelling alone on a train to visit her grandmother was one thing. That same girl traveling alone across an ocean was more memorable. And Adette (now Vera) did not want to be remembered. At all.

It was a pity this opportunity hadn't waited a year or two, Vera thought as she hid in the hold of a tramp steamer. Her figure was just starting to mature, and if she'd had hips and breasts it would have been a simple matter to make herself up to look older, and then she could have travelled more comfortably. Still, there was something so exhilarating in making her own choices without Madame's iron-fisted control.

***

Vera (now Doris) liked America. It was big, it had a lot of people, and it was firmly isolationist. No one cared what was going on in Europe, and for that reason, the Red Room cared little about America. And there were so many people to watch, to copy, so many people to become. She'd been free of the Red Room and Madame for almost a year, now, and she'd been twenty different people, and she'd liked being each and every one of them.

She'd spent the whole time travelling, because an adolescent girl travelling alone was less conspicuous than an adolescent girl settling down somewhere. In about six months, she estimated, her figure would be developed enough that she could settle down if she wanted and get a job and a room in a boarding house and build a permanent identity.

If she wanted to. The kind of jobs they tended to hire young girls to do were awfully boring. And well beneath her qualifications. Really, it was a lot more fun to pick the pockets of unsuspecting fellow travelers and book her next ticket to wherever caught her fancy.

In any case, she had six months or so to decide. Longer; there was no rush, really.

***

The longer Doris (now Millie) was free, the more bored she got.

If she had realized that ahead of time, she might have reported in as she was supposed to. Yes, she could make her own choices and her own plans … but now that she did not have to worry about the Red Room, what choices and plans could she make that would be worthy of her skills? If she were no longer working for the glory of the Motherland and the advancement of the Red Room, what was she working for? She was a bullet with no target.

Her days in the Red Room had been hard, very hard. But they had also been full, filled with lessons and tests in everything from academics to combat to interrogation, both resisting it and doing it. She had spent hours perfecting her tradecraft as a spy, learning every possible way to blend in. Even when her training had been tedious or painful, there had always been a purpose to it a goal. The promise that one day, she would be the very best, and would have things to accomplish that no one else could ever do.

Well, she was the best. Certainly better than that fool of an NKVD man. And what was she accomplishing? Nothing beyond her own survival.

She picked a few pockets for money, and got a train ticket. She stayed on the train until she arrived at whatever city she had chosen. She watched the scenery, she watched the people, she played the part of a young girl traveling alone. Then she got off, spent a few days in whatever city she found herself in, kept up her training as best she could on her own, picked another few pockets, and got back on the train.

Survival and independence was all well and good, but she was a polished weapon. She was stagnating, she could feel it. Losing her edge.

Madame would sneer, to see her with no goal other than her own survival.

But what could she do that was worthy of her?

***

Traveling through Oklahoma had been a mistake, Millie (now Dottie) realized. With the Dust Bowl, farmer after farmer had gone under, and in a farming state that left not much but poverty. There wasn't much to steal to buy a ticket with, and it was harder to stow away on a train than a tramp freighter.

Still, the people were interesting. People always were, she had learned. Dottie liked watching them and wondering what it was like to be inside their silly little minds, with such narrow concerns and all the constraints of society just hemming you in.

Every now and then she saw someone who had a glimmer of something more. A fire, a spark, something about them that wasn't controlled by the world around them. A purpose. And then Dottie would stay and watch, or maybe strike up a conversation. (Maybe if she talked with enough of them, she would find a purpose for herself.)

Dottie wasn't expecting to find such a person in Broxton, Oklahoma, but it was especially nice to find one who was a girl, like her. Agnes Cully was so controlled, so quiet, as she moved around the diner taking orders. But then you looked in her eyes, and there was fire in them. She was a few years older than Dottie, her figure developed and her looks good no matter that she didn't dress to accentuate them. And on her breaks she read big, thick books, math and engineering.

Dottie got herself a job washing dishes in the diner, telling the owner a sad story of too many mouths at home to feed and needing to make her own way in the world. It got her a menial job and a cot in the back room. And time to make friends with the intriguing Agnes.

***

Agnes, it turned out, didn't say much. Or, at least, not much that mattered. She said all the right social nothings, but it took a while for Dottie to worm her way inside her trust. In the time that took, Dottie learned a lot of things about Agnes from gossip.

She learned that Agnes' mother Wilma was "no better than she ought to be" and that Bud Schultz paid the Cully women's bills.

She learned that Bud Schultz was best friends with the county Sherriff and played poker with the town doctor every Friday night, but no female in town between the ages of ten and thirty wanted to be in the same room with him, if they could help it.

She learned that Agnes was considered strange, and the only girl in town who had made it all the way to her senior year in high school in the last three years—some even said she was trying to get into college.

She learned that half the town thought Agnes was turning tricks on the side, despite the way she avoided most men when she could and practically flinched when she couldn't.

But that was all on the outside, and it told Dottie nothing about Agnes' spark, about the person inside the shell.

Dottie had the money for a ticket, now, but she stayed. What made Agnes tick?

***

The books were Dottie's way in. She asked Agnes if she could borrow them before they were returned to the library.

"I doubt you'd like them," Agnes said coolly. "They're not novels."

"I don't read novels," Dottie said. "I like learning." It was true, although if she were going to study science she'd prefer anatomy. More practical use, in her line of work. Her former line of work, that was. She'd had too much instruction-via-fiction to find stories interesting for their own sake.

"All right," Agnes said doubtfully, still looking for a catch. How delightfully suspicious she was! "You can read it as long as it's back in the library by Friday—I can't afford the fines."

"Neither can I," Dottie said brightly. "Don't worry, I'll take really good care of it!"

And she did. And the book gave her a marvelous excuse to ask Agnes questions, to explain it all, and as it turned out, that was the key to Agnes' passion. Within a week the two were, in the words of the diner's owner, thick as thieves.

***

Dottie watched from the kitchen as Agnes tried (unsuccessfully) to avoid getting groped by Bud Schultz, saw the way every muscle tightened in resistance. And saw how the sleazebag walked out of the diner whistling, no tip.

"Why do you let him do that?" she asked, after both their shifts were over and they were sharing a cigarette out back.

"You think I have a choice?" Agnes said bitterly. "Mama would throw me out if I made him unhappy. She's always on me to be nicer to him, as if that will make him more generous."

Dottie snorted. "That's a foolish hope, if ever there was one," she said. "He ain't got a generous bone in his body." She took a last drag of the cigarette and handed it back to Agnes.

"She's worried about losing him," Agnes said. She took a puff, breathed the smoke out through her nose. "Thinks maybe she can get him to marry her, eventually."

"Your mama's not very bright, is she?" Dottie said. "But you know you don't have to stay. We could just hop on a train, go to a big city, get a job there, and you'd never have to see Bud Schultz again."

Agnes shook her head. "I can't. I have to finish the school year, have to get my diploma, so I can apply to college. If I can get them to take me, I'll be out of here, and not just to another situation that's as bad or worse. I'll have a chance to really do something. If I can just stick it out here another six months." She stared down at the dirt beneath them. "If I can just avoid his hands until then. Once I'm in college, everything will be different." She said that a lot.

"Don't you worry, Agnes," Dottie said. "He won't ever touch you again. I'll see to that." She smiled.

***

When the news came that Bud had been found dead in an accident with his hunting rifle, Agnes stared at Dottie with narrowed eyes. Dottie smiled back happily. Nobody suspected a thing, and she hadn't gotten to kill anyone in over a year. It would have been fun planning the whole thing out anyway, but even more so knowing she was protecting her friend.

"Did you do it?" Agnes hissed later when they were alone.

"Me?" Dottie said, widening her eyes in surprise. Agnes sure was smart, and it wasn't just book smarts, either. How fun! "How could I have done it? I'm just a girl, and he was a big strong man. Besides, you heard what everyone is saying—it was an accident."

Agnes grabbed her and shoved her up against a wall. Dottie could have escaped, of course, but Agnes would never hurt her, and besides, she wanted to see what would happen. This was the most fire she'd seen in Agnes yet. "Don't play the innocent with me, Dottie, I know you, and we both know a girl can do a lot of things people don't want to believe she can. Did you kill him?"

"Does it matter?" Dottie asked. "You don't ever have to worry about him again. You can't tell me you're sorry he's dead—I won't believe it."

"I'm not, but … but killing is wrong," Agnes said. Anyone else might have thought she meant it, but Dottie could feel the relief in her, the hope.

"You don't really believe that," Dottie said, smiling. "Not when it's a jerk like Bud. I bet there's only five women in the whole county who aren't breathing a sigh of relief right now." Agnes' grip loosened ever so slightly.

"If someone did kill him, it was a public service," Dottie said.

"Don't … don't kill for me again," Agnes said. But her eyes told a different story. There was gratitude there.

"You don't really mean that," Dottie said confidently. "Now. Finish your school, get your diploma, and then let's get out of here."

***

As it turned out, Agnes graduated top of her class, but the university wouldn't take her in the science program. Agnes was devastated.

"There, there," Dottie said, holding her and rubbing her back in a comforting technique she'd seen many mothers use on distraught children. She was quite pleased with herself for figuring it out—comfort not being a thing she had much personal experience with.

Agnes sobbed some more.

"There, there," Dottie said. "It's not the end of the world. It's not the end of your dreams. We'll go someplace else, and then you can get into a different school—a better one than the University of Oklahoma. Or you can get a job in a research lab—you're smart enough, even without the fancy piece of paper."

"But what if they don't take girls, either?" Agnes asked. "And it'd probably be more than we could afford." Even when Bud had been at his worst, Dottie had never heard Agnes sound that defeated. Like there was something broken inside her.

Agnes shouldn't have to feel that. Agnes should be able to show the world the fire that lit her. Agnes should be able to burn the world down, if she wanted. "You just leave that to me," Dottie said.

Agnes pulled back and stared her in the eye. "You planning to kill someone?" She was trying to sound disapproving. It wasn't very convincing to Dottie, who knew her better than her own mother did.

"Why, Agnes, I'm shocked," Dottie said. "I thought you were smarter than that. If I killed a dean or someone, they couldn't order you to be admitted from beyond the grave, now, could they?"

"No, I suppose not," Agnes said tiredly.

Torture was out, too, because in the long run, the years Agnes would be at school, it had too great a chance of coming out somehow. But it was truly a shame Dottie hadn't been able to find any blackmail material for the dean or president of the University of Oklahoma.

Still, there had to be a university out there with a first-rate science program that had an administrator Dottie could blackmail.

"Now, I know it's hard," Dottie said, "but here's what we're going to do. We're going to pack our things, and get on the train to wherever you want to go, and we'll get you into a school there. Okay?" It was lovely to have a goal, a purpose to accomplish. Dottie could feel parts of herself stretching and waiting that had lain dormant since her escape. Perhaps it didn't matter if she didn't have a purpose of her own; she never really had, had she? All she needed was someone else with a purpose she could help accomplish, who needed the things only Dottie could do.

"Okay," Agnes said.

***

A week later they were in Los Angeles, California, with jobs in a diner and a shared room in a boarding house. Agnes spent every spare minute studying, and so did Dottie—school administrations, not physics.

"Oh, it was worth it coming out here even if I never get into college!" Agnes said with glee one day, flopping on her bed and holding a book up in triumph. "The public library has so many more books!"

"Wonderful," said Dottie indulgently. "I'm so glad you're happy. Which school do you think you'd want to go to?" Dottie soaked in Agnes' enthusiasm, it was so exhilarating to be around.

"Oh, probably UCLA," Agnes said. "I know it's mostly a teacher's college, but they do have a science department that's not bad, and because it's a teacher's college, they have a lot of women on campus. USC would be a second choice; they're more expensive, and their physical science program focuses mainly on turning out engineers, and I want to do theoretical research. But they take women, too, even in the science classes!"

"Which one has that man you were excited about? Millikan? You've read his textbook twice already."

"Oh, he's the chairman of the Executive Council at the California Institute of Technology," Agnes said. "If I really could go anywhere, that would be it. They've got Millikan and a whole lot of other big names in physics. Millikan's got a Nobel, did you know that?"

"Does he?" Dottie said. She knew, of course, because Agnes had told her, but she liked seeing Agnes this way.

"Oh, wouldn't it be wonderful to study with him?" Agnes said. "But CalTech doesn't take women, and they're awfully expensive."

"But if you could, you'd go there?" Dottie persisted. UCLA and USC would be easier to get Dottie into, because they took women, but if pressure was needed they were larger schools—more people to get to. CalTech would definitely need the pressure, but it was smaller and younger and so there were fewer people making the decision.

"Absolutely," Agnes said. She sat up and stared at Dottie. "Dottie, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that everyone has pressure points," Dottie said. "And anything's possible, if you're willing to do what it takes."

"If it gets me into CalTech, I'll do anything," Agnes said.

"So will I," Dottie said. She smiled.

Agnes looked at her, and Dottie could see her thinking it over, what it meant. Agnes still wasn't used to killing, wanted to do things the way society said was right, though Dottie had never figured out why. Thank goodness she seemed to be getting over it. They both knew that if society had its way she'd still be back in Oklahoma trying to stay out of Bud's sweaty hands or working at some diner or other, wasting her time and her brain. Or married to some farmer who wanted a cook and a maid he didn't have to pay.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Dottie," Agnes said.

***

The head of the maggia in LA was a guy named Joe Manfredi. Everyone knew that; he'd taken down his rivals in a bloody gang war a few years earlier. Getting his location was a little harder, but it did Dottie good to flex her training for once.

"So what's a pretty young thing like you want to be a hit man for?" Manfredi asked. She'd bluffed her way past his guards fairly easily—thank God she'd finally developed a usable figure—and seated herself at his table at the restaurant where he held court.

"I'm pretty good at killing," Dottie said. "And I figure, if you've got a talent, you should use it. And why do something for free when you can get paid for it? Beats waiting tables."

He laughed. "That it does, babe, that it does. I like you. Okay." He snapped his fingers, and one of his goons pulled out a notebook and a pen and handed it to him. Manfredi wrote down a name and an address in it. "If he ends up dead in the next week, I'll pay you $350. $400, if it looks like an accident."

"Accidents take more time," Dottie said. "$600 for an untraceable accident."

"$400 if it looks like an accident at first, and another hundred if it gets ruled an accident and there aren't any more questions by a month from now," he countered.

"Make it a hundred and fifty, and you've got a deal," Dottie said.

"All right," Manfredi said. "A hundred and fifty. What's your name, kid?"

"Dolores Miller," Dottie said. It wasn't a name she'd ever used before, which meant it was a name that couldn't trace back to Agnes. "I'll be back for my money in a week."

***

It was an easy accident to arrange. The target had his own fruit trees, which he pruned himself, and it was a simple matter to weaken the ladder so it collapsed under him. And his pruning knife just happened to lodge itself in his gut as he fell—what a shame. It wasn't quite as satisfying as killing Bud had been, but she wondered why contract killer hadn't occurred to her as a career choice. Well, it wasn't like she'd been old enough to get hired to do it until now.

In any case, the money bought her a lot of information on the members of the Executive Council at CalTech. Some of them were squeaky clean, as far as she could see … but not all of them were. Infidelities, homosexual affairs, dirty finances, stealing the work of other scientists. One, she found with glee, was in hock to Manfredi with quite substantial gambling debts.

***

"You sure do good work," Manfredi said after her third kill for him. He admired the pictures. This one had been something of a test—he'd wanted it messy, and he'd wanted documentation. He probably thought she'd be too delicate for the job. In Dottie's experience, women were a lot less squeamish than men were. And she had no problem with the mess, except that she'd been careless enough to get blood on her coat, and it had taken ages to get it out. Madame would have been so disappointed. Might even have killed her for it.

"Thank you, Joe," Dottie said, glancing around his office. It was the first time she'd seen it; he didn't want to look at the pictures over a meal. It wouldn't have bothered Dottie's appetite one bit, but men were more squeamish.

"I got another one for you," he said. "This one's gonna be a bit trickier."

Dottie nodded along as he explained. Still not much, compared to what the Red Room had trained her for, but beyond any of Manfredi's hired thugs. But when he got to the subject of payment, she shook her head. "I don't want money for this one, Joe," she said. "I want a favor."

"What kind of favor?" Manfredi asked, sitting back in his chair.

"An easy one," Dottie said. "I've got a friend. She's really good at physics. Brilliant. You wouldn’t believe her mind. She wants to go to CalTech, because it's the best. Just like she's the best. But they don't take women."

"And you've done your homework and you know all about Merle Hutchinson's bad luck with the ponies," Joe said, nodding. "And you want me to take part of my debt out in trade, getting your girl in."

"That's about the size of it," Dottie said.

"You know he's not the guy who's gonna make the final decision on this," Joe said. "I mean, you're going to have to get to others on the board, you know."

"I can do that, no problem," Dottie said. People were so easy to manipulate, if you held something over them. And the ones Dottie couldn't blackmail, she could seduce or threaten as needed. Her job as Joe Manfredi's favorite killer would be more than enough help.

"I bet you can," Joe said. He thought for a few seconds. "I want to meet her."

"Pardon me?" Dottie said.

"I want to meet her. Your girl." Joe shrugged. "I'm putting my neck out that she's as good as you say she is, I want to meet her beforehand."

"All right," Dottie said. "I'll arrange it."

***

"And why would the head of the LA maggia care about whether or not I get into CalTech?" Agnes asked, skeptical.

"He owes me," Dottie said. "Or he will soon, anyway."

"In other words, you're killing people for him," Agnes said, making a face. "Anybody important?"

Dottie considered. "Nobody you'd care about."

Agnes sighed, staring out the window at the brick wall of the building next to their boarding house. "And he has the board of CalTech in his pocket?" she said distantly.

"One of them," Dottie said. "I can handle enough of the rest to get you in. Then you just have to be your normal, brilliant self and prove us right."

"I'd rather get in because I'm good enough," Agnes said. "I should be able to get in on the strength of my own brain—I'm at least as smart as any man on campus."

"Probably smarter," Dottie agreed. "But if they're too stupid to see brains just because they come attached to a woman, I've got no problem with twisting their arms to make them see."

Agnes considered this. "Neither do I."

***

They met Joe for dinner and drinks at his restaurant. He asked Agnes about her history, and why she wanted to go to CalTech, and he listened to what she said, and not dismissively, either. He didn't try to hit on her, and he kept his hands to himself.

Agnes blossomed under the attention, and chatted away about the state of physics and the experiments they were doing at CalTech. Dottie understood most of it, because Agnes was good at simplifying it to teach it, but Joe asked enough questions to prove he was actually listening.

Dottie smiled. More people should pay attention to Agnes.

"What's so funny?" Joe asked her.

"I was just thinking," she said. "The world would be a better place if there were more real gentlemen like you, Joe."

"Hear, hear!" Agnes said, raising her wine glass.

Joe laughed. He probably thought she was joking, Dottie reflected, but she wasn't. What did she care how many people he had killed, or how many rackets he ran? But it was awfully nice not to get dismissed or discounted just because she was female.

"All right, I like your girl," Joe said to Dottie at last. "I'm assuming you've got a plan, 'cause you got a plan for everything."

***

A few days later, Dottie and Agnes sat just outside Joe's office while he talked with Merle Hutchinson about how he could pay off his debt. The vent was open so they could hear everything.

"Read this, see what you think," Joe said. Agnes had written her latest work up in the proper format. She couldn't test it without a lab, but the math all worked. And now they'd see what Merle Hutchinson thought about it.

"This is brilliant work," he said after a while. "How'd you get ahold of it?"

"What, you think just because I'm Italian that all my people are stupid?" Joe asked. "You think you got a monopoly on smarts in your fancy Institute?"

"No—no! That wasn't what I meant," Hutchinson said. "I mean, why didn't they just submit this to a journal or something? Or send it in to us like normal?"

"The person who wrote that wants to go to CalTech," Joe said. "They want it real bad."

"Well, based on this, he's well qualified," Hutchinson said. "We're always looking for brilliant minds. Graduate or undergrad?"

"Undergrad," Joe said.

"Well, have him send in his application, and I'll certainly see he gets in," Hutchinson said. "With a mind like this, I'd do that regardless."

"It's a little bit more complicated than that," Joe said. "You wanna meet the person that wrote that?"

"Of course," Hutchinson said.

Dottie squeezed Agnes' hand. Agnes stood up, squared her shoulders, and went in.

"I wrote that paper," she said. "I'm good enough for CalTech—you just said so. And I want in."

"Is this some kind of a joke?" Hutchinson said. "We don't admit women! They're just not up to the kind of work we do!"

"I'm up to it," Agnes said.

"It's not possible!"

"Make it possible," Agnes said.

"Miss Cully, here, she's the best girl of my best killer," Joe said. "So on the one hand, I've got my best hitter coming to me and saying, 'Joe, my girl's real smart. She wants to go to CalTech, and she's smart enough to do it, too.' And it's the truth—she is that smart, you said so yourself. On the other hand, I've got you. A guy with too much bad luck to win at the ponies and too stupid to know when to quit. A guy who is consistently late with his payments, and still can't lay off the ponies. I'm being very generous, here. I could call in your debts all at once. I could charge more interest than I am doing currently."

"But your interest is—"

"I am giving you the opportunity to pay down a chunk of your debt to me, Merle, a very substantial chunk. Or we can continue on with our arrangement as it is, and I tell my best hitter—my very best hitter, mind you—that you are the reason Miss Cully here isn't going to CalTech. Do you see where I'm coming from, Merle?"

"Yes," Hutchinson said with a defeated sound in his voice.

Dottie smiled to hear it. She wished she could be in there watching, but Hutchinson would be more intimidated if he didn't know that Joe Manfredi's best hitter was a woman. Besides, the more anonymous she could be, the less chance there was of anyone being able to put together the details and make trouble about it later.

"But I'm not the only one making that decision. I can recommend it, but I can't guarantee it."

"You leave the rest of it to us," Agnes said. "We'll take care of it. As long as you do your part."

"Okay, okay," Hutchinson said. "How much are you taking off my debt for this?"

Agnes slipped out while the two men finished up the final details and gave Dottie a big hug. "Thank you so much, Dottie," she said. "This is like a dream come true!"

"You're welcome!" Dottie said. She didn't know what that was like, never having had any dreams of her own, but it was almost as good to be able to bask, second hand, in Agnes' dreams.

***

Three years later, Agnes graduated valedictorian of her class at CalTech. She needed no help to get her graduate degree at the school of her choice, and a plum research position after that. She went on to win the Nobel Prize for physics. She never had to worry about male scientists taking credit for her work; those who tried simply disappeared.

Dottie continued on as a hitman for Joe Manfredi and other maggia bosses for years. The Red Room never realized she was still alive. To keep it that way, she avoided all contact with government agents of any nation. Although Dottie dabbled in the intersection of politics and organized crime, she never met Peggy Carter.

Dottie and Agnes were best friends for the rest of their lives.

#fanfic #agent carter #Dottie Underwood #whitney frost

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